The Other Mother

Theodora wakes at two in the afternoon, which is the first sign that something is wrong, since she has never in her life slept through a school day. Her head feels packed with wet wool. The room tilts when she turns it. On the bedside table, where nothing stood last night, there is a glass of water with a straw in it, two small tablets on a folded napkin and a thermometer. They are laid out in a row as neatly as instruments on a tray.

Theodora terbangun pukul dua siang, dan itu tanda pertama bahwa ada yang tidak beres, sebab seumur hidup ia tak pernah tidur melewati jam sekolah. Kepalanya terasa dijejali wol basah. Kamarnya miring saat ia menoleh. Di meja samping tempat tidur, tempat semalam tidak ada apa-apa, kini ada segelas air dengan sedotan, dua tablet kecil di atas serbet terlipat, dan sebuah termometer. Semuanya ditata berjajar serapi alat-alat bedah di atas baki.

Her father is three time zones away at a conference he could not move. He rang yesterday, sounding guilty, and Theodora said she was fine, which in retrospect was her second mistake. The first was assuming that being fine and being alone were the same thing. For two years, ever since Tabitha moved in with her careful boxes and her mild, level voice, Theodora has run a campaign of cool, polished politeness. "Thanks," she says to the dinners. "Sure," she says to the questions. She has never once said anything that could be quoted back to her.

Ayahnya berada tiga zona waktu jauhnya, di sebuah konferensi yang tak bisa ia undurkan. Kemarin ayahnya menelepon dengan suara bersalah, dan Theodora bilang ia baik-baik saja, yang kalau dipikir-pikir adalah kesalahannya yang kedua. Kesalahan pertamanya adalah mengira baik-baik saja dan sendirian itu sama. Selama dua tahun, sejak Tabitha pindah ke rumah ini dengan kardus-kardusnya yang rapi dan suaranya yang lembut dan datar, Theodora menjalankan kampanye kesopanan yang dingin dan mengilap. "Terima kasih," katanya kepada hidangan makan malam. "Iya," katanya kepada setiap pertanyaan. Ia tak pernah sekali pun mengucapkan sesuatu yang bisa dikutip kembali untuk menyudutkannya.

Tabitha appears in the doorway without being called, as though she had been measuring the silence from the hall. She works on a hospital ward, a fact Theodora has always filed under reasons she is boring. She does the next ten minutes the way Theodora imagines she does them there: a hand on the forehead, two fingers on the wrist, a few quiet questions that are not really questions. When did it start. Any pain here. Can you swallow. "Thirty-nine point one," she reads at last, and her face does absolutely nothing. It is that nothing, more than any alarm, that makes Theodora's stomach drop.

Tabitha muncul di ambang pintu tanpa dipanggil, seolah-olah ia sudah mengukur kesunyian itu dari lorong. Ia bekerja di bangsal rumah sakit, fakta yang sejak dulu Theodora masukkan ke dalam daftar alasan mengapa Tabitha membosankan. Selama sepuluh menit berikutnya ia bekerja seperti yang dibayangkan Theodora ia bekerja di sana: telapak tangan di dahi, dua jari di pergelangan tangan, beberapa pertanyaan pelan yang sebenarnya bukan pertanyaan. Sejak kapan mulainya. Sakit di sini? Bisa menelan? "Tiga puluh sembilan koma satu," bacanya akhirnya, dan wajahnya sama sekali tak berubah. Justru ketiadaan reaksi itu, lebih daripada alarm apa pun, yang membuat perut Theodora serasa jatuh.

"It's probably the flu that's going round," Tabitha says. "But I've rung the doctor's line, and a nurse will call back within the hour. If it climbs, we go in. If it doesn't, we wait." She says we. Theodora hears it and tries to file it under the usual heading, and the heading no longer fits.

"Mungkin flu yang sedang menyebar," kata Tabitha. "Tapi aku sudah menelepon layanan dokter, dan seorang perawat akan menelepon balik dalam satu jam. Kalau suhunya naik, kita ke rumah sakit. Kalau tidak, kita tunggu." Ia mengatakan kita. Theodora mendengarnya dan mencoba memasukkannya ke judul yang biasa, tetapi judul itu tak lagi cocok.

The afternoon passes in small, precise efficiencies. Tabitha changes the pillowcase without making her sit up. She appears with a soup that is almost entirely broth, because, she explains, "the first rule is to keep it down, not to enjoy it." An hour later she appears with a second thermometer, as if she does not trust the first. Only when the glass is set down does Theodora notice the thing itself: it is on the left, the side her hand always reaches for. Tabitha has been paying attention for two years to a person who has spent that time looking straight past her.

Sore itu berlalu dalam efisiensi kecil yang cermat. Tabitha mengganti sarung bantal tanpa menyuruhnya duduk. Ia datang membawa sup yang nyaris hanya kaldu, karena, katanya menjelaskan, "aturan pertama adalah menjaga agar tetap tertelan, bukan menikmatinya." Sejam kemudian ia datang lagi membawa termometer kedua, seolah tak percaya pada yang pertama. Baru ketika gelas itu diletakkan, Theodora menyadari hal yang sebenarnya: gelas itu ada di sebelah kiri, sisi yang selalu dijangkau tangannya. Selama dua tahun Tabitha memperhatikan seseorang yang selama itu pula memandang lurus melewatinya.

Towards evening the fever breaks. Propped against two pillows in the damp, rinsed-out quiet that follows, Theodora listens to Tabitha moving in the corridor outside, folding something, pausing, folding again. Had it been the other way round, she knows exactly what she would have done, and the knowledge sits in her chest like a swallowed stone. She would have knocked once, said "Do you need anything?" and gone back to her room.

Menjelang malam demamnya turun. Bersandar pada dua bantal dalam keheningan lembap yang terasa terbilas setelah demam, Theodora mendengarkan Tabitha bergerak di koridor di luar, melipat sesuatu, berhenti, melipat lagi. Seandainya keadaannya terbalik, ia tahu persis apa yang akan ia lakukan, dan pengetahuan itu mengendap di dadanya seperti batu yang tertelan. Ia akan mengetuk sekali, bilang "Perlu sesuatu?", lalu kembali ke kamarnya.

"You don't have to stay," she says, when Tabitha comes in for the tray. It is meant to be the old voice, the cool one, but it comes out cracked.

"Kamu tidak harus tinggal," katanya ketika Tabitha masuk mengambil baki. Maksudnya itu suaranya yang lama, yang dingin, tetapi yang keluar malah pecah.

"I know I don't," says Tabitha.

"Aku tahu aku tidak harus," kata Tabitha.

For a while neither of them speaks. The streetlight comes on outside, orange against the curtain. Then Theodora, who has not asked this woman for anything in two years, turns her face to the wall and says, "Could you stay until I'm asleep?"

Beberapa saat keduanya tidak berbicara. Lampu jalan menyala di luar, jingga di balik tirai. Lalu Theodora, yang selama dua tahun tak pernah meminta apa pun kepada perempuan ini, memalingkan wajah ke arah dinding dan berkata, "Bisakah kamu tinggal sampai aku tertidur?"

Tabitha pulls the desk chair over to the bed and sits down. She does not say a word.

Tabitha menarik kursi meja belajar ke samping tempat tidur dan duduk. Ia tidak mengucapkan sepatah kata pun.