英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(63)天堂之影

何木

Chapter 63        1/2




One day on his way home his sister called him. Emotional, she was rather inarticulate, but one word was clear - earthquake. His immediate dread was beginning for his mother, because obviously his sister was still alive. He stopped his car on the leftmost lane, turning on its emergency lights.

‘Hundreds of thousands have died,’ she said.

‘How about mother?’

‘We are lucky. The city of Mianyang and Sangton were not much affected. The worst areas are Wenchuan and Beichuan.’

The stone that had wedged in his heart was lifted, at least for now. At this early stage, the impact of the earthquake was not yet clear, and the disaster might have spread to other places. Later, at home, he and Qiuyan had tried to contact their friends and relatives, but the phone system was apparently overloaded, and Qiuyan had to dial ten times before she was able to get through to her parents. Web sites were also very slow, almost unworkable. So they only got little updates even if they scarcely left the computer screen.

Knowing Bing was from the worst affected Mianyang district, his friends Jim and Brian, and even Pan, Peter and Rebecca in Melbourne, called him enquiring about his relatives. Then more and more reports were released on TV and web sites. From the rubble corpses were dug out and were laid out in many rows. The rescuers were making every effort to recover lives, no matter how slim the hopes might be. The heroes and heroines, and all that had happened in the disaster to mark the shine of humanity, moved people’s hearts.

A teacher was found dead in a classroom, with his arms spread like wings, beneath which four bodies lay, his students, also dead even with his protection.

A husband carried his dead wife on a bicycle, with ropes strapping her body to his shoulders and his waist, so that, he said, he could bring her home.

An old beggar woman stood beside a donation box, fumbling in her pocket, to contribute her share of charity.

A mother had written a text message in her mobile, unsent, ‘My dear child, if you survive, please remember I love you.’ And her infant baby did survive, under the cover of her arched, lifeless body.  
…  

It seemed the living pains were for the time condensed and brought to one place, and all the tears in the world were aggregated to a river of sorrow, in which people’s eyes and souls were cleansed, and the boundary between the rich and poor, and the proud and humble, was lost.   

A few months later, the Olympic Games opened in Beijing. People then looked very happy. They couldn’t be blamed, for life has to go on. The clothes were nice in colour, the faces clean, the hair shining, the voices triumphant. Whether or not under the surface some hearts were still broken, that couldn’t be told. A sad memory can be, and should be, superseded by new hope, perpetual. Human beings, as a special kind, as a whole, would last, almost like the earth they thought they had taken. They are indestructible, in their faith, even if an individual may suffer every day, every moment from one loss or the other.  
When Vivian informed him of her schedule in Sydney, he had, in his scant conscience, persuaded himself that their meeting would be just normal, simply between two classmates. Nor did Vivian hint of anything else. She would stay in Sydney for ten days, and each day was fully arranged, as in the group, but of course she would try to find a time to meet him and Brian, she said.

But after twenty more years what had become of her? Had time operated on her face, altered in any way her impressive features? And how, let alone her heart?  

She would arrive on a Sunday, and on the eve of which he had taken out the watch, and it worked. So its mechanics were not impaired by time, though its surface was tarnished. Oh, what a surprise would it be to her, if she found he had still kept her gift?

But she only called him the day after her arrival.

‘When did you arrive yesterday?’ he asked.

‘About one in the afternoon.’

‘Oh, I thought you would have called me then.’

‘Well, I had to settle down first. We have five people. I am the guide and the interpreter, so most of the time, I can’t act alone.’

‘Then when will you have time for me,’ he began, meekly, ‘I mean for me and Brian.’

‘I will definitely find a time.’

‘Eh…’ He found it uneasy to raise a request.

‘Yes?’


‘Well, I wish to see you earlier.’

‘My daytime during the week is all occupied, the only free time would be the coming Saturday and Sunday. But I am afraid the other four will drag me to go somewhere.’

‘How about evening? Dinner time?’

‘It depends how quickly the group could handle things without me.’

‘Who are they? Aren’t they also English teachers?’ He was growing impatient.

‘Three teachers, one deputy dean of theEnglish department, all of them first time to Australia.’

‘So, what do you mean? You can’t get away at all?’  

‘Look, Wang Bing, they are waiting for me for a meeting. I will call you back later.’ She hung up.

Oh, what a shit! Why do they have to pretend they are really serious about their overseas business? Aren’t they just finding ways to spend the public funds for their private fun? How many so-called exchanges, or study groups had been invented, under all sorts of clever names and purposes?  

His hot expectation that had been cooked up for the past few months, was damned. He questioned himself why he had to see her. For what? Sex? Love? Friendship? For some nostalgia over his lost youth? Or was it because his life in Australia was intolerably passionless?

He debated within himself all the morning. His mind was vexed with indignation. He decided not to bother himself with this woman, though somewhere his heart was longing for her call, obstinately.

And she called him the next morning.

‘Hello.’ He was cool.

‘Sorry, yesterday I was in a hurry.’

‘All right.’

‘A busy day, the first day of business, you know.’

‘Well,’ he said, while his mind mocked, ‘How do I know?’

‘Please don’t be upset.’

‘I am not upset.’

‘Yes, you are.’

‘You are not inside me.’

‘I have been once inside you, and it seemed you had not changed a bit, after so many years.’

‘Yes, then I am upset.’ His tone was sulky. ‘Why didn’t you call me again yesterday?’

‘I went back to the hotel very late after dinner. I wanted to call you but thought it improper while you were at home.’

‘But I had been waiting.’ He was nervous in his confession.  

‘Can you really go out at night?’

‘Of course I can.’

‘Well, if you are so sure of that, come and pick me up at seven at my hotel.’

‘All right,’ he was calm, but his blood began to surge. ‘See you then.’

So his moment was on, with sudden exhilaration, for her compliance had come out of the blue. Now he came to understand the reason she hadn’t called him was that it had been inconvenient, either unable to phone, or engaged with meetings with her counterparts, or, as she said, she felt improper calling him at home. Why did she feel it improper? Because the nature of their contact was deemed, by her, to be private, and secret, and his wife and even Brian should not know of it.

Yes, she is also anticipating something, which is fantastic. After all, as she said, she had once been inside him.

He opened the drawer, and took out the watch he had already brought to his office, for his anticipated occasion with her.
Then his desk phone was ringing to irritate him. He let it ring three times, before picking it up.

‘Hello, Bing speaking.’

‘Bing, this is Melissa, customers said they had not received my emails since this morning.’

‘Really?’ he said, ‘let me check the system and get back to you.’

He began to work, and soon found out it was a company-wide issue. It must be fixed quickly, otherwise the employees would start harassing him. Nowadays email was like pants, or skirts, without which people can’t work for the company.

As soon as he had traced the fault to the end of Totig, the prominent internet provider in Australia, he called its support. And their response was just in time.   

‘Thanks for calling Totig, in order to direct your call to the right place, in just a few words please tell me the reason for your call.’

It was a recorded message, asking him to say something so that their robot could detect his intention, and properly handle his call.

Thinking, he began to mutter, ‘Network, down, please quick.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t get it, could you just say a few words, what is the reason again?’

‘No internet, no email.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t get that, could you…’

Bing fired up, ‘Shut up, just get me a live person!’

‘Wait a second, while I am trying that number.’

Half a minute later, the line was transferred, successfully, but ‘All our operators are currently busy. Your call is important to us, please stay on the line and you will be answered as soon as possible.’

Then on-hold music was introduced, then a number of people knocked at his door, complaining miserably about their email problems, then another message voiced up from the line, ‘While you are waiting, why not go to our online support, that is slash slash www dot totig dot com dot au, and slash support.’

Many minutes passed, before a live person took the line at last. However, while Bing was excitedly explaining the issue to her, the live person interrupted him nicely, saying that the number he had dialled was not the right one to address his problem, and advising him to try another one.

Then the drama repeated again.

When he had finally got the problem fixed, it was a few minutes towards six o’clock. But tired as he was, his brain was rather active. He called his wife that he had to stay in the offie to fix a problem. There had been a problem, so the excuse was handy.

‘When will you be home?’ Qiuyan asked, with a wifely concern.

‘I don’t know, a technician is here, we have to fix it no matter how late it is. Or tomorrow will be a bigger trouble.’

‘Then you get yourself something to eat.’

‘I will have some McDonalds.’

He had lied to his wife in this manner a number of times, when Rebecca was still in Sydney. But that had been ages ago, as it seemed.

So after checking his face in the mirror, he went, with the watch in his pocket, to meet Vivian, driving his Toyota. His clothes were not the best he could have worn. But how did he know Vivian could have set a time for today? Otherwise, he would have dressed better for this occasion, for a meeting, after more than two decades, with the woman who had once wrenched his heart.

Anyway he was now more mature, and so was she. But why was she divorced? After having a child? Oh, what an unwise decision! If one had got into a marriage, why then get divorced? It made no sense to him. Like taking photos, the second is just like the first, in equal possibility with regard to its quality. Well, he might ask her about it. But no, why did he have to ask about it? Was he really interested in her past?

Then what did he want?

Of course it was sex. He wanted his old passion from her new body. For one moment he was possessed by the idea. Then it was absurd, so unrealistic for the night. But still, it was possible. Who knows what would happen? It was such a historic meeting, like reliving his youth.

So to prepare for the possibility, he rushed on his way to purchase a pack of a dozen condoms. Her hotel was somewhere close to Darling Harbour. He parked his car in a parking lot there.

Then he sat on the couch in the lobby of her hotel waiting for her, with the pack bulging in the pocket of his pants. It was awkward, and uncomfortable. He should have just taken out one or two from it and stored the rest in the car. But no, it was not a good option; what would happen if his wife found this out? So the most sensible way was to use some and discard the rest.

He rose from the couch, and went to the toilet to do the little task, which without a pair of scissors was never easy. The package was as tough as anything that is tough, and he didn’t have sharp nails to tackle it. In the end he grew a bit violent. He used his teeth to bite and tear it open, and after fishing out two, threw the remainder into the bin. On principle, he was never a person who likes to waste products, human beings’ products, however useful or meaningless they are, but under the circumstances he had no other choice. His conduct was already very ugly, and would be excessively so, and certainly insulting to one’s imagination, if he was to use the items in the same box with two different women.  

Waiting, the two condoms in the pocket still felt repulsive, his fingers dirty, as if he had already touched the slimy ring. But he had not; it was just cool, disgustingly, on its surface. And his waiting was with that feeling, which in a sense was not too bad, for it made him forget his nervousness in the time.

Then he fumbled out the watch in another pocket of his pants, and decided to put it on his wrist. Not that it would give him any comfort by its nostalgic value, but really he needed a little activity to kill the time, and his awkwardness. Now five past seven. But he knew, as a person whose patience had grown with age, that a girl, or a woman, no matter how old she is, needed some time to check her face in the mirror, before meeting a man, or society.

Then after drawing a deep breath, and giving out a sigh in the course, he became again conscious, as if suddenly, of the significance of this meeting, and peered more frequently at the elevator from which his first love Vivian was supposed to appear. Oh, once upon a time he had made her pregnant, and how beautiful, and sad, and hurting her eyes had ever been!
The hall was almost empty. Two guests stood against the reception counter, behind which the smiling receptionist was explaining something to one of them. The other was listlessly leafing a brochure.

‘Wang Bing,’ a voice nudged at his back.

Swiftly he turned over. ‘Oh, Vivian,’ he said, standing up, with his eyes at once cooled by her one-piece of blue frock. ‘I thought you were still in your room.’  

‘No, I took a walk in Darling Harbour,’ she said, smiling to show her neat teeth, with her face beaming like a white rose, that
seemed to have absorbed a fair amount of light of the chandelier in the lobby.  

‘No wonder,’ he muttered, uncertainly, thinking whether he should shake her hand. ‘Ok, can we go now?’ he asked, after realizing the handshaking moment had already passed.

‘After you.’




-- to next post --

何木

Chapter 63    2/2



But she was not following him. In a pair of high-heeled sandals, she was walking by his side. He turned to her, giving her a smile that must be very humorous and meaningful, and she caught his smile with her smile, which must be also very humorous and meaningful.  

‘You are still very beautiful,’ he said, telling a truth. ‘More so than before.’

‘Is it a surprise to you?’ He felt her hands brushing against his. ‘Or did you expect me to be old and ugly?’

‘Hehe, you have sharp words, like a teacher.’ Seeing her easy and affable smile, his hand ventured to seek her fingers.

‘I am a teacher, not just like one,’ she said, submitting her hand to his. ‘I have to talk every day.’

‘Well, I used to be a teacher as well,’ he said, upgrading his mood from good to better. ‘But not as sharp as you.’

They walked further in the direction of Darling Harbour. Then she asked, ‘Where to go?’

‘Go to a hotel, make love,’ he said.

Her hand flinched, as if scorched, away from him. ‘What did you say? ’ she glared at him, her eyes huge, mightier than what was in his memory.

If only he dared to kiss her now!

Abashed, and disconcerted, but not without a measure of amusement, he said, ‘Vivian, do you have to be so scared?’

Her rigid face began to thaw, slowly. ‘You did scare me. How could you say that?’

‘Sorry.’ His apology was honest. ‘I didn’t intend to say that.’

‘Promise, you won’t say that again,’ she said seriously, but resumed her step.

‘I promise.’ He was relieved.

From then on, they no longer touched each other. His plan was go to a bar or a restaurant around the Opera House. So a taxi would be more convenient.

‘How did you come here?’ she asked.

‘By car, my car is parked at Darling Harbour,’

‘Then why not just drive your car to the Opera House?’

‘Too much trouble, also more expensive parking over there than taking a taxi,’ he said. ‘Unless you are interested in my car, a luxurious car.’

‘Luxurious?’ she said, ‘then I am interested.’

‘Yes, it is a Toyota Camry, shining like a moon, very young, only six years old.’

She was chuckling. ‘You are a different person.’

What she said seemed to have been said to him many years ago. ‘Different?’

‘Yes, you used to be a very shy, and reserved.’

‘I reckon you have forgotten the chief part of me.’

‘Have I?’

‘Yes, do you still remember,’ he hesitated, ‘remember, the Great Wall? On the train?’

‘Of course.’

‘On the Great Wall, you said I was different, in this way.’

‘Did I?’ she said, ‘so long ago.’

‘Yes.’

Now a taxi pulled to a stop at the curb near where they stood. A man trotted towards it, but seeing them also approaching it, he gave them the way. Bing said, heartily, ‘Thank you, mate!’

The taxi moved slowly, like a snail. People were crowding both sides of the street. Some walked very fast, as if they were already intoxicated by some substance, but wanted more. The dusk, with the lights spilling out of the skyscrapers’ windows, was alluring, so that people’s souls began to creep, out of the disguise of their skin, at the effect of colours, or alcohol, or drugs.

On the back seat, between Vivian and him, there was a gap, a distance that is reserved for friendship. He turned to look at her. The side of her breast, contained by a tight undershirt and a loose muslin, looked fuller than its younger shape. She was far better than his prediction. How could she maintain her elegance and pride, over the years? The days and nights seemed to have only added an extra womanhood into her blossom. Her waist had expressed not much fat, even in her now folding position.

They didn’t talk much, for there was no privacy in the taxi. The taxi driver had a Chinese face, whose eyes and ears were supposed to be as smart and watchful as theirs.

They got out of the taxi, at the last roundabout in Macquarie Street. He paid the fare of $15; the driver took the cash, expressionless, as if he had not earned enough.

Then all at once Vivian appeared to be very happy. She tossed her mane twice, and then combed it with her fingers. Bing came to her. ‘Your hair is still long and black,’ he said.

‘Long and black?’ She returned, ‘whose hair is not long and black?’

‘Okay, so your hair is tumbling like a waterfall, and,’ he was thinking in Chinese, but said in English, or vice versa, ‘and velvety like…’ he couldn’t find the word for the simile.

‘What?’ Her eyes were as keen as her nose. ‘Lost words?’

‘Well, you are an English teacher; you find the word for me.’

‘Why? You started it, so end it well.’  

‘But the fact is,’ he scratched his head, ‘I can’t find anything as velvety as your hair.’

Her eyes, looking at him, were tinged with the petals of Opera House. She was satisfied by his answer, for she held his hand.

He embraced her to kiss her cheek, and whispered, ‘I thought you didn’t want me.’

‘Who said I want you?’ she replied in the negative, but her body leaning against him spoke the opposite.

The air was fresh; the moon was only half, but emitting a light that in its power softened the world. No longer were the lamps and poles man-made; in the setting, they were as natural as the heaving water.

‘See that red light glowing in the forehead of the Harbour Bridge?’ he said.

She raised her head, ‘Yes, what is it?’

‘It is a light.’

‘I know it is a light, but why is it glowing like that?

‘I don’t know. Every time I came here at night, it is just glowing like that.’

‘Do you often come here at night?’

‘No, not often.’

‘With whom?’

‘Myself.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I came here after I had quarrelled with her.’

‘With your wife?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you often quarrel with her?’

‘Of course not, otherwise I would have come here more often.’

‘Why did you quarrel with her?’

‘Well, domestic friction, universal, nothing major.’

They came to the elevator and down to the porch, and were at once welcomed by the smell of alcohol. Drinkers were noisy, most standing, claiming the spaces between the stools and the tables laid on the cascading pavement, outwards to the stone seats that as a bank curved along and over the sea.

Bing led the way into a bar in the middle of the veranda. At the counter the customers queued, or knotted, or huddled, to be served by tireless bartenders with quick hands.

‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked her, who was behind him.

‘Whisky.’

‘Whisky?’

‘Yes, beer fills my stomach,’ she said.

‘Okay, I will also drink whisky.’

The bartender asked him what mix he preferred. He didn’t know, so he asked Vivian, who came forward and answered the bartender herself, ‘Just with Coke, please.’

The glass-walled room was furnished with red couches, red ottomans, and low tables, on which a small candle in a glass cup was burning; its mini tongue licked, slightly, but the scent of romance was rich.  

‘Maybe we can sit there? We can go outside later,’ he said, holding two glasses of whisky.

‘Okay.’

She took the seat, and put down her pouch on the table. On her wrist was a jade bracelet.

He raised the glass, ‘Cheers.’

She smiled, and lifted her glass for a contact, and sipped.

Bing had a mouthful, ‘Well, it tastes just like Coke.’

‘Careful, the alcohol in the glass is no less than in a bottle of beer,’ she warned. ‘You don’t often drink whisky, do you?’

‘Rarely, I can’t remember my last time,’ he said. ‘How about you? Do you often go to bars in Shanghai?’

‘Once every week or two, is that often?’

‘Yes, far oftener than me.’

Then he was attracted to her necklace. ‘Oh, the pendant looks beautiful, what is it?’

Caressing it with her fingers, she said, ‘You just noticed it?’

He caught her undertone. ‘Well, I have only two eyes, so many things in you are demanding their service.’

‘It is an opal, blue,’ she said, proudly. ‘It well matches my skirt, doesn’t it?’

He extended his hand over to feel it, or weigh it. ‘It has an eye shape, with the opal as the pupil.’

‘That is obvious.’

Then the watch on his wrist drew her attention. ‘What watch is it? It looks so old-fashioned.’

‘Mechanical, but it works well,’ he took his drink, as if brushing off the topic. ‘Very old, more than twenty years.’

‘You are kidding,’ she said, then pulled his hand, ‘let me have a look.’

It took her many seconds for her mind to break the surface of her memory. ‘Oh, my god, is this the one I gave to you?’

He grinned.

‘Are you wearing it all these years?’ she asked, her hand loving it, like a heart.

‘No,’ he finished the glass in one gulp. ‘Actually I’m wearing it for the first time.’

‘Only today?’ her astonishment was as wide as her eyes.

‘Yes, it has been saved till today,’ he said. ‘Amazing, isn’t it? It is still ticking.’

Her eyes blinked, in her effort to recall the past, or doubt the present. Then she gave it a kiss, ‘Thank you,’ she said, and drank.

He said, ‘Finish your drink, while I go and fetch another.’

In a minute he returned, when he sensed the changed air. Vivian sipped quietly, without even raising her eyes to him.

‘Vivian?’ he asked, with a concern searching her eyes.

Her eyes lifted from the glass, ‘Yes?’

Her eyes had a liquid twinkle as if she had just cried.

‘Are you okay?’ He reached his hand to cover hers.

‘Yes,’ she smiled a little, pitifully, like a girl suddenly grown mature, and remote. The intimacy he had enjoyed with her a while ago seemed to have gone. For the time, silence enfolded the air between them. Both of them minded only their own drinks, in which their separate lives swam. Then remembering something he said, ‘I’ll go and get something to eat, a sandwich maybe, do you need anything?’

‘No, I am fine.’ This time her smile became natural, more like the one in his memory.  

Some time later, he bit his supper. ‘I should treat you to a good dinner in Sydney.’

‘Good dinner?’ she sounded interested, smiling with humour. ‘Australian lobster?’

‘Well, if you like it, after all, it is a sort of Australia’s speciality.’

‘Better not,’ she said. ‘Since I gave birth to my child, I have somehow become allergic to prawns and lobsters.’

‘Really?’ he said, ‘how could pregnancy have such impact?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replied, ‘I can’t even eat my favourite Shanghai big-crabs any more. It causes a rash on my skin.’

‘So,’ he shrugged an ostentatious shrug, imitating the gesture of westerners, ‘tell me how I am to treat you, as a classmate.’

‘Well, you are treating me now, and I appreciate it, dearly.’

‘Dearly?’

‘Yes, dearly,’ she raised her glass. ‘Cheers.’

And they drank more, up to their third glass. She was more relaxed, fondling her pendant, and her pearl-like eardrops. She wanted love. And he wanted to touch her face, and her breasts.

Then they went out. He sat down on the stone bench, which reminded him of the wet one in Lu Xun Park. ‘The stone is a little cold, are you okay?’ he asked.

‘I am not as vulnerable as you may think,’ she laughed, and gathered her skirt, and sat close to him, and looked around, and made a sigh, ‘Ah it is so nice.’  

‘Yes,’ he sat back, stretching his legs forward, pressing his back hard on the stone. ‘It is always nice, even if when it is raining.’

‘Have you ever come here when it rains?’

‘I have come here according to my mood, not to the weather,’ he said. ‘The raindrops dance on the Opera House.’

‘But tonight is perfect,’ she was watching. ‘The pale light on the petals, and the moon, and streaks of clouds in the sky, and the dark bridge, with its glowing eye, and the swelling water.’

‘You have missed something,’ he said, grabbing his whisky glass.

‘Something?’ she wondered, then began again, like a little girl counting stars. ‘Then the majestic ship, the buildings, the neon lights, and, yes, the seagulls that fly like insects.’ She paused to sip her drink.

‘Finished?’

‘Well, I have done mine, now it is your turn.’

‘But you have done the most, just missed one or two, essentials.’

‘Essentials?’ she leant closer to him, so that he felt her warmth.

‘Yes.’

‘What?’ she said, ‘tell me, don’t play at guessing as you used to do.’

‘Used to do?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you remember me well, the past me.’

‘Come on, tell me what.’ She was a wild child, perhaps because of the whisky.

He kissed her on the lips, and said, ‘You have missed You and Me.’

Then they stuck to each other tasting their whisky-heated tongues. Her breasts swept against his chest, her necklace brushing his neck. Then as if she was tired and sleepy, or drunk, she rested her head on his lap.

Now his eyes were drinking the world. He had caught the moon.  

Then a man came over, his face Asian but his accent Australian. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, intruding.

‘Yes?’ Bing wondered, calm but offended. Vivian was also disturbed, and sat up.

‘Is this lady okay?’

‘Of course.’

But the man was unsatisfied, for he talked directly to Vivian, ‘Madam, are you okay?’

‘Yes.’ She was puzzled.

‘All right then, that is what I want to know.’ The man left.

Bing was thinking the man must be like a guard in a Chinese park, disciplining lovers’ behaviour. But they had not done anything indecent. Then he got the idea, ‘Now I know.’

‘What?’ Vivian’s eyes were yearning.

‘The man must have suspected you had been drugged, and seduced by me,’ he answered, proud of his discovery. ‘That is why he had to confirm it by asking you directly.’

‘Haha, but you did have seduced me,’ she said. ‘Interesting, are the people here taking drugs?’

‘Well, some people may feel their lives too dull not to do that sort of thing, you know.’

Some time later, they strolled in the grounds of the Opera House, which was now a teethed mouth of a crocodile, or of a menacing shark. All beauty has an ugly side, he thought.

Along the sidewalk, they began their formal kiss. The size of her eyes, and the shape of her nose, remained, with a mellowed pride.  But like her breasts, her hips were soft and bigger.

She said, ‘Bing, do you really still love me?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, without a thought. ‘Do you love me?’ he asked, as a follow-up.

She only questioned, ‘Why didn’t you contact me for twenty years?’

He couldn’t find an answer that was good enough, so he said, ‘Because I love you.’ Though he felt his love had already gone through summer, its green stripped, and left only with a longing for her flesh, or her soul, that mirrored his. So he probed, ‘Can we go to your hotel?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘I have a female colleague with me.’

‘Then can we go to the bench?’

‘Which bench?’

‘Haven’t you seen a few benches over there?’

‘No, people are there wandering about,’ she declined, not because of her lack of desire.

So their energy retreating to nowhere, they moved on.

A dock was above the water, rhythmically bobbing against the banks, and the stumps. The lamplight glistened with ghosts, screeching. There was another bench, isolated, that seemed to belong to them, where the wooden wharf shook, and chafed their love, and its decades of loneliness.



--End of Chapter 63---

Gone

要是他们还是单身多好。。
不过没有百转千回，大概也没有此刻的美。。
只是，此时此刻的斌的心里难道没有秋燕和女儿的影子一再掠过吗？。。

何木

Gone 发表于 2014-9-25 00:45
要是他们还是单身多好。。
不过没有百转千回，大概也没有此刻的美。。
只是，此时此刻的斌的心里难道没有秋 ...

要不要写一下，他偷情的时候，想起了秋燕，还有pan，还有。。这样他太不专注了。。