The Sign That Lost a Letter

The sign above the lobby door of the Lantern Street Rink had always read NO WISHING ON THE ICE. Until that Tuesday, Osman had never given it a second thought. The letters were made of pale blue iron, each one as long as his forearm. The rink's founder had bolted them to the beam more than a century ago. Every new skater asked about it. Every old skater smiled and said nothing.

Papan di atas pintu lobi Lantern Street Rink selalu bertuliskan NO WISHING ON THE ICE (Dilarang Berharap di Atas Es). Sampai hari Selasa itu, Osman tidak pernah memikirkannya dua kali. Huruf-hurufnya terbuat dari besi biru pucat, masing-masing sepanjang lengan bawahnya. Pendiri arena itu telah memasangnya pada balok dengan baut lebih dari seabad lalu. Setiap pemain seluncur baru menanyakannya. Setiap pemain lama tersenyum dan tidak berkata apa-apa.

The rink had been frozen from a spring that ran beneath the building, and the spring was not ordinary water. Anyone who said the word wish while skating found that the ice listened. Most of the time this caused only small trouble. A teenager who wished to skate faster would shoot across the rink like a stone from a sling. A woman who wished her feet were warmer would melt a puddle the size of a dinner plate. Years ago, a man had wished for a quiet life and had been found asleep on the boards for three days.

Arena itu dibekukan dari sebuah mata air yang mengalir di bawah gedung, dan mata air itu bukan air biasa. Siapa pun yang mengucapkan kata wish (berharap) saat bermain seluncur akan mendapati bahwa esnya mendengarkan. Biasanya ini hanya menimbulkan masalah kecil. Seorang remaja yang berharap bisa meluncur lebih cepat akan melesat melintasi arena seperti batu dari ketapel. Seorang perempuan yang berharap kakinya lebih hangat akan melelehkan genangan sebesar piring makan. Bertahun-tahun lalu, seorang pria berharap hidup yang tenang dan ditemukan tertidur di pagar arena selama tiga hari.

So the sign stood as a kind of lock. As long as its letters were whole, the spring was calm, and the ice behaved like ice.

Jadi papan itu berdiri sebagai semacam kunci. Selama huruf-hurufnya utuh, mata air itu tenang, dan es berperilaku seperti es.

On Tuesday morning, Osman unlocked the front door and glanced up out of habit. Then he stopped.

Pada Selasa pagi, Osman membuka kunci pintu depan dan melirik ke atas karena kebiasaan. Lalu ia berhenti.

The sign said NO WI HING ON THE ICE. Spoken aloud, it sounded like "No wi-hing on the ice", because the S of WISHING was gone.

Papan itu bertuliskan NO WI HING ON THE ICE. Jika diucapkan keras-keras, bunyinya seperti "No wi-hing on the ice", karena huruf S pada WISHING telah hilang.

In the gap, a pale square of beam showed where the letter had been. A thin line of frost was creeping out of the hole, spreading across the wood like a crack in a window. Beneath the sign, a coat lay in a heap on the tiles, its hanging loop torn.

Pada celah itu, sebuah persegi pucat pada balok menunjukkan tempat huruf itu dulu berada. Seuntai garis tipis es merayap keluar dari lubang itu, menyebar di atas kayu seperti retakan pada jendela. Di bawah papan, sebuah mantel tergeletak menggumpal di atas ubin, tali gantungnya robek.

"Ula!" Osman shouted.

"Ula!" teriak Osman.

Ula appeared from the back office, rubbing her eyes with one hand and holding half a sandwich in the other. She worked the night shift, driving the machine that smoothed the ice after closing. She lived on sandwiches and silence, and she was rarely seen before noon.

Ula muncul dari kantor belakang, mengucek mata dengan satu tangan dan memegang setengah roti lapis di tangan lainnya. Ia bekerja pada shift malam, mengemudikan mesin yang meratakan es setelah arena tutup. Ia hidup dari roti lapis dan keheningan, dan jarang terlihat sebelum tengah hari.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Ada apa?" tanyanya.

Osman pointed. Ula followed his finger and chewed slowly, and the colour drained out of her face.

Osman menunjuk. Ula mengikuti jari itu dan mengunyah perlahan, dan warna wajahnya memudar.

"Ah," she said.

"Ah," katanya.

"What does 'ah' mean?"

"Apa maksudnya 'ah'?"

"It means that last night, when I was hanging up my coat…" She swallowed. "I used the S as a hook. It looked like a hook. I did not think."

"Maksudnya semalam, waktu aku menggantung mantelku…" Ia menelan. "Aku memakai huruf S itu sebagai pengait. Kelihatannya seperti pengait. Aku tidak berpikir."

"You hung your coat on the founder's sign."

"Kamu menggantung mantelmu di papan pendiri."

"A sign that looked a lot like a coat hook," said Ula weakly.

"Papan yang kelihatannya mirip sekali dengan gantungan mantel," kata Ula lemah.

Osman closed his eyes and counted to five. When he opened them, two children were already standing in the doorway with their skates over their shoulders. A third was pointing at the frost on the beam. Behind them, in the rink, somebody laughed, and the sound had a strange echo to it, as though the ice was repeating it back.

Osman memejamkan mata dan menghitung sampai lima. Ketika ia membukanya, dua anak sudah berdiri di ambang pintu dengan sepatu seluncur tersampir di bahu. Anak ketiga menunjuk es di balok. Di belakang mereka, di dalam arena, seseorang tertawa, dan suaranya punya gema yang aneh, seolah-olah es itu mengulanginya kembali.

"We open at nine," Osman said. "It is ten to nine. Find that letter."

"Kita buka jam sembilan," kata Osman. "Sekarang sepuluh menit menjelang jam sembilan. Temukan huruf itu."

They searched the lobby, the coat room, and the floor around the sign. They searched the bucket where the cleaning cloths lived. Ula even climbed a ladder and checked the beam itself, running her hands along the dusty wood. All she found was a single iron bolt, still warm.

Mereka mencari di lobi, ruang mantel, dan lantai di sekitar papan. Mereka mencari di ember tempat kain-kain pembersih disimpan. Ula bahkan memanjat tangga dan memeriksa balok itu sendiri, menyusurkan tangannya di sepanjang kayu yang berdebu. Yang ia temukan hanya satu baut besi, yang masih hangat.

"It must have fallen into the rink," she said.

"Pasti jatuh ke dalam arena," katanya.

"Then we will have to look on the ice."

"Kalau begitu kita harus mencarinya di atas es."

"We cannot go on the ice right now. The wishes are already leaking." Ula pointed through the glass doors. "Look."

"Kita tidak bisa masuk ke es sekarang. Harapan-harapan sudah mulai bocor." Ula menunjuk lewat pintu kaca. "Lihat."

A small shape was drifting across the rink, hanging a handspan above the surface. It was a boy of about eight, still wearing his hat. His arms were stretched wide, and his mouth was open in perfect delight. As Osman watched, the boy rose a little higher, turned a slow circle, and settled back down on his skates with a gentle bump.

Sebuah sosok kecil melayang melintasi arena, menggantung sejengkal di atas permukaan. Seorang anak laki-laki berumur sekitar delapan tahun, masih mengenakan topinya. Lengannya terentang lebar, dan mulutnya terbuka penuh kegembiraan. Saat Osman memperhatikan, anak itu naik sedikit lebih tinggi, berputar pelan satu lingkaran, lalu kembali mendarat di atas sepatu seluncurnya dengan benturan lembut.

"I only wished I could fly," the boy said happily. "Just a bit."

"Aku cuma berharap bisa terbang," kata anak itu dengan riang. "Sedikit saja."

"That is exactly what we are afraid of," Osman muttered.

"Itulah yang kami takutkan," gumam Osman.

Ula was already looking at the letters that remained. "The S is gone, and we cannot buy another," she said. "The founder cast them from the same iron as the rink's old skate blades. There is no foundry left in town that knows how."

Ula sudah memandangi huruf-huruf yang tersisa. "Huruf S-nya hilang, dan kita tidak bisa membeli yang baru," katanya. "Pendirinya mengecor huruf-huruf itu dari besi yang sama dengan bilah sepatu seluncur lama arena ini. Tidak ada lagi pengecoran di kota ini yang tahu caranya."

Osman thought about this. He looked at the blue letters, at the frost spreading along the beam, and at the gap in the sign.

Osman memikirkannya. Ia memandang huruf-huruf biru itu, es yang menyebar di sepanjang balok, dan celah pada papan.

Then he looked at Ula's coat, lying crumpled beneath the gap, with the hanging loop torn in two.

Lalu ia memandang mantel Ula, tergeletak kusut di bawah celah itu, dengan tali gantungnya putus dua.

"Iron from skate blades," he said slowly.

"Besi dari bilah sepatu seluncur," katanya perlahan.

"Yes. What of it?"

"Ya. Memangnya kenapa?"

"Where do we keep the old blades?"

"Di mana kita menyimpan bilah-bilah lama?"

Ula stared at him. Her eyes moved to the workshop door at the back of the lobby. Inside it stood a rusty barrel full of retired skates, left behind over the decades by people who had outgrown them.

Ula menatapnya. Matanya bergerak ke pintu bengkel di bagian belakang lobi. Di dalamnya berdiri sebuah tong berkarat penuh sepatu seluncur bekas, ditinggalkan selama puluhan tahun oleh orang-orang yang sudah tumbuh terlalu besar untuknya.

They worked fast. Ula dragged out the barrel while Osman cleared the workbench. From the pile, Osman chose a long, curved blade from a pair of figure skates. The steel was dark and already slightly bent, as if it remembered being an S in a former life. He clamped it in the vise. Ula took the heaviest hammer from the wall and began to tap it into shape. One patient blow after another, she rounded the top curve and flattened the lower tail.

Mereka bekerja cepat. Ula menyeret tong itu keluar sementara Osman mengosongkan meja kerja. Dari tumpukan itu, Osman memilih sebilah bilah panjang melengkung dari sepasang sepatu seluncur indah. Bajanya gelap dan sudah sedikit bengkok, seolah ingat pernah menjadi huruf S di kehidupan sebelumnya. Ia menjepitnya di ragum. Ula mengambil palu terberat dari dinding dan mulai mengetuknya hingga berbentuk. Dengan satu pukulan sabar demi satu pukulan, ia membulatkan lengkung atasnya dan meratakan ekor bawahnya.

"Watch the rivet holes," Osman said.

"Awas lubang paku kelingnya," kata Osman.

"I am watching."

"Aku mengawasinya."

"You are talking to the hammer."

"Kamu berbicara dengan palunya."

"The hammer understands me."

"Palunya mengerti aku."

At four minutes to nine, the new letter was done. It was not as pale as the others, and the curve was a little uneven. Still, when Osman held it up, it was unmistakably an S. They carried it back to the lobby on a folded cloth, as though it might spill. Ula climbed the ladder again, and Osman handed up the bolts one at a time.

Empat menit menjelang jam sembilan, huruf baru itu selesai. Warnanya tidak sepucat yang lain, dan lengkungnya sedikit tidak rata. Meski begitu, ketika Osman mengangkatnya, jelas itu sebuah S. Mereka membawanya kembali ke lobi di atas kain lipat, seakan-akan huruf itu bisa tumpah. Ula memanjat tangga lagi, dan Osman menyodorkan baut satu per satu.

It took three tries to hold the letter in place. On the third, Ula's hand shook, and the bolt rang against the iron with a clear, ringing note. The frost on the beam stopped. For a moment the whole lobby seemed to hold its breath.

Butuh tiga kali percobaan untuk menahan huruf itu pada tempatnya. Pada percobaan ketiga, tangan Ula bergetar, dan baut berdenting pada besi dengan nada yang jernih dan nyaring. Es pada balok itu berhenti menyebar. Sesaat seluruh lobi seperti menahan napas.

Then the cold seeped slowly back out of the wood, and the blue letters glowed once, softly, and went dull.

Lalu dingin itu perlahan merembes keluar dari kayu, dan huruf-huruf biru itu menyala sekali, lembut, lalu meredup.

Out on the rink, the boy settled onto his skates with a final, graceful bump.

Di arena, anak laki-laki itu mendarat di atas sepatu seluncurnya dengan benturan terakhir yang anggun.

"I think it worked," Ula said from the ladder.

"Kurasa berhasil," kata Ula dari atas tangga.

"I think so too." Osman took a step back to look at the sign. NO WISHING ON THE ICE, it said again, with one letter a little darker than the rest. Some people would notice. Most would not. He decided that was fair, and that the founder would have agreed.

"Kurasa juga begitu." Osman mundur selangkah untuk memandang papan itu. NO WISHING ON THE ICE, bunyinya lagi, dengan satu huruf sedikit lebih gelap daripada yang lain. Sebagian orang akan menyadarinya. Kebanyakan tidak. Ia memutuskan itu adil, dan bahwa sang pendiri akan setuju.

He glanced at his watch, and then at the doors, behind which a line of skaters was already growing. He pulled the keys from his pocket and handed them to Ula.

Ia melirik arlojinya, lalu ke pintu, di baliknya antrean pemain seluncur sudah memanjang. Ia mengeluarkan kunci dari sakunya dan menyerahkannya kepada Ula.

"Open up," he said. "And next time, Ula, read the sign before you hang your coat on it."

"Buka pintunya," katanya. "Dan lain kali, Ula, baca papan itu sebelum kamu menggantung mantelmu di sana."