The Pot with the Wrong Lid

The station on Crow Hill has four instruments, one radio, and a kitchen the size of a cupboard. Tariq likes the instruments best. Every morning he climbs the metal steps to the roof. He reads the wind gauge and writes the numbers in a blue notebook.

Stasiun di Bukit Crow punya empat alat ukur, satu radio, dan dapur sekecil lemari. Tariq paling menyukai alat-alat ukurnya. Setiap pagi ia menaiki tangga logam ke atap. Ia membaca pengukur angin dan menulis angka-angkanya di buku catatan biru.

He is seventeen, and he has volunteered here for three months. The work is quiet, and he likes it that way. Nobody asks him questions, and nobody expects him to be funny.

Ia berusia tujuh belas tahun, dan sudah tiga bulan menjadi sukarelawan di sini. Pekerjaannya sunyi, dan ia suka begitu. Tak ada yang mengajukan pertanyaan kepadanya, dan tak ada yang berharap ia menjadi lucu.

The only other volunteer is Esteban, who comes up from the village every Tuesday and Thursday. Esteban is tall and a little clumsy. He checks the cloud camera, fixes whatever is broken, and hums while he works. Tariq has noticed the humming. He has noticed a lot of things about Esteban, and he tries not to think about them.

Satu-satunya sukarelawan lain adalah Esteban, yang datang dari desa setiap Selasa dan Kamis. Esteban tinggi dan agak canggung. Ia memeriksa kamera awan, memperbaiki apa pun yang rusak, dan bersenandung saat bekerja. Tariq sudah memperhatikan senandung itu. Ia sudah memperhatikan banyak hal tentang Esteban, dan ia berusaha tidak memikirkannya.

On Thursday, Tariq comes down from the roof and finds a pot on the kitchen table. It is a dented green pot with a tin lid that does not fit. The lid sits crooked on top, and a thin line of steam escapes from one side. Beside it lies a note on yellow paper.

Pada hari Kamis, Tariq turun dari atap dan menemukan sebuah panci di meja dapur. Itu panci hijau penyok dengan tutup timah yang tidak pas. Tutup itu bertengger miring di atasnya, dan seutas tipis uap keluar dari satu sisinya. Di sampingnya tergeletak sebuah catatan di atas kertas kuning.

The note says, "For the one who reads the dials at six. Be careful, it is hot."

Catatan itu berbunyi, "Untuk yang membaca alat ukur pukul enam. Hati-hati, panas."

Tariq reads it twice. He reads the dials at six. Everyone on the hill knows that, because it is his job. But Tariq also knows that the visiting scientist sometimes reads the dials at six when she stays overnight. And he thinks she is staying tonight.

Tariq membacanya dua kali. Dialah yang membaca alat ukur pukul enam. Semua orang di bukit tahu itu, karena itu tugasnya. Tetapi Tariq juga tahu bahwa ilmuwan tamu kadang-kadang membaca alat ukur pukul enam saat ia menginap. Dan ia mengira ilmuwan itu menginap malam ini.

"Of course," he says to the empty kitchen. "Of course it is for her."

"Tentu saja," katanya kepada dapur yang kosong. "Tentu saja ini untuknya."

He feels something heavy settle in his chest. Esteban has cooked a meal for the scientist. It makes sense. She is clever and kind. She has been to places Tariq has only seen on maps. Tariq is just a boy with a notebook.

Ia merasakan sesuatu yang berat mengendap di dadanya. Esteban memasak makanan untuk sang ilmuwan. Masuk akal. Ilmuwan itu pintar dan baik hati. Ia pernah pergi ke tempat-tempat yang hanya pernah Tariq lihat di peta. Tariq hanyalah anak laki-laki dengan buku catatan.

He puts the lid back on the pot, carefully, and goes to the radio room. He does not want to be in the kitchen when Esteban arrives.

Ia menaruh kembali tutup itu di atas panci, dengan hati-hati, lalu pergi ke ruang radio. Ia tidak ingin berada di dapur saat Esteban tiba.

Esteban arrives at ten, carrying a bag of tools. He goes straight to the kitchen and then stops in the doorway. The pot is still on the table, and the note is still beside it. Nobody has touched them.

Esteban tiba pukul sepuluh, membawa tas perkakas. Ia langsung menuju dapur lalu berhenti di ambang pintu. Panci itu masih di meja, dan catatannya masih di sampingnya. Tak ada yang menyentuhnya.

He looks around, puzzled, and then walks to the radio room. "Hey," he says. "Did you see the pot?"

Ia memandang berkeliling dengan bingung, lalu berjalan ke ruang radio. "Hei," katanya. "Kamu lihat pancinya?"

"I saw it," Tariq says without turning around. He keeps his eyes on the radio dial. "It looks great. I am sure she will love it."

"Sudah," kata Tariq tanpa menoleh. Matanya tetap tertuju pada penala radio. "Kelihatannya enak sekali. Aku yakin dia akan menyukainya."

"She?" Esteban asks.

"Dia?" tanya Esteban.

"The scientist." Tariq finally turns his head. "You left it for her, didn't you? I didn't want to eat it by mistake."

"Si ilmuwan." Tariq akhirnya menoleh. "Kamu menaruhnya untuk dia, kan? Aku tidak mau memakannya karena salah."

Esteban stares at him. For a moment, he looks as if he will laugh. Then he sees Tariq's face and stops. "Wait. You think I cooked for the scientist?"

Esteban menatapnya. Sesaat ia tampak hendak tertawa. Lalu ia melihat wajah Tariq dan berhenti. "Tunggu. Kamu kira aku memasak untuk si ilmuwan?"

"The note says the one who reads the dials at six."

"Catatannya bilang yang membaca alat ukur pukul enam."

"Yes," Esteban says. "That is you."

"Ya," kata Esteban. "Itu kamu."

"She reads them too, sometimes."

"Dia juga kadang-kadang membacanya."

"Not this week, she doesn't. She left on Monday. She sent a message about it." Esteban rubs the back of his neck. "Tariq, I wrote that note for you. I did not use your name because I was nervous. I thought a name looked too serious."

"Minggu ini tidak. Dia pergi hari Senin. Dia mengirim pesan soal itu." Esteban menggosok tengkuknya. "Tariq, aku menulis catatan itu untukmu. Aku tidak menulis namamu karena aku gugup. Kupikir nama kelihatan terlalu serius."

Tariq says nothing. The radio hisses softly in the corner.

Tariq tidak berkata apa-apa. Radio mendesis lembut di sudut ruangan.

"I do not cook well," Esteban goes on. "I made the stew three times at home. The first time I burned it. The second time I forgot the salt. The third time is in that pot. I borrowed it from my sister, and it came without its own lid. So I took the lid from another pot. That is why it looks so strange."

"Aku tidak pandai memasak," Esteban melanjutkan. "Aku sudah tiga kali membuat sup ini di rumah. Yang pertama gosong. Yang kedua aku lupa garam. Yang ketiga ada di dalam panci itu. Pancinya kupinjam dari kakak perempuanku, dan datangnya tanpa tutupnya sendiri. Jadi kuambil tutup dari panci lain. Makanya kelihatan aneh."

"Oh," Tariq says. It is the only word he can find.

"Oh," kata Tariq. Hanya itu kata yang bisa ia temukan.

"I wanted to say thank you," Esteban says. "You always explain the instruments to me without making me feel stupid. Nobody else does that. And I thought, maybe, if I cooked something, you would stay for lunch."

"Aku ingin bilang terima kasih," kata Esteban. "Kamu selalu menjelaskan alat-alat ukur padaku tanpa membuatku merasa bodoh. Tak ada orang lain yang begitu. Dan kupikir, mungkin, kalau aku memasak sesuatu, kamu mau tinggal untuk makan siang."

Tariq looks at the floor, then at the door, then at Esteban. His heart is beating much faster than the wind gauge ever does. "I thought you liked her," he says at last.

Tariq memandang lantai, lalu pintu, lalu Esteban. Jantungnya berdetak jauh lebih cepat daripada pengukur angin mana pun. "Kukira kamu suka dia," katanya akhirnya.

"The scientist is very nice," Esteban says. "But I do not hum for her."

"Si ilmuwan itu baik sekali," kata Esteban. "Tapi aku tidak bersenandung untuknya."

Tariq opens his mouth, and nothing comes out. Then he starts to laugh, a real laugh, loud enough to surprise both of them. Esteban laughs too, and the radio crackles as if it wants to join in.

Tariq membuka mulut, dan tak ada yang keluar. Lalu ia mulai tertawa, tawa yang sungguh-sungguh, cukup keras sampai mengejutkan mereka berdua. Esteban ikut tertawa, dan radio berderak seakan-akan ingin bergabung.

"I am such an idiot," Tariq says.

"Aku bodoh sekali," kata Tariq.

"No. I am. I could have just written your name."

"Bukan. Aku yang bodoh. Seharusnya aku tulis saja namamu."

They walk back to the kitchen together. The stew is still warm, and the steam still escapes from the side of the lid. Tariq lifts it and sniffs. It smells of garlic, tomatoes, and something sweet that he cannot name.

Mereka berjalan kembali ke dapur bersama-sama. Supnya masih hangat, dan uapnya masih keluar dari sisi tutup. Tariq mengangkatnya dan mengendus. Baunya bawang putih, tomat, dan sesuatu yang manis yang tak bisa ia sebutkan.

"What is the sweet thing?" he asks.

"Apa yang manis itu?" tanyanya.

"Cinnamon. My mother puts it in everything." Esteban looks worried. "Is it too much?"

"Kayu manis. Ibuku memasukkannya ke semua masakan." Esteban tampak cemas. "Apa terlalu banyak?"

"I don't know yet." Tariq finds two spoons in the drawer and gives one to Esteban. "We have to taste it to find out."

"Aku belum tahu." Tariq menemukan dua sendok di laci dan memberikan satu kepada Esteban. "Kita harus mencicipinya untuk tahu."

They sit on two wobbly stools by the small window. From here, they can see the roof and the wind gauge turning. Below them, a long green slope runs down to the village. The first spoonful is hot, and Tariq burns his tongue a little. He does not say so.

Mereka duduk di dua bangku goyah di dekat jendela kecil. Dari sini mereka bisa melihat atap dan pengukur angin yang berputar. Di bawah mereka, lereng hijau yang panjang turun sampai ke desa. Suapan pertama panas, dan lidah Tariq sedikit melepuh. Ia tidak mengatakannya.

"It is good," he says. "It is really good."

"Enak," katanya. "Enak sekali."

"You are only saying that."

"Kamu cuma bilang begitu."

"I am not. I would tell you if it was bad. I tell everyone the truth about numbers." Tariq takes a second spoonful. "It needs a little more salt. But the cinnamon works."

"Tidak. Aku akan bilang kalau tidak enak. Aku selalu jujur soal angka." Tariq menyendok suapan kedua. "Kurang garam sedikit. Tapi kayu manisnya cocok."

Esteban lets out a long breath and grins. He looks younger when he grins, and Tariq has to look at his bowl for a moment.

Esteban menghela napas panjang dan menyeringai. Ia tampak lebih muda saat menyeringai, dan Tariq harus menatap mangkuknya sejenak.

They eat in the easy silence of two people who no longer have to pretend. Outside, the wind gauge keeps spinning, and the afternoon readings wait on the roof. Neither of them moves to go up.

Mereka makan dalam keheningan yang nyaman dari dua orang yang tak perlu lagi berpura-pura. Di luar, pengukur angin terus berputar, dan pembacaan sore menunggu di atap. Tak satu pun dari mereka beranjak untuk naik.

When the bowls are empty, Tariq picks up the green pot to wash it. The tin lid slides sideways and clatters onto the table. He puts it back on top, and it sits crooked again, just like before.

Ketika mangkuk-mangkuk sudah kosong, Tariq mengambil panci hijau itu untuk dicuci. Tutup timah itu tergelincir ke samping dan jatuh berkelontang di meja. Ia menaruhnya kembali di atas, dan tutup itu bertengger miring lagi, persis seperti tadi.

"It is a terrible lid," Esteban says.

"Tutup yang buruk sekali," kata Esteban.

"It is the worst lid I have ever seen." Tariq turns it around, trying to make it fit. It will not fit, however he turns it. He sets it down gently and looks up.

"Ini tutup terburuk yang pernah kulihat." Tariq memutarnya, mencoba membuatnya pas. Tutup itu tidak mau pas, seberapa pun ia memutarnya. Ia meletakkannya dengan lembut dan mendongak.

"Do you think," he asks, "that the two of us fit any better?"

"Menurutmu," tanyanya, "apakah kita berdua lebih pas?"