The Wallet That Knew the Street

On the last Saturday of June, Fenwick Lane closed to traffic and turned into one long table. The tradition was older than anyone on the street could explain. Every shop carried its tables outside, every doorway wore a paper lantern, and by evening the whole lane smelled of grilled corn and warm sugar.

Pada hari Sabtu terakhir bulan Juni, Jalan Fenwick ditutup untuk kendaraan dan berubah menjadi satu meja panjang. Tradisi itu lebih tua daripada yang bisa dijelaskan oleh siapa pun di jalan tersebut. Setiap toko membawa meja-mejanya keluar, setiap ambang pintu mengenakan lampion kertas, dan menjelang malam seluruh jalan berbau jagung bakar dan gula yang hangat.

Corwin had been in charge of the decorations for fourteen years. He repaired clocks in a narrow shop at number nine. The other shopkeepers had decided long ago that a man who handled a hundred tiny springs could hang a few flags in a line. He did not argue with them. He liked the job.

Corwin sudah empat belas tahun bertanggung jawab atas dekorasi. Ia memperbaiki jam di toko sempit di nomor sembilan. Para pemilik toko lain sudah lama memutuskan bahwa orang yang menangani seratus pegas mungil pasti bisa memasang beberapa bendera berderet. Ia tidak pernah membantah mereka. Ia menyukai tugas itu.

His routine never changed. At half past six he carried a stepladder and a crate of bunting down the lane. Then he bought a coffee from the kiosk at the corner and sat on the old iron bench outside the printer's to drink it. He always counted the flags on the crate before he started. There were always two hundred and twelve.

Rutinitasnya tidak pernah berubah. Pukul setengah tujuh ia membawa tangga lipat dan sekotak bendera hias menyusuri jalan. Lalu ia membeli kopi dari kios di sudut dan duduk di bangku besi tua di depan toko percetakan untuk meminumnya. Ia selalu menghitung bendera di dalam kotak sebelum mulai. Jumlahnya selalu dua ratus dua belas.

That morning the bench was already occupied. A wallet lay on the seat, exactly where he usually put his cup.

Pagi itu bangku sudah ditempati. Sebuah dompet tergeletak di tempat duduk, persis di tempat ia biasa menaruh cangkirnya.

It was an ordinary object at first glance: dark green leather, worn at the corners, closed with a small brass clasp. Corwin looked up and down the lane. The street was empty except for a man hosing the pavement outside the fish shop, and he was too far away to have noticed anything.

Sekilas benda itu biasa saja: kulit hijau tua, aus di sudut-sudutnya, ditutup dengan kancing kuningan kecil. Corwin menoleh ke ujung-ujung jalan. Jalan itu kosong kecuali seorang laki-laki yang menyemprot trotoar di depan toko ikan, dan ia terlalu jauh untuk memperhatikan apa pun.

He picked up the wallet, and it was warm. It was not the warmth of a pocket or of morning sunlight, but the slow, steady heat of something alive. He nearly dropped it.

Ia mengambil dompet itu, dan dompet itu hangat. Bukan hangat seperti saku atau sinar matahari pagi, melainkan panas yang pelan dan mantap dari sesuatu yang hidup. Ia nyaris menjatuhkannya.

"Do not be silly," he said aloud, and he opened the clasp.

"Jangan konyol," katanya keras-keras, lalu ia membuka kancingnya.

There was no money inside, and no cards, and no name. There was a single coin, thick and dull, stamped with the image of a lamp post that he did not recognise. There was a ticket stub printed with the words ADMIT ONE TO THE LANE. And there was a photograph.

Tidak ada uang di dalamnya, tidak ada kartu, dan tidak ada nama. Hanya ada satu koin, tebal dan kusam, dicap dengan gambar tiang lampu yang tidak ia kenali. Ada sobekan karcis yang tercetak kata-kata TIKET MASUK KE JALAN. Dan ada sebuah foto.

The photograph showed Fenwick Lane at the height of a party. Paper lanterns were glowing in the dusk, tables ran the whole length of the street and hundreds of people were laughing at once. In the front, outside the clock shop, stood Corwin himself, holding a plate of corn and looking surprised. Next to him, with a lantern in her hands, stood Irene from the plant shop.

Foto itu menunjukkan Jalan Fenwick pada puncak sebuah pesta. Lampion kertas menyala di senja hari, meja-meja membentang sepanjang jalan, dan ratusan orang tertawa bersamaan. Di depan, di luar toko jam, berdiri Corwin sendiri, memegang sepiring jagung dan tampak terkejut. Di sampingnya, dengan lampion di tangan, berdiri Irene dari toko tanaman.

Corwin turned the picture over. On the back, in small blue handwriting, someone had written the date. It was today's date.

Corwin membalik gambar itu. Di baliknya, dengan tulisan tangan kecil berwarna biru, seseorang menulis tanggal. Itu tanggal hari ini.

"Interesting," he said, in the voice he used when a customer brought in a watch that ran backwards.

"Menarik," katanya, dengan nada yang biasa ia pakai ketika pelanggan membawa arloji yang berjalan mundur.

He was still staring at it when Irene arrived, pushing a trolley of potted ferns. She was a tall woman with soil under her fingernails, and she had never been known to walk past an interesting problem.

Ia masih menatapnya ketika Irene tiba sambil mendorong troli berisi pot-pot pakis. Ia perempuan jangkung dengan tanah di bawah kukunya, dan ia tidak pernah dikenal melewati masalah menarik begitu saja.

"You look like you have seen a ghost," she said. "Have you?"

"Kamu kelihatan seperti baru melihat hantu," katanya. "Benar begitu?"

"Not yet," Corwin said. He held out the photograph.

"Belum," kata Corwin. Ia mengulurkan foto itu.

Irene studied it for a long time. Then she took a pair of reading glasses from her apron pocket, put them on and studied it again.

Irene mempelajarinya lama sekali. Lalu ia mengambil kacamata baca dari saku celemeknya, memakainya, dan mempelajarinya lagi.

"That is my lantern," she said. "I only bought it on Thursday. It has never been outside the shop." She pointed at the edge of the picture. "And what is that?"

"Itu lampionku," katanya. "Baru kubeli hari Kamis. Lampion itu belum pernah keluar dari toko." Ia menunjuk tepi gambar. "Dan apa itu?"

Corwin leaned closer. Between his clock shop and the plant shop, in the photograph, there was a third building. It was narrow, with a green door and a round window above it. The lantern light fell across its step as if it had always been there.

Corwin mencondongkan badan. Di antara toko jamnya dan toko tanaman, di dalam foto itu, ada bangunan ketiga. Sempit, dengan pintu hijau dan jendela bundar di atasnya. Cahaya lampion jatuh di anak tangganya seolah bangunan itu sudah selalu ada di sana.

"There is no building between us," Irene said slowly. "There is only the gap. I keep my bicycle in that gap."

"Tidak ada bangunan di antara kita," kata Irene pelan. "Hanya ada celah. Aku menyimpan sepedaku di celah itu."

"I know," Corwin said. "I have walked past it for fourteen years."

"Aku tahu," kata Corwin. "Aku sudah melewatinya selama empat belas tahun."

They looked at each other. Then, without discussing it, they walked together to the narrow passage between their two shops. It was exactly as they remembered it: a strip of shadow, a drainpipe, a bicycle chained to a hook. The brick wall at the end of it was damp and plain.

Mereka saling menatap. Lalu, tanpa membicarakannya, mereka berjalan bersama ke lorong sempit di antara dua toko mereka. Lorong itu persis seperti yang mereka ingat: sepetak bayangan, sebuah pipa talang, sebuah sepeda yang dirantai ke pengait. Dinding bata di ujungnya lembap dan polos.

"Perhaps the photograph was taken from a different street," Irene said. "Perhaps it is a trick."

"Mungkin foto itu diambil dari jalan yang lain," kata Irene. "Mungkin ini hanya tipuan."

"Perhaps," Corwin said. "But who would trick two shopkeepers with a warm wallet?"

"Mungkin," kata Corwin. "Tapi siapa yang mau menipu dua pemilik toko dengan dompet yang hangat?"

They did what any sensible person would do. They carried the wallet down the lane and asked everyone. The fish seller said he had never seen it before. The printer said it was too clean to be lost by one of his customers. The woman who ran the kiosk held it for a moment, went very quiet and handed it straight back without a word.

Mereka melakukan apa yang akan dilakukan orang yang waras. Mereka membawa dompet itu menyusuri jalan dan bertanya kepada semua orang. Penjual ikan bilang ia belum pernah melihatnya. Tukang cetak bilang dompet itu terlalu bersih untuk hilang dari salah satu pelanggannya. Perempuan yang menjaga kios memegangnya sebentar, mendadak sangat diam, lalu langsung mengembalikannya tanpa sepatah kata.

"She knows something," Irene whispered.

"Dia tahu sesuatu," bisik Irene.

"She knows she does not want it," Corwin said.

"Dia tahu dia tidak mau dompet itu," kata Corwin.

By ten o'clock the tables were up, and the bunting hung in perfect lines from the lamp posts. The two hundred and twelfth flag was tied to the last post. For the first time in fourteen years, Corwin did not feel proud of it. He kept thinking about the coin. He had weighed it on the small scale in his shop. It had looked as light as a wedding ring, yet it had made the whole scale tilt as if it weighed a kilo.

Pukul sepuluh meja-meja sudah terpasang, dan bendera hias tergantung dalam barisan sempurna dari tiang-tiang lampu. Bendera kedua ratus dua belas diikatkan di tiang terakhir. Untuk pertama kalinya dalam empat belas tahun, Corwin tidak merasa bangga akan hal itu. Ia terus memikirkan koin itu. Ia sudah menimbangnya di timbangan kecil di tokonya. Koin itu tampak seringan cincin kawin, tetapi membuat seluruh timbangan miring seolah beratnya satu kilo.

At noon, Irene brought him a sandwich and sat beside him on the iron bench.

Saat tengah hari, Irene membawakannya sandwich dan duduk di sampingnya di bangku besi.

"If it were my wallet," she said, "I would want someone to try the obvious thing."

"Kalau ini dompetku," katanya, "aku ingin ada yang mencoba hal yang paling jelas."

"What is the obvious thing?"

"Apa hal yang paling jelas itu?"

"Show it the gap," she said.

"Tunjukkan celahnya padanya," katanya.

It sounded ridiculous, and they both knew it. But they walked back to the passage anyway, and Corwin held the wallet out in front of him like a man carrying a candle. The brass clasp began to tick softly, and the coin inside rang against the leather, a small clear note, like a spoon against a glass.

Kedengarannya konyol, dan mereka berdua tahu itu. Tapi mereka tetap berjalan kembali ke lorong itu, dan Corwin mengulurkan dompet itu di depannya seperti orang yang membawa lilin. Kancing kuningannya mulai berdetik pelan, dan koin di dalamnya berdenting menyentuh kulit, sebuah nada kecil yang jernih, seperti sendok yang mengenai gelas.

Nothing else happened. The wall stayed a wall. The bicycle stayed on its hook. Yet for a moment, the shadow at the end of the passage seemed to deepen into the shape of a doorway. Corwin felt a faint cool breath on his face, the kind that comes from a cellar.

Tidak ada hal lain yang terjadi. Dinding tetap dinding. Sepeda tetap di pengaitnya. Namun sesaat, bayangan di ujung lorong itu seolah mendalam membentuk sebuah ambang pintu. Corwin merasakan embusan dingin yang samar di wajahnya, jenis embusan yang datang dari ruang bawah tanah.

Then the feeling stopped. The clasp fell silent, and the wallet went back to being merely warm.

Lalu perasaan itu berhenti. Kancingnya diam, dan dompet itu kembali menjadi sekadar hangat.

"Well," Irene said, a little hoarsely. "That was something."

"Wah," kata Irene, agak serak. "Itu tadi sesuatu."

"It was," Corwin said. "I think it was a greeting."

"Memang," kata Corwin. "Kurasa itu sebuah sapaan."

They said nothing more about it for the rest of the afternoon. The party began on time, as it always did. The lanterns were lit at dusk, and the lane filled with people carrying plates of food from table to table. Corwin stood outside his shop with a plate of grilled corn, and Irene stood next to him with her lantern. For a while they were simply two neighbours enjoying a party.

Mereka tidak membicarakannya lagi sepanjang sisa sore. Pesta dimulai tepat waktu, seperti biasa. Lampion-lampion dinyalakan saat senja, dan jalan itu dipenuhi orang yang membawa piring makanan dari meja ke meja. Corwin berdiri di luar tokonya dengan sepiring jagung bakar, dan Irene berdiri di sampingnya dengan lampionnya. Untuk sementara mereka hanyalah dua tetangga yang menikmati pesta.

It was only when the first song started that Corwin put his hand in his pocket and felt the wallet again, warmer than ever. He drew out the photograph and held it up to the light of the nearest lantern.

Baru ketika lagu pertama mulai, Corwin memasukkan tangan ke sakunya dan merasakan dompet itu lagi, lebih hangat daripada sebelumnya. Ia menarik keluar foto itu dan mengangkatnya ke cahaya lampion terdekat.

The picture had changed.

Gambarnya telah berubah.

It still showed the lane, the tables and the crowd. But the two figures in front of the clock shop were no longer smiling. They were looking down at something small in their hands. Corwin was holding a photograph, and Irene was leaning over his shoulder to see it. The date on the back had changed too, and now the writing was fresh and wet.

Foto itu masih menunjukkan jalan, meja-meja, dan kerumunan. Tapi kedua sosok di depan toko jam tidak lagi tersenyum. Mereka menunduk menatap sesuatu yang kecil di tangan mereka. Corwin memegang sebuah foto, dan Irene membungkuk di balik bahunya untuk melihatnya. Tanggal di baliknya pun telah berubah, dan kini tulisannya masih baru dan basah.

Irene saw it at the same moment. She did not scream, and she did not drop her lantern. She only took a slow breath and spoke very quietly, so that the singers would not hear.

Irene melihatnya pada saat yang sama. Ia tidak menjerit, dan ia tidak menjatuhkan lampionnya. Ia hanya menarik napas pelan dan berbicara dengan sangat lirih, agar para penyanyi tidak mendengar.

"Corwin," she said, "if we are both standing here, then who is taking the picture?"

"Corwin," katanya, "kalau kita berdua berdiri di sini, lalu siapa yang mengambil gambarnya?"