Chapter 8 house party
"He's awake." A voice came from afar.
He is descending.His hands scratched in the cold darkness, and his body rolled over, head up and down for a while, head down and feet up for a while.Knowing what was coming to meet him next, what would happen at the moment of impact, eased his fear a little.At this moment, he can only plunge into the abyss with fear, and as his body continues to fall hopelessly, his consciousness has quietly moved away from his brain.
"Great." The voice came from far away. It sounded like the speaker was standing at the bottom of an abyss. The voice was very calm and excited, "Great."
He opened his eyes, and the sudden bright light hurt his eyes.He squinted in confusion, scanning the figures around the bed, every face looked down at him.He was lying on his back, judging from the sense of stability on his back, this should be the sofa he was familiar with.The sense of confusion disappeared and was replaced by panic.In front of me was a cold house in Nyack, a familiar living room with a familiar utrillo on the wall and a familiar chandelier flickering overhead.It was the same, he thought bitterly, not even the faces around him had changed.
Over there was Hannah, eyes glistening with tears—her tears came as soon as they had been set, as if a switch had been set—and her hand held him so hard that his fingers My grip is numb.Hannah's maternal instinct is too strong, but she can only dedicate it to her husband... The cigar over there is Abel Rott - at this hour, he is still smoking a cigar! —he looked at him worriedly.Abel, who made his first fortune five years ago, is worrying about his investment projects...then Ben Thayer and Harriet, hopeless rednecks...and Jack Hall...Tom M. McGowan... was full of old faces, annoying old faces.
But there was a stranger.A small but stocky man, pleasant-looking and cheerful, with a gleaming bald head crowned only by an outer ring of close-cropped gray hair.He touched his scalp subconsciously, and nodded to Miles.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"I don't know," Miles replied.He freed Hannah's hand and struggled to sit up.In the middle of the movement, there was a sudden piercing pain, as if a red-hot needle had been inserted between the ribs, and the body froze instantly.He heard Hannah gasp, and then the stranger stretched out his clumsy fingers toward the source of the pain, and the pain disappeared like water.
"See?" the man said, "It's nothing, nothing happened."
Miles turned his legs and sat upright on the couch.He took a deep breath, then took another. "I thought it was a heart problem," he said, "that feeling—"
"No no," said the man, "I know what you're worried about. But you have to trust me, when I say there's nothing to worry about, it's nothing to worry about." Then he said, "I'm Dr. Maas, Vic Do Mass." As if that explained everything.
"It's a miracle, my dear," Hannah said breathlessly. "Dr. Mars found you out there and brought you back. He's an angel. If he hadn't—"
Miles looked at her, and then at the crowd around him, looking at him with worried faces. "Oh," he asked, "what happened? What happened? Heart attack? Stroke? Am I losing my memory? Oh, my God, I'm not a kid, so stop playing charades with me."
Abel Rott smacked his lips, and the cigar that was originally on the left corner of his mouth rolled to the right corner of his mouth. "It's not his fault, you say, doc? After all the guy passed out for fifteen minutes, and he wants to know what's going on now. Maybe you should give him some health checks, blood pressure or something , then we will all be at ease."
Miles liked the suggestion, and even more what he was about to say to Abel Root. "Maybe that's the way to go, Abe," he said. "Maybe our show sold out six weeks ago and we can renew every night; Get a little gold mine."
Abel blushed. "Oh, come on, Miles," he said, "listen to what you said—"
"What happened?" Miles said. "What happened to what I said?"
Ben Thayer looked serious, shook his head slowly, and said slowly, "Miles, if you can take the burden off your shoulders a little bit, if you can try to understand—"
"Okay!" Dr. Mars interrupted Ben sternly. "Gentlemen, please!" He frowned and looked at them. Interested, I researched more in my spare time. I could do some checks on Mr. Owen as you suggested, but I don't want to do that. It's also for Mr. Owen's good, I don't think he needs me or anyone to do it for him Check. He can trust me on that."
"Dr. Marth, I'm sure he's a trustworthy man," Miles said. He stood up, flexed his knee carefully, and everyone in the room was nervous. "If you don't mind, doctor, please treat this as your own home. There should be a buffet over there. I can't guarantee that the food will suit your taste, but at least the drinks are very, very good."
The doctor grinned and looked like a mischievous fat boy. "What a delightful suggestion," he said, and headed straight for the buffet.Abel followed immediately, and Miles noticed that before the doctor could reach the buffet area, the dangerous cigar had already reached his ear.Abel spends three hours a week going to Garden Street for counseling, basically all of that time pouring out his faux ailments to the slick, rich counselor.Miles actually felt a little sympathetic to Dr. Masi right now, he didn't know how difficult it would be in the future.
The people around the sofa also gradually dispersed to all parts of the room, and finally only Hannah was left.She clutched his arm in panic.
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, "you can tell me directly if you feel uncomfortable."
It was a little uncomfortable indeed.Whenever she grabbed him like this and tried to get close to him, he would feel like he was deeply trapped in a spider web, and the web was tightening a little bit, and he had to fight hard.
It wasn't like that at first, she had been so beautiful that he had mistakenly thought she was different from other women.Waking up together, eating together, chatting together - he thought that in the endless married life, all troubles could be made easier by having a loving wife.However, after only one year, he saw enough of this sweetheart, and his relationship faded, and the boring life almost overwhelmed him.
He had just passed out for fifteen minutes.He wondered if he had babbled during that time, anything about Lily.He didn't mind talking about it; in fact, it would have helped prepare Hannah for what was to come.Something was bound to happen next, and it wasn't very pleasing that he could see scenes of his life falling apart.
He shrugged and shook Hannah's hand away. "There's nothing wrong with it," he said, and he added, uncontrollably, "Except for the fact that you have a house party every week. I'd rather be quiet and have a space of my own."
"Me?" Hannah asked in disbelief. "What has it got to do with me?"
"It's so relevant. Ever since you had that goddamn idea of being the best hostess and befriending everybody."
"They're your friends," she said.
"Now you know, they're not my friends. I thought I'd said it a hundred different ways, and I hate them, each one, and more together. They're no one's friends. Why am I obliged to entertain them once a week? To feed and drink and entertain them, why don't I drive them away?"
"I don't understand what you're talking about," said Hannah, who looked like she might cry at any moment, "I know you've made your home here to be away from everyone, but you—"
The net is tightening again. "Come on," he said, "Come on!"
Anyway, nothing matters now.After he had a showdown with her, she could even hold a house party every night if she wanted.You can also burn this broken house down, as long as she is happy.Since then, she has nothing to do with him.He had had enough of being a country gentleman living in the suburbs, turning into a hostess every Sunday, and he didn't want to live like this for the rest of his life.Once, Lily mentioned that the trees in Central Park were more beautiful than anything else.It dawned on him at this moment that he would be packing up and leaving here soon, so there was no need to argue about anything right now.
He stormed toward the buffet area, past Bob and Liz Gregory, who were staring at each other dreamily, as if staring at the radio six days a week wasn't enough; Yeah, he's complaining to Jack Hall about the trouble the new script has at the end; walk past Abe, he's talking to Dr. Marth about something psychological.The doctor holds a goblet in one hand and a sandwich in the other. "Interesting," he said, "very interesting."
Miles really wanted to close his ears and shut out everyone's voice.So he downed a shot of bourbon.After drinking, he looked at the glass with disgust. The wine had no color, it looked like boiled water, and it tasted like it.Apparently one of the cleaners on shift found the key to the liquor cabinet, and after drinking almost the entire bottle, did something nice with the kitchen tap water.Damn fool.If you really want to sneak a drink, just drink it, don't ruin the rest of it like this...
Abel came and poked him in the ribs. "I was talking to the doctor," he said, "and I'll ask him to come see him when he's free, and I'll tell the theater to save him a seat. I told him I haven't seen Miles Irving's performance in Zhong is equivalent to not seeing a play. What do you think, Miles?"
Miles is picking up another bottle of wine.He has checked that the cork of this bottle is intact.He looked at Abel and carefully put down the wine bottle in his hand.
"Actually," he said, "I don't know how I 'feel', Abel. There's something I want to talk to you about, and maybe now is the time."
"What's the matter?" Abel asked enthusiastically, but suddenly a trace of worry flashed in his eyes, as if he had a vague premonition of something.
"A little personal matter, Abel." Miles said and nodded to Dr. Maas, who was standing beside him with great interest. "If the doctor doesn't mind, can we have a private chat."
"Of course, of course." The doctor answered hastily, and then excitedly shook the cup at Miles, "Mr. Owen, your recommendation on the drink is not bad at all, it's just great."
"Okay," Miles said, "this way, Abel."
He pushed his way through the crowd and across the room into the library, Abe following slowly.He closed the door of the library and turned on a desk lamp. The cold air in the room seemed to penetrate into his body, and he shivered uncontrollably.There was prepared wood and kindling in the fireplace. He struck a match and threw it in. The flame spread rapidly, licking the wood and crackling.Only then did he light a cigarette and take a deep drag.Then he stared at the smoke in surprise, it had no taste, no feeling, and he couldn't help sticking out his tongue and licking his lips in confusion.He took another puff, then threw the cigarette into the fire.First the wine, he thought to himself, and now the cigarettes.Maybe ask Dr. Maas by the way, but wait until Monday to get a real M.D. to check this little ailment.He suddenly realized that losing his sense of taste was uncomfortable. It sounded absurd, but it was uncomfortable.
Abel stood by the window. "Look at the fog, do you see it? I remember when I took "Playboy" to London to perform, the fog made it hard for me to see anything, and you had to take a shovel to clear the obstacles on the road at any time."
The fog outside the window is very thick, drifting slowly with the wind, the water vapor sticks to the glass window, condenses along the lines on the glass, and the small water droplets finally merge together and flow onto the pane.
"You come here several times a year," Miles said impatiently. "I didn't come here to chat with you."
Abel turned from the window and sat reluctantly in an armchair. "No, I don't think so. Now, Miles, what's bothering you?"
"," Miles said, "boggles me."
Abel nodded feebly. "I know, I know. So, what exactly is it? A flyer? Your name in the biggest letters. A promotion? Just say a time and which TV or radio show you want to be on. Remember What I said at the press conference dinner, Miles? You ask, and as long as I can do it, I will try to satisfy you."
Miles suddenly found himself enjoying the situation.Normally, he had been terrified of dealing with such situations. "Interesting," he said, "I haven't heard you offer compensation until now, have I? It seems to me that every time you have such an interesting conversation, you always avoid my questions, don't you?"
Abel sank into the chair and sighed like a terminally ill old man. "I knew this day would come. Even though I've paid you twice as much as a superstar, Miles, this day will still come. Well, what complaints do you have?"
"Actually," Myers said, "I have no complaints."
"No?"
"Not at all."
"What do you want?" Abel demanded, "What exactly do you want?"
Miles laughed. "I don't want anything, Abel. I want to quit. I want to quit this drama."
Miles has witnessed Abel many times in the face of crisis, and can predict his every move.With a blank expression on his face, he fumbled for the match, polished it with his thumb, and carefully lit the end of the cigar.The faint light of the matches flickered across the room.But this time Abel played tricks on him.Suddenly and violently he snapped the match in two, then slowly rolled the matchstick back and forth and back and forth.
"You're so cute, Miles," said Abel. "You're kidding, aren't you?"
"I'm quitting, Abe. Tonight's the last show, so you'll have all day tomorrow to find a boy to kick off Monday night."
"Where can I find another man?"
"Oh, isn't there Jay Welker? He's been following me for five months and expects me to break a leg every night."
"Jay Welker won't last a week, you know that, Miles. Anyone can't last a week, except you, and you know that too."
Abel leaned forward, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know it, but you're deliberately dismissive. You want to just ruin the best show on Broadway and go to hell with the world, don't you?"
Miles felt his heart beating wildly, and his throat was a little tight. "Wait a minute, Abe, don't rush to curse. It's clear, but you haven't asked me why I quit before that. As you can see, an hour ago, I almost had a heart problem. I lost my life, and compared to my life, you are more concerned about whether the show can be successfully staged! Have you ever thought about my feelings?"
"How did it feel? I stood by when the doctor said you were fine. What should I do? Apply for a statement from the AMA?"
"You think I said I want to quit on a whim?"
"Let's stop lying to each other, okay, Miles? That's what you did to Barrow five years ago, then Goldschmidt, Howie Freeman last year. I know, because of that , I got the chance to cast you. I always feel like they don't know how to get along with you, they don't know how important you are to a show. Now I say, they're right, I jacked up the price Yes. They tell me, you'll be fine at first, and then suddenly it's like a worm in your ear, and you're stuck. In a word, ear worms, Miles, that's what I'm saying about 'moment Rise up' this shallow understanding."
Abel paused for a moment, and then said: "Myers, the difference between me and them is that I never speculate. Therefore, when you were still unknown, I let you sign the first A contract to perform with the group. Now you want to break the contract? Think it over, my dear friend."
Miles nodded. "Okay," his voice was a little muffled, "I'm thinking, but do you know what I'm thinking of?"
"That's your business, my friend."
"I'm thinking about eight shows a week, Abel. I'm going to say the same lines eight times a week, walk the same lines, make the same faces. I've been doing it for five months, and it's a lifetime for you. Never achieved before, but if you keep going, I'm going to do it for another five years! Now it's a nightmare for me to repeat the same thing over and over, endlessly. But you can't Understood because you are a man of the rules! But I am not! After a few days, I felt like I was in a prison without a key. Now that I can finally get out of the prison, what do you have to say? Advise me to continue stay in?"
"Prison!" Abel exclaimed, "Who in the city doesn't want to go to this prison with his head cut off!"
"Listen," Miles said, leaning forward anxiously, "do you remember when we rehearsed that kitchen scene before the premiere? Remember the night we said ten, fifteen, twenty times Running around? Do you know what I felt then? I felt like I was cast into hell and could only be reincarnated if I kept repeating the scene. Abel, that's how I understand hell: in a small piece Beautiful place doing the same thing over and over again and you can't complain about that because it ruins other people's fun. You know? Once you've experienced it yourself, you can understand how it made me feel. "
"I know," said Abel, "and I also know that I have an accompanying contract locked in my safe. You said you thought it was hell to rehearse the same scene over and over again, and I thought when you saw the contract compensation, maybe change your mind."
"Don't try to frighten me, Abel."
"Scaring you? Damn, I'll sue you and leave you with nothing, I'll do what I say. I'm fucking serious, Miles."
"You're saying it's possible. But if I'm a sick man who can't work, can you still sue me?"
Abel nodded coldly, he heard it clearly. "I guessed that you would play this trick. I am really confused. Now everyone thinks you are sick." He narrowed his eyes. "This makes a lot of things clear. The trick of fainting in front of his own house I just had a doctor by my side and over twenty witnesses. I have to say congratulations, Miles, your trick worked. But if the doctor was a little more professional, the trick might be even better. Perfect."
Miles suppressed his anger forcibly. "You think that's my trick—"
"What trick?" Harriet Thayer's cheerful voice came from behind.Harriet and Ben were standing in the hallway outside the door, watching him curiously and excitedly.The pair stood very incongruously together.Ben is tall and thin, and Harriet is short and weak. The eagerness and friendliness of small-town residents that they showed made Miles feel nervous, as if he heard the sound of fingernails on the slate. "It sounds exciting and interesting," said Harriet. "Don't stop, go on."
Abel pointed at Miles with a trembling index finger and said, "Speaking out may ruin your good mood, let me make a long story short. Our friend wants to quit, maybe you can say something to make him change his mind!" "
Ben stares at Miles suspiciously, with a look of surprise on his face.He often faces this kind of situation. Anyone who has made a little contribution to the cause will try to stabilize his footing after hearing this news.
"But you can't do that," Ben said. "The contract says you're going to keep going with the show."
"Yes, but he is sick and faints intermittently. You saw it with your own eyes just now, didn't you?" Abel teased.
Harriet nodded wordlessly. "Yes, but I didn't expect—"
"You're right," Abe said. "He's faking it. He's made enough money and heard enough praise to stop acting. That's it. Quit."
Miles patted the armrest of the chair Abel was sitting on, and said, "Okay, now that you've made it clear, let me ask you. You really think it's a wonderful show, Can't anyone just make it stop? Did you ever think that audiences don't want to see your shit, they want to see me? Even if you give me a boring line to read, people will come to see it ! For a one-man show, if the only actor doesn’t want to act, no one has the right to stop it!”
"That's a really good play!" cried Harriet to him. "It's the best you've ever been in. If you still don't believe it—"
Miles yelled too. "Then let's find someone else to play it! That might be better!"
Ben held out his hands, palms up, in a gesture of supplication. "Miles, you know that character is your brand now, and no one can replace it," he said. Five years, and this is the first real breakthrough—"
Miles walked towards him slowly, and said softly, "You clown. Don't you even have an ounce of self-respect?"
He walked out of the library and slammed the door hard, blocking any possible reply.
The party has split into several small groups, and several people gather together and are distributed around the room.There was a lot of noise, and there was a puff of blue smoke floating in the room, as if there was a translucent blanket hanging from the roof to the ground.Miles watched as someone poured the drink onto the piano; the glistening liquid ran down the mahogany and left a small water stain on the Wilton woven rug underneath.Tommy McGowan and his new girlfriend, an overly buxom blonde—Norma, Alma, or something—sat on the floor looking through photo albums.Beside them was a stack of photo albums that looked precarious, with others scattered around.There was a hurricane blowing through the buffet area, leaving only empty plates and a few bites of bread.Looking at the scene in front of him, Miles thought sarcastically, it seems that this party can be called lively and successful.
However, the lively and cheerful atmosphere in the room could not drive away the coldness he brought from the library.He rubbed his hands together vigorously, but to no avail.Suddenly, he was hit by a terrible premonition.What if something really happened to his body?Lily is not the kind of nurse woman who can take good care of patients.She would never have done that, at least in his opinion; nor would he have treated her the way Robert Browning had treated Elizabeth Barrett had the situation been reversed.Not only Lily, but he would never do that to anyone in the world.From this point of view, it is better not to go for a physical examination.Even if there is something, he doesn't want to know!
"It looks like you're having trouble with something."
The speaker was Dr. Mass.He leaned casually against the wall, within reach of Miles with his outstretched arms, and the doctor put his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on Miles.You are everywhere!Miles thought furiously, like one of those damn scientists who find a bug under a microscope.
"No," Miles asserted, and then he thought for a second and said, "Yes. To be honest, it does bother me."
"what?"
"I don't feel well. I know you just said I'm fine, but I just don't feel well."
"Are you feeling unwell?"
"Of course it's the body! What do you want to imply? Is there something wrong with my brain, or am I just grandstanding?"
"I didn't hint at anything, Mr. Owen. You're the one talking to me now."
"Okay. Then I want to know why you're so sure. No tests, no X-rays, nothing, and you jump to conclusions. Is there some kind of conspiracy? I can't help but wonder, you say my body No questions, do you want me to go to you for an expensive psychological consultation—"
"Stop it, Mr. Irwin," said Dr. Mass coldly. "I can attribute your vicious speech to the fact that you are under some kind of pressure. But please don't spoil your imagination. I Never dabbled in counseling, and never said I did. In fact, I don't treat people. The patients I deal with, unfortunately, are basically incurable. And my interest in them is limited to Theoretically. Tell me I'm a bastard who goes around scamming patients—"
"Listen," Miles interrupted suddenly, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened to me just now to say something like that. Maybe it's because of the party. I hate these damn parties; they Always made me abnormal. Either way, I sincerely apologize for taking it out on you."
The doctor nodded gravely. "Of course," he said, "of course." Then he stroked his shiny scalp nervously. "I still have something to say to you. However, I'm afraid I may offend you."
Miles laughed. "Then we owe nothing to anyone."
The doctor hesitated for a moment, then pointed to the library. "The thing is, Mr. Owen, I overheard most of the conversation inside. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, it's just that you were discussing it so—well, so heatedly, may I say so? It's impossible not to hear."
"Huh?" Miles responded cautiously.
"Your present condition, Mr. Owen, is, I must say frankly, an escape. What you call a 'routine' life has cornered you, and you want to escape."
Miles tried to smile. "What do you mean, what do I call 'routine'? Do you have other words to describe it?"
"I think there is. I think I'd call it 'responsibility.' And your life, Mr. Owen - both professional and private - is no secret to the world, and I know a little bit about it." Second, I have to say that you have been evading various responsibilities. Mr. Owen, are you always troubled by a strange phenomenon, no matter how fast or how far you run away, you still keep facing the same The problem?"
Miles clenched his fist, then let it go. "Anyway," he said, "that's my problem."
"This is exactly where your misunderstanding lies, Mr. Owen. Your sudden withdrawal will affect everyone related to this play, and then, one by one, it will also affect everyone related to these people. And In love life you can start over and women don't have to linger and they can start over but it's dangerous for them and everyone else. Forgive me if I sound too preachy , Mr. Owen, but you know, this is the so-called butterfly effect.
"It's because you're only thinking about yourself and your situation that you say everything is 'routine.' And I call it 'responsibility' because I think about all the people involved in it."
"Then what will you prescribe for me, doctor?" Miles asked. "Continue to be trapped in this single cell, because if you escape, it will affect the interests of others?"
"Escape?" said the doctor in surprise. "Do you really think you can escape?"
"There's a lot you don't know, Doctor. Just watch and you'll know."
"I'm looking at you, Mr. Irving, and I know it very well. From a purely pathological point of view, as I said, watching a man try to escape from his - as he uses it, all the time. Watching his cell was a wonderful and bewildering affair."
Miles' hands were raised in the air, and then fell limply by his side. "In other words, doctor," Miles sneered, "you're just subverting concepts, using new and scary words to describe old concepts."
The doctor shrugged. "Yes, and you don't believe it at all."
"Yeah," Myers said, "I don't believe it at all."
"I must be frank, Mr. Owen," the doctor smiled, reverting to a short, mischievous young man, "I know you don't believe me. In fact, that's why I'm comfortable talking to you on this subject. "
"From a purely pathological point of view, of course."
"certainly."
Miles laughed. "You are very interesting, doctor. I hope to see you again in the future."
"I think so, Mr. Owen. But it seems that someone is trying to get your attention right now. Over there, by the door."
Miles looked in the direction of the doctor's finger, and his heart stopped for a moment.He hurriedly turned around and crossed the room, blocking the woman who was about to enter the door, and led her along the corridor to the gate.All he could do the whole time was pray that no one noticed him.He grabbed her by the shoulders and made her lean against the door, shaking violently and angrily.
"Are you crazy?" he demanded. "Can't you find anything else to do but come here and make trouble?"
She twisted her shoulders, freed herself from his grasp, and carefully flicked the collar of her coat with her fingertips.The coat cost Miles a month's salary.
"You are so hospitable, Miles, do you greet other guests like this?"
Despite the dimly lit porch, she was radiant.The fair face, the small mouth that was pouting because of anger, the high cheekbones, the eyes that squinted at him just now, are now staring at him angrily.He flinched.
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But, Lily, my God, there are two dozen of the most talkative people in all of Broadway in the room right now. If you really want the whole world to know about us, Why don't you just tell Winchell?"
She knows she has won. "I don't like that, honey, not at all. I mean, it sounds disgusting and vulgar to do that. There's no need for that, is there?"
"You know too well there's no goddamn need for it, Lily. Use your head, will you? Always be careful in everything."
"There's another saying that's deathly cautious, my dear. To tell you the truth, I've been tired of hearing you say that for the past two months."
Miles said angrily: "I've always wanted you to understand that we're going to do this at the right time and in the right way. I've told old Abe that I'm quitting the show and I'm about to tell Hannah. But this party messed everything up. Tomorrow, I'll have a chance to be alone with her—"
"Oh, it's not a short time until tomorrow, my dear. At least a lot longer than you think."
"What the hell do you mean?"
She opened her handbag and took out an envelope.Then waved the envelope under his nose, releasing a burst of fragrance.
"That's what I mean, Miles. Two lovely tickets for an international cruise, sailing tomorrow. You see, it's not as long as you think, is it, dear?"
"Tomorrow! Didn't the clerk say that there will be no tickets for this month?"
"He didn't expect someone to refund the tickets. These two tickets were just mailed two hours ago, and I came here without a minute's delay. If it wasn't for the thick fog that made the road so bad, I could have arrived earlier. I Go and bring the car, Miles, you pack whatever you want, and the rest will be bought on board. When the car comes, I hope you'll be ready to come with me, Miles, whether you go or not, I'm going on board to-morrow anyway. You can't blame me for it, can you, my dear? After all, we ain't getting any younger."
He tried to sort out the messy, headache-inducing thoughts.He wanted to escape Hannah's net, but now, there seemed to be another net waiting to wrap him inexplicably.escape.The doctor once said so, always escaping, but never really escaping.He felt heavy and tired in his arms, his legs, and his entire body.This is the exhaustion that comes with escaping.
"Oh," said Lily, "make up your mind, dear."
He raised his hand and stroked his forehead. "Where is the car?"
"Just across the street."
"Okay," Miles said, "you wait in the car. Just wait, don't honk or anything. I'll be down in ten minutes, fifteen minutes at the most. Most of my stuff is in town anyway, and we You can go back to the city and finish tidying up before boarding the ship."
He opened the door and gently pushed her out.
"You'll find the car as soon as you get out, Miles. I don't see any other cars parked around."
"I can find it," he said, "you just have to wait."
He closed the door and leaned back against it, trying to suppress the discomfort of vomiting.隔壁房间依旧喧闹不止，不时夹杂几声尖厉的笑声，留声机的声音开到了最大，音乐声振聋发聩——好像所有人所有事都在联合起来与他作对，不让他独处，不让他把事情想明白。
他顺着黑漆漆的楼梯爬到二楼，回到卧室。他打开行李箱，随手塞了几样东西。衬衫、袜子，把梳妆台里的首饰盒清空。他用尽全力往箱子里压，尽量多装点儿东西。
“你在干什么呢，迈尔斯？”
他没抬头，他知道她的脸上是一副什么表情，而他此时不想面对。他无力面对。
“我要走了，汉娜。”
“和那个女人一起吗？”她的声音含混不清，而且非常低沉。
这下他不得不抬头看她了。她正盯着他，一双眼睛在苍白的肤色衬托下显得特别大。她的手摩挲着胸前的装饰物——那是结婚前一星期，他从第五大道上买回来送给她的一个小丑面具。
她恍惚地说道：“我看到你和她站在门廊那。我没有跟踪窥伺你，迈尔斯，只是我问医生你去哪儿了——”
“别说了！”迈尔斯大喊，“你干吗道歉！”
“就是她，是不是？”
“对，就是她。”
“你想和她一起走？”
他双手压在箱子盖上，身子整个儿靠在上面，低着头，闭着眼。
“是的。”最终他说道，“事情就是这样的。”
“不！”她突然激动地哭喊，“你并不想这么做，你知道她对你没那么好，你知道这世上没人能像我这样对你好！”
迈尔斯关上了箱子盖，一声轻响，上了锁。
“汉娜，你最好别跟着我，我会给你写信解释一切——”
“解释？等到你和她远走高飞了以后吗？等你知道自己犯了个多大的错之后？迈尔斯，听我说，你听我说，迈尔斯。我用全身心的爱意告诉你，这是个可怕的错误。”
“我日后会作出判断的，汉娜。”
他站起身，汉娜马上扑向他，手指疯狂地抓挠着他的手臂。“看着我，”她低声说道，“你不知道我的感受吧？你知不知道我宁可和你同归于尽，也不会眼睁睁地看着你就这么离开，剩我一个人面对空荡荡的一切。”
too terrifying.网正在迅速地收缩，他几乎失去了全部力气，无法挣脱。但他还是豁出去一用力，看着她撞上了身后的梳妆台。她突然转过身，再转过来时手上拿着一把枪，正对着他。她的手上闪过一道冷酷的蓝光，他马上意识到那是因为她抖得太厉害了，这把枪也把她吓得够戗。这诡异的一幕让他重新充满力气，恐惧烟消云散，反而激起他内心的愤怒。
“放下那东西。”他说。
“不。”她的声音小得几乎听不见，“除非你告诉我你要去哪儿。”
他朝她走近一步，她朝梳妆台退了一步，手中的枪依旧指着他。她就像个生怕被人骗走玩具的孩子。他顿了顿，接着冷漠地耸了耸肩。
“你在出洋相呢，汉娜。拿报酬的演员会在舞台上这么表演，但私下里绝不会这么做。”
她的脑袋缓慢地摇了摇，不知何意。“你还是不相信我会开枪，是不是，迈尔斯？”
“对，”他说，“我不信。”
他转过身背对着她，甚至有些期待听到突然响起爆炸声，感受到子弹穿过肩胛骨。But nothing happened.他拿起手提箱走到门边。 “再见，汉娜。”他说，连头都没回。
膝盖无力，他每下一级台阶都觉得是煎熬。他在楼梯底部停了下来，将行李箱换到另一只手上，这时他看到马斯医生站在那儿，手上拿着帽子，胳膊上搭着外套。
“哦？”医生诧异地问，“看来你也要提前离开派对了，欧文先生？”
“派对？”迈尔斯发出短促而刺耳的笑声，“我是离开这场噩梦，不好意思，医生。我不想对客人说这种话，但我想你应该能懂。过去的一个小时对我来说就像一场越来越恐怖的噩梦。因此我要离开，医生，我很高兴我能离开，请您谅解。”
“不不，”医生说，“我非常理解。”
“门外有车在等我。用我送你去哪儿吗？”
“不用。”医生说，“我要去的地方离这儿不远。”
他们一起顺着走廊走出去。瞬间被浓雾笼罩，又冷又湿，迈尔斯忙立起衣领。
“天气真烂透了。”他说。
“糟糕透顶。”医生表示赞同。他瞥了一眼手表，然后脚步笨重地走下楼梯，像一头即将消失在雪堆后面的海象一般，走上步行道。“再见，欧文先生。”他呼喊道。
迈尔斯看着他离开，然后拿起行李箱也走下楼梯。他将鼻子埋在竖起的领子里，以此隔绝周围潮湿的空气。下到最后一级时他听到背后传来门打开的吱声，心底突然隐约感到一阵恐惧。
他转过身，正如他所料，汉娜站在大开的门前，手上还举着那把枪。但此时，她用两只手紧紧地握着枪，透出的威慑力也显得更真实，不容忽视。
“我试着让你明白，迈尔斯，”她说这些话时就像个孩子，“我试着让你明白。”
他绝望地伸出手。
“不！”他大声哭喊着，“不要！”
接着，爆炸的强音钻进他的耳朵，一团火光朝他喷来，强大的力量压在他的胸口，整个世界随之土崩瓦解。在这之间，只有一个东西的轮廓清晰，屹立不倒：是医生，他正弯下腰看着他，脸上带着陌生而冷漠的邪恶气息。
这一刻，迈尔斯什么都明白了。这些他都经历过，这一个小时他已经重复了千万次，并还将永无止境地重复下去。此时幕布正在落下，当它再次拉起时，舞台又会被布置成家庭派对的样子。因为他身处地狱，而最糟糕的、淹没一切的恐怖便是这一刻。他明白了一切，他看到自己在无止境的死亡循环带反反复复地爬。接着突然眼前一黑，又什么都不知道了——直到下一次……
“他醒过来了。”远远地传来一个声音。他在下降。双手在冰冷的黑暗中乱抓。
Notes:
Notes: