Chapter 11 first quarter
There are more customers in autumn, mostly wealthy foreigners, and it seems that my partner Candelaria has a good vision.There are Germans, Italians, and of course Spaniards, but most of them are entrepreneurs' wives, because the life of officials and soldiers is not easy now.Occasionally a few wealthy and beautiful Jews, descendants of the Jews of the Iberian Peninsula, speak Spanish very softly, with ancient rhythms and melodies, and often use some archaic words that are rarely heard now: very Perfect, my queen, God gave us a good week, well, like I said.
Our business is getting better and better, our reputation is getting bigger and bigger, and the income will naturally flow in, including pesetas, French francs and Moroccan francs, as well as the local Moroccan hassan currency.I keep all my money in a small box, locked with seven keys, in the second drawer of the bedside table.On the thirtieth of every month, I give Candelaria my gross income for the month.In addition to pulling out a handful of pesetas for daily allowances, in the blink of an eye she'd shove the rest of it into a haphazard roll up her cleavage.These coins absorbed the body temperature in her fat pile, and trotted along with her all the way to the Jews to find the highest bidder to exchange.Soon she was back at the flat out of breath, bringing back rolls of pounds in the same way.Panting, she took the booty from her chest, and said, "That's the safest way, girl, that's the safest way. I think the smartest are those Brits. We don't have to save a penny of Franco's pesetas, In case the National Army loses the battle at the end of the war, it will be too much trouble to wipe the ass with these banknotes. We will split it equally, half for me and half for you. I hope we will always be rich, dear."
I started to get used to living alone, very peaceful, without fear.In order to be responsible to the fashion house and to myself, I work hard and have little time for leisure.The current order does not require more hands, and I have been doing it alone, so there is hardly any idle time, always threading, cutting fabric, thinking up patterns and ironing.Sometimes I'll go out and find fabric, wrap a few buttons or pick out some spools and collar hooks.My favorite is to go to the nearby Plaza de España every Friday to watch the caliph's departure from the palace to the mosque, which the Moors call "Feddan", riding a white horse with a green cap over his head parasols, guarded by a group of Moorish soldiers in handsome uniforms.What a spectacular show.Afterwards I would walk along what they used to call "Grand General's Street" all the way to Murray McGrady Square, past the Victoria Church gate.This is a catholic church, because of the war, it is always full of people mourning and praying.
The war is so far away, yet so close at hand.Through the airwaves, newspapers and word of mouth, news from across the strait kept coming.At home, maps were tacked to the walls with colorful pins marking the progress of the battle.I am alone, and I am also constantly concerned about the current situation in my country.In these few months, my only small luxury expenditure was to buy a radio. I learned from the airwaves that the government of the Republic had moved to Valencia before the end of the year, leaving only the common people to defend the country. Madrid fought bloody battles.The International Brigades came to help defend the Republic, Hitler and Mussolini recognized the Franco regime, José Antonio was shot in a prison in Alicante, and I, by Christmas time, had saved up a hundred Eighty pounds.
I spent my first Christmas Eve in Africa in my apartment in La Luneta.Although initially reluctant to accept the invitation, Candelaria once again won me over with her overwhelming enthusiasm.
"You come to La Luneta for dinner, it's not negotiable, as long as there is room at my Candelaria table, no one will be alone for the holidays."
I can't refuse, but it's really hard to accept.As the festival approached, a sad atmosphere gradually permeated the house, like the wind blowing in from an open window, or the smell coming in through the crack of the door, filling the whole room with sadness.What will mother be like now?How did she get by without hearing from me?How can she make ends meet in such troubled times?These unanswered questions tormented me all the time and made my troubles grow day by day.The surroundings did not inspire optimism either, although some shops hung up Christmas decorations, people exchanged wishes, and neighbors' children ran up and down the stairs singing Christmas songs, but The reality that Spain is suffering is so harsh and dark that no one seems to be in the mood to celebrate the holidays.
I arrived at the apartment after eight o'clock in the evening, and there was almost no one on the street.Candelaria has roasted a pair of turkeys.As the business improved, the food in the apartment also improved accordingly.I had brought two bottles of champagne and a ball of Dutch cheese resold from Tangier at an exorbitant price.All the lodgers were listless, bitter, and looking very sad.Candelaria, on the other hand, tried to get the mood going at home, singing loudly while preparing dinner.
"Here I am, Candelaria," I said as I walked into the kitchen.
She stopped singing and turned the pot.
"Then what's the matter with you? Can you tell me what's going on? You have a sad face, as if you are about to be sent to the slaughterhouse."
"No, what can I do." I said while thinking about where to put the two bottles of wine, deliberately avoiding her gaze.
She wiped her hands with a rag and grabbed my arm, forcing me to turn to face her.
"Don't try to lie to me, girl. You miss your mother, don't you?"
I neither look at her nor answer.
"The first Christmas Eve after the birds leave the nest is quite uncomfortable, but you have to digest the bitterness. I still remember the first Christmas Eve I spent outside. Although our family was as poor as a mouse's nest at the time , there are no other celebrations except singing, dancing and applauding all night long, and you can't eat any good food or wear good clothes, but blood and family ties cannot be separated, even if you share nothing with your family It's exhaustion and poverty."
Still afraid to look at her, I continued to pretend to be absorbed in the mess on the table—a mortar, a soup pot, a brioche, a small pot full of oil, three heads of garlic, a sprig of bay— Find an open space to put down the bottle in your hand.She continued beside me with affirmative tone:
"Everything will pass slowly, just watch. Your mother must be fine, and she must be having dinner with her neighbors tonight. Although she misses you and misses you all the time, at least she will be glad that you are not in Madrid and stay away from the city." war."
Maybe she has a point.My absence is more comforting than regretful to my mother.Likely she thought I was still in Tangier with Ramiro, and maybe imagined the two of us enjoying Christmas Eve dinner in some fancy restaurant, surrounded by a group of carefree foreigners, singing and dancing, not paying attention. The war on the other side of the strait.Although I often wrote to her to tell her how I was doing, the whole world knew that mail from Morocco never made it to Madrid, and it was probable that the letters never left Tetouan at all.
"Maybe you're right." I muttered, barely opening my mouth, still holding the two bottles of wine in my hand, staring straight at the table, unable to find a place to put it down.I didn't have the courage to face her face up, for fear that I would not be able to control my tears.
"Of course I'm right, girl, stop thinking about it so much. Even if she thinks about you again, just knowing you're safe from bombs and machine guns is a good reason to be happy. So come on Be happy, be happy!" she said, snatching a bottle of wine from me, "Just watch, we'll be better soon, my dear." She uncapped the bottle and put The bottle was raised high, "Cheers to your mother!" Before I could answer, she had already taken a big gulp. "It's your turn!" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.I was not in the mood for a drink at all, but I complied. It was a toast to my mother's health, and I would do anything for her.
Dinner begins.Despite Candelaria's efforts to create a convivial atmosphere, the others barely spoke, not even willing to argue.Mr. Anselmo, a retired teacher, coughed so hard that his lungs would explode.The skinny old sisters, looking more haggard than ever, were weeping.The fat woman kept sighing and blowing her nose.Little Bagger drank a little and started talking nonsense, and the telegraph operator sang to him and finally made everyone laugh.At this time Candelaria stood up and raised her full wine glass high "For those who are present, for those who are not, for us, for others, cheers!" We hugged each other and cried together. This night, all the families The world is full of unfortunate people like us.
The first few months of the new year have been uneventful and I've been working non-stop.During these days, my neighbor Felix Alain is a regular visitor to my house.In addition to the geographical advantages of being opposite neighbors, there is something that cannot be measured by spatial distance that connects us together.He is a bit of a maverick, and I need help from time to time. In this way, we have established a deep friendship in the war-torn era, and this friendship has passed through those turbulent times full of variables.Aside from the first few sketches that helped me deal with the outdated style of my tennis clothes, he has given me a helping hand many times since, helping me overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles with ease.Unlike Schiaparelli's culottes, the difficulties that forced me to turn to him again soon after settling in were not artistic, but purely financially ignorant.To any educated person, this trifle is not a problem at all.But my few short years in the poor neighborhood elementary schools in Madrid taught me none of these things.Therefore, the night before the appointment to submit the first bill to the customer, I was still scratching my head at eleven o'clock, unable to translate the labor equivalent to the clothes I made into written terms and amounts .
That was November.In the evening, the sky turned pale, and by nightfall it was raining heavily, heralding a storm coming from the nearby Mediterranean Sea, powerful enough to uproot trees and destroy roadside power lines.When it rained heavily, people could only curl up in blankets and whisper their prayers to Santa Barbara.Just before the weather turned bad, Hamila had just delivered the finished dress to Flau Heinz's house.Two evening dresses, two suits and a tennis suit, my first pieces.They had been hanging on a hanger for the last time to be ironed, and when they were finished they were packed in linen bags, and it took Hamila three trips to get them all to their destination.On her return from the last trip she brought back a message from Flaau:
"Flau Heinz asked Hamila to send the bill in Deutschmark tomorrow morning."
As if afraid that the message would not be clear, Hamila also brought back an envelope with a card inside, which said the same content as the message.So I started wondering what the hell the bill was like.But this time, the memory didn't help me out of the predicament like before.Since I opened the boutique and started making my first clothes, the memories of working in Ladies Manuela's boutique that I have cherished in my heart have always been a source of inspiration for me to feel my way forward.I know the inner workings of a haute couture house like the back of my hand, and I can take measurements, cut patterns, discount, put sleeves, put lapels on, it’s all right.But no matter how hard I searched in my memory, I couldn't find any reference to help me write a bill.Of course, at that time, I had a lot of bills in my hand, and I was responsible for delivering them to customers' homes, and sometimes I even took the money paid by the customers back in my pocket, but it never occurred to me to stop and open which envelope to see what the bill was. What is it like? I want to go to Candelaria for help again, but look outside, it's so dark that you can't see your fingers, the whistling wind is accompanied by more and more heavy rain, and there are lightning and thunder from time to time in the darkness.In a situation like this, the hike to the apartment seemed scarier to me than the path to hell, so I just decided to make one up.I grab paper and pencil, sit down at the small kitchen table and start creating.But an hour and a half later I was still there motionless, surrounded by crumpled paper, the pencil had been sharpened five times with a knife, and I still didn't know the two hundred and seventy-five pesetas I had agreed with the German woman How many Deutsche Marks should be converted into?At this moment, in the middle of the night, something made a loud noise on the windowpane.I jumped up in fright and knocked over the chairs.Immediately I found the lights on in the kitchen across the way, and in the night's heavy rain I saw Felix's plump body again, wearing glasses and thinning curly hair, with one arm raised, ready to punch the glass again .I angrily opened the window and wanted to ask him what he was doing.But before I could speak, his voice came from over there. The sound of heavy raindrops hitting the floor tiles in the yard made his voice a little intermittent, but the message he conveyed was very clear.
"I need shelter! I don't like storms!"
I could have asked him if he was crazy, I could have blamed him for scaring me to death, yelled at him for being an idiot and shut the window.But a flash of inspiration came to my mind, I didn't do that, maybe at this time, this ridiculous behavior can help me solve the problem.
"Just do me a favor and I'll let you in!" I called him in the second person without thinking.
"Open the door, I'm about to be scolded to death!"
Of course he knew the peseta to deutsche mark exchange rate.And he said that a decent bill couldn't be written on paper torn from such a cheap book, or written with a broken pencil, so he went home again and brought back some sheets of ivory English paper and a Whitman fountain pen.With dark purple ink and graceful calligraphy, he has done his best to bring out his artistic talent to the fullest.In less than half an hour, amidst the bursts of thunder, he was still wearing pajamas and pajamas. He not only completed a delicate and elegant bill that no European fashion designer in North Africa could have dreamed of, he also picked up the bill for my fashion store. A name: Chase Hillach.
Felix Aranda was a very peculiar man.He's funny, imaginative, knowledgeable, curious, prying about other people, and a little eccentric and maverick.Since then, he has been reporting to my house almost every night.Maybe not every day, but really, really often.Sometimes he doesn't see him every three or four days, but sometimes he comes five nights a week, or six, or even seven.Whether or not we met depended on something else that neither of us cared about: whether his mother was drunk.How strange is the relationship between the mother and child at the opposite door, and how dark the family environment is.Since his father's death a few years ago, Felix and his mother, Ms Inkarna, have been living together.On the surface, the two get along very well. Every evening at six or seven o’clock, they walk arm in arm together, go to Mass and Novena together, appear in Ben Natal’s pharmacy together, greet acquaintances politely, and spend time together. Dim sum at the Campana store.He always takes care of her carefully, protects her, and considers her in everything: Be careful, mom, don't trip over, go this way, mom.And she, proud of her son, preaches his good: my Felix says, my Felix does, my Felix thinks... oh, my Felix, without him How can I survive!
However, once back in the privacy of their home, the eager chick and elderly hen quickly turn into two little devils.No sooner had she passed the hall than the old lady became a tyrant, insulting her son with an invisible whip. "Rub my leg, Felix, I've got a cramp in my calf. Not here, up a little bit, you're useless, boy, how can I have a freak like you. Go and put the tablecloth on, It's all a little crooked. It's not like this, it's worse, you should put it back to the original way. Nothing you touch will end up being bad, useless, why didn't I throw you away when I gave birth to you .show me how the sores in my mouth are doing.bring the carmen water,I'm gassy.Give me a medicated wine massage on my back.File me the callus.Come and clip my toenails,be careful Come on, fat pig, you almost cut my toes off. Pass me the tissues, I'm going to spit. My back hurts, put a virginia plaster on me. Shampoo my hair and put curlers on .Be gentle, beast, you nearly bald me."
This is how Felix grew up, leading two diametrically opposed and equally unfortunate lives at the same time.Because of his father's death, he was no longer a spoiled child overnight.At the age of growing up, in the harmony envied by others, he became a punching bag for his mother to vent her anger and frustration in private.Like being severed on the chopping block, all dreams ended at the same time: leaving Tetouan to study fine arts in Seville or Madrid, confirming my vague gender consciousness, meeting people like him, those who People with restless souls who yearn to fly freely.But things backfired, and he had to live forever under Lady Inkarna's black wings.He graduated with honors from the Bilar Missionary School University.But it was of no avail, for his mother had already used her long-suffering widowhood connections to get him a job, stamping various publications in the city hall.If it is used to ruin his genius creativity, this is really a perfect way, so that he has to be tied at home like a pet dog, given a big piece of fat when he is happy, and kicked when he is unhappy, Enough to make his belly burst.
He endured it all with incredible patience.In this way, they have been living an unbalanced life.She is tyrannical, he is meek and patient, passively resisting.No one knew what she was looking for in him, why she treated him like this, what else she wanted besides everything her son had always given her.Love?respect?pity?No, these were originally what she enjoyed. He was never stingy with his affection and had always been a model son.Ms. Inkarna wants more: adoration, unconditional obedience, tolerance and attention to all her absurd caprices, humility, submission.This is exactly what her husband had asked of her.Her husband's death was a relief to her.Felix never said this to me directly, but from bits and pieces of his conversations I can speculate and draw this conclusion.The dead Mr. Nicosio was most likely killed by his wife, just as Felix could no longer bear to kill his mother on a dark and stormy night in the future.
If he hadn't accidentally discovered a wonderful solution one day, he didn't know how long he would endure such a miserable day.Someone gave him a big sausage and two bottles of anisette as thanks for solving a troublesome matter at work.Let's taste it, mother, come on, just have a drink and moisten your lips.But the sweet taste of the wine conquered not only Madam Inkarna's lips, but also her tongue, throat, and internal organs.So she got drunk that night, and Felix accidentally found his way out in the two bottles.Since then, booze has been his ally, his savior, and his way to a place beyond two points and one line.He is no longer just a model son in public and a boring accessory in the family, but also a popular night visitor, escaping every night to find the family's scarce oxygen.
"Another drink, Mom?" is an essential question after dinner every day.
"Well, come on, pour me a little more. Let me dry my throat, I seem to have a cold in church this evening."
The viscous liquid with four fingers was gulped down by Ms. Inkarna.
"Look, didn't I tell you, Mom, you should wear more clothes." He said affectionately, and filled his mother's wine glass again, "Come on, drink it quickly, you will let the wine get drunk too quickly." One feels warm." After three glasses of bud wine, Ms. Inkarna was snoring loudly and unconscious after ten minutes.Her son flew out of the dead house like a sparrow out of the cage, to hang out with the group of people who dared not even say hello when they were with their mother during the day.
Then I came to Sidi Manderi, and my house has been one of his regular shelters since that stormy night.He flipped through the magazines, gave me ideas, drew some pictures, told vividly about the strange things in the world, talked about my customers and people I met every day but didn't know.In this way, day by day, I gradually began to understand Tetouan and its people.For example, where do these families come from, why did they settle down in a foreign country, and who are the noble ladies who came to me to make clothes; who is the most powerful, who is the richest, who does what, why , when, how, etc.
Giving Ms. Inkarna alcohol doesn't always work, and if it doesn't calm her down to sleep, then unfortunately everything will go haywire.I satisfy you with wine, you let me calm down for a while, such a theorem sometimes fails unexpectedly.If the anisette hadn't got her drunk, her madness would have turned the house into hell.Such a night was the worst, because his mother would not be turned into a docile mummy, but a raging Thor, and her howling and howling was enough to destroy any strong will.Beast, clown, mourning star, sissy, these are the most civilized words that come out of her mouth.And he, because he knew that she would not remember anything when she woke up the next morning, so he gave her the most ugly words tit for tat.Nasty old hag, old fox, bitch.This is impossible!Those who saw their love in the daytime in candy stores, drug stores, and church benches must have been dumbfounded to hear such exchange.However, the next day, they seemed to have forgotten everything about the night before, and they took a walk at dusk together affectionately, as if there had never been any estrangement. "What would you like to have for tea today, mother? A Swiss cake, or some meat?"
"Look, Felix, dear, I like whatever you choose."
"Come on, let's hurry up, we have to go to the condolences of Maria Angostia's house. I heard that her nephew was killed in the battle of Jarama."
"Oh, what a pity, my angel. Fortunately, you are the son of a widow, so you don't have to do military service... Holy Mother, what if my son goes to the front and I am alone!" Felix is very smart, he Fully aware that their relationship was dysfunctional, but he wasn't brave enough to stand up to her.Perhaps because of this, he used the way of getting his mother drunk to escape the unfortunate reality, wandering outside in the middle of the night like a vampire, or finding all kinds of absurd reasons to explain this abnormal life, and even believed that Come up with all kinds of weird folk remedies.One of his daily pastimes was snuggling up on my sofa, looking for anecdotes and folk remedies from the newspaper ad columns.And I listen while I get the day's work done, sometimes putting on cuffs, sometimes finishing the last few buttonholes.
He would tell me:
"Do you think my mother's intractable temper is due to a nervous problem. Maybe this will cure her, you listen: 'Nervinal, appetizer, digestion, tones the stomach. Refuse to be abnormal, stay away from depression. What are you waiting for? Take Nelvinal!'”
or this:
"I wondered if she had some kind of hernia, and I thought about getting her an orthopedic belt to see if that would cure her tantrums. Listen to this: 'Hernia net fully automatic compressor, safe, painless, innovative Technology, unsurpassable, no bandages, no stretching, a perfect high-tech instrument can easily relieve your pain'. This is also the same function, what do you think? Shall I buy one for her?"
or another:
"If it's not possible that it's a blood problem, you can read what is said here: 'Richelite blood purifier, which is specially used to treat high-risk diseases, such as varicose veins and malignant ulcers. Purifies the blood and has a miraculous effect on treating uremia.'"
or any similarly silly phrase:
"You said it could be hemorrhoids, or something wrong with the eyes. Or, I get a monk from the Moors to exorcise her? But honestly, I don't think I need to worry about it, because her 'Darwinian hobby' is going on. Corroding her liver bit by bit, she will be finished in a short time. Now I can barely drink a bottle of wine for two days, and this old woman is almost emptying my wallet." He stopped his long talk, as if Waiting for my answer.But I didn't respond to him, at least not speaking.So he said, "Hey, why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because I have no idea what you're talking about, Felix."
"You don't know what I mean by 'Darwin's penchant', or do you have no idea who Darwin is? It's the monkey-worshiping scholar who says humans evolved from ape-men. I said my mother had 'Darwin' Hobbies', mocking her, drinking anise wine like a monkey loves anise, understand? I said, you look like a fairy, and you sew like a perfect angel, but when it comes to cultural knowledge , you're really kind of stupid, you know?"
Exactly so.I knew I was a quick learner and had a good memory, but I also knew that my lack of education was a serious handicap.I really don't know much about those things in the encyclopedia, except that I know the names of the kings that appear in a few songs, and that the north of Spain is the Cantabrian Sea and the Pyrenees, and beyond that is France.I know the multiplication table fluently, and I can use the four arithmetic operations in real life with ease, but in more than twenty years of life, I have never read any book, history, geography, art or politics, except when I was with Ramiro. He knew almost nothing, beyond the few words he had said, and some of the topics he had heard at the dinner table while living in La Luneta's apartment and witnessing the two factions attacking each other.On the surface, I can pretend to be a stylish young woman, a high-end fashion designer, but I know very well in my heart that as long as someone lifts the outer disguise, it will be easy to find out how fragile my outer layer is.So, during my first winter in Tetouan, Felix gave me a special gift: to teach me lessons.
It's a good thing for both of us.I can learn something, purify my soul, and let him fill the emptiness and loneliness, and have sustenance and companionship.Although well-intentioned, he was far from being a good teacher who followed the rules.Felix Aranda is a person who yearns for spiritual freedom very much, but lives under double oppression, with a domineering mother on one side and the most bureaucratic, tasteless and boring job on the other.Therefore, in the limited free time, never expect him to be well-behaved, dignified and courteous.If I wanted that kind of education, I could go back to La Luneta and ask Mr. Anselmo, a retired teacher, to make a lesson plan according to my level of knowledge.Even so, this disorganized and skillful teacher taught me a lot of things that I can live on in the future through intermittent teaching and using various weird methods.With his help, I got to know the Italian painter Modigliani, the American writer Scott Fitzgerald, the French singer Josefina Baker, and learned to recognize Cubism and Dadaism , learned what jazz is, learned to mark European capitals on a map, memorized the names of the best hotels and bars in Europe, and learned to count from one to a hundred in English, French and German.
Also thanks to him, I learned why my Spanish compatriots came to this distant land. I know that since 1912, Spain has established a protected area in Morocco, which is the signing of Algeciras with France. years after the agreement.In front of the rich French, Spain got the worst part of Morocco, poor and unpopular.At that time Morocco was known as the "Big Fat of Africa".Spain is looking for many things in this land: revisiting the dream of empire, and participating in the carve-up of African colonies with European powers.Although what they got was only a few crumbs from their powerful neighbors, they still fantasized about trying to catch up with the rich and powerful Britain and France, even though they were weak as cockroaches at that time, when Cuba and the Philippines were out of control.
Although the part of Morocco that Spain obtained from the Algeciras agreement is small, sparsely populated, and the land is rugged and barren, it is not easy to firmly control it.There have been many protests and chaos in Spain, and in the sudden outbreak of the Rif War, tens of thousands of Spaniards and North Africans were buried on the battlefield.In the end, they established a firm rule here.Nearly twenty-five years after the reserve was established, all internal resistance has been suppressed.It was here that my fellow countrymen took root and firmly established their capital in Tetouan, making the city grow and grow.Soldiers of all armies, civil servants of post offices, customs offices, and other public services, auditors, bank clerks, entrepreneurs and their wives, teachers, pharmacists, clerks, merchants, masons, doctors, nuns, shoe shiners, innkeepers, And whole families who have sailed across the ocean to find a new life, and more families attracted by it, to forge together a future of coexistence with other cultures and religions.I am also one of them.Although Spain forcibly ruled here, in exchange for twenty-five years, it also brought advanced equipment, sanitation facilities and buildings to Morocco, laid the foundation for its flourishing agriculture, established arts and traditional handicraft schools, and Many other facilities.Although the intention was to meet the needs of the colonists of the reserve, the locals also benefited greatly.Such as power lines, drinking water, schools and academic institutions, commerce, public transport, clinics and hospitals, trains linking Tetouan and Seuta, trains to the beaches of Mardin... On the contrary, physically speaking, Spain is separated from Morocco Very little is obtained, because there are hardly any resources to be developed.It just benefited a lot in terms of manpower. One side of the Spanish Civil War received full support here. Thousands of Moroccan soldiers went to Spain to fight on the other side of the strait. They fought bloody battles for causes that had nothing to do with themselves, and supported the Spanish nationals. military.
In addition to this knowledge, Felix brought me companionship, friendship, and an endless stream of ideas.Some ideas are brilliant, others are ridiculous, but at least they make us two lonely people laugh at the end of the day.He often tried to persuade me to turn the fashion house into a surrealist laboratory, such as making hats into the shape of shoes, or drawing some mannequins with telephones on hats on clothing patterns, but of course he never succeeded.He also tried to persuade me to replace the little glass beads in my belt with conch shells or small pieces of sti grass, or to turn away some rich lady who he thought was tasteless.Still, I took his advice on many other things.
For example, at his suggestion, I changed my way of speaking, discarding some rustic pronunciations and dialects, and recreating a more refined and sophisticated language style.I started spouting French words from time to time, either overheard in various fancy places in Tangier, or occasionally drifted into my ears during conversations I hardly ever took part in, or when I happened to meet someone It sounds like, although the words I have spoken to these people don't add up to more than three sentences.These sporadic words, only a dozen or so, are used by me to receive customers, present and future, after Felix helps me correct my pronunciation and tell me in which situations it is most suitable to use. "Allow me" is used to ask for permission before starting something, "Of course" expresses affirmation, and "Wonderful" expresses great satisfaction with how things turned out.When talking about "high fashion," people speculate that maybe I was friends with these high fashion owners, and those "people of the world", maybe I met when I was traveling around the world.All styles, models and accessories suggested for them, I will label "from France", and all customers are addressed as "exalted lady".而针对在漂泊的西班牙人中盛行的思乡之情，我们决定不失时机地提起以前我在马德里“最好的时装店”工作时认识的那些人和地方。假装不经意地从嘴里蹦出一些名字和职务，就像不小心掉下一块丝巾一样，低调、随意、轻描淡写。比如，这件衣服的灵感来自于几年前我为我的朋友普嘉女伯爵做的一套礼服，她当时穿着在依埃罗大门宴会上艳惊四座，这个料子跟我给因西纳尔公爵的大女儿用的一模—样，她就是穿着它在维拉斯凯斯大街的别墅里开始进人社交场合。
按照菲利克斯的建议，我让人做了一块金色的牌子挂在门口，上面用英文字母写着“Chez Skah（切丝·希拉赫髙级时装）”。在非洲纸张店里我定制了一个小小的名片盒子，里面装着象牙白的名片，印着时装店的名字和地址。据他说，法国顶级的时装店都是这么命名的。最后那个字母“h”是他的另一项创意，为了赋予这个店一种国际气息。我也就随他去了，有何不可呢？不管怎么说，这点小小的自吹自擂无伤大雅，不会伤害任何人。在这件事情，还有其他很多细节上我都采纳了他的建议。得益于这些改进，我就像马戏团的小丑一样，不但越来越自信地走向未来，而且也慢慢地把自己从过去的泥淖中解救了出来。我不需要刻意宣扬，只需几个不经意的动作，一些轻描淡写却恰到好处的描述，引证了所谓特殊经历的推荐，就让那有限的几个顾客在几个月内完整地描绘出我的人生背景。
对于我的顾客，也就是那些高傲挑剔的贵妇来说，我俨然一个年轻又资深的高级时装师，一个破产的百万富翁的女儿，一个英俊诱人又爱冒险的贵族的未婚妻。她们推测我们曾在好几个国家居住过，为马德里的政治形势所迫，不得不关闭了在那边的生意。我的未婚夫正在阿根廷，而我则在西班牙保护区的首府等他回来，因为我体弱多病，而这里气候温和，对健康很有益处。我的生活一直动荡、忙碌而丰富多彩，实在受不了无事可做、白白消磨时光，所以决定在得土安开一家小小的时装店，基本上是为了消遣。我不会开出天价，也不会拒绝任何种类的服装订单。
对于在菲利克斯的建议下，成功地让别人勾画出的那个“我”的形象，我从来不做任何澄清。当然也不做任何渲染，只是尽量保持神秘感，半遮半掩似是而非的过去，让一切都不那么具体而确定，让神秘变成无穷的魅力，像诱饵一样吸引更多的顾客。如果马努埃拉女士时装店里的其他裁缝看到现在的我，如果当年巴哈广场旁边的那些邻居看到现在的我，或者如果母亲看到现在的我，唉，母亲。我试着尽量不让自己想起她，但是她的影子却时时刻刻浮现在心头。我知道她很坚强很有毅力，也知道她懂得坚忍和反抗，但即使是这样，我仍然希望能得到她的消息，知道她在什么样的困境中挣扎，孤身一人既无陪伴又无生活来源时，怎么把日子过下去。我多么想让她知道我现在很好，单身，开始做针线活。我每天都不错过收音机里关于西班牙的一切消息，哈米拉也会每天早上去阿尔卡拉斯烟草店旁边买《非洲学报》。现在报纸的版面上已经全是“佛朗哥领导下的第二个胜利之年”这样的内容。虽然所有的时政消息都经过了国民军的过滤，但是我能大致知道马德里的形势和抵抗情况。当然，依旧无法得到任何关于母亲的直接消息。我想她，想她跟我一起在这座奇怪而五光十色的城市经营时装店，想再尝一尝她做的菜，想再听一听她永远简洁精辟的话。可是她不在这里，只有我，独自在一群陌生人中间，哪儿也去不了，为了生存奋斗，还要编造出一套虚假的身世，每天早上一起床就把自己装进套子里。谁也不知道我曾经被一个无耻的花花公子伤害到无以复加的地步，谁也不知道为了开始这个生意我曾背着一身的手枪在黑夜里奔走，而现在，这个时装店是我维持生计的唯一出路。
我也常常想起伊格纳西奥，我的第一个男朋友。其实我并不是思念他，因为拉米罗给我留下的感觉太过强烈，所以伊格纳西奥那甜蜜轻柔的爱，对我来说遥远又模糊，几乎成了一个快要消失的影子。但是无可避免地，带着些许乡愁，我常常想起他的忠诚、他的温柔，还有那种只要在他身边就不会受到任何伤害的安全感。虽然根本不愿意想起，拉米罗的影子还是常常会突如其来地浮上心头，让我的内心像被针猛地扎了一下。很疼，真的很疼，令人难以忍受。我慢慢地开始习惯这种突如其来的鞭笞，就像那些扛着大包的人肩负着沉重的痛苦，有时候会不得不放慢脚步、付出加倍的努力才能克服，但是向前的脚步却从未停止。
所有这些看不见摸不着的形象：拉米罗，伊格纳西奥，我的母亲，失去的一切，逝去的时光，渐渐成为我生活中的一部分，我不得不学奢同它共处。当我独自一人的时候，当我在寂静的傍晚坐在样板堆里穿针引线的时候，当我在床上辗转反侧的时候，或者在那些没有菲利克斯和他的奇闻逸事陪伴的夜晚，在客厅幽暗的光线中，他们就像潮水一样向我袭来。其他时候，则让我平静地度过，也许是因为太忙了，没有时间停下来去想。我有太多的事情要做：不断地向前推进生意，继续假扮成另一个人。
春天来了，店里的活也多了起来。到了换季的时候，顾客们纷纷订购轻薄的衣物，用于晴朗的上午以及即将到来的摩洛哥夏夜。店里也出现了一些新面孔，有两个德国人，更多的是犹太人。由于菲利克斯消息灵通，我对她们的情况也有所了解。他经常在门厅、楼道、楼梯平台和街上碰见她们在店里进进出出。通常他都能认出她们，而且清楚她们各自的身份。如果有什么细节不太明了，他会到处去打听，最后几乎可以写出一份完整的人物传记：她们是谁，她们的家人是谁，她们从哪里来，要往哪里去，等等。然后，等他把母亲灌倒在椅子上，看着她翻着白眼，满嘴酒气，流着口水后，就跑过来给我讲述他的每一个新发现。
我从他那里知道了弗拉乌·兰根赫姆的背景。她是店里最早的一批常客之一，父亲是意大利驻丹吉尔的大使，母亲是个英国人。兰根赫姆是她丈夫的姓，他是一个矿业工程师，很高，秃顶，在得土安这一小撮德国人里面声名显赫。“他是个纳粹，”菲利克斯告诉我，“暴动发生没几天，共和党人还没反应过来，国民军就出人意料地从希特勒那里得到了第一笔外部援助。”直到很久以后我才知道，弗拉乌·兰根赫姆那个总是面无表情的丈夫对西班牙内战的走向有多大的影响。正是得益于兰根赫姆和本哈尔德（另一位居住在得土安的德国人，我也曾为他的太太做过一些衣服）的穿针引线，佛朗哥的部队才神不知鬼不觉搬来了大部队救兵，把自己的人马闪电般地运送到了伊比利亚半岛。几个月后，为了感谢与表彰兰根赫姆的卓越贡献，兰根赫姆太太从哈里发手中接过了西班牙保护区最高勋章，为了出席那个活动，我还为她做了一身真丝薄纱礼服。
当然这些都是后话。一个四月的早晨，弗拉乌·兰根赫姆来到店里，带来一个我从没见过的客人。门铃响的时候哈米拉赶去开门，我则在客厅里，对着阳台上倾泻而入的阳光，假装观察着一块布料的质地。其实我根本什么都没看，只是摆出这个姿势，让自己在顾客面前看上去更加专业。
“我给您带来了一位英国朋友，她也想见识一下您的手艺。”这位德国人的太太说着端庄地走入客厅。
她身边出现了一位白皮肤的金发女郎，非常瘦，一看就知道是个外国人。我猜测她跟我年龄相仿，但是从言谈举止的老练上可以判断她的阅历非常丰富。她清新自然的气质一下子吸引了我的注意，浑身上下散发着自信，同我握手问好时款款地拂开了遮住脸庞的一绺金发，显出低调沉着的优雅。她叫罗萨琳达，皮肤又白又细腻，好像包花边的玻璃纸。但说话的方式很奇怪，不同的语言混杂在一起，一顿一顿地往外蹦，有时候甚至令人费解。
“我需要一些衣服，紧急地，So…I believe（所以……我相信）您和我注定……呃……to understand each other，I mean（相互理解，我是说） 我们能很好地沟通。”说完她轻笑起来。
弗拉乌·兰根赫姆一分钟都不肯多待，只说了一句：我有点急事，亲爱的，我得走了。虽然嫁了个德国人，自己的血统也比较复杂，但是她的西班牙语非常流利。
“罗萨琳达，亲爱的，我们下午在莱昂尼尼领事的鸡尾酒会上再见吧。”她向朋友告别，“再见，甜心，再见。”
罗萨琳达和我一起坐下。我又开始了每次接待新客人时的固定流程：摆出各种练习过一万遍的姿势和表情，跟她一起翻阅杂志，浏览布料。我提建议，她来挑选。然后她重新考虑了一下，修改了决，，重新挑选了料子。她的言谈举止优雅自然，自始至终都让我感觉很舒服。有时候我会对自己做作的言行感到不自在，尤其面对特别挑剔的顾客时。但这次完全不一样，一切都轻松自然。
我们来到试衣间量尺寸。她的骨架小得像猫一样，是我量过的最小尺寸。接着我们聊了聊料子和款式、袖子、领子之类的细节，又重新检查了一遍挑选好的款式，确认无疑后，我才拿笔记了下来。一件真丝印花衬衫、一套珊瑚红羊毛套裙，还有一件从法国浪凡最新一季的设计中挑选的晚礼服。我跟她约了十天以后来试穿，以为第一次见面会就此结束。但是这位新客人却完全没有离开的意思，仍然坐在沙发里，从包里掏出一个玳瑁烟盒，递给我一支烟。我们悠闲地抽烟，谈论时装，她用半生不熟的西班牙语给我讲她的喜好，指着那些服装图样问我西班牙语的“绣花”怎么说，“肩部”怎么说，“皮带卡子”怎么说。那磕磕绊绊的发音把我们俩都逗笑了。几支烟过后她终于决定告辞，不慌不忙地站起来，好像根本没有什么事可做，也没有人在等她。走之前她又从容地掏出香粉盒，漫不经心地对着里面的小镜子照了照，补了补妆，重新整理了一下金色的大波浪鬈发，然后才拿起帽子、包、手套。所有的东西都非常精致高雅，但我也注意到全都是崭新的。我在门口跟她告别，听着她下楼的脚步声。之后很多天我都没有得到任何关于她的消息。傍晚散步的时候从来没有碰到过她，也没有在其他地方见过，没有人向我提起过她，我也从来没有想过要去打听那个似乎有着大把无聊时光需要打发的英国女人。
那些日子我依然忙碌，顾客越来越多，店里的活仿佛永远都千不完。但因为我精确地计算好了每一个订单的完成速度和节奏，加上经常通宵达旦地加班，尚能保证每一件衣物按时交付。第一次见面的十天后，罗萨琳达定制的三套衣服都已经做完了，挂在模特身上等待第一次试穿。但是她没有出现。第二天没来，第三天也没来。既没有打电话，也没有托人送个口信或找个借口搪塞她的缺席。这是我第一次遇到这种事情。我想也许她不会再回来了。她只不过是得土安的一名匆匆过客，拥有特权，可以随心所欲，自由地穿梭在各国边境。她是真正周游世界的人，不像我，徒有一层虚假的伪装。因为无法为这种行为找到一个合理的解释，我决定把那三套衣服放在一边，专注地完成其他订单。但是五天以后她来了，仿佛从天而降一般。那时我还没有吃完饭，当天上午一直在千活，直到下午三点多才腾出一点儿时间。听到有人敲门，哈米拉跑了过去，我赶忙在厨房把手里的香蕉吃完。听到她的声音在走廊的另一头响起，我去水池洗了手，穿上高跟鞋，用舌头舔净牙齿，一手整理头发，一手整理上衣和裙子，匆匆赶出去迎接她。她进门就说了一长串的话。
“真的非常非常抱歉，之前我没能按时过来，今天又突出造访。是这么说的吗？”
“突然造访。”我纠正她。
“突然造访，对不起。我出去了几天，到直布罗陀，有点事，不过恐怕也没办成。希望我没有打扰您。”
“当然没有。”我连忙说，“请进吧。”
我把她带到试衣间，给她看完成的那三套衣服。她一边啧啧称赞，一边脱掉身上的外衣。里面是一件有缎子光泽的衬裙，在当时应该非常昂贵，但看上去比较陈旧了，不像新的那样熠熠生辉。真丝长筒袜看上去也不像是新的，虽然同样流露着华贵超凡的品质。脱到只剩下内衣的时候，她把那些新衣服一件一件地套在单薄消瘦的身体上。她的肌肤细腻透明，几乎可以看到皮肤下青蓝色的血管。我嘴里咬着大头针，一寸一寸地在她的身侧调整尺寸，在需要改动的地方弄出折痕。她看起来很满意，任我摆布，也很少对我提出的各种建议表示异议。试穿完后，我向她保证一切都会改得非常完美，然后就去客厅等着她穿好衣服。她很快就出来了。从悠闲的神情中我推测出，虽然来得比较突然，但这次她还是不急着走。所以我问她要不要喝杯茶。
“我非常想喝一杯大吉岭茶，放一点儿牛奶。但是我想这里应该只有薄荷绿茶吧？”
我根本没有听说过什么大吉岭茶，但是并没有表现出来。
“是的，摩尔茶。”我镇定地说，然后请她坐下，叫哈米拉备茶。“虽然我是个英国人，”她说，“但是我过去的大部分时间都是在印度度过的。很可能这辈子都不会再回去了，可还是有很多东西让我怀念。比如说阿萨姆茶。”
“我非常理解您的感受。我也一样，有些东西适应起来很困难，所以就会经常想念以前待过的地方。”
“您以前住在哪儿？”她问。
"Madrid."
“再之前呢？”
听到她的问题我差点儿笑出来，一时之间竟忘记了那层虚假的身世，几乎要公开承认自己其实一步也没迈出过出生的城市，直到那个无赖把我骗出来然后像丢烟头一样把我抛弃。但是我忍住了，再次含糊其辞。
“嗯，好几个地方，这儿那儿的，您知道，居无定所。不过我在马德里待的时间最长。您呢？”
“Let's see（这可得数数）。”她做了个好玩的表情，“我出生在英国，不过很快就被家人带到了加尔各答。十岁的时候父母又把我接回英国读书，呃……十六岁的时候我回到印度，二十岁再次来到西方。先是在伦敦待了一段时间，然后在瑞士住了很久……呃……之后在葡萄牙生活了一年，所以有时候我会搞不清楚这些语言，葡萄牙语和西班牙语。现在，我终于在非洲安定下来，开始在丹吉尔，前几天到了这里，得土安。”
“听上去很有趣。”我说，虽然我不太能跟得上她说的国家和城市，也不能完全理解她那些不太准确的表达。
“嗯，看你怎么看了。”她耸了耸肩，小心翼翼地喝了一口哈米拉刚刚送来的茶，生怕烫嘴。“其实我一点儿也不介意住在印度，但是有一些东西突出发生了，我不得不搬走。有时候我们自己真的决定不了命运，对吗？After all，e……that's life（不管怎么说，呃……这就是生活），你说呢？”
虽然她有些语无伦次，发音也不太准确，而且我们生活在两个完全不同的世界，但是我完全明白她的意思。我们喝着茶，聊着那件印花真丝衬衫裙的袖口上需要做的一些细微修改、下次试穿的时间等琐事。突然她看了看表，好像想起了什么。
“我得走了。”她一边说一边站起来，“我忘了我还得去……have some shopping（去买点儿东西），然后回去打扮一下。我被邀请去参加比利时公使家的鸡尾酒会。”
她没有看我，套上手套，戴好帽子。我好奇地看着她，心里在想，会是谁跟这样的女人一起出席宴会？她为什么会有这样进进出出的自由？带着孩子般的无忧无虑，还常常从世界的这个角落跑到那个角落，说着各地的语言，品着各国的香茗。想想她悠哉游哉的闲适生活，再想想自己日复一日的辛勤劳作，心里似乎生出了丝丝嫉妒。
“您知道哪里能买到游泳衣吗？”她突然问。
“您穿的吗？”
“不是，是给小儿的。”
“对不起，我没听清楚，给谁的？”
“给我的son，对不起，那是英语，我的儿子？”
“您的儿子？”我难以置信地问。
“我的儿子，对，就是这么说的。他叫约翰尼，五岁了，非常非常可爱……就是一个小天使。”
“我在得土安待的时间也不长，很抱歉帮不上您。”我极力掩饰着心中的困惑。这个富有活力又带着孩子气的女人，在我刚刚在心中为她勾画的诗意生活里，有朋友，有追求者，有香槟酒，有周游世界的旅行，有丝绸衬裙，有夜夜笙歌，有高级定制晚礼服，也许最多会有一个跟她一样充满活力又魅力十足的年轻丈夫。但是我从来没有想过她有一个儿子，她看起来完全不像个母亲。然而事实上她确实是母亲。
“好吧，没关系。别担心，我会找到地方的。”她说着就告辞了。
“祝您好运！别忘了五天以后再来。”
“放心吧，I promise（我一定会来的）！”
她走了，但是再次失约了。不是来晚了，而是来早了。第四天她就来了，没有提前约，急匆匆地直接找上门来。那是临近中午的时候，哈米拉跑进来通报她的光临的时候，我正在为埃尔维拉·科恩试衣服，她是我原来住的拉鲁内塔街上那个国家剧院的老板的女儿，也是我一生中见过的最漂亮的女人之一。
“罗萨琳达女士说需要见希拉小姐。”
“告诉她稍等片刻，我马上就去。”
不过我耽搁了很久，可能有二十分钟，因为得给那位皮肤光洁的犹太美女试的衣服调整几处细节，她要穿着这身衣服去参加某个重要的社交活动。她用像唱歌一样的犹太西班牙语不紧不慢地对我说：这里稍稍往上一点儿，我的女王，这样真美，亲爱的，就这样吧。
同样得益于菲利克斯，我知道了这些西班牙犹太人在得土安的情况。有些人有钱有势，有些人贫穷卑微，但是所有人都非常谨慎。他们都是很优秀的商人，几个世纪前被驱逐出伊比利亚半岛，在北非定居下来，几年前终于得到了共和国政府的正式承认，宣布他们是西班牙人，享有西班牙公民的一切权利。那个时候犹太人占得土安的人口比例大约是十分之一，但是他们手中掌握着这座城市的绝大部分财产。他们承建了西班牙社区中绝大多数的建筑，经营着这里最好的商店：珠宝店、鞋店、布店和成衣店。他们的财力体现在自己的教育中心“以色列联盟”、自己的俱乐部，以及用来做祈祷和庆祝的几座犹太教堂上。很可能埃尔维拉·科恩正在试的这件罗缎衣服，就是为了在这些地方炫耀的。
Notes:
Notes: