The Missing Sheet Music

Lucian had been the orchestra's librarian for six years. His job was simple: before each rehearsal, he put the right pages on every music stand. For years it had worked perfectly. Then, in October, pages began to vanish.

Lucian sudah enam tahun menjadi pustakawan orkestra. Tugasnya sederhana: sebelum setiap latihan, ia meletakkan halaman-halaman yang tepat di setiap penyangga partitur. Selama bertahun-tahun semuanya berjalan sempurna. Lalu, pada bulan Oktober, halaman-halaman mulai menghilang.

The first time, two pages of the second violin part were missing. Lucian blamed himself and searched the cupboard twice. The next week, three pages of the cello part had disappeared. The week after that, some viola pages went missing. He was sure now that it was not an accident.

Pertama kali, dua halaman partitur biola kedua hilang. Lucian menyalahkan dirinya sendiri dan mencari di lemari dua kali. Minggu berikutnya, tiga halaman partitur cello lenyap. Minggu sesudahnya, beberapa halaman viola menghilang. Sekarang ia yakin ini bukan kecelakaan.

He started to keep a list. The missing pages were always the hard ones, full of fast runs and tricky rhythms. Whoever took them had left the pens, the stands and even the chocolate in the drawer. It had to be a player who wanted something specific.

Ia mulai membuat daftar. Halaman yang hilang selalu yang sulit, penuh dengan nada-nada cepat dan ritme yang rumit. Siapa pun yang mengambilnya membiarkan pulpen, penyangga, bahkan cokelat di laci. Pasti seorang pemain yang menginginkan sesuatu yang spesifik.

"Maybe somebody is selling them," joked the flute player. Lucian didn't laugh. Nothing about the pages looked valuable, and he was beginning to feel like a very bad detective.

"Mungkin ada yang menjualnya," canda pemain flute. Lucian tidak tertawa. Tidak ada yang tampak berharga dari halaman-halaman itu, dan ia mulai merasa seperti detektif yang sangat buruk.

On Thursday he arrived at the hall an hour early. He hid in the storage room with the door open a crack. At six o'clock, a young woman slipped in. She took a few pages from the cupboard and tucked them carefully into her bag. Lucian stepped out of the shadows.

Pada hari Kamis, ia tiba di aula satu jam lebih awal. Ia bersembunyi di ruang penyimpanan dengan pintu terbuka sedikit. Pukul enam, seorang perempuan muda menyelinap masuk. Ia mengambil beberapa halaman dari lemari dan menyelipkannya dengan hati-hati ke dalam tasnya. Lucian melangkah keluar dari bayang-bayang.

"Excuse me," he said. She turned bright red. It was Fiorella, the new viola player, who had joined in September.

"Permisi," katanya. Wajah perempuan itu langsung merah padam. Itu Fiorella, pemain viola baru yang bergabung pada bulan September.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm not a fast reader. I was afraid everybody would notice I was behind. So I took the hard pages home to practise. I always brought them back. Well, almost always."

"Saya sungguh minta maaf," katanya. "Saya bukan pembaca not yang cepat. Saya takut semua orang akan menyadari saya tertinggal. Jadi saya membawa halaman-halaman yang sulit pulang untuk berlatih. Saya selalu mengembalikannya. Yah, hampir selalu."

Lucian sat down on a box. He felt relieved and a little silly. "You could have asked me, you know," he said. "I would have made you copies on the first day."

Lucian duduk di atas sebuah kardus. Ia merasa lega dan sedikit konyol. "Kamu bisa saja bilang padaku, lho," katanya. "Aku akan membuatkan fotokopinya sejak hari pertama."

"I didn't want people to know."

"Saya tidak mau orang-orang tahu."

"Half of this orchestra practises at home," he said. "That is exactly what we are supposed to do."

"Separuh orkestra ini berlatih di rumah," katanya. "Itulah persisnya yang seharusnya kita lakukan."

The next week, a thick folder with Fiorella's name on it was waiting on her stand. Inside were clear copies of every difficult page, a full week early. She opened it, found the first line, and played the opening bar softly before anyone else arrived.

Minggu berikutnya, sebuah map tebal bertuliskan nama Fiorella sudah menunggu di penyangga partiturnya. Di dalamnya ada salinan jelas dari setiap halaman yang sulit, seminggu penuh lebih awal. Ia membukanya, menemukan baris pertama, dan memainkan birama pembuka dengan pelan sebelum siapa pun yang lain tiba.