The Sun Doesn't Know How Not To Shine

A hissing sound from the chimney woke me up.

It seemed like the gentle sway of the train had sent me to sleep. Green scenery flashed outside the window as my eyes slowly grew accustomed to the surrounding. An attractive lady with a smile on her face was pushing a trolley filled with snacks then stopped beside me, who, also with a smile on my face, shook my head before she has the chance to say anything. The smile on her face vanished instantly as she moved towards the seat in front of mine. I glanced outside. The short shadows under the trees were telling that it was already noon, and I needed to get lunch.

I grabbed my handbag and stood up—so quick that my eyes were spinning and everything looked distorted for a second. Ugh, I hate this condition of mine, it made me have to be sheltered all the time—I’ve lost consciousness more times in my life than experiencing swimming at the beach or playing at the park under the sunshine—you know, like most people. But what can I do? I was born this way and the sun might as well hate me. As I wondered whether there is a place in the world where the sun doesn’t shine, I moved to the dining car.

I was actually starving, but not in a million years will I buy my lunch from the trolley Lady—doesn’t matter how attractive she is—and eat it on my seat. I like to enjoy my lunch at the place where I’m supposed to eat.

The dining car was almost empty when I got there, except a very old woman whose right hand was shaking when she scooped out her porridge. I looked away and chose a table at the corner. If possible, I always prefer to sit in the corner, since it allows me to see everybody who comes and everything that happens. Sometimes I intentionally go into a public space by myself and sit in the corner by the window just to observe people. I like being in the corner so much that I think even when I die, I would want to be buried in the corner of the graveyard.

A waiter over-casually gave me a menu without a word. Well, I’m used to poor services in trains, so I didn’t expect even a smile.

“Coffee and sandwich.” I ordered without looking at the menu. The waiter nodded with obvious zero interest and went immediately.

I shifted my vision to the window, then I realized how dry my eyes felt. Oh, right, I’m wearing contact lenses. I forgot since when and why I wear it. As far as I could remember, I hated it. But I wear it anyway. I took a bottle of eye drops and dropped some into my eyes. Ah, how fresh. Then, I took out a pack of cigarettes, lighted one, and smoked—deeply inhaled every single trace of those poisons into my lungs. Ah, even fresher.

“Excuse me, may I sit here?”

A guy just approached me. I wouldn’t define his face as handsome, but his dark iris was very attractive. A feeling of intense longing suddenly hit me out of nowhere, like a tsunami. I was caught in a swirling vortex of emotions as this man’s eyes sucked my consciousness and brought me to another dimension with a warm and exciting sensation which, strangely enough, felt extremely familiar.

As if I’ve met him before.

 

“Excuse me, may I sit here?”

I turned and found a man—whose face I wouldn’t define as handsome—talked to me. Well, I guess it was fine since I was alone. “Please.” I answered uneagerly but still threw him a casual sweet smile.

“Thank you.” He said as he sat in front of me. A bored waiter gave him a menu without saying a word. I noticed him grinning, which I found intriguing.

“What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help asking once he ordered and the bored waiter went off.

“Nothing,” he answered, seemed amused, “the service in this train always sucks.”

I didn’t respond, neither did I ask which part of it was amusing for him. His lips still formed a wide grin, his eyes narrowed—the skin around the corners crinkled, a pair of shy dimples appeared on his cheeks. I unconsciously kept staring at him. I swear to you that he isn’t handsome, but I couldn’t help adoring his sympathetic dark eyes. They looked friendly, as if he always smiles and made the smiling eyes his default eyes. If I were to only see his eyes, I could’ve only imagined his smiling face.   

All of a sudden, he caught my stare and stopped grinning—not the eyes, though. We then silently stared at each other for a while.

“You didn’t look away.” he said, “Normally, you would look away in an instant once the person you were staring at is looking back at you.”

“I don’t feel like doing it.” I replied, “We don’t know each other, anyway.”

The lovely grin surfaced once again. The bored waiter spectacularly ruined the moment by noisily placing my order in front of me.

I finally looked away from him and sipped my hot coffee. The steam stormed into my glasses straight away, blurred my vision of everything except for the stupid lenses that misted up every time I sip a hot drink. I took off my glasses and reached for a tissue to clean it up.

“You know what,” he said, apparently he hadn’t quit from our staring contest earlier, “you look a lot prettier without glasses.”

“You look a lot prettier without glasses.”

I blinked a couple of times. His face was a few centimeters above my face, looking blurred. I pushed him away and forced myself to sit. I took my glasses from the nightstand. “But I can’t see without them.”

He sat on the side of the bed, looking amused. As usual, the skin around the corner of his eyes crinkled as they narrowed. As usual, it mesmerized me. “Are you living in the stone age!?”

“I told you I don’t like wearing contact lenses!” I grumbled while got up slowly to anticipate my anemia. “Must wash your hands, must wash the lenses everytime, can’t wear them for too long, can’t just put them on and take them off on a whim! Too many rules, too troublesome!”

“But you’ll look a lot prettier.” He repeated, the smile was still on.

I gave him a cranky snort. I really hate that attitude of his, as if he knew everything more than me, as if everything he says won’t be denied by me. On top of all, I hate it because most of the time, I know that he’s right and I just don’t want to admit.

He laughed at my crumpled face, then moved to open the window, allowing in a morning cool breeze that made me want to hide under my blanket again. But the sun who was hesitantly showing itself made me want to take a walk outside.

I heard the sound of a friction between the head of matchstick and the side of matchbox. 

“Hey, that’s mine!” I complained.

“Oh, come on,” he sighed nonchalantly. The smoke slipped out of his mouth as he was talking. “I ran out.”

Still grumbling, I snatched my cigarette pack from his hand. Only one left. Oh, well. I lit it up with the dim flame on the tip of his, then we stood side by side facing the window, smoked the same cigarette brand, watched the landscape of the town from my room, half lost in a daydream.

“You may keep wearing your glasses,” suddenly he said, unusually had a serious look on his face. “but, please, stop smoking.”

 

“Stop smoking.”

Gently, he pulled the cigarette from my fingers. I was barely smoking it, so I tried to keep it.

“You’re also smoking. Why can’t I?” I protested.

He sighed, “Not good for your health.”

“Yeah? Say that to yourself!”

He sighed again, looked sad. “Why are you being so difficult?”

I always feel sorry once I said something that makes him sad. I hate myself for letting him made such an expression. The light in my favorite eyes got dimmer, and I didn’t like it. 

I shifted to his side and leaned my head on his shoulder. After a while, he leaned his head over my head, and then we stayed like that in silence.

Salty breeze was continuously caressing my face, the sands that it brought sprinkled all over the surface of my glasses. Waves were lapping with each other and crushing the sands, sounded ferocious yet attractive at the same time. The sky was clear blue and cloudless, letting the sun shine mercilessly on any naked surfaces. It was brutally bright and hot, but we rented a beach parasol so that I can enjoy relaxing at the beach without fainting. Of course, we came here on his request, but I wonder if he realized that I barely enjoyed it as much as he did.

“I have a good idea.” He suggested when my attention was occupied with the children who were making sand castles, cheerfully laughing and screaming, their skin bared and their head unprotected. I couldn’t decide if I envied them or annoyed by them.

“What?” I asked.

“I’ll stop smoking, and so will you.”

“Hmm...” I replied, uninterested. We went silent for another more minutes. He started to play with my hair, which felt sticky due to the salty air.

“I have an even better idea." I suggested after a moment.

“What?”

“I’ll wear contact lenses, and we’ll both keep smoking.”

His hand which was playing with my hair moved slower, he was probably thinking of a response. Then, he laughed, and my favorite eyes came back.

“You, sneaky woman.” He finally replied. Then, after a moment of silent, “but, yeah, let’s do that.”

I smiled and closed my eyes. The children’s laughters, the ferocious yet attractive sounds of waves, the calming whisper of the sea breeze, the rustling sands around me, the shade of the parasol upon us, and his rhythmic deep breath next to my ears, I sensed all of those and tried to contain them inside me, but I was overwhelmed.

There are things that I used to hate. But I guess since even the sun doesn’t know how not to shine, I compromised.

“Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

I gasped. A man stood in front of me. Not handsome, but amazing eyes.

“I’m sorry, I was just asking if I can sit here, and suddenly you looked like your mind went somewhere else.”

I adjusted my breathing. The bored waiter put a plate of unappealing sandwich and a cup of coffee, then left without saying a word.

“I’m so sorry!” I said once pulled my self together, “I think I just had a déjà vu. I really feel like I’ve met you—no, like I’ve really known you well before.”

For some reason, he looked very happy. He laughed—if laughter was a cookie, his was sweet and crispy. The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Could be, in the previous life.”

I couldn’t help but laughing with him.

“So,” he said once again, lips were still smiling, “may I sit here?”

A great wave of warmth invaded every particle of my body, it filled all of the empty spaces and repaired the broken parts. The air around me got lighter and the boring dining car was—well, it was still boring. There’s nothing you can do about it.

I put my cigarette out. “Please, sit down.”

“Thank you.”

I sat down, I have been on this stage for so many times but still, I felt the sense of relieve. I could still find her. It was still her.

I know that time has always been playing on me. I have gone through sequences and phases, chasing her. I had decided to play along, where at some points reached a game over and I had to start over and over again. This time for sure, I will stay longer and if I am lucky enough, the time might even let me go until finish. But I am not giving up. I know that she would be on this train, on this day, during this time. She would order a cup of coffee and a dish—the dish is always changing. I would say hello and ask if she would let me sit with her. Of course, she will say ok. Her life is so boring. She wants to get out of her own life.

“You’re wearing contact lenses.” were the words that slipped out of my mouth once I realized the empty spaces around her eyes where her brown-framed glasses supposed to be.

She looked surprized, “Pardon?”

“No, nothing.” I answered as quick as she finished her question, and gave her the best smile I could have done. Inside, my heart exploded with the utmost delight.

I finally left a trail. I got her to do it.

I don’t know what will be in the quest this time, or if I will still be in the same stage once the sun rises tomorrow, but I will go after her, as many times as it takes.

As if agreeing to my determination, the chimney hissed, the train gently shook.

(fin)

私の中にいる化け物

私の中に化け物がいる。

姿は毎度毎度変わるけど、魂は同じく腐ってて悪のかたまり。眠りにも、意識にも、いつもあの醜い顔を出してる。

あいつは寝ない。消えるはない。

あいつが私の中にいる限り、この怒り、この憎しみ、この復讐、この色欲が消えられない。自分が必死に離れたいのに、何しても逃げれない。

今も、あの醜い顔が私に向かってる。相変わらず何も言わずにただあそこに立ってる。大きくて黒くて腐ってる。本当に最低だ。

「私、あんたが大嫌い。」

黙ってる。

「聞いてる？大嫌い。今すぐ消えろ！」

まだ黙ってる。あいつのレイプ目が私の心にまっすぐ。

「なんで黙ってんの！？答えよ！あんたは誰だ！？」

急にニヤッと笑ってる。「なんだ。もう分かってるくせに。」

何それ、本当にむかついてきた。腹が立っててたまらない。あいつの頭を打って打ってたけど、何回も何回もまた生き返ってきた。

「なんで消えられないのよ！？」

あいつは、なんか珍しく悲しい顔がしてた。「俺は何もしてないよ。」

「。。。」

そっか。ずっと間違えてたか。

化け物なのはどっちだ。

ー

Dinding Tipis

Pukul tujuh pagi. Dalam kesadaran setipis kertas, aku bisa mendengar gelora awan kelabu yang berat dan penuh, siap memuntahkan seluruh bebannya ke permukaan tanah yang tidak bersalah. Awan yang berat itu mungkin menggantung dari kelopak mataku juga, tapi aku harus bangun.

“Sepertinya akan ada badai.” Kudengar Jun mendesah.

Aku setuju, tapi terlalu malas untuk menjawab. Kupaksa diriku berangsut dari kasur untuk membuat kopi.

Mai meletakkan kertas-kertas tugasnya. “Mau membolos?”

Jun menimbang-nimbang. “Sebaiknya jangan. Hari ini penting.”

Suara mesin penggiling biji kopi menelan perkataan Mai selanjutnya, tapi aku yakin bahwa ia pasti setuju. Mai dan Jun adalah mahasiswa teladan. Satu atau dua badai tidak akan menghalangi mereka berjalan menembus hujan selama 15 menit ke stasiun, berdesakan di dalam kereta yang lembab dan berbau lumut, dan berlari ke kampus dengan payung yang mengembang sia-sia karena angin terus-menerus mendesaknya untuk mengembang ke atas dan bukannya ke bawah.

Aku menuang kopiku sementara Jun dan Mai mulai melahap sarapan mereka, roti dan telur seperti biasa, setelah keduanya setuju untuk tetap berangkat kuliah mumpung hujan belum turun. Mereka makan cepat sekali. Aku baru saja hendak memanaskan sisa makan malamku ketika mereka memakai sepatu. 

Mai terkikik geli saat Jun mengecup pipinya, kemudian sambil bergandengan tangan, mereka keluar kamar dan mengunci pintu. Di antara dengung microwave, aku mendengar langkah mereka menjauh.

Seandainya Jun tahu, bahwa pada hari-hari tertentu, bukan suaranya yang kudengar di pagi hari.

-   

Paranoia

Dingin. Maya terbangun oleh gigilnya sendiri. Ia sudah terlanjur membuka mata. Ia harus segera bangun, atau air yang mulai menggenang di sekelilingnya akan menenggelamkannya. Ia melompat seperti kesetrum, meraba-raba dinding mencari saklar. Kenapa gelap sekali? Mati listrik? Ada yang mematikannya? Siapa? Untuk apa?

Ada yang memandanginya dari sudut kamar. Siapa? Pencuri? Hantu? Tapi ia tak punya apa-apa. Tangannya menemukan kenop pintu. Ia membuka selot bawah. Satu, dua. Lalu selot atas. Satu, dua. Lalu gerendel gembok di kenop pintu. Satu, dua. Lalu, terakhir, selot rantai. Semua itu dilakukannya tak sampai lima detik. Ratusan orang meneriakinya, menyuruhnya cepat. Ia menghentakkan pintu terbuka, lalu menghambur ke luar, ke koridor apartemennya. Beberapa langkah kemudian, ia bimbang. Ia belum menutup kembali pintunya. Bagaimana kalau ada yang masuk? Tapi tadi ada pencuri di dalam. Bagaimana kalau saat ia menutup kembali pintu itu, pencuri itu menyergapnya?

Ia mendengar langkah kaki dari kejauhan. Semakin lama semakin keras, dari arah tangga. Ada yang naik. Siapa? Apakah seseorang yang dikenalnya? 

Seraut wajah muncul dari balik tembok. Laki-laki paruh baya. Matanya menangkap mata Maya, lalu ia tersenyum sembari berjalan mendekat. Kenapa? Siapa? Apa ia harus menyapanya? Bagaimana kalau ia orang jahat? Laki-laki itu membawa plastik hitam di tangan kanannya. Apa itu? Bagaimana kalau isinya pisau dapur? Atau potongan mayat? 

Laki-laki itu melihat Maya, kemudian matanya beralih pada pintu kamarnya yang terbuka. Gawat! Ia melihatnya! Ia melihat pintunya yang terbuka! Spontan Maya berbalik dan berlari, lalu membanting pintunya menutup dan menguncinya. Kuncinya ia kantongi. Tunggu dulu. Jangan-jangan kantongnya bolong?  

Maya berpaling ke arah laki-laki tadi, yang masih berjalan ke arahnya. Senyumnya tidak hilang. Senyumnya tak juga hilang! Ada apa ini? Apa maunya? Kenapa senyum-senyum terus?

Laki-laki itu berhenti dua langkah di depannya. Maya membatu, menahan napas sampai lehernya kaku. Laki-laki itu mengangguk singkat, lalu masuk ke kamar di depan kamar Maya. 

Maya memastikan sejenak bahwa laki-laki tadi tak keluar lagi untuk menusuknya. Tapi beberapa saat kemudian ia ketakutan, dan mulai berlari lagi. Kamarnya di lantai 3. Ia harus turun lewat tangga. Tunggu dulu. Apakah tangganya aman? Kapan bangunan ini dibangun? Bagaimana kalau tiba-tiba ada gempa dan tangganya runtuh? 

Ia berganti pikiran dan menghempas masuk ke dalam elevator. Tapi seketika setelah pintunya menutup, ia menyesal luar biasa. Apakah elevator ini berfungsi dengan benar? Apakah tombol-tombol yang berderet itu bukan cuma hiasan? Bagaimana kalau tiba-tiba alat penggerak atau entah apa itu namanya, macet dan elevatornya berhenti di tempat yang tak seharusnya? Apakah ia akan terkurung di dalam situ? Akankah ada yang menyelamatkannya? Atau ia akan terus terperangkap di situ sampai membusuk?

Ia mengawasi angka 3 yang kemudian berubah menjadi angka 2. Lama sekali. Sudah berapa jam ia berada di situ? Tempat ini mengerikan. Sungguh mengerikan. Berada di dalam elevator adalah mimpi buruk. Perutnya mual, pandangannya berputar, lututnya lemas. Ia terjatuh, tersengal-sengal.

Ting!

Pintu elevator terbuka. Ia sudah berada di lantai 1. Tapi kakinya menolak untuk bergerak, jadi ia menyeret tubuhnya keluar dari kotak mimpi buruk itu.  

Tapi rupanya mimpi buruknya belum berakhir. Ia mendongak dan menemukan banyak orang. Banyak sekali. Mungkin ratusan, ribuan, jutaan. Semuanya berhenti bergerak ketika ia melihat mereka. Semua orang memandanginya. Jutaan pasang mata itu memandanginya, bergeming. Bahkan jam dinding, jendela kaca, daun-daun pintu, langit-langit, seluruh permukaan gedung itu, seluruh partikel udara di tempat itu, ikut memandanginya. Nanar dan menusuk-nusuk. Waktu pun tak mau repot-repot berjalan, demi menyaksikan kejadian itu.

Tiba-tiba Maya tak ingat cara bernapas. Oksigen pun menolak keberadaannya. Lehernya tercekik, matanya memberontak ingin melompat dari rongganya. Dadanya sakit. Tangannya menggelepar mencakari sekujur tubuhnya sendiri, yang seluruh urat sarafnya bersitegang satu sama lain, meronta-ronta. 

Ia bisa mendengar tawa. Banyak tawa, berderai-derai. Seluruh makhluk di ruangan itu sedang menertawakannya. Tawa mereka bergaung, panjang dan tanpa henti. Beberapa pasang tangan menggerayanginya. Tangan-tangan dari orang berbaju putih.

Oh, tidak! Orang-orang ini lagi! Mereka selalu, selalu, dapat menemukannya. Siapa orang-orang ini? Kenapa mereka tidak ikut tertawa saja bersama yang lain?

Orang-orang itu akan membawanya kembali. Kembali masuk ke kotak mimpi buruk itu. Kembali ke koridor dengan laki-laki paruh baya kejam itu. Kembali ke kamarnya, yang dipenuhi pencuri dan hantu, yang gelap dan dingin, yang penuh dengan air, siap menenggelamkannya kapan saja. 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Maya berteriak, keras dan panjang, memilukan. Pita suaranya bergetar liar, seperti berusaha untuk keluar dari mulut. Suara-suara berkerubutan dalam kepalanya. Warna-warni berkelebat dalam matanya.

Dan gelombang air itu pun datang. Menghantamnya bak ombak tsunami, menenggelamkan teriakannya, dan pada saat yang bersamaan, kesadarannya.



-selesai-