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She’s always different—now she’s monochrome,
just like the air—her shape forever shifting,
her body quick.
—Orsolya Karafiáth

She is always unique. Now she is monochrome, just like the air. This is the first time I saw her like this. How beautiful. How graceful. How great. She was like eternal: the light and the weather didn’t affect her.

Usually, once she entered this room, she always approached and greeted me: after we saw each other for a while, she told me what happened to her this day or several days before—and when this happened, I was like a great clergyman who heard the confession of sin from a beloved people. Or, sometimes she nagged by herself without causes, and I had no idea what she talked about. Sometimes she was also told me her hopes, her dreams, and her imaginations, in the future. Sometimes we were just staring each other, whithout words, without voices, only stared each other—occasionally she touched me, caressed me—and that was enough for me to knew how she was at that moment. Sometimes she met me with the eyes full of tears, and what she does was condemning anything, anyone, while beating my face and my body with her smooth hands. Sometimes she came with face full of smile, but didn’t talk at all, only stared at me, stroke me, and I didn’t know what it was that make her so happy so that the smile always appeared in her face.

But today the things is different. She just came into this room, quiet, pale, somber, sad, not stared at me at all, let alone talked to me. To know this gesture, some questions was of course arose in my mind. Why? What’s up? But I tried to understand. All these might be new surprises for me: she is indeed always unique. Yes, unique and different. Always.

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I still remembered clearly how she was when she met me at the first time. At that moment, her age may be about nine or ten years old. But in that early age, I was already know that all—yes, all—the perfections of a woman will appear in herself. Her hair—which at that moment not so long—was the darkest starry night without the moon: small sheens scattered and sometimes made my eyes dazzled. Her forehead, which was no so wide, and part of it covered with her hair bangs, was a transparent crown with small black greyish hair. Her ears, which was limpid, was a couple of sun flowers in the midday. Her nose was small and sharp, symmetrically placed between her cheeks, and made me always want to stroke softly from the beginning to the end, then pinched it. Her cheeks was fuga fruit which cloven exactly the same, grayish red hue spreaded all over them. Her lips was a pair of river stream: there were no ripple, but I know behind the calm appearance there were stream that always ready to sweep anyone. And I directly fell in love with her. Yes, right away. Love at the first sight. All my life, I never meet a figure who has a physical perfection which was so deep as her.

Day by day, from time to time, I observed all the developments which happened to her. I observed all her body every time we met: her face, her neck, her chest, her hands, her hips. But, in her childhood, my days were more full of the longing to meet her. Sometimes in three or four days I didn’t meet her at all. And when she came out of the blue, what she done was combing her hair, or adjusted her red and white tie, or casted out which happened to come into her eyes, without a word come out of her two thin lips. And what I can do was only seeing her, adoring her, without knowing how was her feeling, or how was her thought about me. It was in her childhood that I felt she was a fairy which didn’t know that in the future she will be an angel.

My encounter with her becoming more often when she was eighteen or nineteen years old. At the time, if my memory was not wrong, it was late in the afternoon. She was suddenly come into this room. With panting breath, after throwing her bag and her hat on the bed, she immediately approached me. She looked at me quite a long time, then she parted her hair, stroked her hair, stroked her cheeks, her lips, and after made her eyes close to my face for a while, she then murmured to me, as if to her self, “If I am beautiful?” My laughter directly exploded when I heard the silly question, “Of course yes! And not only beautiful, you are perfect!!”

After this event, everyday—sometime within a day it happened dozens of times—she met me. I can’t describe with words how happy I was with the change. I can say, it was at this adolescence that I can observed, understood, possessed her wholly: now she was no longer a fairy. Now she already change into an angel. A young angel. An angel who was in the process of perfection: her hair—which was unraveled to her shoulders—now has became a dark full moon night full of stars, sparkles of light made my eyes sore. Her narrow forehead, which sustaining her black hair, was like a transparent crown, small brown hair spreaded all over it. Her limpid ears, now looked like a pair of small wings. Her nose was small and sharp, and always made me want to stroke it from the tip to the base, then pinched it. Her cheeks were now a ripe fuga fruit parted at the same size, bluish red color spreaded all over it. Her lips was still a pair of river streams: now the river were calmer, but I know the streams that flowed under it were so fast and ready to sweeped anyone to an ocean.

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It was at this childhood, along with encounter after encounter that more often between us, there were two things which made me never bored to stared her, observed her, every time we met: she always looked new. Yes, I felt there were always something different at herself every time we met. Not like at her childhood, it was at her adolescence that I felt she was already conscious of her ‘superiority’: she was an angel. Frequently, when she went to school, she smeared her lips with something, so that her lips appeared shiny fresh. After that, she was usually closed her lips tightly, then gave me one or two kisses at my cheeks or brow. She was also often coated her face with brownish yellow powder, so that the skin of her face that was already smooth became smoother and more shiny. At a time, in the middle of a day, she came to me out of the blue with happy face, then showed off her new earrings, then said: “Beautiful birthday. Today he gave me a gift which is also beautiful.”

Another thing that made me always happy when I met her at her adolescence was that she began to dare to show parts of her lovely body to me. Sometimes, when she felt sure that there were nobody in this room, that there were only us in this room, she even dare to stripped all her clothes in front of me, then with a little smile she walked slowly in front of me, went around, laid her body on the bed, showed her buttock to me, squeezed her chest, squeezed her ass, then she kissed my nose and said: “Yes, yes, I am a sexy girl. I am beautiful and sexy. I am the sexiest girl in the world. Ha ha.”

And not only that: at this adolescence she also began to routinely tell me everything that happened to her from day to day. Yes, everything, all things that made me happy or sad when I heard them.

A week after she showed me off her new earrings that she got from her boyfriend, for example, she came to me after twilight with shiny eyes and the face full of smile. After cleaned her face with some tissues, then she combed her hair while she told me that in that day she went to a zoo with her boyfriend. At a bench in the corner of the zoo, after talked about many things and expressed about affection and love, her boyfriend kissed her. From her eyes and lines of her face I can imagine how happy she was at that time: that kiss was the first kiss in her life: “Honey, you are naughty. I know you cheated me when you said that you love me. But I am happy. Yeah, I love you too. The bench at the zoo is a silent witness when you took the virginity of my lips. Haha.”

She also ever standing still for a long time in front of me. While she stroke her cheeks, cleaved apart her hair, squeezed both of her breasts, and occasionally smiled at me with ogle, she whispered, “I am sorry Martin. You are so kind to me all this time. I don’t know how to behave to you. But you knew I already have a boyfriend.”

Once she approached me with sad eyes and tense face full of anger. And what she done in front of me was condemning someone, while her fore finger pointed right to my eyes, nose, and forehead, “Damn you motherfucker! Now you fired! You said I have to do a research in the lab, but in the lab your hands were insolent. You are a damned Bastard!”

At another time she laid silently for a long time on the bed in front of me, while she crossed her hands under her head. Her eyes stared at the ceiling of this room, seemed to think about something. A moment later, she woke up and approached me, then she stared at me for a long, long time, without words, without voices. She continued to stare at my face while she occasionally touched my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my lips, and then murmured: “what is your dream about yourself in the future? A model? A TV presenter? Soon you will garduate and you still don’t know what kind of person that you dream of.”

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So, day by day, time after time, our relationship became closer and closer. And this is the reason: I can say that compared to other people, I was the only figure that she trusted more than the others. I was sure that only to me she expressed her deepest laments, her disappointments, her happiness, her exasperations, her hatred, her revenge, her madness, her dreams, her wishes. I could be arrogant that I was the only figure that understand her the most. Very often, at the darkest and silent night, after midnight, when I was sure that most people has been sleeping, she approached me, stared at me for a long time, then she opened herself and told me about her deepest secrets. I was sure, she never revealed the secrets to other people than me, even to her own parent.

But, in the last few days she really looked different. She often just entered into this room, silent, pale, sad, somber, gloomy, and she even did not look at me at all, let alone talked to me. Sometimes she even cried for hours in front of me while she said curses that made me confused and sad, “Old bastard! Already has two wives and you still want more. Just because you rich, you think you can buy me with money! Do not even dream about it!”

A week before she behaved like this, I indeed often heard some quarrels in this house. I often heard she screamed from the next room, then she run into this room, threw her body on the bed, covered her face with a pillow, and then cried for a long, long time, without looked at me at all, or spoke to me.

Few days before I also often saw two people, a man and a woman, the two figures whom she called father and mother, came into this room with red faces and eyes full of anger, and what they did was screamed with high and hard voices, so that sometimes made my body trembled:

“Ungrateful children! All of your school finance was came from him! You could graduated from the high school was because of him!”

“Everywhere a virgin is obedient to her parent! You are perfidious girl!”

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And finally, last night, I saw two men entered this room, smothered her, then lift her body out of this room. I still saw her kept struggling to get free and tried to screamed as loud as she could, but the two men seemed too strong for her.

Until this day came, the day when she looked so different, even strange, and I hardly knew her:
She came into this room with a lusterless face, wolly hair, and clothes which teared at som parts. Walked slowly while occasionally holding her crotch, she put her goods in this room into a big bag, without saw me at all, let alone talked to me.

A moment later she took a chair that was in the corner of this room, put it in the middle of this room, and then opened the cupboard that laid right in front of me, took a long shawl; and then with a very cold face, she climbed onto the chair, tied the shawl to one of the wooden joist at the ceiling of this room.

And like my guess, the following event was a new surprise for me: after put her head into the knot which she made at the hanging shawl, with her right leg she kicked the chair.

Slowly, together with her body which swinging at the shawl, the color of her face changed: dark red, yellow, reddish yellow, then slowly became blue, then red, then yellow again, reddish blue, then white, the pale white.

A moment later, after her body was totally still, she looked wholly different: now she was monochrome, just like the air. It was the first time I saw her like that. How beautiful, how graceful, how great she was. Now I felt her beauty seemed eternal: the air and the weather did not affected her at all.***

(An original short story by: © Zaim Rofiqi)

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###BAHASA INDONESIA#

BIDADARIKU

Cerpen: Zaim Rofiqi

She’s always different—now she’s monochrome,
just like the air—her shape forever shifting,
her body quick.
—Orsolya Karafiáth

Ia selalu berbeda. Kini ia monokrom, seperti udara. Inilah kali pertama aku melihatnya seperti ini. Betapa indahnya. Betapa anggunnya. Betapa agungnya. Ia seperti baka: cahaya dan cuaca tak memengaruhinya.

Biasanya, begitu masuk ke ruangan ini, ia selalu menghampiriku: setelah kami saling tatap untuk beberapa saat, ia kemudian menceritakan apa saja yang terjadi padanya dalam satu atau beberapa hari terakhir—dan jika sudah begini, aku layaknya seorang pendeta agung yang menerima pengakuan dosa dari seorang jemaat tersayang. Atau, kadang ia nyerocos begitu saja tanpa kuketahui ujung-pangkalnya, dan aku sama sekali tak tahu apa yang sedang dibicarakannya. Kadang ia juga menceritakan padaku harapan-harapannya, mimpi-mimpinya, khayalan-khayalannya, kelak. Kadang kami hanya saling tatap, tanpa kata, tanpa suara, cuma saling pandang—sesekali sentuhan, belaian—dan itu sudah cukup buatku untuk mengetahui bagaimana keadaan dirinya saat itu. Kadang ia menemuiku dengan mata bengkak karena air mata, dan apa yang dilakukannya hanyalah memaki-maki apa saja, siapa saja, sambil memukul-mukulkkan tangannya yang begitu lembut ke wajah dan tubuhku. Kadang ia datang dengan muka penuh senyuman, tapi sama sekali tak berbicara, hanya menatapku, mengelusku, dan aku tak tahu apa yang begitu menggembirakan hatinya hingga senyum selalu tergaris di wajahnya.

Namun hari ini lain. Ia masuk begitu saja ke dalam ruangan ini, bungkam, pucat, muram, murung, sama sekali tak menatapku, apalagi bicara padaku. Melihat gelagatnya ini, berbagai pertanyaan tentu saja segera mencuat dalam benakku. Ada apa? Kenapa? Tapi aku mencoba maklum. Ini mungkin sebuah kejutan baru buatku: ia memang selalu berbeda. Ya, berbeda. Selalu.

Aku masih ingat dengan jelas bagaimana dirinya saat pertama kali menemuiku. Saat itu umurnya mungkin baru sembilan atau sepuluh tahun. Namun dalam umur sedini itu, aku telah tahu bahwa semua—ya, semua—kesempurnaan seorang wanita akan muncul dalam dirinya. Rambutnya—yang saat itu belum begitu panjang—adalah malam pekat berbintang tanpa bulan: kilap-kilap kecil bertebaran dan kadang menyilaukan mataku. Jidatnya yang tak begitu lapang, yang sebagian tertutup poni rambutnya, adalah mahkota transparan berhias bulu-bulu kecil hitam keabuan. Kupingnya, bening mengembang, adalah sepasang bunga matahari di tengah hari. Hidungnya mungil mencuat, melekat tepat simetris di antara kedua pipinya, membuatku selalu ingin mengelusnya dari pangkal hingga ujung, lalu mencubitnya. Pipinya buah fuga yang terbelah tepat sama, rona merah keabuan tertebar di kedua lengkungnya. Bibirnya sepasang aliran sungai: tak ada riak, namun aku tahu di balik permukaan tenang itu ada arus yang selalu siap menghanyutkan siapa saja. Dan aku pun langsung jatuh hati padanya. Ya, langsung. Jatuh hati pada pandangan pertama. Sepanjang hidupku, tak pernah aku bertatapan dengan sosok yang menyimpan kesempurnaan fisik yang begitu pekat seperti dirinya.

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Dari hari ke hari, dari waktu ke waktu, kuamati semua perkembangan yang ada pada dirinya. Kucermati sekujur tubuhnya tiap kali kami bertemu. Wajahnya, lehernya, dadanya, lengannya, pinggulnya. Namun, di masa kanaknya ini, hari-hariku lebih banyak berisi kerinduan untuk bertemu dengannya. Kadang tiga atau empat hari penuh ia sama sekali tak menemuiku. Dan ketika ia tiba-tiba muncul menghampiriku, apa yang dilakukannya hanyalah menyisir rambut, atau membetulkan dasi merah putihnya, atau mengusir debu yang kebetulan nyasar masuk ke dalam matanya, tanpa sepatah kata pun yang muncul dari kedua belah bibir tipisnya itu. Dan apa yang dapat kulakukan hanyalah menatapnya, mengaguminya, tanpa tahu bagaimana perasaannya, atau bagaimana pikirannya tentangku. Di masa kanaknya ini aku merasa ia adalah sesosok peri yang tak sadar bahwa kelak ia akan jadi sesosok bidadari.

Pertemuanku dengannya menjadi semakin sering terjadi saat ia berusia delapan belas atau sembilan belas tahun. Saat itu, jika aku tak salah ingat, sore hari sehabis ashar. Ia tiba-tiba saja menyeruak masuk ke dalam ruangan ini. Dengan nafas terengah, setelah melemparkan tas dan topinya ke atas ranjang, ia serta-merta menghampiriku. Ia menatapku cukup lama, menyibak belahan rambutnya, mengelus rambutnya, mengusap kedua pipinya, bibirnya, dan setelah mendekatkan matanya ke wajahku beberapa saat, ia kemudian berbisik, seperti untuk dirinya sendiri, “Apakah aku cantik?” Tawaku segera saja meledak mendengar pertanyaan konyol itu, “Tentu saja! Dan bukan hanya cantik, kau sempurna!!”

“Hari ini ia mengatakan cinta padaku. Percayakah kau? Percayakah kau bahwa hari ini ia mengungkapkan perasaannya kepadaku? Anak yang menjadi buah bibir satu sekolah itu hari ini menyatakan cintanya padaku!!!”

Setelah peristiwa ini, setiap hari—dalam satu hari kadang bahkan puluhan kali—ia menemuiku. Tak bisa kugambarkan betapa girangnya aku melihat perubahan ini. Dapat kukatakan, pada masa remajanya inilah aku dapat mengamati, mengerti, memiliki, dirinya sepenuhnya: kini ia tak lagi peri. Ia telah sepenuhnya menjelma bidadari. Bidadari muda. Bidadari yang sedang mekar-mekarnya: Rambutnya—yang tergerai sepanjang bahunya—kini adalah malam pekat berbintang berbulan, kilau kilap menyambar-nyambar menyilaukan mataku. Jidatnya yang tak begitu lebar, yang menghampar menopang belahan rambutnya, masih tampak sebagai mahkota yang semakin transparan, berhias bulu-bulu kecil hitam keabuan. Kupingnya yang bening mengembang, kini tampak bak sepasang sayap mungil. Hidungnya mungil mancung, dan masih selalu membuatku selalu ingin mengelusnya dari pangkal hingga ujung, lalu mencubitnya. Pipinya kini buah fuga matang yang terbelah tepat sama, rona merah kebiruan tertebar di kedua lengkungnya. Bibirnya masih sepasang aliran sungai: kini tampak tambah tenang, namun aku sadar arus di balik permukaan itu begitu derasnya, dan siap menghanyutkan siapa saja ke sebuah samudera.

Pada masa remajanya ini, seiring dengan pertemuan demi pertemuan yang semakin sering terjadi di antara kami, ada dua hal yang membuatku tak pernah merasa bosan menatapnya, mengamatinya, tiap kali kami bertemu: ia selalu tampak baru. Ya, aku merasa selalu ada yang berbeda pada dirinya tiap kali kami bertemu. Tidak seperti di masa kanaknya, di masa remaja ini aku merasa ia telah sadar bahwa ia adalah sesosok bidadari: sering, saat menjelang berangkat ke sekolah, ia mengoleskan sesuatu ke bibirnya, hingga bibir itu tampak segar berpendar. Setelah itu, ia biasanya merapatkan erat-erat kedua bibirnya, lalu mecucu, lalu mendaratkan sebuah atau dua buah kecupan ke kening atau pipiku. Sering juga ia melapisi wajahnya dengan suatu bubuk kuning kecoklatan, hingga kulit wajahnya yang telah halus itu jadi tambah licin dan bersinar. Pernah juga, di tengah hari bolong, ia tiba-tiba saja menghampiriku dengan muka sumringah, lalu memamerkan sepasang anting baru di kedua telinganya, sambil berkata: “Ulang tahun yang indah. Hari ini dia memberiku hadiah yang juga indah.”

Hal lain yang membuatku selalu senang saat bertemu dengannya di masa remajanya ini adalah bahwa ia mulai berani memperlihatkan lekuk-liuk tubuh indahnya di hadapanku. Kadang, saat benar-benar yakin bahwa di ruangan ini hanya ada kami berdua, ia bahkan melucuti semua pakaiannya di hadapanku, lalu dengan senyum terkulum ia melenggak-lenggok, berputar-putar, naik ke ranjang, telentang, nungging, meremas kedua payudaranya, meremas pantatnya dan memperlihatkannya kepadaku, lalu mengecup hidungku sambil berkata: “Ya, ya. Aku seksi. Aku cantik dan seksi. Aku wanita terseksi di dunia ini. Ha ha.”

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Dan bukan hanya itu: pada masa akil-balignya ini ia juga mulai rutin menceritakan padaku berbagai hal yang terjadi padanya dari hari ke hari. Ya, berbagai hal, bahkan mungkin semua hal, baik yang membuatku gembira ataupun sedih saat mendengarnya.

Seminggu setelah ia memamerkan anting hadiah ulang tahun dari kekasihnya itu, misalnya, ia menghampiriku sehabis magrib dengan mata berbinar dan wajah penuh senyuman. Setelah membersihkan wajahnya dengan beberapa tisu, ia kemudian menyisir rambutnya sambil bercerita padaku bahwa hari itu ia bersama kekasihnya pergi ke sebuah kebun binatang. Di sebuah bangku di sudut taman di kebun binatang itu, setelah ngobrol tentang berbagai hal dan saling mengucapkan rasa sayang, kekasihnya itu menciumnya. Dari mata dan garis wajahnya aku dapat membayangkan betapa bahagianya dirinya saat itu: itu adalah ciuman pertamanya dalam hidupnya: “Sayang, kamu nakal. Aku tahu kamu menipuku saat kau bilang sayang padaku. Tapi aku senang. Ya, ya, aku juga sayang kamu. Bangku di kebun binatang itu saksi bisu saat kau memerawani bibirku. Ha ha.”

Pernah juga ia memagut dirinya lama sekali di hadapanku. Sambil mengelus kedua pipinya, menyibakkan rambutnya ke sana ke mari, meremas kedua susunya, dan sesekali menebar senyuman riang disertai kerlingan mata nakal ke arahku, ia berbisik, “Maafkan aku Martin. Kamu sudah baik sekali padaku selama ini. Aku tak tahu bagaimana harus bersikap padamu. Tapi kamu tahu sendiri aku sudah punya kekasih.”

Sekali waktu ia menghampiriku dengan mata nanar kemerahan dan wajah tegang memancarkan kebencian. Dan apa yang dilakukannya di hadapanku adalah memaki-maki seseorang, sambil jarinya menunjuk-nujuk tajam ke mata, jidat, dan hidungku, “Rasain, loe, Bajingan. Sekarang dipecat!! Ngomongnya mau praktikum, eh di dalam laboratorium malah gerayangan kurang ajar. Dasar guru bajingan!”

Di waktu lain ia telentang begitu lama di atas ranjang di hadapanku, kedua tangannya ia silangkan di bawah kepalanya. Matanya menerawang memelototi langit-langit ruangan ini, seperti merenungkan sesuatu. Beberapa saat kemudian, ia bangkit dan menghampiriku, lalu menatapku lama sekali, tanpa kata, tanpa suara. Ia terus saja mengamat-amati wajahku sambil sesekali menyentuh jidatku, pipiku, hidungku, bibirku, lalu berbisik, “Jadi apa ya kamu nanti? Model? Penyiar TV? Sebentar lagi kamu lulus dan kamu masih tak tahu mau jadi apa nanti…”

Demikianlah, dari hari ke hari, dari waktu ke waktu, hubungan kami semakin erat. Betapa tidak: dibanding orang-orang lain, aku bisa mengatakan bahwa akulah sosok yang paling ia percaya. Aku yakin hanya kepadakulah ia ungkapkan keluh-kesah terdalamnya, kekesalannya, kegembiraannya, kegusarannya, kebenciannya, dendamnya, kegilaannya, mimpi-mimpinya, keinginannnya. Jika mau sombong, aku bisa mengatakan bahwa akulah sosok yang paling mengerti dirinya. Seringkali, di malam-malam sunyi, setelah lewat dinihari, saat aku yakin sebagian besar orang telah terlelap, ia menghampiriku, menatapku begitu lama, lalu membuka diri dan menceritakan rahasia-rahasia terdalamnya kepadaku. Rahasia-rahasia yang aku yakin bahkan tak pernah ia ungkap kepada siapa pun, termasuk kedua orangtuanya.

Namun, dalam beberapa hari ini ia benar-benar terlihat lain. Ia sering masuk begitu saja ke dalam ruangan ini, bungkam, pucat, muram, murung, sama sekali tak menatapku, apalagi bicara padaku. Kadang ia bahkan menangis berjam-jam di hadapanku sambil mengeluarkan umpatan-umpatan yang membingungkanku dan membuatku sedih, “Tua bangka bajingan! Sudah punya istri dua masih juga mau lagi. Mentang-mentang kaya! Kau pikir bisa membeliku dengan uang! Fuihh!! Jangan bermimpi!!! ”

Seminggu sebelum ia bersikap seperti ini, aku memang sering mendengar berbagai pertengkaran yang terjadi di rumah ini. Aku sangat sering mendengar ia berteriak-teriak dari ruangan sebelah, lalu berlari masuk ke dalam ruangan ini, melemparkan tubuhnya ke atas ranjang, membenamkan wajahnya pada sebuah bantal, lalu menangis lama sekali, sama sekali tanpa menatapku, atau bicara padaku.

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Beberapa hari ini aku juga sering melihat dua orang, lelaki dan perempuan, dua sosok yang ia panggil bapak dan ibu, masuk ke dalam ruangan ini dengan muka merah dan mata penuh amarah, dan apa yang sering mereka lakukan adalah berteriak-teriak dengan suara yang begitu tinggi, hingga kadang membuat tubuhku bergetar:

“Anak tak tahu diri! Kamu bisa sekolah hingga lulus itu karena beliau yang membiayai!!”

“Di mana-mana anak perawan ya nurut sama orang tuanya!! Kamu kok malah melawan!! Dasar anak durhaka!!”

Dan terkahir, kemarin malam, aku melihat dua orang lelaki masuk ke ruangan ini, membekapnya, lalu mengangkat tubuhnya entah ke mana. Aku masih sempat melihat ia meronta-ronta sekuat tenaga dan berusaha berteriak sejadi-jadinya, namun kedua laki-laki itu tampaknya begitu kuat membekap dan mengangkat tubuhnya.

Hingga datanglah hari ini, hari saat ia tampak sama sekali terlihat lain, bahkan asing, dan aku hampir-hampir tak mengenalnya:
Ia masuk ke ruangan ini dengan wajah yang amat sangat kuyu, rambut kusut mawut, dan pakaian yang koyak di beberapa bagian. Sambil berjalan gontai dan sesekali memegangi selangkangannya, ia mengemasi semua barangnya yang ada di dalam ruangan ini ke dalam sebuah tas besar, tanpa sama sekali menatap ke arahku, apalagi bicara padaku.

Beberapa saat kemudian ia mengambil sebuah kursi yang ada di sudut ruangan ini, menaruhnya tepat di tengah ruangan, lalu membuka lemari yang ada di depanku, mengeluarkan sebuah selendang panjang, dan dengan mimik muka yang benar-benar dingin, ia naik ke kursi itu, kemudian mengikatkan selendang itu ke salah satu kayu di langit-langit kamar.

Dan seperti yang kusangka, peristiwa yang terjadi kemudian adalah sebuah kejutan baru buatku: setelah memasukkan kepalanya ke dalam simpul ikatan yang telah ia buat di selendang yang menggantung itu, dengan kaki kanannya ia menendang sandaran kursi kayu itu.

Perlahan-lahan, seiring dengan tubuhnya yang terayun-ayun di selendang itu, rona wajahnya berubah: merah pekat, kuning, kuning kemerahan, lalu perlahan membiru, memerah, membiru, merah kebiruan, lalu memutih, memucat.

Tak lama kemudian, setelah tubuhnya sepenuhnya tak bergerak, ia jadi terlihat sama sekali berbeda: Kini ia monokrom, seperti udara. Inilah kali pertama aku melihatnya seperti ini. Betapa indahnya. Betapa anggunnya. Betapa agungnya. Aku merasa, kecantikannya kini tampak baka: udara dan cuaca tak memengaruhinya.***

(An original short story by: © Zaim Rofiqi)

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