Achilles Heel
Malam itu, kau mematri seluruh sel yang ada di tubuhku, hanya dengan kerlingan matamu.
Saat jari jemari kita terpaut, degup jantungku berdetak lebih kencang dari biasanya.
Satu senyuman simpul dari bibirmu mampu meruntuhkan benteng pertahanan yang telah kurawat sekian belas tahun lamanya.
Dan saat kau menyundut rokok dengan sisa bara api dari rokok sebelumnya, aku tahu—aku tengah menatap Achilles heel-ku.
“So you’ve been working in quite a lot of industries.”
“So you’ve been checking up on me.”
“Indeed. Advertising, entertainment, politics, writing, and photography. You basically can do anything, yeah?”
“I suppose.”
“Then tell me…” kau meletakkan rokokmu, menyesap Jameson on the rocks-mu, lalu melanjutkan,
“What’s your Achilles heel?”
Brengsek.
Seolah kau bisa membaca pikiranku.
Siang itu, kau duduk lunglai di sofa ruang tamu, tanpa menghiraukan sambaran kilat yang menari-nari, serta derasnya hujan yang menghantam jendela apartemenmu di lantai tujuh.
Satu tanganmu menggenggam pemantik, sementara yang lain menggulir layar ponsel perlahan.
Dahimu berkerut.
Kedua matamu memicing.
Tarikan dan hembusan napasmu berat.
Kau sedang meregulasi emosimu—tentang PSBB, tentang mencari jalan agar tetap bisa membayar gaji puluhan karyawanmu di tengah gempuran ketidakpastian.
“I think I’m gonna sell one of my cars…”
“Okay…”
“And a few cameras…”
“It’s gonna be over soon. You’ll find a way.”
“What if I’m not?”
Sialan.
Untuk pertama kalinya aku tak bisa menjawab pertanyaanmu.
Dan untuk pertama kalinya pula aku melihatmu gentar.
Pagi itu, aku duduk di pangkuanmu.
Satu tanganku mengelus punggungmu perlahan, sementara yang lain memegang secangkir kopi pahit hangat buatanmu.
Ini satu dari sekian banyak ritual pagi kita sejak kau memintaku membangun hidup dan masa depan bersama. Dari waktu ke waktu, kaulah yang duduk di pangkuanku, merebahkan kepala di pundakku. Bukan perkara mudah—kau delapan puluh tujuh senti lebih tinggi dariku.
“I think we need a vacation. Bajo, maybe?”
Kau memainkan anak rambut yang jatuh di dahiku sambil tersenyum.
“I’m not aware that we can do that…”
“What about tomorrow? Five days, four nights in Bajo?”
“You’re being serious right now?”
“We deserve it. You deserve it.”
Bajingan.
Baru kali ini aku berada dalam hubungan di mana aku tak perlu meminta—dan dengan mudahnya kau memberi, bahkan menginisiasi.
Bubble chat itu berkedap-kedip, dan jantungku berdegup lebih kencang dari sebelumnya.
“So this is your final decision?”
“Yes.”
“Would you please make time, one last time, for us? For me?”
“I’ve already known what you’re going to say.”
“I’m not going to try to change your mind…”
“Then we don’t have to see each other again.”
“I respect you and your decision.”
“Thank you.”
Tak ada ucapan selamat tinggal.
Tak ada tangis.
Namun ada terlalu banyak penyesalan.
Terlalu banyak hal yang seharusnya masih bisa kita kompromikan—selain waktu, tentunya.
Kau melepaskanku sebagaimana aku melepaskanmu.
Namun kita berdua tahu betul, masih ada satu beban yang tertinggal.
Setan.
Seharusnya aku bisa menurunkan egoku hari itu.
Untung tak dapat diraih, malang tak dapat ditolak.
That night, you branded every cell in my body with nothing but a sideways glance.
When our fingers intertwined, my heartbeat raced faster than usual.
One quiet curve of your lips was enough to dismantle the defenses I had spent years maintaining.
And when you lit a cigarette with the dying ember of the previous one, I knew—
I was staring straight at my Achilles heel.
“So you’ve been working in quite a lot of industries.”
“So you’ve been checking up on me.”
“Indeed. Advertising, entertainment, politics, writing, and photography. You basically can do anything, yeah?”
“I suppose.”
“Then tell me…” You put your cigarette down, took a sip of your Jameson on the rocks, and continued,
“What’s your Achilles heel?”
Bastard.
As if you could read my mind.
That afternoon, you sat slumped on the living room sofa, unmoved by lightning slicing through the sky or the heavy rain pounding against the seventh-floor apartment windows.
One hand gripped a lighter.
The other scrolled slowly through your phone.
Your brow tightened.
Your eyes narrowed.
Your breathing grew heavy.
You were regulating your emotions—about lockdowns, about finding a way to keep paying your employees in the middle of overwhelming uncertainty
“I think I’m gonna sell one of my cars…”
“Okay…”
“And a few cameras…”
“It’ll be over soon. You’ll find a way.”
“What if I don’t?”
Damn it.
For the first time, I didn’t have an answer.
And for the first time, I saw you afraid.
That morning, I sat on your lap.
One hand rested on your back, stroking it slowly.
The other held a cup of bitter, warm coffee you had made.
This was one of our many morning rituals since you asked me to build a life—and a future—with you. From time to time, you were the one sitting on my lap, resting your head on my shoulder. Not an easy thing, considering you were nearly a meter taller than me.
“I think we need a vacation. Bajo, maybe?”
You played with the loose strands of hair on my forehead, smiling.
“I didn’t know we could do that…”
“What about tomorrow? Five days, four nights in Bajo?”
“You’re serious right now?”
“We deserve it. You deserve it.”
Asshole.
For the first time, I was in a relationship where I didn’t have to ask—and you gave so easily. You even initiated.
The chat bubbles blinked on my screen, and my heart pounded harder than before.
“So this is your final decision?”
“Yes.”
“Could you make time, one last time, for us? For me?”
“I already know what you’re going to say.”
“I’m not trying to change your mind…”
“Then we don’t need to see each other again.”
“I respect you and your decision.”
“Thank you.”
There was no goodbye.
No tears.
Only too much regret.
Too many things that could still have been negotiated—except time.
You let me go the way I let you go.
But we both knew something was still left behind.
Damn it.
I should have lowered my ego that day.
Some things are never meant to be claimed.
Some misfortunes cannot be refused.
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