Chapter 11 10

10 When I woke up on Sunday morning (actually it was almost noon), my mind was blank at first, as if someone had scooped out my head like a melon with a spoon, leaving only a shell.I looked around the room and felt as if I was in a completely strange place.Some of my clothes were on the floor, some were draped crumpled over the back of a chair like some life-size scarecrow in women's clothing had been bombed, the pieces of clothes were scattered all over the floor, and my mouth It's like stuffing a ball of cotton in it.I got out of bed and staggered into the kitchen. Since the windows are open, the kitchen is sunny and fresh.Embry was already up, sitting in a chair with her legs tucked under her body, leaning forward, studying something spread out in front of her, her hair reaching her shoulders.From behind, she looked like a mermaid leaning against a rock in a scruffy green terry dress.On the table next to her were the remnants of breakfast—banana peels like limp starfish, some broken eggshells, and brown crumbs of toast in a mess like logs drifted onto the beach.

I went to the refrigerator and took out the tomato juice. "Morning," I greeted Ainsley's back, I didn't know if I could eat eggs or not. She turned around. "Ah," she said. "Were you okay when you got back?" I asked. "The thunderstorm was big enough." I poured out a large glass of tomato juice and gulped it down. "Of course," she said, "I had him call a cab for me, and I got home just before it rained, and I had a cigarette and a double and went to bed. God, I It's exhausting. It's exhausting to sit like that all the time. I don't know how to get out after you're gone. That man is like a huge squid, but I managed it. I just pretend Tsukuru was too scared to speak. You know, at this stage, it's absolutely necessary."

I looked at the frying pan on one of the wicks, still steaming. "You don't need the water for boiling eggs?" I turned on the stove. "Hey, what's the matter with you? I'm worried about you. I think you must be drunk or something. Don't be surprised if I say it, you looked like a fool last night." "We were engaged, I told her a little bit reluctantly and I knew she wouldn't approve. I put the egg in the pan and it cracked right away. The egg was fresh out of the fridge, too cold. Ainsley raised her not-so-sexy eyebrows, and she didn't seem surprised by that. "Well, if I were you I'd go to America and get married, where divorce is very easy. I mean, you don't really know him, do you? Anyway," she said with interest, "Peter's going to make money in a minute." It's a lot of money, even if you don't get a divorce after you have a child, he can afford to separate you from him. But I still advise you not to worry, I think you are too rash about this matter. "

"In my subconscious," I said, "I might have always wanted to marry Peter." She fell silent, as if I had said something outrageous. I looked at the hard-boiled egg, and there were white, half-frozen tentacles sticking out around it, like popped oysters.I thought it was probably good, so I fished it out.Then set about making the coffee, while clearing a spot on the oilcloth.Now I could see what Ainsley was up to.She took down the calendar on the kitchen wall (there was a little girl in an old-fashioned dress sitting on a swing with a basket of cherries and a white puppy on the calendar, which a distant cousin of mine sends me every year. Originally, he opened a gas station in his hometown), and made some strange marks on it with a pencil.

"What are you doing?" I asked.I cracked the egg on the edge of the plate and got my thumb stuck.The egg was not cooked yet, so I dumped it on the plate and gave it a stir. "I'm thinking about my strategy," she said nonchalantly. "Seriously, Ainsley, your methods are too harsh," I said, looking at the rows of black numbers. "There's got to be a man to father a child," she answered with a huff, as if I were trying to take bread from the mouths of all the orphans and widows of the world, and she was just such an orphan and widow at this moment. avatar.

"Okay, that's okay, but why do you have to find Lunbu? I think this will cause him trouble. After all, he is my friend. The situation is not very good recently. I don't want to see him sad. No Are there many other men?" "Not currently, at least not with his condition," she explained, "I prefer to give birth in spring, spring, or early summer, so that the birthday party can be held in the back garden instead of indoors, so It won't be too noisy..." "Do you know anything about his family?" I sarcastically scooped up the last bite of egg with my spoon.

"Of course," Ainsley replied cheerfully. "We talked a little bit before he got into me. His father went to college, and as far as I know, there are no morons in his family. He There is no history of allergies. I was wondering if his blood type would be Rh negative, but it doesn't seem necessary, do you think so? He is engaged in television, which means that he must have some artistic temperament.I can't find out the generation of his grandparents, but don't be too picky about genetics, or you'll never find out.Besides, genes are not reliable," she continued, "some of the children of gifted people are not smart at all. "

She typed a decisive sentence on the calendar and frowned at it.She looked like a general planning a big war, which made people shudder. "Ainsley, you really need a blueprint of your bedroom," I said, "oh no, you need a contour map, or an aerial photo, and then you can draw little arrows on it, Dotted lines or something, and then crossed at the intersection point." "Don't be silly," she said, calculating with bated breath. "When does the action start? Tomorrow?" "Wait a minute," she was still counting. "No, not yet. At least a month. Well, I have to count the first time, or the second time."

"First time?" "Yes," she said, "I've figured it out. But there might be problems, well, it all depends on his state of mind. I can see that a man like him would be intimidated if I got too impatient." Run. I gotta take it slow and let him take the bait voluntarily. Because if he gets it, I can imagine he's going to be babbling around and saying maybe we'd better just get on with it from now on. Break up, don't take it too seriously, we are both free or something like that. You won't see him after this, and if you really want to find anything, you can't find him, and he will blame me for not Give him a little freedom, or ask him something, etc. But if he doesn't get it, I'm sure he will be there when he is called."

We both thought about the words, and for a while there was no sound. "Location is also an issue," she added. "It should be made like it was purely accidental, I couldn't help it, I couldn't resist his attack, I was confused by him, etc." She smiled slightly. "Arranging things in advance, like meeting in a motel or something, doesn't work. So it has to be in his room, or here." "here?" "If necessary," she said firmly, rising from her seat.I said nothing, for the thought of trying to bait Leonard Beranke at the landlady's house, under the noses of her ancestors in her frame, made me feel so bad it was almost sacrilegious.

Ainsley took the calendar and went back to her room humming a tune.I sat on the sidelines thinking about Len.When I thought about seeing him being poured into the abyss step by step by the ecstasy soup, but I didn't make a sound, my conscience was a little uneasy.Of course, in a sense, this is his own fault, and it seems that Ainsley has no other requirements for the person who is lucky enough to be chosen by Ainsley (this does not seem to be a big face, because it is just an unnamed father). I wondered, as I sipped my coffee, that if Leonard was an ordinary man who likes to hang out with women, then I wouldn't have to worry.But I'm sure he's a very complex person, extremely sensitive to everything.It is true that he had a lust for women, but he was not as morally immoral as Joe said.He presents an upside-down morality in a distorted form.He said that life was all about sex and money when he opened his mouth, but he would rant and curse if anyone put his lofty theories into practice.He's a mix of cynicism and idealism, which is why he likes to "corrupt" (as he puts it) young girls rather than more mature women.His idealism makes him have a soft spot for girls who are regarded as pure and untouchable.But once he succeeded, his harsh character made him regard the other party as corrupt, so he discarded them."So she's the same as the rest," he would comment cynically. He was loyal to those women he thought were really unattainable, such as a friend's wife.He trusted them unrealistically because, despite his cynicism, he refused to allow himself to experiment on them, not only were they invulnerable, but they were too old for him.For example, he regards Clara as a god. With the few people he liked, he was sometimes extremely tender, even to the point of being overly sentimental. Still, the women say he's a misogynist, the men say he's a misanthrope, and maybe he's a bit of both. However, I also think that no matter how you look at it, letting Ainsley use him as she imagined may not cause him any irreparable harm. Maybe he doesn't care at all, so I'd better take care of it No business, let him go, maybe there will be a few calm and decisive ladies with horn-rimmed glasses to act as his patron saints.Thinking of this, I drank the remaining coffee grounds in the cup and went back to the room to change.After I got dressed I called Clara and told her about my engagement because I was a little disappointed by Ainsley's reaction. From Clara's tone, it could be heard that she was quite happy, but her answer was somewhat ambiguous. "Oh, very well," she said, "Joe will be happy, he's been talking about you getting a family too." To the point of desperately wanting to get married. Listening to her tone, I seem to be just playing a safe pawn.But I turned to think that it is difficult for outsiders to understand the things between men and women.What follows is all about her indigestion. I was doing the breakfast dishes when I heard footsteps on the stairs.Like opening the door, it was an elaborate trick of the landlady downstairs, who often let guests in without saying hello on such chaotic hours as Sunday afternoons, no doubt to give We were caught off guard.We either still had curls on our heads, or our hair was hanging uncombed and uncombed, or we were still in our nightgowns, and we were in a mess. "Hi?" A voice rang from the middle of the stairs.That was Peter, and he was already using his no-announce privilege. "Oh, it's you," I replied, in a casual yet enthusiastic tone, "I was just doing the dishes." As soon as he showed up on the landing, I said it was all nonsense.I left a few unwashed dishes in the sink and dried my hands on the apron. He came into the kitchen. "My man," he said, "I can't even mention the pain I woke up this morning. I must have been drunk last night. I must have had too much. The taste in my mouth this morning is just like Like stinky tennis shoes." His tone was proud and apologetic. We watched each other warily.If anyone is going to repent, now is the time to blame everything on alcohol.Neither of us backed down though.Finally, Peter smiled at me, a little unnaturally but in good spirits. I said, a bit concerned, "Oh, that's too bad. You've had a lot, would you like a cup of coffee?" "Okay," he said, came up and kissed me on the cheek, and sat down on a chair in the kitchen. "Oh, remember, I'm sorry I didn't call you first - I just wanted to meet you." "It's okay." I said.Judging by his appearance, it is true that he has not fully recovered.He was dressed casually, but Peter couldn't really dress casually.His carefree attire is also thoughtfully designed, unshaven but smart, with socks that match the color of the sweatshirt pattern.I turn on the stove and make coffee. "Huh?" He replied as Ainsley had just said, but with a completely different emphasis, as if he had just bought a new car.I smiled at him softly, like a layer of electroplating on my smile.That said, I'd love to show some tenderness, but my mouth is a little hard, and my smile, though bright, is hard. I poured two cups of coffee, took out the milk, and sat down on another chair.He stretched out his hand to hold my chest. "You know," he said, "I always thought I wouldn't—wouldn't think about that last night." I nodded, and so did I. "I guess I've been trying to escape the question." me either. "But I think you've got a good point about Trigg. Maybe I've always had that intention in my mind, but I didn't realize it. A man has to start a family sooner or later, and I'm twenty-six." Peter suddenly appeared in front of me in a new image, sitting in the kitchen, he was not what he used to be, no longer a happy bachelor, but a savior in this chaos, a stable society. pillar.Somewhere in the Seymour Office vault some invisible hand is erasing my signature. "Now that it's settled, I think I'm much happier. One can't hang around forever, and it's good for my business in the long run. Clients like their lawyers to be wives. Someone in the living room. Being single at a certain age raises suspicions, people think that person is a little abnormal or something." He paused for a moment, then added: "Also, Marianne, you have a good point I have to By the way, I know you are totally dependable. Most women are fickle, but you are very reasonable. You may not know it, but I have always thought that the first condition of marriage is to find a reasonable woman. " I don't think I'm being reasonable.I humbly lowered my eyes and looked at a bit of bread crumbs on the table, which I missed when I was wiping the table just now.I don't know what to say - "You're very reasonable too" doesn't seem quite right. "I'm glad, too," I said. "Let's have the coffee in the hall." He followed me into the hall and we put our glasses on the round coffee table and sat down on the couch. "I really like this room," he said, looking around. "It's very homely." He put his hands around my shoulders.We sat quietly, I hope this is a state where silence is better than sound at this time.We became a little awkward with each other, and we can no longer act according to the previous relationship model, the previous tacit understanding.We don't quite know what to do, what to talk about until a new kind of tacit agreement is reached. Peter giggled to himself. "What's so funny?" I asked. "It's nothing serious. When I drove the car out just now, I found three small bushes entangled under the car. I drove to the grass to have a look. We opened a small tree on the hedge. Gap." He was still proud of that. "You big fool," I said affectionately.I felt a possessive desire instinctively rippling in my chest.Then this man is mine.I rest my head on his shoulder. "When do you think we'll get married?" he asked, his voice almost hoarse. My first impulse was to answer "How was Groundhog Day?" I usually avoid it in this playful way when he asks about me in a serious manner.At this moment, I heard myself say in a soft tone (I didn't even sound like myself): "It's up to you to decide. These important things are still up to you." Be horrified, never before have I spoken to him in such a nonchalant manner, and it's funny that I mean it when I say it.