The Cover Story

Ottilie had already told three different versions of why Foster missed their parents' anniversary dinner, and each one grew slightly more elaborate than the last. First it was a shift he couldn't get out of. Then it became a group project due the next morning. By the time their mother asked a third time, over dishes, Ottilie had run out of plausible categories of excuse.

Ottilie sudah menceritakan tiga versi berbeda tentang mengapa Foster tidak hadir di makan malam ulang tahun pernikahan orang tua mereka, dan setiap versi sedikit lebih rumit daripada sebelumnya. Mula-mula Foster katanya mendapat jadwal kerja yang tak bisa ditinggalkan. Lalu menjadi tugas kelompok yang harus dikumpulkan besok pagi. Saat ibu mereka bertanya untuk ketiga kalinya, sambil mencuci piring, Ottilie sudah kehabisan jenis alasan yang masuk akal.

"He's not answering his phone," her mother said, scraping a plate harder than the plate required. "That's not like him, even when he's busy."

"Dia tidak menjawab teleponnya," kata ibunya sambil menggosok sebuah piring lebih keras daripada yang dibutuhkan piring itu. "Itu bukan kebiasaannya, sesibuk apa pun dia."

Ottilie knew exactly why Foster wasn't answering. He'd told her two weeks earlier, swearing her to secrecy in the parking lot after his shift, that he had quietly withdrawn from his first semester of college. He'd failed two classes badly enough that finishing them seemed pointless. He was too ashamed to say so before their parents had already bought him a congratulatory sweatshirt with the university's name across the front. Had he simply told them at the time, Ottilie thought, this dinner might have been difficult instead of merely strange.

Ottilie tahu persis kenapa Foster tidak menjawab. Dua minggu lalu Foster sudah memberi tahu, setelah membuatnya bersumpah merahasiakannya di tempat parkir seusai giliran kerja, bahwa ia diam-diam mengundurkan diri dari semester pertama kuliahnya. Ia gagal di dua mata kuliah, begitu parah sampai melanjutkannya terasa sia-sia. Ia terlalu malu mengatakannya sebelum orang tua mereka telanjur membelikannya sweter ucapan selamat dengan nama universitas terpampang di depannya. Seandainya Foster langsung bilang saat itu, pikir Ottilie, makan malam ini mungkin hanya sulit, bukan seaneh ini.

"He's probably just stressed about finals," Ottilie said, which was true in a way that wasn't the way her mother would take it.

"Mungkin dia cuma stres menghadapi ujian akhir," kata Ottilie, yang benar dalam satu arti, tetapi bukan arti yang akan ditangkap ibunya.

Her mother set the plate down and looked at her directly, the kind of look Ottilie had learned meant a real question was coming. "You've been weird about him for two weeks. Weird in a specific way, like you're managing something." A pause. "Are you covering for your brother?"

Ibunya meletakkan piring itu dan menatapnya langsung, tatapan yang menurut pengalaman Ottilie berarti akan ada pertanyaan sungguhan. "Dua minggu ini kamu aneh kalau soal dia. Anehnya khusus, seperti kamu sedang mengurus sesuatu." Ia berhenti sejenak. "Kamu menutupi kakakmu?"

It was the directness of it, more than the question itself, that caught Ottilie off guard. She had prepared for vague suspicion, not a precise diagnosis delivered while drying a serving spoon.

Yang membuat Ottilie tak siap adalah langsungnya pertanyaan itu, bukan isinya. Ia sudah menyiapkan diri menghadapi kecurigaan samar, bukan diagnosis tepat yang diucapkan sambil mengeringkan sendok sayur.

"I promised him," Ottilie said finally. "It's his thing to tell, not mine."

"Aku sudah berjanji padanya," kata Ottilie akhirnya. "Itu bukan hakku untuk menceritakannya, itu hak dia."

"I'm not asking you to betray him. I'm asking whether my son is in some kind of trouble I should already know about." Her mother's voice had lost its edge, replaced by something closer to plain worry. "If something is actually wrong, Ottilie, keeping his secret isn't the same as being a good sister."

"Ibu tidak memintamu mengkhianatinya. Ibu hanya ingin tahu apakah anak ibu sedang dalam masalah yang seharusnya sudah ibu ketahui." Suara ibunya sudah tak setajam tadi, berganti sesuatu yang lebih mirip kekhawatiran biasa. "Kalau memang ada yang salah, Ottilie, menyimpan rahasianya bukan berarti menjadi adik yang baik."

That distinction was the one Ottilie hadn't let herself examine too closely, mostly because examining it meant admitting Foster's silence had started to frighten her a little, not just inconvenience her. What she'd told herself was loyalty had started to look different over the last two weeks. It now looked more like two people quietly agreeing to keep their parents in the dark about something that wasn't going away on its own.

Perbedaan itulah yang tak berani Ottilie periksa terlalu dekat, terutama karena memeriksanya berarti mengakui bahwa diamnya Foster mulai membuatnya agak takut, bukan sekadar merepotkan. Apa yang selama ini ia sebut kesetiaan mulai tampak lain dalam dua minggu terakhir. Kini itu lebih mirip dua orang yang diam-diam sepakat membiarkan orang tua mereka tidak tahu tentang sesuatu yang tidak akan hilang dengan sendirinya.

"He's not in danger," Ottilie said carefully. "But it's not finals, and it's not a group project. It's something he needs to tell you himself, and I think he will, if you just — call him again. Tonight. Don't let him send it to voicemail."

"Dia tidak dalam bahaya," kata Ottilie hati-hati. "Tapi ini bukan soal ujian, dan bukan tugas kelompok. Ini sesuatu yang harus dia sampaikan sendiri, dan kurasa dia akan melakukannya, kalau Ibu telepon dia lagi. Malam ini. Jangan biarkan dia mengalihkannya ke kotak suara."

Her mother studied her for a long moment, weighing, it seemed, whether to push further or trust the shape of what she'd just been given. Then she picked up her phone from the counter and dialed. Ottilie went back to drying dishes she could no longer pretend to concentrate on, listening for whichever version of her brother's voice would finally answer.

Ibunya menatapnya lama, tampak menimbang apakah akan mendesak lebih jauh atau memercayai bentuk jawaban yang baru saja ia terima. Lalu ia mengambil ponselnya dari meja dapur dan menelepon. Ottilie kembali mengeringkan piring yang tak lagi bisa ia pura-pura perhatikan, sambil menunggu suara kakaknya yang mana yang akhirnya akan menjawab.