Chapter 3 Wenluo Ridge

My mom had an unmarried cousin who used to visit us on the farm every summer.Came with his mother, Aunt Nell Bows.The cousin's name was Ernie Booz, tall, ruddy, and good-natured.Big square face, beautiful slightly curly blond hair bouncing around on the forehead.His hands, his nails, were as clean as soap, and his hips were a little fat.I called him "fat ass" behind his back.I am a poisonous tongue. But I don't think I mean any harm.Rarely malicious.After Nell Bows' mother died, he stopped coming, but he sent Christmas cards. When I went to college in London, I'm talking London, Ontario, where he lived.In those days, he would pick me up for dinner every other Sunday night.For me, I thought it was what he was supposed to do, just because I was his relative.He probably didn't even think about whether there was any problem with our relationship.He never took me to just one place, a restaurant called Old Chelsea, upstairs overlooking Dandes Street, with violet drapes and white tablecloths on tables Rose shade.He may not be able to afford this kind of consumption, but this problem was not something I could think of at the time. For a country girl, all the men living in the city wear suits every day and their nails are so clean. Abundance and indulgence are just commonplace for them.

I eat the most exotic dishes on the menu, such as mushroom chicken crisp box, duck breast with French caramel orange sauce, while he always eats grilled steak, and the dessert is pushed to the table by the food delivery cart. Most of the time Topped with a tall coconut cake, a layer of out-of-season brioche, chocolate croissants filled with ice cream.It took me a long time to make up my mind what to eat, like a five-year-old hesitating over ice cream.Because of this day of overeating, I had to abstain from food for another day on Monday. If it was my dad, Ernie looked a little younger.I hope people at school don't think it's my boyfriend when they see him.

He would ask about my courses, and when I told him, or reminded him that my majors were English and philosophy, he would nod sternly.When listening to others talking, he is not like the people from his hometown, he does not roll his eyes.He told me that he had a great reverence for education and that he regretted that after high school he didn't have the opportunity to continue his education and instead got a job as a conductor for the Canadian National Railway.Now, he is an administrator. He likes serious reading, but none of this can substitute for a college education. I'm pretty sure that by serious reading he meant the Reader's Digest abridged edition.To avoid further discussion about my studies, I just told him about the room I rented.Back then, there were no dorms at the university, and we all lived in rented rooms, some cheap apartments, some fraternity and sorority houses.My room is the attic of an old house with a large building area but a small usable area.However, because it was a former occupant's room, it has its own bathroom.On the second floor lived two public-funded students who were students of modern linguistics and were in their last year of study.One is Kay and the other is Beverly.The downstairs room, with its high ceilings but shattered by history, was occupied by a medical student who was rarely home, and his wife, Beth, who was always there because they had two young children. child.Beth is also the manager of the house, and the girls who live on the second floor always quarrel with Beth because they wash and dry clothes in the bathroom.Medical students sometimes use that bathroom when they are at home because the first-floor bathroom is overstuffed with baby stuff.Beth said that he shouldn't have stockings and other ambiguous things hanging on his face when he was using the bathroom.Kay and Beverly countered that they had agreed to use the bathroom when they moved in.

That's what I selectively told Ernie, and he blushed, saying that they should have written things like this on paper. Kay and Beverly also let me down.They worked hard in the Modern Languages ​​department, but their concerns, and their conversations, seemed no different from those of girls working in a bank or an office.They wear their hair in curls and put their nails on on Saturdays because they have dates with their boyfriends.On Sundays, they will use skin cream again, because their bearded boyfriends scratched their faces.From the two boyfriends, I didn't find any advantages. I wondered how they could become like this.

They said that once, they had a crazy dream, that is, they hoped to work as translators in the United Nations, but now they think that if they get married, it is better to be a high school teacher. I really don't like the advice they give me. I have a job in the school cafeteria.I push the trolley to collect the dirty dishes on the table. After the guests leave, I have to scrub the table and replenish the food on the shelves in time. They said the job was not a good idea. "When a guy sees you doing this kind of work, he won't date you." I told Ernie, and Ernie asked, "So what do you say?"

I replied that I wouldn't want to date a guy who thought that either.Any questions? These words reached Ani's heart.Immediately, his face glowed, and he gestured with his hands in mid-air. "Absolutely true," he said, "that's the attitude. Honest work, never listen to people like this. They beat you up for an honest job. Do your thing and ignore them. Keep your Proud, if someone doesn’t like it, let them make do with it.” When he said these words, justice and approval made his huge face shine, and his hasty and enthusiastic movements made me suspicious for the first time, and I doubted in frustration for the first time. After all, this suggestion still has a certain importance .

A note slipped under the door saying Beth wanted to talk to me.I'm worried she's going to tell me about my clothes hanging on the banister to dry, or accuse me of walking too loudly, her husband Blake sleeps during the day (sometimes) and her kids sleep during the day too ( forever). The miserable scene inside the door, and the chaos in the house, foreshadowed that Beth's good days were over.Soggy diapers and smelly baby cardigans hang high from the ceiling, bottles bubbling in the sterilizer and the stove rattles.The windows were full of steam, and the chairs were littered with soaked clothes and dirty stuffed animals.The older child was hanging from the playrail, howling angrily—obviously Beth had put him there on purpose.The smaller baby was in a chair with a rash of pumpkin corn-colored food on the corners of his mouth and chin.

Beth looked out of such a scene, with a tense expression and a sense of superiority on her flat face, as if telling others that few people in this world could endure such a nightmare like her, even though The world was so stingy that it didn't give her the slightest honor. "When you moved in..." Her voice raised an octave, trying to silence the older child's voice, "When you moved in, I told you that the place is big enough for two people, right?" Not high enough, I would say.But she went on right away, telling me that another girl was moving in.She lives here about every Thursday and Friday, and she is an auditor at the school.

"Blake brings a sofa bed over tonight. She won't take up much space. I don't think she'll bring much clothes, she lives in the city. You've been living alone for six weeks. But after that, weekends are yours. Alone." Not even mentioning rent reduction. Nina really didn't take up much space.She is very small, and she is very cautious in every gesture. She never bumps into the pillars like me.She spends most of the time sitting cross-legged on her daybed, her brown hair hanging down over her face, a baggy Japanese kimono hanging loosely over her childish white underwear.Her clothes were beautiful—a camel-hair coat, a goat-hair jumper, a plaid pleated skirt with silver pins.In short, they are the kind of clothes you see in fashion magazines, often with titles like "New college life needs to buy..." However, as soon as she came back from school, she threw all the clothes on the ground and changed them. Kimono wear.She didn't even bother to hang up her clothes.Like her, changing into school clothes as soon as I leave the house is a routine, but I also have to iron my shirts and keep my pants and sweaters smelling fresh, so the clothes are carefully hung up.In the evening, I wear a wool bathrobe.I always come back after having dinner early at school, and dinner is considered part of my salary.Nina seems to have eaten it too, but I don't know where she ate it.Maybe her dinner was a snack, almonds, oranges, and chocolate balls wrapped in red, gold, and purple foil.

I asked her if she would catch a cold in such a thin kimono. "Hmm." She hugged my head and leaned it against her neck, "I'm always so warm." She was right.Even the color of her skin, it looked warm, but she said it was fading from the tan.Related to her warm skin was a special scent.It's like a fruity smell, or some kind of spice. I'm not saying that this smell is annoying, but people who take a bath often don't have this kind of smell on their bodies.I can't say I smell fresh myself, for Beth's rule is that I can only take a bath once a week.In those days, a lot of people took a shower at most once a week, and I kind of figured that even though people were using powder and scrubs, people around them smelled more.

I usually read very late.I thought it would be difficult to read a book if there was another person in the room.But Nina is easy to get along with. She peels oranges, tears the wrappers of chocolates, and patiently arranges the cards.Sometimes when she reaches for the cards there will be a little movement, a sigh or a grunt, as if complaining about having to move her body, but she still enjoys it, and if she has had enough, she curls up and sleeps with the light on. Still on.Since we had nothing in particular to talk about, we quickly started chatting about our own lives. Nina is twenty-two years old, and here's what happened to her after she turned fifteen. First, she impregnated herself (this is her exact words), and then she married the child's father, who was not much older than her.At that time, she was living in a small town outside of Chicago.The name of the town was Lannevale, and the only thing boys could do there was work in the grain warehouses or fix machines, and the girls had to work in the shops.Nina's ideal is to be a barber, but she has to leave the town to learn how to cut hair.The country town was not where she grew up, but where her grandmother lived, and she lived with her grandmother because her father died, her mother remarried, and her stepfather kicked her out. She had another child, also a son, and her husband got a job in another town, so he left.He promised to come back to pick her up, but never came back.She left her two children with her grandmother and took the bus to Chicago. On the bus, she met a girl named Marcy, who was also going to Chicago, and Marcy liked her very much.Marcy knew a man in Chicago who owned a restaurant and he could give them work.However, when they arrived at the restaurant in Chicago, they found that the man did not own the restaurant, but had worked in the restaurant and had resigned not long ago.The real owner of the restaurant had a room upstairs and he took them in in exchange for cleaning the restaurant every night.They can use the restroom in the hotel, but they are not allowed to stay too long during the day, because the restroom is for guests during the day.They can only do laundry after closing. They barely slept at night because they befriended a bartender.This guy is kind of weird, but a nice guy.The bar was across the road and he gave them free ginger ale.In a bar, they met a man who invited them to a reception, at which they received invitations to other receptions.Later, Nina met Mr. Purvis. In fact, Mr. Purvis took the name Nina. Before that, her name was Joan.She moved to Mr. Purvis's residence in Chicago. She had been waiting for the right opportunity to tell him she had two sons.Because Mr. Purvis's home was large, she thought the two children could live with them.But, when she brought it up, Mr Purvis said he hated small children and he would never want her pregnant.However, she was still pregnant.She then went to Japan with Mr. Purvis to have an abortion. Until she went to the operating table, she thought she would have an abortion.But at the last minute, she decided not to.She decided to leave it at that, she wanted the baby. Well, he replied.He would pay her travel expenses back to Chicago, and then leave her alone. This time, she already knew roughly what to do.She found a place where someone would take care of her, and when the baby was born, she could be put up for adoption.This time, it was a daughter, whom Nina called Gemma.Nina is determined to raise her herself. It was in this place that she met another girl who both had children here and decided to raise them themselves.So they decided to live together, take turns going to work, and raise their children together.They shared an apartment and both found work.Nina works at the cocktail bar.Everything is fine.However, before Christmas, when Gemma was eight months old, Nina came home one day to find the mother half drunk and hanging out with a man, and Gemma was sick with a high fever. I can't even cry. Nina picked up the baby, hailed a taxi, and went to the hospital.Traffic is chaotic as Christmas is approaching.When they got to the hospital, the hospital told her that you were sent to the wrong hospital and sent her to another hospital.On the way, Gemma convulsed and died. She wanted to give Gemma a real funeral instead of burying her with the dead old beggars.She had heard that a child's body was just thrown away because of lack of money.So she went to Mr. Purvis again.Unexpectedly, his attitude was actually very good.He paid for the coffin, he paid for the tombstone, and Gemma's name was engraved on the tombstone.After the funeral, he took Nina back and they traveled together in London, Paris and many other places, and he wanted to make Nina happy.When he got back to Chicago, he closed the door on his house and moved here.He keeps racehorses in the countryside here. He asked her if she wanted to go to school.She said yes.He asked her to sit in on a few courses to see what he really wanted to learn.She said she wanted to give herself some time to live the life of a normal student, dress like a student, study like a student, and he said yes. Her life made me feel like an idiot. I asked her what Mr. Purvis's name was. "Arthur." "Then why don't you call him Arthur?" "It sounds unnatural." Nina should not go out at night unless there is a special event, such as a play, concert or lecture.Nina is supposed to eat at school.Of course, I don't know if she ate or not.Breakfast was Nescafé in the room and donuts I brought back from the dining room.Mr. Purvis doesn't like the sound of eating donuts, but can accept that as part of Nina's imitation of college life.As long as she could eat a good hot meal one day, and a sandwich and hot soup at another, he was content.He thought that was how she lived.She ran to the restaurant menu to tell him she had sausage, or a hamburger steak, or a salmon and egg sandwich. "Even if you go out at night, how would he know?" Nina stood up, she didn't know whether she was happy or unhappy, grunted, and tiptoed to the attic window. "Come here, stay behind the curtain, see?" A black car was parked across the street, not directly opposite, just a few doors away.Street lamps shone on the driver's white hair. "Mrs. Wenner. She stays until midnight. Maybe later? I don't know. If I go out, she'll follow me, and she'll go where I go, and then follow me." return." "Won't she fall asleep?" "No. If she really fell asleep, as long as I want to do something, she will wake up as soon as I have been shot." To give Mrs. Wenner a chance to exercise, as Nina puts it, we went out one evening and got on the bus to the city library.We could see through the window that as soon as the bus arrived, the stretchy black sedan had to slow down and dangle, then pick up speed to catch up, and we had to walk another block to the library.Mrs. Wenner's car passed us, stopped at the library's front entrance, and looked at us—so we thought—in the rearview mirror. I'm looking for one, it's a reading requirement for the course.I can't afford to buy it myself, and the school library has already run out.Also, I would like to help Nina borrow a history book with simple diagrams. Nina bought the textbooks she audited, bought notebooks and pens.Her pens were the best fountain pens in those days, and they were color matched.The red pen is for "Pre-Columbian Civilization in Mesoamerica", the blue pen is for "Romantic Poetry", the green pen is for "Victorian and Georgian British Novels", and the yellow pen is for "Fairy Tales from Perrault to Andersen".She listens to almost any lecture, and always sits in the back row, because she always thinks the back row is the right seat for her.She spoke as if she enjoyed being among the crowd of students, walking to the classroom building of the Faculty of Humanities, finding her own seat, turning to the designated page in the textbook, and taking out the pen.However, nothing was recorded in her notebook. The problem, I think, is that she doesn't understand the subjects.She didn't know what Victoria meant, nor what Romantic, pre-Columbian, meant nothing to her.She has been to Japan, Barbados, and many countries in Europe, but she cannot find these countries on the map.Little did she know that the French Revolution preceded the First World War. I don't know why she took these courses, whether it was because she liked the names, or whether Mr. Purvis thought she could learn them, or did he choose them for her, so that she would understand early on that she was not fit to be a student at all? When I was looking for a book, I caught sight of Ernie Bows.He held a chest full of suspense novels, and he told me that he borrowed them for a friend of his mother.He told me he was always checking out books for her, just as he would accompany a close friend of his father's to a game of chess at the Veterans Club every Saturday morning. I introduced him to Nina, told him she had just moved into my room, and of course I wouldn't tell him about her past, let alone her present. He shook her hand, said he was glad to see her, and immediately asked if I wanted him to drive us back. I'm going to say thank you no, we can take the bus.Nina asked him where his car was. "Back door," he replied. "And the back door?" "Yes, of course, all four-door cars have rear doors." "No, that's not what I mean. I mean, is there a back door to the library? Just behind this building?" Nina said softly. Ernie was bewildered, and said, "Yes, yes, yes. Sorry, I thought you meant the car. The library has a back door, and I came in through the back door myself. I'm sorry." His face flushed. Nina interrupted, and he went on to apologize. Nina's tone was gentle, even a little flattering, with a smile on her face. "All right, then. Let's go through the back door, it's settled. Thank you." Ernie drove us home and asked if we would stop by his house for a cup of coffee or hot chocolate. "Sorry, we're in a hurry to get back, but thank you anyway," Nina said. "You have homework. Do you?" "Homework... yeah, we have homework to do," she replied. I was thinking he never invited me to his house.So decent.Not a girl.Two girls will do. The black car wasn't across the street when we said thank you bye good night.We didn't see it either when we looked down from the attic window.The phone rang shortly after, and it was for Nina.Finally, I heard her say, "No, we just went to the library, checked out a book, and came straight back on the bus. Came right back...I'm fine. Absolutely fine." Good night." Laughing all the way, she staggered up the stairs. "Mrs. Wenner is having a hard time to-night." She jumped up and tickled me, as she has always done since she noticed that I was very ticklish, without warning. One morning, Nina didn't get up, saying she had a sore throat and a fever. "Touch me." "To me, you're always running a fever." "It's burning even more today." It was Friday and she told me to call Mr. Purvis and tell him she wanted to spend the weekend here. "He'll agree. He can't stand being around a sick person." Mr. Purvis asked if it was necessary for him to send a doctor.Nina expected him to ask this question and told me to answer that she just needed to rest and that if she was not doing well, she or I would call him again.Well then, tell her to pay attention to her body.Thank you for calling, and thank you Nina for having a friend like you.Then, saying goodbye, he asked me if I'd like to have dinner with him on Saturday because he thought eating alone was boring. Nina also thought of this question. "If he asks you to come to dinner tomorrow night, you go. There's good food every Saturday night." The restaurant is closed on Saturdays.Besides, the thought of meeting Mr. Purvis made me curious and excited. "If he asks, can I really go?" So, when I went upstairs, I had promised to dine with Mr. Purvis.Let's have dinner together, these are his exact words.I asked Nina what I should wear. "What's the hurry? Isn't it tomorrow night?" real.No hurries?I actually only had one formal dress, a turquoise crepe dress I bought with my scholarship.I wore this dress to my high school graduation speech. "Besides, he won't notice what you wear." Nina said again. Mrs. Wenner came to fetch me.It turned out that her hair was not white, but silver-gray.To me, this color symbolizes a hard heart, immoral ways of behaving, rough life experiences in dirty back alleys.I opened the front door, intending to sit next to her, thinking it would be polite and democratic.But despite me standing right next to her, she ignored me and deftly opened the back door. I had thought that Mr. Purvis must live in a stately mansion on the north side of town, surrounded by acres of lawn and uncultivated fields.Maybe it's the horse racing that made me think so.But in fact, the car drove east through the bustling but not noble streets, passing brick and tile houses that imitated the Tudor era.The sky had just darkened, the street lights were already on, and the Christmas lights had begun to twinkle outside the snow-covered bushes.The car turned into a narrow driveway surrounded by tall hedges and stopped in front of a house.I recognized it as a modernist building because of the flat roof, the windows in one long wall, and it was concrete.No Christmas lights.In fact, there were no lights at all. There was no sign of Mr Purvis either.The car slid down into the vast basement, and we took the elevator to the first floor and entered a dimly lit hall, furnished like a living room, with cushioned hardwood chairs, polished tables, mirrors, and rugs.Through door after door, Mrs. Wenner motioned for me to come to the front of a door.I walked into a windowless room with hooks on all sides and a bench in the room, which looked like a school cloakroom, except for the glossy paint and the carpet on the floor. Mrs. Wenner said, "Put the clothes here." I took off my boot boots, stuffed my gloves into my coat pocket, and hung up my clothes.Mrs. Wenner was standing next to me.She probably had no choice but to accompany and lead me the way.I have a comb in my pocket, and I want to brush my hair, but not with her staring at me.Also, there are no mirrors here. "Now, the rest." She looked straight at me to see if I understood.I look like I don't get it (actually I should, but I hope I got it wrong).She said, "Don't be afraid, it won't be cold. It's warm in the house." I didn't listen to her and acted immediately.Seemingly unable to stand the disrespect being shown to her, she said casually, "I thought you weren't a baby." I could have taken the coat back and asked her to send me back.If she won't, I can walk back myself.I remember the way I came here, and it might be cold to walk back, but it was almost there in less than an hour. I thought it impossible to lock the outer door, and find the way back with little effort. Seeing that I still didn't move, Mrs. Wenner said, "Oh, no, do you think you are different from the rest of us? I haven't seen anything you think you have?" Because of her contempt, I decided to stay.Part of that, and part of it, is my pride. I sat down, took off my boots, took off my socks, stood up, and took off my skirt.I wore the dress that gave the farewell address.The last words I said were in Latin.Ah, bye. And my petticoat.I reached behind my back, unfastened the bra buckle, lifted it from my shoulders, took it off, and threw it out, all in one motion, followed by the garter belt and panties, all taken off, stuffed into the bra, and put on the shoes. "Barefoot," said Mrs. Wenner, sighing as though she were tired of adding petticoats.However, when I took off my shoes, she said again: "Do you understand the meaning of the word light?" I took off my petticoat and she handed me a bottle of lotion: "Paint it on." The smell of Nina.I put some on my arms, shoulders.Mrs. Wenner stood by and stared at me, and that was all I could do.Then, we were in the hall again, and I tried not to look in the mirror.She opened another door, and this time I was the only one in the room. It never occurred to me that Mr. Purvis himself might be waiting for me naked.It is true that he is not naked.He was wearing a dark blue blazer, a white shirt, gray home pants, and around his neck a wide tie, which I didn't even know was called a wide tie.He is about the same height as me, very thin, old, most of his hair has fallen out, and there are wrinkles on his forehead when he smiles. I also don't think taking off your clothes is a prelude to rape, or a ritual other than dinner.Judging from the smell of the food in the room and the silver cutlery cover on the dining table, it probably wasn't either.Why hadn't I thought of this possibility at all just now?Why didn't I give it a little more thought?Maybe it has something to do with the old man I understand.I thought they were not only impotent, but worn out from too much suffering and experience, either ennobled or depressed, and besides, failing health would not have much interest.Of course, I wasn't stupid enough to think that my body couldn't be sexually active if I took off my clothes.However, I consider the challenges more than the possible dangers.I did it mostly out of absurd pride, and, as I said, a mere hesitant rashness. In this case, the humiliation of showing my skin is far less serious than showing my teeth.Of course, this is not true.My skin was already sweating, but not from fear of being violated. Mr. Purvis shook hands with me, and he looked as if he hadn't even noticed that I was naked.He said he was happy to meet Nina's friends, as if I was a friend Nina brought home from school. However, it is true to say so. You encouraged Nina.He said. "She can't praise you enough...you must be hungry, let's see what they do?" He lifts the lids of the cutlery and serves my food.Cornish chicken.I have always thought of this chicken as a dwarf breed.The saffron rice with raisins, the carefully cut vegetables are arranged at an angle, and the color of the vegetables is closer to the original color than the pickled vegetables I usually see.A plate of slushy pickled mustard greens, and a deep red pickle. "Don't eat too many pickles, let's have some hot ones first," said Mr. Purvis. He took me back to the dining table, returned to the table by himself, served himself a little carefully, and sat down. There was a jug of water on the table, and a bottle of wine.I took water.He said letting me drink in his house could be taken as a serious offense.I've never had a chance to drink, and I'm a bit sorry to hear that.No alcohol at Old Chelsea on weekends, no alcoholic drinks or alcohol on Sundays.In this regard, Aini is always very satisfied.Not only did he not drink himself, neither on Sunday nor any other day, but he was not happy to see anyone else drinking. "Nina told me," began Mr. Purvis, "Nina told me that you studied English philosophy, but I think English and philosophy, am I right? There aren't many philosophers in England. .” Even though he told me not to eat too much pickle, I stuffed a big green pickle into my mouth.He froze there, unable to answer his question.He politely waited for my answer as I wolfed down my water. "We started with an ancient Greek class, an introduction." I was finally able to speak. "Oh, Greece, so you already know a little bit about Greece, who is your favorite... oh wait, it's easier to cut this way." He then demonstrates how to peel the Cornish chicken off the bone—a good job, not condescending, but more like we're joking around. "Who is your favourite?" "Plato. We haven't started his class yet, we're only down to the pre-Socratic period, but he's my favorite." "You like Plato the most. You read his works in advance? Haven't you learned yet? Plato, well, I should have guessed. You like his cave metaphor?" "like." "Of course, of course, cave theory, it's beautiful, isn't it?" While sitting, the most shameful parts of the body were out of sight.If I had breasts as small and ornamental as Nina's, instead of having nipples as large as they are now, ready for breastfeeding, I might have already relaxed.As I spoke, I tried to keep myself looking into his eyes, but undesirably, I felt bouts of hotness in my face.I felt that whenever I blushed, his voice changed slightly, with a hint of relief and polite satisfaction, as if we were playing a game of chess and he had just made a winning move.He continued to talk, quick to respond, very attentive, he told me that he had visited Greece, Delphi, the Acropolis, and the well-known Greek sunshine, so beautiful that you can hardly believe it, and the clear landscape of the Peloponnese Peninsula . "...Crete, do you know the Cretan civilization?" "Know." "Of course you do. Of course. Do you know what girls in Crete wear?" "Know." This time, I looked directly at his face, his eyes, and I was determined not to dodge any more, not even if my throat felt hot. "It's beautiful, I mean style," he said almost sadly. "It's beautiful. Every different place hides something different, and it's all visible. It's queer." Dessert was vanilla custard and whipped cream with a bit of crumble and berries.He only took a few bites.Because I was nervous during the first course, I made up my mind not to miss the second course, but I will eat anything that tastes sweet and nutritious, so all my attention is focused on my appetite and every spoonful of food. He poured coffee into a small cup. I try to relax my body.My ass smacked against the smooth chair.But the rattle of the delicate coffee cup and saucer in his aging hands almost drowned out the sound. I've only seen family libraries in books.The library of Mr. Purvis's house is through a door in the dining room.He lifted his foot and touched it, and the door opened without a sound.He apologized that he had to walk ahead of me because he was serving coffee.I am very relieved.Because I think my back—in fact, not only my back, but everyone's back is the most ugly part of the body. I sat down in the chair he indicated and he handed me my coffee.Frankly, it's not as easy to sit down here as it is at a dining table.The chairs in the dining room are covered in smooth striped silk, but this one is covered in something like plush, and the plush keeps poking at me.A very private sense of unease arises spontaneously. 这个房间的灯比餐厅的灯光亮，墙面是一排排的书，和灯光晦暗的餐厅墙上的风景画和吸光板一比，藏书房的气息便显得烦扰、苛刻了。 从那个房间到这个房间的过程，有片刻我突然想到了一个故事。我听说过这种故事，不过很少有人能亲自体验这种故事——被叫作藏书房的地方，实际上是卧室，有柔和的灯光，柔软的床垫，形形色色的松软被子。我还没来得及想如果真是这样，我该怎么办，我们就已经到了。分明是一间藏书室。有阅读灯，架子上摆着书，咖啡清新的气味。普维斯先生抽出一本书，哗哗翻到他想看的那一页。 “要是你愿意帮我读就太好了。我的眼睛一到晚上就累。你知道这本书吧？” 《西罗普郡少年》。 我知道这本书。其实里面有许多诗我都能背下来。 我说我帮他读。 “我能，我能请你……我能请你……不要跷着腿吗？” 从他手里接过书的时候，我的双手都在颤抖。 “对。”他说，“就是这样。” 他挑了书架前的一把椅子，正好面对我。 "Now……" “温洛岭一带草木深诉着悲苦——” 熟悉的词语和韵律让我平静，占据了我的身心，渐渐地，我从平静之中能感觉到更多了。 古乌里恭城在哪里？Does anyone know? 我没有真的忘记我这是在哪里，和谁在一起，我是怎么坐在这里的。但是我有一种更加细微、更富有哲学意味的感受。我突然觉得，世界上的每一个人，在某种程度上，都是赤身裸体的。普维斯先生穿了衣服，但他是赤裸的。我们全都是忧伤的、赤裸裸的、矛盾重重的生物。羞耻感消隐，我一页页地翻书，读一首，再读一首，然后下一首，享受自己的声音。所以，当普维斯先生打断我时，我有点吃惊甚至失望——还有些著名的诗句没念呢。普维斯先生站了起来，一声叹息。 “够了，够了。”他说，“太棒了，谢谢你。你的乡音非常合适。这会儿，我得睡觉了。” 我任他把书从我手里抽走，放回书架，关上了玻璃门。乡音？从来没有人这么说过。 “我想是时候送你回家了。” 他打开另一扇门，通向那间好久以前、其实就是晚上一开始见到的大厅。我走过他身边，身后的门关上了。我可能说了声晚安，也许还说了谢谢你的晚餐，他回了我几句干巴巴的话（哪里哪里，要谢谢你陪我，你真好，我还得谢谢你给我朗诵豪斯曼呢），突然之间，他的嗓音变得疲惫、苍老、破碎、冷淡。他根本连碰也没碰我一下。 还是同一间灯光模糊的衣帽间。我的衣服还是原样摆着。青绿色的裙子。长袜。内衣。在我系长袜的时候，温纳太太出现了。她只和我说了一句话。在我准备走的时候，她说：“你忘了你的围巾。” really.这条围巾是我在家政课上自己织的，我这辈子也就织过这么一样东西。我差一点就把它抛弃在这个地方。 我下车的时候，温纳太太说：“普维斯先生睡觉前想和妮娜讲话。麻烦你提醒她一下。” 但是，妮娜没在屋里等着提醒。她的床铺得整整齐齐，外套和靴子全不见了。有几件衣服还挂在衣橱里。 贝弗莉和凯周末都回家了，我只好跑下楼找贝丝打听。 “我很抱歉。”贝丝回答。我从来没觉得贝丝对什么事真会感觉抱歉，她接着说：“你们来来回回，我总不能每一回都盯着。” 我一转身，她又说：“我跟你说过好几次了，上楼的时候轻一点。我刚哄萨利睡着。” 刚到家的时候，我还没有想好该怎么和妮娜说，她是不是知道得很清楚，我要去度过的会是一个什么样的夜晚？或者，我是不是应该什么也不说，等她先问我？然后，我再无辜地说我吃了康沃尔鸡和黄米饭，味道很不错，还有，我朗诵的是《西罗普郡少年》。 我可以什么也不说，随便她好奇就是了。 但现在她不见了。这一切都不重要了。关键问题立刻就转移了。十点以后，温纳太太打电话过来，这下又违反了贝丝的另一项规定。我告诉温纳太太，妮娜不在。她说：“你确定？” 我又说我也不知道妮娜去哪里了，她还是这么回答我：“你确定？” 我再告诉她晚上不要再打电话了，有事明天早上再说，这是贝丝的规定，因为贝丝的孩子要睡觉，她说：“哦，我可不知道，问题严重了。” 等我早上醒来，车子就停在马路对面。过了一会儿，温纳太太按门铃，告诉贝丝说主人派她来检查妮娜的房间。看来温纳太太镇住了贝丝，因为她上楼时，身后没有什么训斥和警告。温纳太太看完了房间，又看了卫生间和衣帽间，甚至还把卷起来搁在衣帽间地板上的两条毛毯抖开来看看。 我还穿着睡衣裤，一边喝我的雀巢，一边写一篇关于《高文爵士与绿衣骑士》的文章。 温纳太太说她要给医院打电话，看看妮娜是不是病重去了医院。普维斯先生自己出门了，去几个她可能在的地方找。 “要是你知道什么，最好还是告诉我们。”她说，“不管是什么。” 然后她下楼，又转过身来说了一句，语气里少了一点威胁：“她在学校还和什么人来往？你认识吗？” 我说，我想没有。 在学校，我只见过妮娜两次。有一回，正好是下课，她夹在人群中，走在文科楼的走廊里。还有一回，在餐厅。但两回都只有她自己。学生下了这堂课去上另一堂课，一个人待一会儿没什么大不了。不过，下午三点四十五通常餐厅都没什么人，一个人坐在那儿喝咖啡，是显得有点奇怪。她坐在那儿，还面带笑容，仿佛让别人知道，这种时候坐在餐厅里对她来说，仿佛是一种愉快的特权。她似乎打算告诉人们，只要她知道新生活是什么样的，她就能立刻对新生活的要求做出积极反应。 到了下午，下雪了。停在对面的车只好给扫雪车让路。我发现妮娜的和服挂在卫生间的钩子上。直到这时候，我才感觉到一直压在心里的恐惧，真的开始担心她了。我似乎看到了这样的情景：她不知所措，迷了路，在雪中游荡，穿着她白色的内衣裤，而不是驼毛外套——虽然我清楚地知道，她带走了外套。 星期一早上，我刚准备出门上第一堂课的时候，电话铃响了。 “是我。”电话那头是妮娜，语调急切而警惕，但似乎有一种得意洋洋的胜利情绪，“听着。拜托。能不能麻烦你帮我一个忙？” “你在哪儿？他们一直在找你。” "Who?" “普维斯先生。温纳太太。” “哦，你不要告诉他们。什么也别告诉他们。我在这里。” "where?" “诚实的艾尼家里。” “艾尼？” “有人听你说话吗？” "No." “那你听我说……你能不能坐车过来，帮我把剩下的东西带过来？我要用香波，还要我的和服。我现在穿着艾尼的浴袍走来走去，你真应该看看我现在的样子，我简直像一条灰毛老狗……哦，那车还在外头吗？” 我到窗口看了一眼。“还在。” “明白了，那么，你先像平时一样，坐车到学校。然后在学校坐车进城。你知道在哪站下车吧，坎贝尔豪这站。然后，步行到卡莱尔街。三百六十三号。你记住了没？” “艾尼在家？” “不在。没在家。他要上班。他支持我们，不对吗？” 我们？艾尼要支持我和妮娜？ Not at all.是艾尼和妮娜。艾尼和妮娜。 妮娜说：“哦，拜托了，除了你，我找不到第二个人。” 我照办了。先坐学校的公车，然后又上了到市中心的车，在坎贝尔豪站下车，往西步行，到卡莱尔街。暴风雪已经停了，天空清亮灿烂，一丝风也没有。天寒地冻，脚下的雪吱吱作响，光线晃人眼睛。 卡莱尔街往北走，过半个街区，就到了艾尼曾经和他的父母住在一起、后来和他的妈妈住在一起、最后一个人住的房子。现在——怎么会变成这样？成了他和妮娜一起生活的地方。 房子的外观没什么变化。以前我和妈妈来过一两次，一座带有前院的平房，拱形窗户的卧室，窗格装的是彩色玻璃，狭窄，仿上流社会的样式。 妮娜打扮的模样，正如她自己所形容的一样，一件褐色的有流苏的男式羊毛睡袍，一股艾尼自己恐怕都没发觉的男人味道，他的刮胡水泡沫和救生圈牌香皂的味道。 她抓住我的手。手在冰冷的手套里已经冻僵了。我过来的时候，每只手都拎着一个购物袋。 “冻坏了。”她说，“来，倒点热水，很快就暖和过来了。” “不光冻坏了，而且冻死了。”我说。 她不理我，继续帮我放下东西，带我去厨房，用一碗热水冲我的手。在我感觉到血液回到手指的疼痛时，她告诉我星期六晚上艾尼去了我们住的地方，他带了一本杂志去，杂志上都是遗迹和古堡的图片，他认为我会喜欢。她起了床，下了楼，因为他当然不能上楼去。然后，他见她病得厉害，就坚持要带她回家，以便照顾她。他确实照顾得很好，她的喉咙已经不疼了，热度也全退了。之后他们就决定，他们要住在这里，她决定和他一起生活，再也不回到以往的生活之中了。 她似乎都不愿意提普维斯先生的名字。 “不过，这是一个大秘密。”她说，“你是唯一一个知道的人。因为你是我们的朋友，你也是我们相遇的原因。” 她在煮咖啡。“抬头看看。”她说，摇了摇敞开的柜门，“看看他是怎么收拾东西的。大杯子在这儿，小杯子和碟子在这儿。每个小杯子都有挂钩。整洁吧？整个房子都是这样。我喜欢这房子。” “你是我们相遇的原因。”她又重复了一遍，“要是我们生的是女儿的话，就取你的名字。” 我双手捧着杯子。我的手指仍然能感觉到悸动。水池前的窗台上，搁了一盆非洲紫罗兰。柜子里是他妈妈的秩序，窗台上是他妈妈的盆景。那盆巨大的蕨草恐怕依然搁在卧室的窗户前。摇椅的扶手上，还是那几块垫布。她刚刚说的话，她说她和艾尼的未来，听起来简直厚颜无耻，特别是当我想到艾尼也是她未来的一部分，感到无比反胃。 “你们要结婚了？” "Oh." “你刚说你们要生孩子。” “哦，你就没有想过，我们可能没结婚就先生孩子。”妮娜说着，还俏皮地歪歪脑袋。 “和艾尼？”我问，“艾尼？” “怎么，不行吗？艾尼不错呀。”她回答，“不过，我喜欢叫他艾尼斯特。”她抱了抱自己身上的浴袍。 “普维斯先生怎么办？” “什么他怎么办？” “嗯，又不是没有过？怎么就不能是他的孩子？” 妮娜仿佛变了个人，脸色难看，甚至有些恶毒，语气充满了鄙视。“他！你非要谈他干什么？他又不能生。” “啊？”我刚想问问她吉玛是怎么一回事儿，但她立刻打断了我的话。 “你想和我谈过去干什么？让我恶心。过去的，都死了。对我和艾尼斯特，过去并不重要。我们现在在一起，我们现在相爱了。” fall in love.和艾尼相爱。和艾尼斯特相爱了。Now. “好吧。”我回答。 “对不起，我不该冲你吼的。我是不是吼了？对不起啊，你是我们的朋友，你还帮我把东西带过来，我应该感谢你才对。你是艾尼斯特的表妹，你是我们的家人哎。” 她闪到我身后，双手插进我的胳肢窝，挠我，一开始慢慢的，马上就用上了力气，动作飞快。“你是不是？是不是？” 我想挣脱开来，但是没办法，我又笑又叫又扭又求她住手。她一直把我挠到有气无力，我们两个几乎都喘不上气来为止。 “你是我见过的最怕痒的人。” 等公交车花了很长时间，我只能在人行道上不停地跺脚。到学校的时候，我不光错过了第一堂课，第二堂课都结束了。而且，餐厅的工作也已经迟到了。我在清洁室里换上绿色的棉布制服，把我乱糟糟的黑发塞进束发网里（经理警告我说，掉进食物里的头发，黑头发是世界上最恶心的一种）。 餐厅午餐开门时间之前，我本应该把三明治和沙拉端到架子上，但现在，难堪的是，我只能在一队等得不耐烦的客人的注视下端过去。这种情况，比在餐桌之间推着小推车收脏盘子更加引人注目，那种时候，客人的注意力在食物和谈话上。而这会儿，他们全在看我。 我想起贝弗莉和凯说的话了，她们说在餐厅工作浪费自己的机会，是对自己的错误定义。现在看来，她们的话可能是对的。 清理完餐桌，我换回平时的衣服，去学校图书馆继续写我的文章。下午没有课。 人文学院大楼到图书馆有一条地下通道，地下通道的入口附近，往往贴着一些电影海报、餐馆广告，或者二手自行车、打字机转让的消息，还有各种戏剧和音乐会的通知。音乐系的公告通知说有一场免费演唱会，英国田园诗人作品的演唱会，不过已经过期了。我以前也见过这张通知，不过那时候，我对这些名字没有特别感觉，赫里克、豪斯曼、丁尼生。而走进地下通道后，这些文字开始打击我。 如果臀部不再感觉到毛茸茸的刺痛，我是不是再也不会想起这些诗句？挥之不去的刺痛之耻。现在，耻辱感变得远比当时更加深重。归根结底，他仍然是对我做过些什么。 No.No.don't want. 它们永远会提醒我，我曾经答应的事。并没有人强迫我，也没有人命令我，甚至没有人说服我。我自己同意的。 妮娜是知道的。那天早上，她满脑子都是艾尼，没有提这件事。但是，迟早有一天，她会为此发笑。算不上残酷，和她嘲笑其他可笑的事一样，也许她还会拿它开玩笑。她的玩笑大约和她的挠痒一样，没完没了，让人讨厌。 从此以后，妮娜和艾尼，就这么存在于我的生活之中了。 学校图书馆的建筑高大漂亮，有一些人相信，坐在书桌前，面前放着一本敞开的书的人，头顶都应该拥有一片足够的空间，这些人设计、建造了这幢大楼并且买了单，他们不管坐在书桌前的人到底是余酒未醒，昏昏欲睡，还是内心充满仇恨，毫无领悟力。光泽隐约的深色木板包围了他们，高大的窗户上刻着拉丁文的警句，透过这些文字，能看见外面的天空。在人们最终以教书、商务或者生养孩子为主业之前的几年，应该拥有图书馆。现在，轮到我了，我应该拥有图书馆。 《高文爵士和绿衣骑士》。 我正在写一篇好文章。我有可能得A。我要继续写文章，得无数个A，这是我能做的事。那些发给学生奖学金的人，盖学校和图书馆的人，会继续撒点钱，于是我还可以继续这么做下去。 但是，这一切都不重要。它们无法保护你免受伤害。 妮娜和艾尼在一起，甚至不满一个星期。很快，某天他回家，发现她已经不见了。她的外套，她的靴子，她可爱的衣服，还有我帮她带过去的和服，都不见了。她乳脂般嫩滑的头发，她爱挠痒的习惯，她肌肤残留的温度，还有她走动时轻微的声响，全都消失了。没有解释，没有留下一个字，也没有一句话。 不过，艾尼不是那种保持沉默、独自悲伤的人。他这么说。他给我打电话，告诉我这个消息，问我星期天是不是有空和他一起吃晚饭。我们又爬上老切尔西的台阶，他告诉我说，这是圣诞节前我们的最后一次晚餐。他帮我脱掉外套，我在他身上闻到了妮娜的味道。难道她的味道还留在他的皮肤上？ no.他递给我什么东西的时候，我知道了味道的来源。一块像大手绢的东西。 “放在你外套口袋里就行了。”他说。 不是手帕。更硬的布料。还有一条棱纹。是件内衣。 “我不想留在家里。”他说。听他的腔调，人们大概会以为他只是不想把女式内衣放在家里，而并非介意内衣是妮娜的，还留有她的味道。 他点了烤牛排，切牛肉和吃牛肉的速度以及食欲都和平时没什么两样。我告诉他家里的消息。每当这种季节，家里的消息总是积雪有多深，堵了多少条路，冬日的浩劫给了我们不同之处。 隔了一会儿，艾尼说：“我去过他家了。屋里没有人。” 谁的屋子？ 她叔叔的。He said.他知道那幢房子在哪里，某天天黑以后，他和妮娜曾经开车路过。现在那儿没有人了。He said.他们收拾东西走了。她的选择，归根结底是她的选择。 “这是女人的特权。”他说，“大家都这么说，改变心意是女人的特权。” 这会儿，我看进他的眼睛深处，看见一种干涸的饥荒表情，眼圈发黑，还有皱纹。他噘起嘴，不让自己发抖，以一种努力顾及方方面面、试图让自己理解的语气，说了下去。 “她没法离开她的叔叔。她没有勇气抛弃他。我说我们可以和他一起住，我自己以前也和老人一起住，但是她说她宁愿决裂。我猜她根本一点勇气也没有。” “最好别指望太多。我想，有些东西，并不是你真正想要的。” 去卫生间的时候经过挂外套的地方，我把内衣从口袋里拿出来，塞进用过的餐巾纸里。 在图书馆的那天，我没有继续写我的高文爵士。我从笔记本上撕下一页纸，拿起笔走出图书馆。出了大门的平台上，有一个付费电话机，旁边挂了一本电话簿。我翻开电话簿，在纸上记下了一串数字。不是电话号码，而是门牌号。 亨福莱大街1648号。 另一个我需要的门牌号，最近的圣诞卡和信封上都有，查一下就知道了。卡莱尔街363号。 我沿着地下通道回到人文学院大楼，穿过公共休息室，进了一家小店。口袋里的零钱够了，买了一张邮票和一个信封。我把写有卡莱尔街地址的那一半纸撕下来，塞进信封。封好信封，写好另外那个地址，写上普维斯先生的名字。每一个字母都用大写印刷体。舔舔信封，贴上邮票。我记得，那时候应该是四分钱的邮票吧。 商店外面就有一辆邮车。我把信封扔进去。就在那儿，人文大楼宽敞的过道上，赶去上课的学生路过我的身边，出门抽烟的，或者到公共休息室打桥牌的学生也路过我的身边。他们要做的事，他们自己都不知道。

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Notes: 中的一个比喻。洞穴内代表假象的世界，洞穴外代表真实的世界。