Chapter 27 26

26Peter opened the glass door with the key and put the lock on it, so that the guests could come in at any time.Then they walked in the door, across a large tiled hallway, and up the stairs.The elevator has not been adjusted yet, and Peter said it will be ready for use next weekend.The elevator for employees to get on and off was already running, but workers locked it now. The apartment building is almost complete.Every time Marianne came back, she could find small changes.The messy piles of raw materials, such as water pipes, rough boards, and cement blocks, all slowly disappeared. Before they knew it, they were all digested and absorbed into the shiny walls and floors. The places I have been to are almost decorated.The walls and square pillars had been painted a deep orange with a hint of pink, and the electric lights had been turned on, and Peter had turned on all the lights in the hall for the evening's meeting, and the cold light lit up everywhere. .The pillars had been empty the last time she had been here, but floor-to-ceiling mirrors had been installed now, making the foyer appear spacious and much larger than it really was.But the carpet, furniture (she guessed it was a faux leather sofa) and the essential philodendron growing around the wooden boards have not yet been delivered.These were the last of the decorations, which, though artificial, brought a touch of soft color to a place where the light was cold and everything was hard.

Leaning on Peter's arm, Marianne walked up the stairs together.In the corridors of each floor, Marianne saw outside the suites huge wooden boxes and canvas-covered rectangles, which must have been the installation of kitchen equipment such as stoves and refrigerators.Soon someone will move in here, and everyone will turn on the heat.At present, except for Peter's room, the rest of the building is as cold as outside. "Honey," said Marianne in a casual tone as they climbed to the fifth floor and stopped on the landing to catch their breath, "I have something to tell you, and I have invited a few more Friend, I hope you don't mind."

All the way in the car she had been trying to figure out how to tell him about it.It wouldn't be good to keep Peter from knowing beforehand until they came, but she really wanted to keep silent about him and let her figure it out when someone came. In the midst of the fuss, she wouldn't have to explain to him how she'd thought of inviting these people, she didn't want to explain, she couldn't explain, she was afraid Peter would ask this and that.Usually when something happened, she could always estimate his reaction, but now she suddenly felt at a loss.He became an unknown. After she said it, he might fly into a rage, but he might laugh, both possibilities existed.She took a step to the side, her other hand gripping the railing tightly, she had no idea how he would react.

But he just lowered his head and smiled at her, with only a slight frown between his brows, which showed that he was a little annoyed. "Really, dear? Well, the more people there are, the more lively it is. But I hope you don't invite too many, or we won't have enough wine. What I hate the most is inviting guests but not drinking." Marianne's heart was relieved.As soon as he said it, she realized that he would definitely say it under the circumstances. His answer was as tactful as she had foreseen, and she was so delighted that she pressed his arm.He pulled his arms around her waist and they climbed the stairs again. "Not many," she said, "just six."

Actually it was nine, but since he was so polite, she made a polite gesture and subtracted three from the number. "Anyone I know?" he asked eagerly. "Well... Clara and Joe," she said, her euphoria beginning to wear off, "and Ainsley. But you don't know the rest, it's not really..." "My God, my God," he joked, "I can't believe you have so many friends I don't know, keep it a secret from me, don't you? I have to make a special effort to get to know them, so I can find out what's going on in your life." All the secrets." He kissed her ear kindly.

"Okay," said Marianne, with an air of forced pleasure, "you're sure to like them." Fool, she was secretly angry with herself, fool, fool.How could she be so stupid?She could foresee what would happen.Office virgins would be fine--they, especially Amy, would just make Peter a little unimpressed at best, and he wouldn't be too hard on Clara and Joe.But what about the others?Duncan wasn't going to knock her legs off - but that might be the case.He might insinuate something, for no other reason than for fun, or just out of curiosity.However, when he came, she could pull him aside and tell him not to.But the two friends who lived with him were in a difficult situation, and she did not think they knew she was engaged until now.She could picture Trevor when he heard the news, howling in surprise to Duncan, "Honey, we thought . . ." Silence, meaningful, is more dangerous than truth.Peter would be furious, he would feel that these people broke into his private house without permission, he would not understand at all, what would happen then?Why had she invited them?It was a terrible mistake, and what could she do to keep them from coming?

They climbed to the seventh floor and walked along the corridor to the door of Peter's house.He spread a few newspapers outside the door for visitors to put their overshoes and boots, and Marianne took off her boots and placed them neatly beside Peter's overshoes. "I hope people who come here will follow our example," said Peter. "I just swept the floor, so I hope it doesn't get all footprints." On a large sheet of newspapers, these two pairs of black leather shoes were standing alone. It's like two baits, waiting for someone else's shoe to take the bait.

Once in the room, Peter took off her coat, put his hands on her bare shoulders, and kissed the back of her neck lightly. "Well, well," he said, "new perfume." Actually it was Ainsley's, and she put this exotic perfume on her, saying it matched her earrings. He took off his overcoat and hung it in the closet by the door. "Take your coat to the bedroom, my dear," he said, "and then help me in the kitchen. Ladies are much better at preparing dishes." She walked across the living room to the bedroom.Peter had only recently added one piece of furniture, a modern Danish armchair to go with the existing sofa, and the room was mostly empty.This at least meant that visitors had no fixed seating, because there wasn't enough room for everyone to sit.It was customary for Peter's friends not to sit on the floor until late at night.But Duncan would most likely be sitting on the floor, and she imagined him sitting cross-legged in the middle of the sparsely furnished room with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, staring sullenly at some "soap seller," or The legs of those modernist Danish sofas are dazed.And the other guests, standing around him, didn't pay much attention to him, just careful not to step on him, as if he was just a coffee table or some interesting decoration, the kind of wood and paper Like a moving sculpture.Maybe there was time to call them and tell them not to come, but the phone was in the kitchen and Peter was there.

Peter's bedroom is always so tidy.Books and guns were well placed; four model ships stood at the ends of two rows of books as bookends.There were two cameras out of their cases on the desk, one of which had been fitted with a flash, a blue flash bulb in a silver reflector.There were blue light bulbs beside an open magazine.Marianne put her coats on the bed, and Peter told her that the closet by the door would not hold all the coats of the visitors, and that the women's coats were to be put in the bedroom.Her coat, laid flat on the bed, serves a great purpose, serving as a sign to inspire guests where the coat should be placed when it is taken off.

She turned her head and saw her reflection in the full-length mirror on the cabinet door.Peter was surprised and delighted by her appearance. "Honey, you're doing great," he said when he came to meet her from the stairs.What he meant was that it would be best for her to dress like this at ordinary times.He also told her to turn around and let him look behind him, and he was also very satisfied with the result.At this moment, she really wanted to know whether she was really good dressed like this. She weighed this word in her heart, and felt that it had no special definition or meaning.What should it feel like?She smiled at herself, no, this won't work, she changed her expression again, lowered her eyelids and smiled, feeling that it wasn't much better.She turned her head and observed her own profile out of the corner of her eye. The trouble was that it was difficult for her to get an overall impression, because her attention was drawn to all kinds of details, which she was not used to. --the nails, the heavy earrings, the hairstyle, and where Ainsley painted her face.She can only see one thing at a time.These things are attached to her skin, her skin makes them together, so what is under the surface?She stretched her bare arms towards the mirror.Only this part of her body is free of nylon, leather or cosmetic packaging, but the two arms in the mirror also look very unreal, like white and red rubber or plastic, without bones, they can be bent at will... Annoyed at finding herself in the same panic again, she opened the cupboard door, turned the mirror toward the wall, and Peter's clothes appeared in the cupboard.She often sees these clothes, so she doesn't have any special reason to be curious, but she just stands in front of the closet, with one hand resting on the edge of the closet door, staring into the dark closet... The clothes are neatly arranged Hang them neatly in a row.She could recognize which clothes she had seen Peter wear, except, of course, a black winter suit, because it was on him at the time.Here was his midsummer suit, next to his usual plaid jacket and matching flannel trousers, and next to it was a variety of clothing from late summer to autumn.The shoes that match the clothes are neatly arranged at the bottom, and each shoe has his special shoe plant inserted in it.Looking at it, she realized that a feeling similar to anger rose in her heart.These clothes hang here neatly, but silently give people an invisible sense of authority, what's going on?On second thought, she thought it was more like fear.She stretched out her hand to touch these clothes, but suddenly retracted, she was afraid that these clothes still carried human body temperature.

"Where are you, dear?" Peter called from the kitchen. "Here it is, dear," she answered aloud.She hastily closed the cupboard door and glanced again in the mirror. A strand of hair had come loose on her forehead, and she patted it back in place, walking towards Peter, being careful not to lose herself in that way. Well-prepared exteriors are compromised. The kitchen table was covered with glassware, some new, which he must have bought just for the party.Well, they can use it after they get married anyway.Rows of colorful bottles of whiskey, rye whiskey, and gin of varying heights stood on the long counter.Peter seems to have put everything in order and is giving some wine glasses a final wipe with a clean tea towel. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked. "Honey, you put these things on a plate, will you? Come on, let me pour you a glass of whiskey and water, we can enjoy it first." He himself obviously wasted no time, the glass in his glass on the counter The wine is half gone. She smiled at him and took a sip of her wine.The wine was so fierce that she only felt a burning sensation in her throat. "You're trying to get me drunk," she said. "I'd like to add another piece of ice, okay?" She felt a little uncomfortable seeing her greasy lip marks on the rim of the glass. "There's plenty of ice in the freezer," he said, and it sounded like he was glad she didn't like such a brutal drink. The ice cubes are served in a large bowl.There are also two plastic bags full of spares.The rest of the fridge was filled with wine bottles, the bottom shelf stacked with beer bottles, the tall green bottle in the shelf next to the freezer was ginger ale, and the short, colorless glass bottle was aperitif soda .His refrigerator was white and spotless, and the things inside were neatly arranged. When she thought of her own refrigerator, she couldn't help feeling guilty. She busied herself with placing chips, peanuts, olives, and antipasto mushrooms in bowls and platters as Peter had told her, holding them only with her fingertips so as not to smudge her nail polish.As she was about to put it away, Peter came up behind her, put one arm around her waist, and with the other hand unzipped the zipper on the back of her skirt halfway, then zipped it up again.She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. "Too bad I don't have time to play in bed for a while," he said, "but I don't want to mess you up. Well, there'll be time anyway." He wrapped his other arm around her waist. "Peter," she said, "do you love me!" She had asked him that question before, but only in jest, and she knew exactly how he would answer it.But this time, she didn't move, waiting to see how he would react. He kissed her earring lightly. "Don't be silly, of course I love you," he said softly; the tone of his voice suggested that he felt he was pandering to her. "I'm going to marry you as my wife, don't I? I especially love you in this red dress. You should wear more red clothes." He let her go, and she put the last pickled mushroom in the bottle on the plate inside. "Honey, come in a minute," she heard him call her.He is already in the bedroom.She washed and dried her hands and went to him.He had turned on the lamp and was sitting at a desk with a camera.He looked up, all smiles. "Got to take a few pictures tonight as souvenirs," he said. "It'll be fun to look back on later. It's the first real party the two of us ever had, and you know, it's a big deal. Oh , I just remembered, have you found a photographer for the wedding?" "I don't know," she said, "I think the family must have found it." "I'd like to do it myself, but of course that's impossible," he said with a laugh.He fiddled with the light meter again. She leaned affectionately on his shoulder, looking at the blue flash bulbs on the table and the silver four-sided mirror of the flash gun.He was reading a magazine, and the open page was titled "Indoor Flash."Next to a column of text was an ad showing a little girl with pigtails sitting by the sea with her arms around a corgi puppy. The big words on the advertisement are "always worth cherishing". She went to the window and looked downstairs.The city is white, the streets are narrow, and the light of street lamps in winter also gives people a cold feeling.Holding the glass in one hand, she took another sip of the wine, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. "Honey," Peter said, "the time is almost up, but before the guests come, let me take some pictures for you first, okay? There are still a few films left in here, and I will replace them with new ones later. Came to shoot the party. The red dress worked great on the slides, and I did a few black and white shots when I developed it." "Peter," she said hesitantly, "it's not that..." The suggestion made her feel strangely uneasy. "Well, you're welcome," he said. "Just stand next to those guns, leaning against the wall a little bit, okay?" He turned the desk lamp so that the light shone on her face, and pointed the little black light meter at her. reach over.She leans her back against the wall. He raised the camera, focused his eyes on the small viewfinder frame above, and adjusted the lens to her. "Good," he said. "Don't be so nervous, okay? Relax a little bit. Don't bow your shoulders, yes, keep your chest up, my dear, don't be so sad, just be natural, yes, yes, smile... She just feels stiff and cold Yes. She couldn't move, just stood there, staring at the round lens of the camera in a daze, and couldn't even move the muscles of her face. She wanted to tell him not to press the shutter, but she couldn't move... There was a knock on the door. "Oh, bad," said Peter.He puts the camera on the table. "People are coming. Well, we'll shoot later, dear." He walked out. Marian came out slowly from the corner.Short of breath, she reached out and forced herself to touch the camera. "What's wrong with me?" she asked herself. "It's just a camera."