Srinivas
Ada orang yang tidak datang untuk memperbaiki apa pun.
Ia datang agar kita bisa runtuh dengan aman.
Matahari berada di titik tertingginya. Sinarnya menembus tanpa tedeng aling-aling ke ruang rapat yang setengah panas, dipenuhi perdebatan mengenai brand positioning, identitas, dan annual campaign.
Aku tengah mencerna rentetan Key Performance Index serta berbagai metrik yang harus masuk ke dalam Brand & Marketing Plan tahun depan, ketika getaran ponselku—yang entah mengapa terdengar sangat nyaring—menyela di tengah bombardir ide dari Head of Marketing. Delapan pasang mata tertuju ke meja, lalu ke tanganku, lalu ke wajahku.
“Make it quick,” ujar Head of Marketing-ku sambil mengangguk memberi persetujuan, ketika aku beranjak keluar dari ruang rapat.
“Dinner and drinks at Shamrock, 8 PM. I’ll pick you up at the office at 7:15 PM. I’ll bring your helmet with me already.”
Detail. Singkat. Langsung ke inti.
Tanpa basa-basi, tanpa bertanya—hanya komando.
Ada kupu-kupu di perutku, terbang naik turun berkali-kali. Senyum lebar muncul di wajahku tanpa bisa ditahan.
“Got it. I’ll be waiting for you at the lobby then,” jawabku cepat, sebelum kembali masuk ke ruang rapat.
Kau melepas jaket kulitmu—warnanya sudah memudar—dan menyampirkannya di sandaran sofa. Kau memberi jalan agar aku duduk terlebih dahulu di ujung sofa, barulah kemudian kau duduk di sebelahku.
“One Jameson on the rocks, one cosmopolitan, please,” katamu cepat kepada waiter yang hendak memberikan menu. “We’ll start with that, thank you.” Kau mengangguk sambil tersenyum, dibalas anggukan singkat dari sang waiter.
Kesan pertama kebanyakan orang tentangmu barangkali adalah bahwa kau seorang douchebag: enggan berlama-lama melihat menu dan langsung memesan tanpa jeda menarik napas. Namun kau tak pernah lupa pada senyum, maaf, tolong, dan terima kasih. Sedikit douchebag, yang penting bukan asshole.
“What’s the most interesting part you experience today?” tanyaku sambil mengeluarkan kotak rokok dari tas, tanpa putus menatap kedua matamu.
Kau melepas kacamatamu dan meletakkannya di meja. Kau menarik tubuhku mendekat, lalu merebahkan kepalamu di pundakku.
“Hey, what’s up? We can go home if you want. We don’t have to have a date night tonight…”
Aku mengusap wajahmu perlahan. Ini bukan kali pertama duniamu terasa runtuh, dan untuk sesaat, kau hanya punya aku sebagai tempat bertumpu.
“I’m sorry. I just need to do this for a second.”
Kau merangkul tubuhku, berusaha melebur sepenuhnya. Napasmu berat. Kau lebih dari sekadar lelah, namun enggan mengakuinya. Bukan karena ingin terlihat kuat—nervous system-mu memang sudah terbentuk seperti itu.
“I feel at peace every time I’m with you. Especially when I do this. Wherever we are.”
“I’m sorry you had such a hard day at work.”
“It’s work. Nothing else.”
“Iya, tapi kau menikah dengan pekerjaanmu,” ujarku sambil tertawa singkat, memancing senyummu.
“We’ve been married to our work anyway… like you always say,” balasmu. Kau melepaskan rangkulanmu, duduk tegap, menatapku lama. “Do you think we’ve been cheating on our work just so we can be together when we have time?”
Aku mengerjapkan mata beberapa kali, menatapmu seolah kau sedang kerasukan. Mulutku terbuka, namun tak satu pun kata keluar.
Lalu kau tertawa. Awalnya pelan, hanya terdengar olehku. Saat mata kita bertemu, tawa itu pecah menjadi tawa terpingkal-pingkal—berusaha mencerna pertanyaanmu yang sama sekali tak masuk akal.
Tiga monitor di hadapanku menampilkan hal yang sama: ulasan kegagalan annual campaign yang kujalankan, dari berbagai sudut pandang. Lembaran-lembaran kertas berisi catatan teronggok di atas meja, tak lagi memiliki nilai maupun leverage.
Buntalan-buntalan tisu bekas mengusap air mata dan ingus berserakan di lantai. Dinding di belakang monitor penuh sticky notes warna-warni—catatan kaki penulis favoritku dan ide-ide yang datang seperti sambaran petir—kini terlihat getir, tanpa daya untuk menyuntikkan semangat hidup esok hari.
Kau mengetuk pintu beberapa kali, lalu membukanya perlahan. “May I come in?” Tanyamu lembut.
Aku mengangguk. Kau bersimpuh di hadapanku yang belum beranjak dari kursi kerja selama tiga hari terakhir, sibuk mengasihani diri sendiri atas kegagalan yang terlalu bising untuk diabaikan. “Sudah tahu mau makan apa?” tanyamu lagi.
“Makan egoku yang terlalu besar sebelum semua kegagalan ini terjadi sudah tidak mungkin, kan?” jawabku pahit. Air mata kembali turun, dan dengan sigap kau mengusapnya.
“One failure doesn’t mean a lifetime punishment, sayang, you know this. Atau kau masih ingin mengadakan pity party tiga hari lagi? Kalau iya, biar aku temani.” Kau meraih kedua tanganku dan mengecupnya lembut, berkali-kali.
“I failed.”
Aku membenci caramu tetap menerimaku di hari-hari terburukku. Namun aku bukan orang yang mampu berpura-pura—apalagi berbohong. Saat kau hadir sepenuhnya, sadar bahwa kau memilih menemaniku, ketakutanku justru muncul: bahwa suatu hari kau akan berubah pikiran, dan kita harus berpisah jalan.
“Yes, you failed. And it’s okay. I’m still proud of you. You’re not a failure. You’re the toughest woman in this industry, and you’re with me.”
Kau kembali mengecup tanganku. Tangisku semakin deras. Tubuhku bergetar hebat. Diterima sepenuhnya sebagai manusia—bahkan di saat terburuk—ternyata adalah hal yang paling kubutuhkan.
Di tengah tangis yang tak terkendali, kau mengangkat tubuhku dari kursi kerja dan membawaku ke kamar tidur. Kau merebahkanku, lalu menyelimutiku dengan selimut favoritmu—berbahan sherpa, berwarna merah marun, dengan aroma tubuhmu yang entah bagaimana selalu mampu menenangkanku.
Malam itu kau merawatku. Membiarkanku larut dalam isak tangis dan racauan tak masuk akal.
Kau tidak memberi komando apa pun.
Kau hadir sepenuhnya, sadar penuh, mendengarkan.
Kau menyediakan dadamu untuk kubasahi air mata.
Kau memegangi rambutku saat aku terbangun di pagi buta untuk muntah.
Kau membalurkan minyak kayu putih ke seluruh tubuhku tanpa agenda seksual.
Kau mengecup kening, pipi, bibir, dan tanganku tanpa nafsu.
“It’ll be over soon. And you’re safe with me here,” bisikmu di seperempat pagi, setelah ketiga kalinya aku terbangun karena mimpi buruk tentang kegagalan.
Aku tahu itu.
Kau pernah menjadi rumah paling aman yang pernah kumiliki.
SRINIVAS
There are people who do not come to fix anything.
They come so that we can fall apart safely.
The sun was at its highest point. Its light poured in without restraint through the meeting room, half-warmed by heated debates about brand positioning, identity, and the annual campaign.
I was in the middle of digesting a long list of Key Performance Indicators and various metrics that had to be included in next year’s Brand & Marketing Plan when my phone vibrated—strangely loud—cutting through the barrage of ideas from the Head of Marketing. Eight pairs of eyes shifted to the table, then to my hand, then to my face.
“Make it quick,” my Head of Marketing said, nodding in approval as I stepped out of the meeting room.
“Dinner and drinks at Shamrock, 8 PM. I’ll pick you up at the office at 7:15 PM. I’ll bring your helmet with me already.”
Detailed. Brief. Straight to the point.
No small talk, no questions—just a command.
Butterflies stirred in my stomach, rising and falling again and again. A wide smile spread across my face, impossible to hold back.
“Got it. I’ll be waiting for you at the lobby then,” I replied quickly, before returning to the meeting room.
You took off your leather jacket—its color already faded—and draped it over the back of the sofa. You gestured for me to sit at the end of the couch first, only then taking the seat beside me.
“One Jameson on the rocks, one cosmopolitan, please,” you said quickly to the waiter who was about to hand us the menu. “We’ll start with that, thank you.” You nodded with a smile, returned by a brief nod from the waiter.
Most people’s first impression of you would probably be that you were a douchebag—unwilling to linger over a menu, ordering immediately without even pausing for breath. But you never forgot to smile, to say sorry, please, and thank you. A bit of a douchebag, perhaps—but not an asshole.
“What’s the most interesting part you experience today?” I asked as I took a cigarette case out of my bag, never breaking eye contact with you.
You removed your glasses and placed them on the table. You pulled me closer and rested your head on my shoulder.
“Hey, what’s up? We can go home if you want. We don’t have to have a date night tonight…” I gently brushed your face. This wasn’t the first time your world felt like it was falling apart, and for a moment, I was the only place you had to lean on.
“I’m sorry. I just need to do this for a second.”
You wrapped your arms around me, trying to melt into me completely. Your breathing grew heavy. You were beyond exhausted, yet unwilling to admit it—not because you wanted to appear strong, but because your nervous system had been wired that way.
“I feel at peace every time I’m with you. Especially when I do this. Wherever we are.”
“I’m sorry you had such a hard day at work.”
“It’s work. Nothing else.”
“Yeah, but you’re married to your work,” I said with a short laugh, coaxing a smile from you.
“We’ve been married to our work anyway… like you always say,” you replied. You released your embrace, sat upright, and looked at me for a long moment. “Do you think we’ve been cheating on our work just so we can be together when we have time?”
I blinked several times, staring at you as if you were possessed. My mouth opened, but no words came out.
Then you laughed. At first, it was quiet, audible only to me. When our eyes met, it turned into uncontrollable laughter—both of us trying to process a question that made absolutely no sense.
Three monitors in front of me displayed the same thing: reviews of the failed annual campaign I had run, from multiple points of view. Sheets of paper filled with notes lay piled on my desk, stripped of value and leverage.
Wads of used tissues—soaked with tears and mucus—were scattered across the floor. The wall behind the monitors was covered in colorful sticky notes—footnotes from my favorite writers and ideas that once struck like lightning—now looking bitter, incapable of injecting any sense of purpose for the next day.
You knocked on the door a few times, then opened it slowly. “May I come in?” you asked softly.
I nodded. You knelt in front of me, still frozen in my work chair after three days, drowning in self-pity over a failure too loud to ignore. “Have you decided what you want to eat?” you asked again.
“Eating the ego I had before all of this fell apart isn’t really an option anymore, is it?” I replied bitterly. Tears fell again, and you wiped them away without hesitation.
“One failure doesn’t mean a lifetime punishment, sayang. You know this. Or do you still want to throw a pity party for three more days? If you do, I’ll stay with you.” You took both my hands and kissed them gently, again and again.
“I failed.”
I hated how you continued to accept me on my worst days. But I wasn’t someone who could pretend—let alone lie. When you showed up fully, consciously choosing to stay with me, fear crept in instead: that one day you might change your mind, and we would have to part ways.
“Yes, you failed. And it’s okay. I’m still proud of you. You’re not a failure. You’re the toughest woman in this industry, and you’re with me.”
You kissed my hands again. My crying grew heavier. My body trembled violently. Being accepted fully as a human being—even at my worst—turned out to be exactly what I needed.
In the middle of my uncontrollable sobbing, you lifted me from my work chair and carried me to the bedroom. You laid me down and covered me with your favorite blanket—sherpa-lined, deep maroon, carrying your scent, which somehow always managed to calm me.
That night, you took care of me. You let me sink into tears and incoherent rambling.
You gave no commands.
You were fully present, fully aware, listening.
You offered your chest for my tears.
You held my hair when I woke up in the middle of the night to vomit.
You rubbed eucalyptus oil all over my body without any sexual agenda.
You kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, and my hands without desire.
“It’ll be over soon. And you’re safe with me here,” you whispered at a quarter past three in the morning, after the third time I woke from a nightmare about failure.
I knew that.
You had once been the safest home I ever had.
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