The Peaches That Would Not Ripen

The heater in carriage four died just after the night train left the last big station.

Pemanas di gerbong empat mati tepat setelah kereta malam meninggalkan stasiun besar terakhir.

Brina felt it first in her toes. The warm air stopped blowing from under the seats, and the cold crept up from the floor. She pulled her coat tight and looked down at the basket on her lap.

Brina merasakannya pertama kali di ujung jari kakinya. Udara hangat berhenti berembus dari bawah kursi, dan dingin merayap naik dari lantai. Ia merapatkan mantelnya dan menunduk menatap keranjang di pangkuannya.

It held twenty peaches. They were hard and green, like small apples in early spring. Her boss at the orchard had picked them too soon. A buyer in the city wanted them by noon.

Isinya dua puluh buah persik. Buah-buah itu keras dan hijau, seperti apel kecil di awal musim semi. Atasannya di kebun buah memetiknya terlalu cepat. Seorang pembeli di kota menginginkannya sebelum tengah hari.

"They need three more days of sun," she had told him that afternoon.

"Persik ini butuh tiga hari lagi di bawah matahari," katanya kepada atasannya sore itu.

"Then you must make them hurry," he had said, and he had laughed.

"Kalau begitu, kamu harus membuatnya cepat matang," jawab atasannya sambil tertawa.

It was not funny now. Brina had made a promise to the cook at the children's hospital. Tomorrow was the summer party on the ward. The cook had called twice that week, and Brina had said the same words both times.

Sekarang hal itu sama sekali tidak lucu. Brina sudah berjanji kepada juru masak di rumah sakit anak. Besok ada pesta musim panas di bangsal anak. Juru masak itu sudah menelepon dua kali minggu ini, dan kedua kalinya Brina mengucapkan kata-kata yang sama.

"I promise you will have ripe peaches. Soft, sweet and ready to eat."

"Saya janji Anda akan mendapat persik yang matang. Lembut, manis, dan siap dimakan."

She had meant it. She had not known about the heater.

Ia bersungguh-sungguh. Ia tidak tahu soal pemanas itu.

A tired conductor walked slowly down the aisle. He wore a thick scarf, and his breath made small clouds. His badge said Lazlo. He stopped beside her seat and looked at the basket.

Seorang kondektur yang tampak lelah berjalan pelan menyusuri lorong. Ia mengenakan syal tebal, dan embusan napasnya membentuk awan-awan kecil. Di lencananya tertulis Lazlo. Ia berhenti di samping kursi Brina dan memandang keranjang itu.

"Those are very green peaches," he said.

"Persiknya hijau sekali," katanya.

"I know," said Brina. "They are supposed to be soft by morning."

"Saya tahu," kata Brina. "Seharusnya buah-buah ini sudah lunak besok pagi."

Lazlo gave a short, kind laugh. "Not in this carriage. Even the ticket machine is freezing."

Lazlo tertawa pendek yang ramah. "Bukan di gerbong ini. Mesin tiket pun beku."

"Can you fix the heater?"

"Apa Anda bisa memperbaiki pemanasnya?"

"I have tried three times. The part is broken, and the next station with a workshop is four hours away." He rubbed his hands together. "I am sorry. I wish I had better news."

"Sudah tiga kali saya coba. Suku cadangnya rusak, dan stasiun berikutnya yang punya bengkel masih empat jam lagi." Ia menggosok-gosokkan kedua tangannya. "Maaf. Saya berharap bisa membawa kabar yang lebih baik."

Brina stared at the dark window. Her own face looked back at her, small and worried. She thought about the children on the ward. Some of them had been in bed for weeks. A basket of fruit would not cure anyone, but the cook had said it would mean a lot.

Brina menatap jendela yang gelap. Wajahnya sendiri balas memandangnya, kecil dan cemas. Ia memikirkan anak-anak di bangsal itu. Beberapa dari mereka sudah berminggu-minggu terbaring di tempat tidur. Sekeranjang buah tidak akan menyembuhkan siapa pun, tetapi juru masak itu bilang hal itu akan sangat berarti.

Across the aisle, a young man in a blue jacket was studying a tin of soup. A woman near the door held a sleeping baby inside her coat. Four students sat at the back with their bags in a pile. They were pretending not to be cold.

Di seberang lorong, seorang pemuda berjaket biru sedang mengamati sekaleng sup. Seorang wanita di dekat pintu mendekap bayi yang tertidur di dalam mantelnya. Empat mahasiswa duduk di belakang dengan tas-tas mereka menumpuk. Mereka berpura-pura tidak kedinginan.

Brina took out her phone and searched for advice. She found one idea quickly. Peaches ripen faster in a paper bag with a banana or an apple. Ripe fruit gives off a gas that helps the others.

Brina mengeluarkan ponselnya dan mencari saran. Ia segera menemukan satu ide. Persik lebih cepat matang di dalam kantong kertas bersama pisang atau apel. Buah yang matang mengeluarkan gas yang membantu buah-buah lainnya.

She also read the second part. They still need warmth, and they still need time.

Ia juga membaca bagian keduanya. Buah-buah itu tetap butuh kehangatan, dan tetap butuh waktu.

"Do you have a ripe apple?" she asked the young man across the aisle.

"Apa Anda punya apel yang matang?" tanyanya kepada pemuda di seberang lorong.

He looked up, surprised. "I have two. Why?"

Pemuda itu mendongak, terkejut. "Saya punya dua. Kenapa?"

"It is a long story."

"Ceritanya panjang."

"We have all night," he said, and he handed her both apples.

"Kita punya waktu semalaman," katanya, lalu menyerahkan kedua apelnya.

That was how it began. Brina found a paper bag in her handbag and put six peaches inside with the apples. The students heard her explain, and one of them gave her a banana. The woman with the baby had a pear in her bag. Soon the whole carriage was looking for ripe fruit.

Begitulah semuanya dimulai. Brina menemukan sebuah kantong kertas di dalam tas tangannya dan memasukkan enam persik ke dalamnya bersama apel-apel itu. Para mahasiswa mendengar penjelasannya, dan salah satu dari mereka memberinya sebuah pisang. Wanita yang membawa bayi itu punya sebuah pir di tasnya. Tak lama, seluruh gerbong ikut mencari buah yang matang.

Lazlo watched this with his arms crossed. At last he sat down on the seat in front of Brina.

Lazlo memperhatikan semua itu dengan tangan bersedekap. Akhirnya ia duduk di kursi di depan Brina.

"It will not work," he said gently. "I have worked on this line for nine years. Cold is cold."

"Ini tidak akan berhasil," katanya lembut. "Sembilan tahun saya bekerja di jalur ini. Dingin tetap dingin."

"I know," Brina said. Her voice shook a little. "But I promised."

"Saya tahu," kata Brina. Suaranya sedikit bergetar. "Tapi saya sudah berjanji."

Lazlo said nothing for a moment. Then he stood up and looked at the end of the carriage, where the luggage rack was.

Lazlo terdiam sejenak. Lalu ia berdiri dan memandang ke ujung gerbong, tempat rak bagasi berada.

"Wait here," he said.

"Tunggu di sini," katanya.

He came back ten minutes later with a small electric hotplate and a heavy metal pot. He put them on the empty seat across from her.

Sepuluh menit kemudian ia kembali dengan sebuah kompor listrik kecil dan sebuah panci logam yang berat. Ia meletakkannya di kursi kosong di seberang Brina.

"This belongs to a night guard in the next carriage," he said. "He uses it on his breaks. He says I can borrow it if I tell nobody."

"Ini milik petugas jaga malam di gerbong sebelah," katanya. "Ia memakainya saat istirahat. Katanya saya boleh meminjamnya asal tidak bilang siapa-siapa."

Brina looked at the hotplate and then at him. "Rules say no cooking on the train."

Brina memandang kompor itu, lalu memandang Lazlo. "Aturannya, tidak boleh memasak di kereta."

"Rules say a lot of things," said Lazlo. "They also say passengers must be warm. Nobody follows that one tonight."

"Aturan itu bilang banyak hal," kata Lazlo. "Aturan itu juga bilang penumpang harus merasa hangat. Malam ini tidak ada yang menaatinya."

He plugged the hotplate into the socket by the door. A small red light came on, and the plate began to tick as it warmed. The students gasped. The baby woke and made a happy noise.

Ia menancapkan kompor itu ke stopkontak di dekat pintu. Lampu merah kecil menyala, dan pelat kompor mulai berdetik saat memanas. Para mahasiswa terkesiap. Bayi itu terbangun dan mengeluarkan suara riang.

"Now," said Lazlo. "You said you promised soft, sweet peaches."

"Nah," kata Lazlo. "Tadi Anda bilang sudah berjanji akan memberi persik yang lembut dan manis."

"Yes."

"Ya."

"Then we cannot wait for the sun. We must cook them."

"Kalau begitu kita tidak bisa menunggu matahari. Kita harus memasaknya."

Brina's mouth fell open, and then she began to laugh. It was the first time that night. She cut the green peaches in half with the young man's pocket knife. She dropped them into the pot. The woman with the baby gave her a small bag of sugar from her lunch. One of the students had a stick of cinnamon in her coat. She could not explain why.

Mulut Brina ternganga, lalu ia mulai tertawa. Itu tawa pertamanya malam itu. Ia membelah persik-persik hijau itu menjadi dua dengan pisau lipat milik si pemuda. Ia menjatuhkannya ke dalam panci. Wanita yang membawa bayi memberinya sekantong kecil gula dari bekal makan siangnya. Salah satu mahasiswa punya sebatang kayu manis di dalam mantelnya. Ia sendiri tidak bisa menjelaskan kenapa.

Water came from a bottle. The pot began to bubble slowly, and a warm smell filled the carriage. It smelled like summer, even though the peaches had never seen enough of it.

Airnya berasal dari sebuah botol. Panci itu mulai mendidih perlahan, dan aroma hangat memenuhi gerbong. Baunya seperti musim panas, padahal persik-persik itu tidak pernah mendapat cukup banyak musim panas.

People moved closer. First the students came, then the man with the soup, then the woman and her baby. They sat with their hands near the pot and their faces in the soft steam. Someone started to tell a joke about a goat on a bus. Someone else told a worse one.

Orang-orang bergeser mendekat. Pertama para mahasiswa datang, lalu pria yang membawa sup, lalu wanita dengan bayinya. Mereka duduk dengan tangan di dekat panci dan wajah di dalam uap yang lembut. Seseorang mulai menceritakan lelucon tentang seekor kambing di dalam bus. Orang lain menceritakan lelucon yang lebih buruk.

Lazlo stirred the pot with a wooden spoon. He did it carefully, like a man who had cooked for crowds before.

Lazlo mengaduk panci dengan sendok kayu. Ia melakukannya dengan hati-hati, seperti orang yang pernah memasak untuk banyak orang.

"Where did you learn this?" Brina asked.

"Di mana Anda belajar ini?" tanya Brina.

"My cousin ran a roadside kitchen," he said. "I was twelve, and I washed pots. I learned to stir before I learned to read."

"Sepupu saya punya warung masak di pinggir jalan," katanya. "Waktu itu saya dua belas tahun, dan tugas saya mencuci panci. Saya belajar mengaduk sebelum belajar membaca."

Around two in the morning, the peaches turned soft and golden. They were not the fruit she had promised. They were a sweet, warm stew with cinnamon, and the smell alone made her eyes wet.

Sekitar pukul dua pagi, persik-persik itu menjadi lunak dan keemasan. Itu bukan buah yang sudah ia janjikan. Itu rebusan manis yang hangat dengan kayu manis, dan baunya saja sudah membuat matanya berkaca-kaca.

She filled every empty jar and tin she could find. The woman with the baby gave her a clean cup. The students gave her two plastic boxes. Lazlo took a small bottle from his pocket. He poured the last honey into the pot.

Ia mengisi setiap toples dan kaleng kosong yang bisa ia temukan. Wanita yang membawa bayi memberinya sebuah cangkir bersih. Para mahasiswa memberinya dua kotak plastik. Lazlo mengambil sebotol kecil dari sakunya. Ia menuangkan sisa madunya ke dalam panci.

By the time the sky turned pale outside, everyone in the carriage had tasted a spoonful. Nobody was cold any more. The hotplate was unplugged and carried away before the station.

Saat langit di luar mulai pucat, setiap orang di gerbong itu sudah mencicipi satu sendok. Tak ada lagi yang kedinginan. Kompor itu dicabut dan dibawa pergi sebelum stasiun.

The train stopped at the city platform at a quarter to six. Brina carried her basket, now heavy with jars, down the steps. Lazlo stood at the door with his scarf pulled up to his nose.

Kereta berhenti di peron kota pada pukul enam kurang seperempat. Brina membawa keranjangnya, yang kini berat oleh toples-toples, menuruni tangga. Lazlo berdiri di pintu dengan syal ditarik sampai ke hidung.

"You kept your promise," he said. "Just not the way you planned."

"Anda menepati janji," katanya. "Hanya saja tidak dengan cara yang Anda rencanakan."

"I am not sure the cook will agree," said Brina.

"Saya tidak yakin juru masaknya akan setuju," kata Brina.

She was right to worry. At the hospital kitchen, the cook looked at the jars and then at her. Her eyebrows rose slowly.

Kekhawatirannya beralasan. Di dapur rumah sakit, juru masak itu memandang toples-toples itu, lalu memandang Brina. Alisnya terangkat perlahan.

"These are not what I asked for," the cook said.

"Ini bukan yang saya minta," kata juru masak itu.

"No," said Brina. Her stomach felt tight. "They are not. But please try one."

"Bukan," kata Brina. Perutnya terasa menegang. "Memang bukan. Tapi tolong cicipi satu."

The cook picked up a spoon and tasted the warm peaches. She closed her eyes. Then she opened them again and smiled, and Brina let out her breath.

Juru masak itu mengambil sendok dan mencicipi persik hangat itu. Ia memejamkan mata. Lalu ia membukanya lagi dan tersenyum, dan Brina menghela napas lega.

"Who made this?" the cook asked.

"Siapa yang membuat ini?" tanya juru masak itu.

"A whole carriage of strangers," said Brina. "And one conductor who broke the rules."

"Satu gerbong penuh orang asing," kata Brina. "Dan seorang kondektur yang melanggar aturan."

The cook laughed and reached for another jar. "The children will love it. Can you tell me the recipe, or must I take the train to find out?"

Juru masak itu tertawa dan meraih toples lainnya. "Anak-anak pasti suka. Bisa Anda beri tahu resepnya, atau saya harus naik kereta untuk mencari tahu?"