Meja untuk Satu Orang

Mia masuk ke restoran kecil itu tepat sebelum jam sembilan. Ruang makan hampir kosong. Seorang pelayan dengan celemek putih dan mata lelah menunjuk ke meja di sudut.

Mia walked into the small restaurant just before nine. The dining room was almost empty. A waiter with a white apron and tired eyes pointed at a corner table.

"Cuma satu orang?" tanyanya. Mia mengangguk. Dia selalu bepergian sendirian, dan selalu merasa agak gugup saat memesan makanan dalam bahasa baru. Menu tertulis di selembar kertas dengan tulisan tangan.

"Just one?" he asked. Mia nodded. She always traveled alone, and she always felt a little nervous ordering in a new language. The menu was on a single sheet of paper, handwritten.

Dia menunjuk sebuah kata yang tidak dipahaminya. Pelayan itu tersenyum untuk pertama kalinya. "Itu menu spesial hari ini," katanya dalam bahasa Inggris yang pelan. "Resep nenek saya. Coba deh. Kalau tidak suka, saya bawakan yang lain."

She pointed at a word she did not understand. The waiter smiled for the first time. "Is the special of the day," he said in slow English. "My grandmother's recipe. Try it. If you don't like it, I bring something else."

Makanan datang dalam mangkuk tanah liat yang berat. Panas, berbau bawang putih, penuh dengan potongan-potongan roti kecil. Mia mengambil suapan pertama dengan hati-hati dan mendongak. Pelayan itu memperhatikan dari bar dengan tangan terlipat.

The food arrived in a heavy clay bowl. Hot, garlicky, full of small pieces of bread. Mia took a careful first spoonful and looked up. The waiter was watching from the bar with his arms crossed.

Dia mengacungkan jempol. Pelayan itu tertawa, berjalan mendekat, dan mengisi ulang gelasnya. "Bagus," katanya. "Besok datang lagi dan saya ceritakan apa saja isinya."

She gave him a thumbs up. He laughed, walked over, and refilled her glass. "Good," he said. "Tomorrow you come back and I tell you what's in it."