Chapter 3 3

3 Hugh was making breakfast when I came downstairs.I hadn't even reached the kitchen when I heard the sizzling of Jimmy Dean's sausage. "I'm not hungry." I told him. "But, you need to eat something," he said, and you won't throw up again.Believe me. "Hugh made this big breakfast every time there was a crisis at home. He seemed to believe in the power of this breakfast to revive us. Before he went downstairs, Hugh had booked a ticket for me to go to Charleston. and canceled his first few patient appointments in the afternoon so he could drive me to the airport. I sat down at the dinner table and tried to force some images out of my head: the cleaver, my mother's fingers. The refrigerator It opened with a tiny sucking sound, then closed again. I watched Hugh crack four eggs. He stood by the stove with a spatula in his hand, fiddling with the eggs in the pan. Brown Wet hair hits his collar. I was about to say that he should get a haircut, he looks like an old hippie, but, I swallowed the words back, or rather, the interest of speaking suddenly on the tongue Disappeared. However, I found myself staring at him. People stared at Hugh all the time—in restaurants, in theater lines, in bookstore aisles. I would find people peeking at Hugh, mostly women .his hair and eyes are that rich autumn color that reminds you of Cape Plenty and Indian corn, and he has a nice cleft in the middle of his chin. I joked to him once: When we walked into When I was in the same room, no one would notice me because he was much more beautiful than me. He had to tell me that I was also beautiful. But, the truth is, I can't match him at all. Recently, the corner of my eye Covered with fine crow's feet, I sometimes find myself standing in front of the mirror with my fingers pulling my temples back. My hair has always been an incredible nutmeg color for as long as I can remember, but now There are also a few strands of silver mixed in. For the first time, I feel a hand on my lower back, gently pushing me towards the mysterious habitat where menopausal women live. My friend Lei has disappeared She was there, and she was only forty-five. Hugh's aging seemed to be much slower, and his handsome appearance revealed a mature taste, but the most attractive thing about him was the wisdom and kindness on his face. That's what got me in the first place. I leaned against the dining table, the speckled granite countertop chilled under my elbows, and I thought about our first meeting, and I needed to remember. Remember How we used to be. He was at my first so-called art show, and I rented a junk booth at the Decatur flea market to exhibit my work. I just graduated from Agnes Scott College and got An art degree, full of dreams, hoping to sell paintings for a living and become a real artist. However, all day, no one really bothered to pay attention to my art boxes, only one woman came to look at them and kept calling them "Shadow Boxes." Hugh was in his second year as a psychiatric intern at Emory, and he was at the flea market to buy vegetables. He walked past my booth and saw my "Kissing Goose" art box, and he Eyes lit up. It was a strange piece of work, but, in a way, my favorite.

I painted the inside of the box as a Victorian living room—English rose wallpaper and a floor lamp decorated with colorful tassels—then, inside the box, I placed a velvet toy sofa with two plastic geese glued to the sofa cushions , they stand in a posture that gives the impression that they are kissing beak to beak.I was inspired by a newspaper story about a wild goose that was injured in the parking lot of a shopping mall during its migration, and its mate left to keep him company.A clerk took an injured goose to a shelter, but her mate hung around the parking lot for over a week, whining desolately, and eventually the clerk took the gander to the shelter too Place.They were kept in a "room," the article said.Newspaper clippings were taped to the outside of the box as decoration, and I also installed a bicycle horn on top of the box, the kind with a red ball that sounds like a goose.Only about half of the people who came to look at the box ever honked the horn.I think that's pretty telling.This shows that they are more fun-loving and less reserved than the average person.Hugh read the article on top of the box, and I waited to see what he would do.He honked his horn twice. "How much are you selling it for?" he asked.I didn't answer right away, but mustered up the courage to say twenty-five yuan. "Is forty yuan enough?" He said while reaching for his wallet.I hesitated again, amazed that anyone would pay that much for a pair of kissing geese. "Fifty dollars?" he said.My face remained calm.All right, fifty dollars. "We went out on a date that night. We were married four months later. For years he kept the 'Kissing Goose' art box on his dressing table and later moved it to a bookshelf in his study. On. Two years ago, I found him sitting at the table, carefully regluing the contents of the box. He once confessed to me that he paid me so much money just to ask me out, but in fact, He did love that art box, and the fact that he was able to honk the horn said a lot about his personality, and showed a side of him that people don't know about. People always see him with great intelligence and anatomical analysis, but, he Also loves to have fun in life and come up with some unexpected ideas from time to time: shall we go out to celebrate Mexican Independence Day, or would you rather go to a mattress competition? We once spent an entire Saturday afternoon participating in a competition , races where people put beds on wheels and raced through downtown Atlanta. People rarely noticed how deeply and thoroughly he felt things. No matter which patient killed himself, he still shed tears, and he often Sad for people who drive themselves to dark, painful ends. When I was putting away the laundry last fall, I stumbled upon his Treasure Box at the far end of the drawer where he kept his underwear ...Maybe I shouldn't have done this, but I sat on the bed and looked through the contents. Every one of Dee's baby teeth was in there, tiny and yellow like corn kernels; his father's Pearl Harbor commemorative pin; his grandfather's pocket watch; and four pairs of shirt cufflinks I bought for him on various anniversaries. Pulled it down and found a crumpled photo of me standing in front of the cabin we rented during our honeymoon in Qingfengling; the rest were cards and gifts I had sent him over the years Little notes of love. He kept them all. He was the first of the two of us to say "I love you." That was two weeks after we met, before we even had skin to skin. We are Over breakfast in a train seat by the window at a restaurant next to Emory's campus, he said: "I know almost nothing about you, but, I love you. "From that moment on, his affection for me has remained unwavering. Even now, there is hardly a day when he does not tell me that he loves me.

In the beginning, I was hungry for him, and that ravenous desire continued until Dee was born.Only then did the feeling subside and become tamed.It's as if a beast hunted from the wild, placed in a comfortable simulated environment, becomes self-sufficient knowing exactly where its next meal will come from.Gone is all the excitement of hunting for food and surviving unexpected adventures.Hugh put a plate of eggs and sausage in front of me.eat it. said he. We sat side by side eating breakfast, the window still in the dimness of dawn. The rain was pattering down the drainpipe, and I thought I heard a shutter banging in the distance. I Put down your fork and listen." On the island, when the storm came, our storm shutters would slap on the house like that. "I said, and the tears started to come. Hugh stopped chewing and looked at me." My mother would spread a sheet over the kitchen table, then crawl under the table with Mike and me and read stories to us by flashlight. .She nailed a crucifix to the back of the table, and we lay on our backs and gazed at the crucifix as she read her stories.We call it the 'Storm Tent'.We feel that there is nothing under the table that can hurt us. "Hugh stretched out his arms, and I slid my shoulders under his armpits, resting my head on his neck, in a practiced, mechanical movement as old as our marriage. We just sat there, clinging to each other, egg It's getting colder, and that strange thumping sound in the distance comes and goes, until I start to feel that our lives have meshed into one inseparable whole - can't tell where his shoulder ends, my head Where did it start. I felt the same way when my father put his finger on mine as a child. The fingers rubbed together, as if becoming one. I drew back and sat upright on the high chair. "I can't believe what she's done," I said, my god, Hugh, do you think she should be sent to a mental hospital?" "I can't say until I've talked to her. It sounds like It's like obsessive-compulsive disorder."

I saw Hugh look down at my knees.I wrapped the napkin around my finger as if trying to stop the bleeding.I let go of the napkin, awkwardly aware that my body was inadvertently chattering away. "Why her fingers?" I said.Why her fingers? "" There may not be a law and reason for this situation.OCD is exactly that - often irrational. "He stood up," Listen to me, why don't I come with you?I make time.We both go together. "No," I said, a little too emphatically, "she's never going to talk to you about it, you know that.And, you have so many patients to care for. ""Okay, but, I don't want you to deal with this alone. "He gave me a kiss on the forehead and gave Dee a call. Let her know where you'll be." After he left for the office, I packed a suitcase and put it by the door, Then, I climbed the stairs to my art room to make sure the roof wasn't leaking this time.I turned on a lamp, and a sallow glow fell on my workbench—a large oak table I found in a second-hand store.A half-made art box was spread out on the table, gathering dust.When Dee came back for Christmas last December, I left it behind and, for some reason, never came up to finish it.I was checking the ground for standing water when the phone rang.I picked up the cordless phone and heard Dee's voice.Guess what? "She said." What's the matter? ""Dad sent me some extra money, and I bought a dark blue short coat. “I picture her with long hair draped over her shoulders, sitting cross-legged on a dorm bed. People say she looks like Hugh. They both look equally good.” Jacket, oh?Then tell me, does this mean you have given up the Harley Davidson motorcycle suit. ""And you?You still have that red suede jacket with denim fringe for yourself. "I smiled, but the relief I had with Dee started to fade when I thought of Mother." Listen, honey, I meant to call you this morning.I'm going to the island today to see your grandmother.She is not well. "It occurred to me that Dee might think her grandmother was dying, so I told her the truth. The first words that came out of Dee's mouth were, Oh, fuck." "Dee!" I said.I guess, my tone was a bit harsh, but she really surprised me.That's not the word you should be using. ""I know," she said, and I bet you've never used that word in your life." I breathed a sigh of relief.Listen to me, I don't mean to lecture you. "She was silent for a while." Well, I shouldn't have used that word.But what my grandmother did was incredible.Why did she do that? "Dee has always had a sharp eye, but she always looks at her grandmother blindly, portraying her as a eccentric, amiable and respectable person. I think this time her illusion will be completely shattered "I don't know," I said, wishing I knew." "You'll take care of her, won't you?" I closed my eyes and saw my mother hiding in the "storm tent" when my father had just died, I found her there.It was a beautiful sunny day. "I'll do my best," I told Dee.

I hung up the phone and sat down at my workbench, staring blankly at the mirror and fragments of eggshells on the table that I had been using to decorate my art box.I said that word.Last December, when Dee was at home.I was in the shower when Hugh sneaked into the bathroom, undressed, and came up behind me. I was so startled that I lunged forward, knocking the shampoo bottle on the shower head rack. Lost. "Fuck," I said.That's not like what I'm saying.The word was out of my vocabulary, and I didn't know if it was me or Hugh, and was even more shocked by it.Xio froze for a moment, then laughed out loud.That's right.Fuck is exactly what my heart wants. "I didn't speak or turn around. His fingers ran along my ribs, touching lightly around my breasts. I heard a small moan in his throat. I tried hard to He, but couldn't help feeling offended. Standing upright under the shower head, I must have looked like a tree trunk, like a silent petrifying tree. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and closed. He Gone. For many days after that, I painstakingly tried to make amends with a fervor and sincerity. Not once, but twice, I walked into the bathroom with Hugh and twisted my body into a special yoga position .The second time I came out, I had the red mark of a faucet handle on my back, which looked like a squashed bird tattoo. One day, Dee was with her friends to catch the post-Christmas Big sale, I go to Hugh's office, his last patient has left, and I suggest we have sex on his couch. If it wasn't for his pager going off, I think we'd have acted like that. Someone attempted suicide. I drove home and all the earnest effort evaporated. Dee went back to school the next day. I watched her car slowly pull out of the driveway and down the street. When it disappeared around the corner, I walked Entering the house and stepping into a deep, bewildering silence. At this moment, that silence reappears in my art room. I look up at the skylight, which is covered with elm leaves and heavy putty light. The wind and rain had died down, and for the first time I heard the silence, the silence frozen around my head. Outside the window, Hugh's Volvo swerved into the driveway. The door slammed shut, and I felt the vibrations from the It came in from beyond the walls. I walked down the stairs, and the years we had spent together seemed to accumulate in every corner, filling the whole house. I was amazed at how love and habit could blend together into one life.