The Cinema That Lit Up at Night

The old cinema on Katya's street has been closed for as long as she can remember. Its doors are chained, and its posters are faded. A small tree is growing out of the gutter above the entrance. She walks past it every day on her way to work and never looks up.

Bioskop tua di jalan tempat Katya tinggal sudah tutup sejak ia bisa mengingat. Pintunya dirantai, dan poster-posternya sudah pudar. Sebatang pohon kecil tumbuh dari talang di atas pintu masuk. Ia melewatinya setiap hari dalam perjalanan ke kantor dan tak pernah mendongak.

Tonight she looks up. It is nearly eleven, and she is coming home late from a friend's birthday party. Through a crack in the side door, there is a thin line of yellow light. And she can hear something: slow, soft music, like the sound track of an old film.

Malam ini ia mendongak. Hari hampir pukul sebelas, dan ia pulang larut dari pesta ulang tahun seorang teman. Dari celah di pintu samping, tampak seutas garis tipis cahaya kuning. Dan ia mendengar sesuatu: musik yang pelan dan lembut, seperti musik latar film lama.

Katya stops. The street is empty. She tells herself it must be a security light, or the radio of a night guard. But the music changes, and then she hears a laugh.

Katya berhenti. Jalanan sepi. Ia berkata pada dirinya bahwa itu pasti lampu keamanan, atau radio penjaga malam. Tetapi musiknya berganti, lalu ia mendengar tawa.

The next evening, she comes back at the same time. The light is there again. The next night, too. By the third night, she has a theory for everything: a ghost, a secret club, a hidden visitor. None of them feels right, and she can't stop thinking about it.

Malam berikutnya, ia datang lagi pada jam yang sama. Cahaya itu ada lagi. Malam berikutnya juga. Pada malam ketiga, ia sudah punya teori untuk segalanya: hantu, klub rahasia, pengunjung tersembunyi. Tak satu pun terasa tepat, dan ia tak bisa berhenti memikirkannya.

On Thursday, she decides to stop guessing. She takes a breath and knocks on the side door.

Pada hari Kamis, ia memutuskan untuk berhenti menebak-nebak. Ia menarik napas dan mengetuk pintu samping.

The music stops. For a moment, there is only silence. Then the door opens a few centimeters, and an elderly man looks out at her over his glasses.

Musiknya berhenti. Sesaat, hanya ada keheningan. Lalu pintu terbuka beberapa sentimeter, dan seorang pria tua menatapnya dari balik kacamatanya.

"Are you lost?" he asks.

"Kamu tersesat?" tanyanya.

"I'm just curious," Katya admits. "I've seen lights in here every night."

"Saya hanya penasaran," Katya mengaku. "Saya melihat lampu menyala di sini setiap malam."

He studies her face, then opens the door wide. "You had better come in, then."

Pria itu menatap wajahnya, lalu membuka pintu lebar-lebar. "Kalau begitu, sebaiknya kamu masuk."

Inside, the big room smells of dust and old velvet. Six or seven people, all over sixty, are working under bright lamps. A woman is gluing new fabric onto a seat. Two men are bent over the projector, which looks as heavy as a small car. A radio on a table plays the old film music.

Di dalam, ruangan besar itu berbau debu dan beledu tua. Enam atau tujuh orang, semuanya berusia di atas enam puluh tahun, bekerja di bawah lampu-lampu terang. Seorang perempuan sedang merekatkan kain baru pada sebuah kursi. Dua pria membungkuk di atas proyektor, yang tampak seberat mobil kecil. Sebuah radio di atas meja memutar musik film lama itu.

"We all worked here when we were young," the woman says. "Ticket seller, cleaner, projectionist. When the owner closed it, we promised we would bring it back someday. Then we decided that someday had to start now."

"Kami semua pernah bekerja di sini waktu muda," kata perempuan itu. "Penjual tiket, tukang bersih-bersih, operator proyektor. Waktu pemiliknya menutup tempat ini, kami berjanji akan menghidupkannya kembali suatu hari nanti. Lalu kami memutuskan bahwa suatu hari nanti itu harus dimulai sekarang."

"We have the owner's permission," the old man adds quickly. "We only work at night because we are too tired in the afternoon."

"Kami sudah punya izin dari pemiliknya," tambah pria tua itu cepat-cepat. "Kami hanya bekerja malam hari karena siang hari kami terlalu lelah."

Katya looks at the rows of seats, half of them still broken. "How many have you fixed?" she asks.

Katya memandang deretan kursi, yang separuhnya masih rusak. "Sudah berapa yang kalian perbaiki?" tanyanya.

"Two hundred and ten," the woman says proudly. "Only four hundred to go."

"Dua ratus sepuluh," kata perempuan itu dengan bangga. "Tinggal empat ratus lagi."

Katya takes off her jacket and picks up a screwdriver. Now, every Thursday evening, she walks to the side door and knocks twice. It always opens.

Katya melepas jaketnya dan mengambil sebuah obeng. Kini, setiap Kamis sore, ia berjalan ke pintu samping dan mengetuk dua kali. Pintu itu selalu terbuka.