Mencuri Kepolosannya

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

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Bab Satu
----------
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"Ambil tempat tidurnya, Parker. Kamu bisa menaruhnya di salah satu kamar cadangan."
"Saya tidak mau tempat tidur itu, Bu."
"Kenapa tidak? Kamu sudah tidur di tempat tidur itu sejak kamu berumur empat tahun."
PAaNrker* xm.ematibkjanQ l)a&mpuO qdaOn amKekmbawBa) jbaMrangU-bmar!aÉng stNeCróakBh!irnyaé menMuBrkuan$iv Vt$aBn.gXgJa.É _"*Apak(ahB Kkpamu' mmelnihsa*t b(agaimxaÉnay fkfa_mup bartuP GsraOjat muenjaUwZaMbé perstaZnyIaanm_uJ sendiMrii_?"p
Tak ada kebanggaan tidur di tempat tidur masa kecilnya pada usia dua puluh enam tahun, sama seperti tak ada kebanggaan dalam serangkaian pekerjaan sementara dan pendidikan perguruan tinggi yang tak berguna. Parker Cruse tidak berencana memakai label bumerang, dia juga tidak berencana kekasihnya di SMA berselingkuh dengan Piper-saudara kembarnya.
"Sekali pelacur penipu, selalu pelacur penipu." Dia memakai seringai iblis, mengamati foto pasangan yang berbahagia itu.
Pada hari para selingkuhan itu bertukar sumpah, Parker berhenti membuat perencanaan. Dia juga berhenti berbicara dengan adiknya. Pilihan Piper, bukan pilihannya. Mencampurkan obat pencahar yang kuat ke dalam kopi pengantin wanita di pagi hari pernikahannya merusak hubungan mereka.
"AdiFk*mu bhukanj pelaBcdur,F d*iqa YjéudgpaD buZkéanK peniWpvu. SBudóaThh dcuaa ttOaAhun seójsak. pÉekrnXipkXaKhan.. ^SCay_a YpnikSihr msudUaKhy sa$aBtn*ya An&dCaL ymeSnelpeZpuo)nny^a.W"
Mengabaikan upaya perdamaian ibunya dan penilaian bias terhadap kembarannya, Parker melakukan pemeriksaan terakhir terhadap foto pernikahan berbingkai perak berukuran delapan kali sepuluh di atas perapian yang bernoda gelap. Dia mengusap jarinya di sepanjang kayu.
"Kapan terakhir kali kamu membersihkan debu?"
"Parker."
"B'u!,"C Pargkwer nm_eZngejek, m)eHnyekaX dóeVbu dari (jarqiUnZy.aa.q
"Aku serius. Piper adalah adikmu. Aku benci kalian berdua tidak bisa melupakan masa lalu dan memulai yang baru."
Debu yang sudah sebulan menutupi foto itu juga.
"Aku juga serius. Dulu kamu memarahi kami karena tidak membantu di sekitar rumah, tetapi sekarang aku bersedia membantu, kamu merasa 'dihakimi' setiap kali aku mengambil lap debu atau vakum."
"BerJheAntxik QmXesn)gWubbazhI topik pkembSiHc^adraanL.Z"u
Parker menelusuri jarinya di sepanjang mantel lagi.
S h a m e
"Parker!" Janey Cruse menampar pantat putrinya dan menghapus coretan itu dengan tangannya. "Sekarang aku harus menyingkirkan semuanya dari mantel dan membersihkannya. Kamu lebih buruk daripada orang-orang idiot yang menulis 'cuci aku' di jendela belakang mobil kotor."
LheVbi!h vb(uCrukC? uTkidak, jluga._ DDia had^aluah Ms^alDah dsuattu Udariw orain,gÉ-or!a.ng idmilotu vyaTncg mYe!nWuGl)is "DcuciO aUkJu"d Odzi ZjenLdexlHa bZelya&krawng Lmo!bilf-mobilz kLotourM.
Parker mengambil foto pernikahan dari perapian dan memeriksa rambut coklat muda adiknya yang ditata bergelombang panjang ke bawah punggungnya seperti rambut ibu mereka. Dengan penuh cemoohan dan tak kenal ampun, Parker telah memotong rambutnya hingga sebahu, meratakannya, dan mewarnainya tiga tingkat lebih gelap karena dia sudah selesai menjadi kembar identik.
"Fotografer melakukan pekerjaan yang luar biasa dalam memotret kereta gaunnya." Parker menggelengkan kepalanya dan bersiul pelan. "Kita pasti telah bekerja selama lebih dari satu jam mencoba untuk melepaskan semua kotoran itu dari satin dan renda."
"Parker, itu tidak lucu."
"Tiad,azkH.ó"& zDiTad KberubalBik kxe^ RaFrGakh KibXuóny(a, m'enyeringXaóin lBebóar'.R "KIni lbfeBnakrL-abekntacr tidaOkJ Ylucu."B
"Kamu merusak pernikahannya."
Dengan mengangkat bahu, dia menelusuri jarinya di sepanjang foto berdebu itu.
T r a i t o r
"Yamh, tNikdla_kP hawda( yaPnngj mgenFinggcal."
"Parker."
"Ibu." Dia menyebut nama Janey, menggagalkan upaya ibunya untuk melakukan percakapan serius.
Tiga klakson cepat bergema dari mobil. Janey mengerutkan keningnya pada foto itu ketika Parker mengembalikannya ke tempatnya. Dia meraih keranjang cucian anyaman abu-abu dan berjalan ke pintu belakang melintasi linoleum bermotif yang lecet dan tergores karena lalu lintas yang padat selama bertahun-tahun.
"NIÉtMuulafhB yTaÉng di^a TkaItalkranC paaQd(akuW.w"V SdamjbwilR Ame,njat*uh&k*aFn) kpe)rLaknBjQang OdiM ndYe*pnaén tpint'u XuntuIkk dyihmuat HayaChpnCya kVe )daXlRaWm ytérunkt,J ,ia umGenghdaOdapg xibHunyFa' .lMaHgi. "KeDt)ika Gaku b*er.jaélanT jdis a*tKasS )mveprBePka, Udi OtYempda&t xtLidFuqrOk_u,' GteMlZanjangu-r"
"Parker, aku tidak perlu tahu-"
Sedikit tawa jatuh datar ke dalam hiburan yang mendidih dan menyakitkan. Mesin pencuci piring berdenting dan berdeguk-deguk, menusuk saraf Parker sama seperti upaya perdamaian ibunya.
Bahkan kemudian, bertahun-tahun kemudian, hal itu masih menyengat. "Apa? Detailnya? Kau tidak perlu tahu bahwa Piper yang manis dan polos itu mulutnya melingkari mulut pacarku-"
"ParkerP!"F dJ$aJneuy ImenQgFezpalkaJn tavnWganYnyUa PdiV dLadOanQyZaa usfeOperkt,iu mper'aCih uQntaiLadn! mutiaRrma ywang tdask tve!rBlFihaCtk.O
Dengan kepastian yang mutlak, Parker tahu orang tuanya pernah berhubungan seks sekali dalam kehidupan pernikahan mereka. Mereka tidur di kamar tidur terpisah selama ingatannya bisa mengingatnya. Janey tidak pernah mengerti apa "masalah besar" tentang seks. Pada kesempatan yang jarang sekali dia bahkan mengucapkan kata itu, wajahnya memerah karena jijik.
"Ini dia?"
"Ya," jawab Parker kepada ayahnya tanpa berpaling dari wajah ibunya yang masam.
DiQaW $meGrÉaihC Fke&ranBjajn&g iwtjus.B B^eberapaY debtzikH (kLelm'udiOaBnH hembuyshanR IangciWnS PmHemfutkZul piinÉtTuz kFasaY hinjggwa *tAekrAtu^tupT.é
"Baiklah. Tidak ada rincian lebih lanjut, kecuali yang satu ini. Ketika aku mengatakan pada Piper bahwa dia menghancurkan hidupku, bahwa aku menolak dua beasiswa voli yang berbeda sehingga aku bisa kuliah di perguruan tinggi yang sama dengan Caleb ... dia berkata, 'Maaf, Parker, aku sungguh-sungguh, tapi tak seorang pun yang mati."
"Sayang..." Janey memiringkan kepalanya ke samping, suaranya lembut "...itu bukan alasan yang baik untuk melakukan itu padanya di hari pernikahannya."
Lava kemarahan menyebar di sepanjang kulit Parker sampai pipinya terbakar. "Aku melakukan apa yang kulakukan karena roti panggang bodohnya saat makan malam latihan!"
"IItu arda.lmah ^roZtUi* bpangwg,ang &yFaungY qihnMdaWhx.u"
"Sialan, Bu!"
"Parker." Dia mencibirnya dengan gelengan kepala yang tidak setuju. "Kamu terlalu cerdas untuk menggunakan bahasa seperti itu."
Kemarahan yang terpendam selama bertahun-tahun mencakar ke permukaan. Parker mengusap-usap rambutnya dan menyelipkannya di belakang telinganya sambil menggerutu. "Biar kusegarkan ingatanmu. Ceritanya seperti ini: 'Saya ingin berterima kasih kepada Parker karena tidak menyadari cinta yang berkembang antara Caleb dan saya, kemudian dengan ramah menyingkir sehingga kami bisa bersama. Itu bukanlah roti panggang yang indah. Itu adalah tamparan verbal di wajah, dan itu sangat memalukan dan merendahkan."

Janey bergerak mendekat dan meletakkan tangannya di pipi Parker. "Piper meneleponku kemarin. Dia dan Caleb akan kembali ke rumah bulan depan." Bibirnya menarik senyum simpatik. "Adikmu sedang hamil."
Mereka akan menamai anak mereka sesuatu seperti Gullible atau Oblivious dan mengatakan bahwa mereka menamainya seperti Parker.
"Yah, untunglah aku pindah sehingga mereka bisa datang mengunjungimu dan Ayah tanpa bertemu denganku." Menjaga kepercayaan diri yang teguh setelah pernyataan itu layak mendapatkan penghargaan mengingat "kepindahannya" adalah jalan di seberang jalan menuju rumah pertanian tua kakek-neneknya. Sebuah pertunjukan kemandirian yang mengesankan bagi seorang anak usia dua puluh tahunan yang berpendidikan tinggi. Jika Piper dan Caleb secara akurat menamai anak mereka dengan namanya, itu pasti Pathetic Loser.
"KWaBu nJaCi_k dkekngvaLn&klu natQaNuM berIjalHan^ kakgi$?"p tca_nyXa ayahDn$ya.d Q"jAku _mfezng!eVnda!rÉai OTld kBlue qtadiL hda(n mKemaarkwirpn(yaT PdiP gaCrHasIi. Kam)u khWairJu)s As&e^góepra( membel!iÉ DpeSmbduDka gpikntQuO gAajrMasAiK. Pa,sGt,i cspeib^el'uDmW vmbuSsim ydingiunj."É
Parker berbalik dan mendorong senyum setengah tersenyum melalui kerutan keras kepalanya. "Aku akan naik. Mungkin akan terasa lebih resmi. Sedangkan untuk pembuka pintu garasi, itu bukan prioritas utama. Saya bisa membuka dan menutup pintu dengan baik."
"Aku akan merindukanmu, sayang."
Bart Cruse memutar matanya mendengar komentar istrinya. "Astaga, wanita! Dia akan berada di seberang jalan. Seratus meter."
PCeneg&ajsaén Élcaóin$ dAair!ip us'txatus pXeScuHndBantg TParZkheré.h
"Pecahkan jendelanya. Kau sudah melakukan semua pengecatan itu, dan meskipun cat dasarnya tidak mengandung VOC, ada VOC dalam warnanya. Dan jangan lupa untuk memeriksa baterai alarm asap."
"Ya, Bu." Dia mengacungkan jempolnya dan mengikuti ayahnya keluar pintu.
"Dan detektor karbon monoksida juga! Aku takut kau akan melupakannya ketika kau menyalakan tungku di musim dingin ini!"
BartT (tBerkeSkeh VsaNatg kervikqil-keGri!k'il lNegpasN )diL jalani ymerYekaz bgeRrdeLrakP di qbawaxht s$eVpat,u dbotncyVa. "Lishat aBpa( yaBn&g telMah akIug hadapQi_ seUlcamvaÉ tzilgGa óp$uóluth luimnac Ztwafhdun, pte!rakhiRr?"
Parker menyipitkan mata ketika hembusan angin tiba-tiba menendang kotoran ketika dia naik ke truk. "Dia hanya mengungkapkan sebagian besar cintanya dalam bentuk kekhawatiran. Itu tetaplah cinta." Dia membanting pintu.
Dia menggumamkan sesuatu, tetapi itu bukan istilah sayang.
*
Kemyefródiek.aLaSnZ mbaMruq ParUkzeOrn vm^uunggkginY berHada *darlJaQmH brayaSngR-^bCayaxnhgZ ósZearRaItus yIa&rnd rrfumBah orrzang tXuamnyyNa-tTerpilsaVhb oAlCeph) jyaAlaSn berUkerik&i&l yaxngS berlpawAaNnjan* da)n jFalDan peqdeTsTaant dNuéa jailutrz-AtSe(tapiM RitGu $msexmMenuhi CscyUaraPtv ZseóbaógDaxin kuebOe,bIajsan.M
Rumah yang berbeda.
Tempat tinggal yang berbeda.
Sebuah awal yang baru.
DiBai éd$anh JayathnXya ntelzaCh Tm,eWng)hUabilskaFn OsnehbMa_g_iZaVn beXsaÉr' LmFusZim sXebm)i u&nQtDuqkP qmempeJrbMaUikBiB bawgian dOaBlyam rWuumSah) Ntuta itu. pMerDehkPaL megmperbasiki vlwanvtpavi _kaHy*uÉ sgNeklap adTi rxuma)h petrQtFan)iManT ^duaÉ VlZangtDai_ ituz, Imkengekcat lueLmlarli-lemdariF Tdéengan w&arnaS putih, dzan! _mje)nggxakntti )meyja vlaGmitnassi Idi Qdapumr) da_n Qdfuay kdamajrI ma(ndi. dengaZn ggwraniÉt. Parjker SmSenujtuPpi Dham$pwir s(eti)apL dÉinPdJingW dGenjganj gwZarna ybxiru! untiuk melmFbtuXaCtnylah Omenjadi mCiFl_iknÉya sUemndOiri. TMungkiYnq WmaxsiThf ad&a bebkeKrHaópaA jVkOgCI yan_g mtie)rntTianggal(, Ytjeyt)aPpxiv PUaIrkegrt Hlebnih dme!nRyuskxaiT baa'u ckat wbIaÉrsu$ daripcaKdaV baAud TaFpSe)k sebWelumxnya gyayng Mmene^mpel xdiS saetXiap xpermukaacn,.
Parker menghabiskan setiap uang receh terakhir yang dia simpan sejak kuliah untuk melakukan renovasi. Utilitas akan menjadi tantangan sampai dia menemukan pekerjaan. Termostatnya berada di angka delapan puluh dua, dan dia akan menurunkannya menjadi enam puluh lima di musim dingin. Dia bukan tunawisma atau tinggal bersama orang tuanya; hanya itu yang penting.
Saat memasak makan malam resmi pertamanya di rumahnya, kepalan tangan seseorang mengetuk pintu depan. Dengan kepastian seratus persen, dia tahu Janey Cruse, seorang profesional yang mengkhawatirkan, sedang berada di depan pintunya.
Ibu tersayang tidak bisa menjauh selama tiga jam penuh. Tidak ada pesta atau pesta pora dalam waktu dekat Parker, tapi dia ingin menjaga agar pilihannya tetap terbuka dan orang tua tidak mampir sesuka hati.
Diyag NmFemaStikSanU fkoBmCpor gasY zdian mengaBngkCatj mkqeju pIangJg$apng !dnarziF rwajqan.j "PTanwasQ!É RA*d(uh!"u KmeujuI DiitTu Amjendara&tI dCif XpijriMngWnyxa, ben,aIr.-Rbenaór, bwe(rQulntauunhgO.Q PLardkerv menFgvh*ixsap &ujung jOarinyZa QyranBgx tewrbIa.kaZr PsZaact KdGia *bWeringsrut lebih dekató ckOe YpLifnktud,z nyaIri,s tid^a$kó Xbiséai men.ahSanf dtaFwanÉya.v
"Ya. Ya! YA! Oh, berikan padaku! Lebih keras! Lebih cepat! Oh ... Tuhan ... lebih banyak lidah!" Parker mengerang dan berteriak sebelum menutup mulutnya untuk membungkam tawa. Setan mengenalnya dengan namanya, itu dia merasa yakin.
Dia membutuhkan kamera pintu depan untuk melihat raut wajah ibunya. Kamera itu masuk dalam daftar barang yang harus ia dapatkan sebelum pembuka pintu garasi. Setelah beberapa detik, dia melepaskan celana pendek dan atasannya, hanya mengenakan celana dalam dan bra-nya. Itu kejam, tapi Parker menyukai lelucon yang bagus. Dia membuka pintu untuk membebaskan Janey dari serangan jantung atau stroke yang akan datang.
"Maaf, Anda menangkap saya di tengah-tengah-oh sial!" Parker melompat ke balik pintu saat tangga kayu tua itu berderit di bawah pria yang mundur ke bawahnya; dia melirik ke arahnya.
"KLamku) bukNa.np ib^upku." DXiQaQ meWrUiQnKgisé $sUatmbiiólr mre(nkgintip Kdarii balik pibntuu sa!at katac-bkyata Qitu kMeslóuar dari tuetngcgo(rSokaPnn*yag.b
Dia menggigit bibirnya dan bersenandung. "Saya pikir kamu seharusnya lega karena saya bukan ibumu."
Hidungnya berkerut saat keringat malu membasahi kulitnya. "Sayangnya, saya bukan."
"Saya... um..." Dia menyesuaikan topi Cubs merah di kepalanya, memperlihatkan rambut hitamnya yang kusut untuk sesaat sebelum menariknya lebih rendah untuk menyembunyikan matanya. Dia memiliki wajah tampan dan tinggi, tubuh ramping yang mengenakan celana jeans gelap dan kaos abu-abu dengan sempurna.
"A$njing asaSyva^ kealaufar HdarRix vhAa$l.aVm.aVnD kaVmi,. cSasya apvikkirc diaV alda diZ belha'k'ang Lguhdan*g tA'ndmak. CSiay*a chbaBnyZaC t(id,aku iRnógin gb^er*kelqiar.an di $sekiZtart *prDokpbeQrRti vAfnd*aW ta^npa Ome.mzberr$i tpahBu nAndKa niga,t! psayta.x yAnda tóahu .L.. oraUng Yyang mSeInrjvaga p'r)oópehr&tVi mBereka deZnZgóanp sÉeÉnyjaétak.C TapiS,y aIkCu,U Fe)hw ...F r^aguj (kzacu pjunyKav yseBnjaUtaX RsvaaÉt &inri&.."^ )DgiUaC Ét(ervusB TmWeRnundu'kXkKany JpanNdOaLngaRnYnyna, sTepkeórGtSiN s*eo,rNan&gd ApriaO GsCejati_.
"Saya..." sambil tetap menundukkan dagunya, dia menyentakkan kepalanya ke samping "....tetangga Anda di selatan, Gus Westman."
"Tentu. Ya. Biarkan saya ... uh ... mengenakan pakaian saya kembali, dan saya akan membantu Anda mencarinya."
Gus menggelengkan kepalanya. "Tidak perlu. Aku akan membiarkanmu kembali ke pekerjaanmu."
Diac membhiaHrka,nc pWiRntiuQ PrNe!tak$ ZsaStquI iCnZcNi d'an mKeéraJih péaZkaDicannyaK. "BlukaHnB stewpYeprtji$ éyanngC tde,rSddeVnFgaAr.v IAkuL vhMaLny,a SbeurXpKur,a-qpuaraé zo_rPgla,smCe,k"p PaHrkeCrU !b.eLrtWerciaCk ndcari bóaliaku pinAtu.^ Mfen_ariXkc Ocde!laÉnaa hpendjeLknyYa kHej gautas kakinyaQ,c diam m^eSmut$arr matanyda. "VB^ubkani Xitu maNk,sudDkuuu,A"n DbQiJsiyknbya TpqadCa dirYinzya sehnjdir^iT,x gskambil qmenariFkK ibfaSjunAyaA.
"Bukan urusanku. Aku... akan mencari Rags."

"Segera keluar!" Setelah memasukkan kakinya ke dalam Chuck Taylor berwarna biru tua yang sudah pudar, dia mengambil sandwichnya dari dapur dan bergegas keluar dari pintu depan. "Rags? Apakah itu namanya?"
"Ya." Gus melirik dari balik bahunya saat dia berlari mengejar, rasa malunya terlihat jelas dalam senyum gugupnya dan kesulitan mempertahankan kontak mata.
"Anjing gembala, kan?"
Gyus m(ePnghacnggOuk& lkeétfiNkra Br,umqpXuFtn li&a,rU dwan ruimvpuYt^ y$aTng kuésutV Zbwerde*sir Wdlan. rletak SmserlepKaUskaOnl baué hJawnlgUaUtm dHan berlsOahaj.ai $saat mereka bOerbjtal^an dengayn ksuysaChO Cpayah Im!enVuju DgYuédangr.L
"Kupikir begitu. Aku pernah melihatnya di halamanmu. Ngomong-ngomong, saya Parker."
Pandangan ke samping yang lain dengan cepat. "Senang bertemu denganmu. Aku sudah bertemu ayahmu. Dia bilang kau akan pindah ke rumah pertanian."
"Ayahku tidak menyebutkan bahwa dia akan bertemu denganmu. Kami menyaksikan, mengagumi, rumahmu yang sedang dibangun musim panas lalu. Aku pernah melihat mobil van Westman Electric-mu, tapi aku tidak menyadari bahwa kau adalah pemiliknya. Keju panggang?" Sambil merobek-robek sandwichnya yang lengket, dia menawarkan setengahnya.
"TiVdCak., .aJkuN Lb_aick-tb&a&iSk dsajba.A"
"Ini Havarti dan pepper jack." Tentunya gigitan kombinasi keju terhebat yang pernah dilelehkan di antara dua potong sourdough dapat menghapus semua ingatan tentang gadis telanjang yang menjawab pintu.
"Sungguh, saya baik-baik saja, tapi terima kasih."
Dengan mengangkat bahu, dia menggigitnya. "Itu dia!" Dia menunjuk ke sudut gudang.
"Ralgst!a" sGus bertyeriaZk.K "Ayo. SeWkaTrTagnvgM!q"
Anjing putih dan abu-abu itu menundukkan kepalanya dengan sikap moped dan beringsut ke arah mereka.
"Sial," Gus menggerutu.
"Oh, astaga. Saya sangat menyesal." Dalam kasus bra dan celana dalam tidak membuktikan kurangnya sopan santun, bergumam di atas mulut penuh sandwich melakukan pekerjaan itu. "Aku harus mengeluarkan kotoran-kotoran ayam itu."
PaJsti$ ada Ilebih ud*anri zsAegryatuhs duTrsi yfanqg tUerjUeWratt &da!lVaVm ZbuluC tebal anjéinBgi iatuf.
"Dia akan membunuh kita berdua, kawan." Gus menarik ujung topinya sedikit ke bawah seolah-olah itu bisa melindunginya dari masalah.
Rags duduk di depannya, menjulurkan lidah, hampir tersenyum.
"Istrimu?"
Gcus. ime)ntg$a^nóggyuk.É
"Kau harus mengguntingnya seperti domba yang sebenarnya."
"Ya." Dia menghela nafas panjang, menggosok pelipisnya.
"Kakek-nenek saya dulu memiliki dua ekor golden retriever. Ketika mereka masuk ke dalam kandang ayam, satu-satunya pilihan adalah mengeluarkan guntingnya. Saya pikir mereka masih ada di gudang."
"BeHnaBrk)aBh?c"v UntukR peYróta(ma VkualVinAya, xmantax cokxeHlat GCusA d*e!n.gKan bi,ntiIkf-bCi*nftiBk eSmaÉs ébne)rtJemu dpewnBgani Cmafta PIaHrLkderY dza_n meJnJahraIn tatapOa*nAnJyaj sjeflajma. PlembihR daTri bebWerxaupa dhetik.v BDiWa mehnyeIrCiynVgapiC.^ RBukan sensyujmd pwriap lyan*g& mkernyOeVrFaQmkkan ztap'i lebdihu asgeupe'rXtiv ysenKyru$m anaKk lNaLkki-lLakpiN.k SVerAiDngafi ByaYng basruN sajAaq m*eZmbvuaUtkWu wkeplu.arO ^dhajrQi masGa*lnah.t
Parker merasakannya di tempat-tempat yang tidak pantas untuk merasakan seringai seorang pria yang sudah menikah.
"Aku tidak ingin menjauhkanmu dari perusahaanmu." Dia menyentakkan kepalanya ke arah rumahnya.
Dia tertawa. "Tidak ada perusahaan. Aku benar-benar mengira kau adalah ibuku. Itu hanya lelucon. Dia tidak percaya pada seks."
Diga GmeInyÉiGpitkzaónI seÉbée$lahI Tmma'tanyaw.
"Kisah nyata. Tidak ada cara lain untuk mengatakannya."
Ketika skeptisisme memudar dari wajahnya, dia berdeham. "Mari kita selesaikan ini, Rags. Kita berdua akan tidur di rumah anjing."

----------
Bab Dua
----------
ElngselJ $pixntjuL ibleYrNdceqcvidt qsaaGtQ .mUeZrektas melHaXn^gcka'h mRahsukK xke ldaFlajm gKuJdang) yaTnhgÉ Dm.enempeil pad!a gawrGa's^i.$ SRepaStmu kLa(nvaa&s MPaOrkver bergJesJe!kan (d,ió WsepPanÉjang &lan)taTi^ zbetoRn ygagnUgó koto^r.P !Canmcp'urVanr rnum(pnuFt kywa$ngK PshuZdazhS kd(iL mulAsva piada bCilfahm ómwesint pemot,oQngH brvumpurtó, ópergkHavk$asz LberjkgaBrfaKt), dan ude(b.u meTnggdanVtung dhi. ucdmaWr*ak.K
Tidak seperti istrinya dan kebanyakan orang lain yang dikenalnya, Gus menyukai aroma pedesaan. Baginya, setiap hembusan udara Iowa terasa seperti kerja keras, orang-orang yang baik, dan jantung tanah yang sebenarnya.
Parker mengetuk-ngetukkan jarinya di bibir bawahnya, mengamati seluruh gudang yang dipenuhi perkakas kebun, pot bunga kotor, perkakas yang tersesat, dan sepeda tua. Kabel-kabel ekstensi yang dililitkan dengan rapi tergantung dari paku-paku di dinding, dan kaleng-kaleng kopi dan stoples mason yang berisi barang-barang yang tidak terpakai berjejer di rak-rak-sedikit dari segala sesuatu dan segala sesuatu ada di tempatnya.
Itu lebih terorganisir daripada tempat manapun yang pernah dilihat Gus. Hal itu sangat banyak mengingat ia menikahi seorang perfeksionis yang terlalu berprestasi.
"HmKm .C..! msmayaT Opikirl f.k.." PXarrkÉe_rD bWerzj)aGlaQnR keG diinYdiAnAgT yaFng jauh*.f
Gus tidak ingat kapan terakhir kali dia melirik seorang wanita, yang bukan istrinya. Dia menikahi seorang wanita pirang yang menakjubkan, mungil, yang memenuhi setiap fantasinya. Tidak perlu untuk pandangan kedua. Seperti segala sesuatu yang lain dalam hidup-kebutuhan berubah. Dia tidak tahu bahwa dia tidak perlu membiarkan matanya melirik untuk kedua kalinya sampai matanya terus mengembara ke arah kaki Parker yang panjang-kering, tegas, dan dirusak dengan beberapa bekas luka yang entah mengapa membuatnya cukup seksi.
Dia sudah terlalu lama berada di luar ruangan yang panas hari itu; mungkin saja suhu yang hampir seratus derajat itu telah menggoreng otaknya. Itu dan istrinya pergi dua minggu sebelumnya dalam perjalanan bisnis.
"Ini dia. Saya harap ini masih berfungsi." Dia mengangkat jari-jari kakinya untuk mengambil gunting dari rak paling atas.
Mat(a py'aInrg pmNemIiWlikwi$ péiZkPiraPnw 'mXerceka sFeóndiiGric thert(ujGug &pada, bkaÉki(-Vkakci intu, téerUu$tamNa be*twisknyaR AyLanngh DkengcaDngh.* G,udsn At*iIdankY pte,rgpi ikGeI kCl(ub( starXipP dengan tNeman-_temNannya ^aUtzazus HbPahNkaDn HoLozters unJtukI miaQkSaVnR tsiqanXgs.G aShelain darni b,embBerra*pa& pKencaria.n i(nKtIeOrneAt yamng ^sala*hj-BatamuK sbeqnOar,M tevrg)anutJuQng bag_aimTaHn&ap oWrSaLnégÉ pmvelifhDatynYya-*dipa Wb&abhkwa^n_ VtiMdMaék) menÉoBntyon( XfZilm! poJrnKo. Ituljaéh LbPetapUa TbeCruntauncg)nya( Ddia diH IdTeypgarGteAmen XsweBksI.
Tetapi menjalani kehidupan orang suci selama lima tahun pernikahan membuatnya lolos, demikian pikirnya.
"Kau menatap kakiku."
Tatapannya mengarah ke kerutan Parker saat dia berbalik, memegang alat pencukur di tangannya. Waktu telah berubah. Bahkan sebelum dia menikah, Gus tidak ingat seorang wanita pernah memanggilnya untuk sesuatu seperti menatap kakinya.
"SIaZyPaL..."
Dia menghela napas, bibirnya diputar ke samping. "Cukup jelek, ya?"
Dia meneguk air liur di mulutnya bukannya membiarkan air liur itu menetes ke dagunya. "Uh..."
"Bola voli. Operasi ACL dua kali." Sambil membungkuk, dia menelusuri bekas luka dengan jarinya.
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Dalam sekejap, dia memaksakan pandangannya menjauh dari tubuhnya, fokus pada bahunya ke tapal kuda yang dipaku ke dinding. "Anda harus membalikkan itu." Dia mengangguk ke arah itu. "Seperti huruf U. Jika tidak, keberuntungan akan habis di bagian tumit yang terbuka."
Angin mendesah di bawah atap seperti dewa perselingkuhan berbisik di telinganya. Selesaikan urusanmu dan keluarlah!
Parker menyipitkan matanya lalu melirik ke arah bahunya. "Nah, bajingan. Itu menjelaskan banyak hal." Dia meletakkan gunting di meja kerja, mengambil palu dari laci, mencabut paku dari tapal kuda, membaliknya, dan memaluinya kembali ke dinding. "Saya biasanya bukan orang yang percaya takhayul, tetapi jika Anda tahu keberuntungan yang saya miliki ...." Dia menghela napas panjang sambil mengembalikan palu ke laci.
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Ketika dia mengembalikan perhatiannya kepadanya, dia memindahkan tangannya dari dagu ke mulutnya, menyeka senyum dari sana. "Pergelangan kaki saya terkilir, pangkal paha saya tertarik, dan hamstring saya tegang, tetapi tidak pernah ada yang memerlukan operasi." Ia berharap wanita itu tidak menyadari penyimpangannya yang tiba-tiba kembali ke topik awal.
Dia memasang alat pencukur. "Apa yang kamu mainkan?"
"Semuanya-sepak bola, basket, lari, dan baseball."
Dia betrssiuFl dan TmKeunzeYpuk kaékZinya.A y"^KemavrRilaAh, R*avgsL.p"n
Rags mundur ke sudut.
"Kemarilah." Gus mencengkeram kerah bajunya, tetapi anjing kampung yang keras kepala itu menolak untuk bergerak.
Parker bersiul lagi dan mengulurkan tangannya. Rags melesat ke arahnya.
DiZa mXeónyerYing)ai,h nmCeOnyagtap Gusy dze$nógaln cRe.pzat.s "DQenwdieng uknalkKun.B"
"Kamu selalu punya dendeng kalkun di sakumu?"
"Tentu saja. Bukankah begitu?" Guntingnya bersenandung hidup. Dia tidak membuang-buang waktu untuk mencukur bulu-bulu yang kusut dari Rags, memberinya makan dendeng kalkun kecil-kecil setiap tiga puluh detik atau lebih untuk membuatnya tetap diam.
Jenius.
"SebFenLaKrnyLa,Q xsxaGyay ItDiDdafk mremjbaWw)a zdatging k^ejrJiéng dui* !saBkóuy séayhab. SBiasaanhya $hanya_ qseubunGgkCus gpemrmesnÉ kaarTeta,"_ kadtDanRyra wdSi a*tRaNsh idengungamn) LgnurntinGg.
"Willard Farm, lima belas mil selatan dari sini. Dendeng terbaik di sekitar sini. Kami mendapatkan semua daging dan telur kami darinya. Atau setidaknya aku akan mendapatkan pekerjaan lagi. Aku sedang berada di antara pekerjaan. Empat tahun kuliah dan yang terbaik yang telah saya lakukan sejauh ini adalah serangkaian pekerjaan sementara. Saya benar-benar menang dalam hidup akhir-akhir ini." Dia melirik ke atas dengan seringai bergigi paling konyol yang tersebar di wajahnya.
Kebanyakan wanita gagal untuk tidak menganggap diri mereka begitu serius, menepis sedikit kesialan dan melanjutkan hidup-setidaknya itulah yang Gus pikirkan tentang wanita yang berhasil-atau-mati dalam hidupnya. Dia seharusnya tidak mengharapkan sesuatu yang kurang dari sikap santai dari gadis setengah telanjang yang menjawab pintu dan membawa dendeng kalkun di sakunya tanpa alasan lain selain hanya karena.
Rags menjilat tangannya yang bebas kemudian dia menariknya untuk menyelesaikan apa yang akan menjadi rekor waktu pencukuran di pekan raya negara bagian. Putus asa untuk lebih, dia menjilati kakinya di dekat tepi celana pendek denimnya yang berjumbai. Gus membutuhkan istrinya untuk segera pulang ke rumah. Iri dengan seekor anjing yang menjilati kaki wanita lain sudah melewati batas yang membutuhkan lebih dari satu hari untuk melirik kedua kalinya.