Chapter 2 Verses 11-17

Section 11 Hannah and I didn't stop being happy after the first day of Easter.We had a great week in April, we've never had a better time than Ben.This first quarrel—and one of our main ones—changed all the ways of our daily lives, namely, reading aloud, showering.The lifestyle of having sex and laying down together is good for us.Besides, she insisted that I didn't want to recognize her that day.However, when I wanted to show it to outsiders with her, she couldn't raise any principled objections. "So you still don't want others to see me with you." She didn't want to hear me say such a thing.So, in the week after Easter, we cycled out for four days, we went to Wimpfen, Amurbach and Miltenberg.

I don't remember what I said to my parents at that time.Does that mean I went out with my good friend Mathias?Or go out with a few people?Does that mean I'm visiting an old classmate?Probably my mother is very worried about me as usual, but my father is also like usual, thinking that my mother should not be at ease with me.No one believed that I would catch up with my homework, didn't I also catch up? During my illness, I didn't spend my pocket money.But if I pay for Hannah, it won't be enough.So I sold my philatelic stamps at a stamp shop near the Cathedral of the Holy Spirit.It was the only stamp shop with a sign on the door to buy stamp albums.A clerk looked through my stamp album and offered sixty marks.I pointed out to him one of my trump cards, a square Egyptian stamp with a pyramid, which was listed in the album at four hundred marks.He shrugged.If I'm so attached to my stamp collection, maybe I should keep them.Can I sell them at all?What would my parents say about this?I haggled as much as I could, and I said, if the stamp with the pyramids wasn't worth much, as he said, then I wouldn't sell it at all.In this way, he only paid thirty marks again.So, the stamp with the pyramid is still worth money?In the end I sold it for seventy marks.I feel cheated, but it doesn't matter to me.

Not only was I thrilled about the trip, but I was surprised that Hannah was already on edge the first few days.She thought about what to bring, and packed the things into the bicycle bag and the shoulder bag I bought for her, tossing and tossing.When I tried to point her on the map to the route I had in mind, she didn't want to hear anything, and she didn't want to see anything. "I'm so excited right now, little guy, you can't go wrong." We hit the road on Easter Monday.It was a sunny day, and it has been sunny for four days in a row.Cool mornings and warm days, but not too warm for cycling, but not too cold for a picnic outside.The forest is like a green carpet, composed of yellow-green, light green, dark green, blue-green and dark green.Deep for a while, shallow for a while intertwined.The first fruit trees on the Rhine Plain are already in flower, and the forsythia in the Oden Forest are just budding.

We used to walk side by side, and we pointed out to each other things we saw along the way: castles, anglers, boats on the river, tents, families parading on the shore, big open-top American cars.When turning and taking new paths, I must lead the way.She didn't want to worry about which direction to go and which way to go.If the road is crowded, sometimes she rides in front and sometimes I ride in front.The bike she rides has shields for the chain, pedals and gears.She was wearing a blue dress with a baggy hem that fluttered in the wind.I used to worry about her, that her skirt would get caught in the chain or the chain of the car, that she would fall over.After I stopped worrying, I was willing to watch her ride ahead of me.

How I look forward to the coming of night!I imagined us making love, sleeping, waking up, making love again, falling asleep again, waking up again, etc., night after night.However, only on the first night, I woke up once.She lay with her back to me and I leaned over to kiss her and she turned and lay on her back and held me in her arms: my little one, my little one. "Afterwards, I fell asleep in her arms. Because of the wind and sun, and the fatigue from cycling, we both slept through the night. We had sex in the morning. Hannah not only left it to me to choose the direction of the road, but also to find the inn where we spent the night.We registered for accommodation in a mother-child relationship, and she only needs to sign the registration slip.Not only do I have to order food for myself, but I also order food for her. "I don't want to worry about anything this time."

Our only quarrel took place in Amurbach.I woke up early, dressed and slipped out of the room on tiptoe.I wanted to serve breakfast, and I wanted to see if there was a florist open so I could buy a rose for Hannah.I left her a note on the evening table: "Good morning. Pick up breakfast and be back in a minute." Or something like that.When I came back, she was standing in the middle of the room, half dressed, shaking with rage, and pale. "How could you just walk away like this!" I put down the breakfast tray and the rose and tried to wrap her in my arms. "Hannah..."

"Don't touch me! She took a step back with the thin belt that tied the dress in her hand, and slapped me in the face. My lip was cut and bleeding, and I couldn't feel the pain. I was beaten Terrified, she raised her arms again. But she didn't hit it again, she dropped her arm and the belt fell to the ground.She was crying, and I've never seen her cry before.Her face disfigured, she became dumbfounded, her eyelids were red and swollen from crying, her cheeks and neck were flushed, and she made a hoarse guttural sound, similar to the silent cry she made when we made love.She stood there looking at me tearfully.

I should hold her in my arms, but I can't, I don't know what to do.People in our family don't cry like this. People in our family don't beat people with their hands, let alone whip them with belts. People in our family only use their mouths.But what should I say? She took two steps closer to me and threw herself into my arms, punched me with her fist, and held me tightly.Now I can hold her, her shoulders twitching, her forehead banging my chest.Then she took a deep breath and hugged me tightly. "Shall we have breakfast?" she said, breaking free from my arms. "My gosh, little one, what do you look like! She took a wet towel and wiped my mouth and chin clean." Even the shirt was covered in blood. "She took off my shirt for me, then my trousers, then she did it herself and we had sex.

"What the hell is going on? Why are you so angry?" We lay together, so contented.I think everything should be explained by now. "What's up, what's up, you're always asking stupid questions! You can't just walk away." "But I left you a note..." "A note?" I sat up and there was nothing on the night table where the note should have been.I stood up and looked around the table, under the table, on the bed, under the bed, but couldn't find it. "I don't understand what's going on, I wrote you a note saying I'm going to pick up my breakfast and I'll be right back."

"Did you write it? I didn't see the note." "Do not you trust me?" "I'd like to believe you, but I haven't seen the note." We don't argue anymore.Did a gust of wind blow the note away?Scratched somewhere or landed in a void.Her anger, my bleeding lips, her hurt face and my powerlessness, was it all a misunderstanding? Should I still be looking for that note?Looking for the reason for Hannah's anger?Looking for a reason why I'm so powerless? "Little guy, read something!" She cuddled tightly in my arms.I took out Eichendorf's "The Useless Man" and picked up where I left off. "The Useless Man" is easier to read than "Emilia Grove" and "Intrigue and Love."Hannah nervously followed the plot again.She likes the poem, the clothes the hero wears in Italy, the confusion, the dream come true, the chase, but she also thinks the hero is a bad guy because he's a good-for-nothing, idle, idle, nothing Will do, and is willing to do nothing.She was hesitant to ask some questions, and in the hours after I finished I might ask, "Isn't a customs collector a good job?"

I have recounted our quarrels in such detail involuntarily, and now I am happy to tell of our happiness too.This quarrel brought us closer.I saw her cry, and a weeping Hannah was more dear to me than a strong Hannah.She began to reveal a softer side of her that I had never experienced before.From time to time she looked at and touched my cracked lip until it healed. The way we make love is different too.For a long time, I was completely at her command and she took the initiative.Later, I also learned to take the initiative.During our travels and since, we've gone beyond just up and down positions when we make love. I have a poem I wrote at the time, and as a poem it has little value.I admired Rilke and Ben at the time, and it was clear to me that I wanted to emulate both of them, but I also realized again how close our relationship was at the time.Here is the poem: When we open our hearts, We are two as one. When we are immersed, You have me I have you. when we disappear, You are in my heart and I am in your heart. After this, I am me, You are you. Section 12 While I don't remember the amount of sex I withdrew in front of my parents to be able to hang out with Hannah, I do remember the price it took to be home alone for the last week of vacation.Where my parents, brother and sister traveled, I don't remember.The problem is my little sister, she is supposed to go to a girlfriend's house, but if I stay at home, she also stays at home.My parents didn't want this, so I would have to live with a friend too. Looking back on the situation, I find it remarkable that my parents were going to leave me, a fifteen-year-old boy, alone at home for a week.Have they noticed that I have become independent through my association with Hannah?Or did they just notice that despite being ill for a few months, I kept up with my lessons and concluded from that that I was more responsible and trustworthy than they had previously thought?I spent so much time with Hannah at the time that I can't remember if I had to explain it.It seems that my parents thought I was back to health and thought I wanted to spend more time with my friends, study and play together.In addition, four children are like a flock of sheep. It is impossible for parents to divide their attention equally on each child, but to concentrate on children with special problems.I've had problems long enough that my parents are relieved now that I'm healthy and able to attend classes. I want to send my sister to her girlfriend's house so I can stay home alone.When I asked her what she wanted, she said a pair of jeans—we called them blue jeans or chinos back then, a city pullover and a velvet sweater, which I understand.Jeans were still something special and fashionable back then.In addition, jeans liberated people from herringbone suits and large flower patterns.Just like I have to wear my uncle's clothes, my sister has to wear my sister's clothes.However, I have no money. "Then steal it!" my sister would say with aplomb. It will surprise you with how easy it is.I tried on different sizes of jeans in the fitting room, took a few pairs that my sister was wearing, tucked them into my fat, wide waistbands and slipped out of the store.I stole that cloth jumper from Kaufhoff's.One day, my sister and I were in a fashion store, wandering from stall to stall until we found the right one that sold authentic fabric pullovers.The next day, I walked through the distribution department with hurried and decisive steps, grabbed a sweater, hid it in my coat, and successfully carried it out.The day after this, I stole a silk pajamas for Hannah, but was discovered by the store detectives.I ran desperately, and it took a lot of effort to escape.For several years, I did not set foot in the door of the Kaufhoff store again. Ever since we went out together, spent the night together, every night I longed to feel her next to me, to cuddle in her arms, to put my belly against her ass and my breasts against her back and longing to touch her with his arms, to find her, to put a leg on her leg, to put his face on her shoulder when he woke up in the night.A week at home alone means the chance to spend seven nights with Hannah. One of the nights, I invited Hannah over and cooked for her.She stood in the kitchen while I was busy cooking.She was standing between the open door of the dining room and living room when I brought the food out.She took the seat at the round table where my father usually sat and looked around. Her eyes surveyed everything.Biedermeier furniture, a grand piano, an old-fashioned clock, oil paintings, bookshelves full of books, and cutlery on the dining table.I left her there alone when I got up to prepare dessert.When I came back, I found that she was no longer sitting at the table.She went from room to room, and at last she stood in my father's study.I leaned gently on the door frame and looked at her.Her eyes wandered over the bookshelves lining the walls, as if reading an article.Then she walked up to a bookshelf and, at chest height, moved the index finger of her right hand slowly along the spines of the books, from shelf to shelf, book to book.She surveyed the entire room.At the window, she paused, watching the reflections and reflections of the bookshelves in the gloom. This is one of the images of Hannah that stays in my mind.I store it in my brain and can project it on the inner screen, and she is always the same.Sometimes, I don't think about her for a long time, but she always reminds me of her, which may be me many times, over and over again.She must be shown and watched on the moving screen.In one scene, Hannah is wearing stockings in the kitchen, and in another, Hannah is standing in front of the bathtub, holding a towel with her hands outstretched.There is also a scene where Hannah is riding a bicycle, her dress blowing in the wind.Then, there's Hannah in my father's study.She wore a blue and white dress, which was then called a shirtdress.She looks young in it.She ran her fingers along the spine of the book and went to the window and looked out.Now she turned to me, so fast that her skirt caught her legs for a moment, and it took a moment for the skirt to fall flat again.Her eyes looked tired. "Are these books only your father read, or did he also write them?" I know my father wrote books on Kant and Hegel.I found both books and showed her. "Read me a passage, won't you, little one!" "I..." I don't want to, but I don't want to refuse her request.I took out my father's book on Kant and read her a passage on analysis and dialectics.Neither she nor I understand. "Is it enough?" She looked at me like she understood everything or that it didn't matter if she knew it or not. "Will you write a book like this one day?" I shake my head. "Are you going to write any other books?" "I have no idea." "Can you write scripts?" "I don't know, Hannah." She nodded.Then the sweets went to her after we ate our meal.I really want to sleep with her in my bed, but she won't.She feels like an intruder in my home.She didn't put it into words, but it was seen by her manner, she stood in the kitchen or between open doors, she went from room to room, she was in my father's study The fumbling with the book, the way she sat with me at the meal, all showed it. I gave her the silk pajamas.The pajamas are fuchsia, with thin suspenders, topless and backless, stretching all the way to the ankles, and the texture is soft and smooth.Hannah smiled happily.She looked herself up and down, turned around and danced a few steps, looked at her reflection in the mirror for a while, and then danced again. This is also an image of Hannah left in my mind. Section 13 I always think of the start of each school year as a big turning point.From the sixth grade to the seventh grade in the liberal arts middle school, a major change took place. The class I was in was disbanded, and we were assigned to three other classes of the same grade.A considerable number of students failed to pass the sixth grade to the seventh grade.In this way, the original four small classes were merged into three large classes. For a long time, the liberal arts high school I was in admitted only boys.When girls were also recruited, the number was small at first, and they could not be evenly distributed to each class, but could only be assigned to one class. Later, they were assigned to the second and third classes until each class was divided into three classes. One-third of the girls.My original class didn't have so many girls to divide in my school year.We are the fourth class, which is a purely boys class.Because of this, it was our class that was disbanded and not other classes. We only found out about this at the beginning of the new term.The principal called us into a classroom and told us about the placement.I walked through the empty hallway into my new classroom with six of my classmates.The seats we got were all left over, mine was in the second row.Each person has a desk, and two desks are arranged as a pair.There were three tandem rows. I sat in the middle row, and on the left sat my old classmate Rudolph Bagen, who was fatter, quieter, and a reliable chess and hockey player.In the original class, I had almost no contact with him, but we quickly became good friends in the new class.The row on the right is full of girls. My neighbor's name is Sophie. She has brown hair, green eyes, skin browned by the summer sun, and golden hair on her bare arms.After I sat down and looked around, she smiled at me. I also smiled back.I feel good about myself now, happy to start a new life in a new class and happy to have girls in the class.In the sixth grade, I once observed my male classmates: no matter whether there were female classmates in the class or not, they were afraid of them, avoided them, or bragged in front of them, or worshiped them.I know women and can be friendly and at ease with them.The girls also like this, in the new class, I want to get along well with them, and also get along well with the male classmates. Are all people like me?When I was young, I always felt that I was not too confident, that is.Overwhelmed; either appearing utterly incompetent, insignificant, or accomplished nothing, or the self-belief that you are successful in every way and must be successful in every way.As long as I am confident, I can overcome the greatest difficulties.But one small failure is enough to make me feel like I've accomplished nothing.Regained self-confidence is never the result of success.I also hope that I can make achievements and long for the approval of others, but I rarely achieve any achievements, and even if I can, they are all insignificant achievements.Whether I feel this insignificance, whether I feel proud of this insignificance, depends entirely on the clarity of my heart.For a few weeks I felt fine with Hannah, despite our arguments, despite her constant berating and me always giving in to her.In this way, with the beginning of the new class life, a happy summer is coming. The classroom in front of me looks like this: the door is in the front right, there are wooden clothes hooks on the right wall, and a row of windows on the left, through which you can see the holy mountain.When we were at recess, we stood in front of the window, and we could look out on the street below, a river.And a lawn on the other side of the river.In front is a blackboard, a shelf for maps, and charts.There are desks and chairs on a small podium at foot height.The interior walls were painted yellow up to head height and white above a person's height.Two milky-white round light bulbs hung from the ceiling.There are no extra things in the classroom, no pictures, no plants, no extra tables, no cabinets for forgotten books or colored chalks.If your eyes wander, you can only look out the window or peek at the boys and girls at the next table.When Sophie noticed I was looking at her, she turned to me and smiled at me. "Bage, even if Sophie is a Greek name, there's no reason for you to study the girl next to you in Greek class. Translate!" We translated The Odyssey, and I read the German version and loved it, and I still love it to this day.If it's my turn, it only takes a few seconds for me to get in the mood to translate it.But when the teacher called me up and associated my name with Sophie, the students roared with laughter.When their laughter stopped, I stuttered for other reasons.Resika, this graceful girl with white arms, should she be Hannah, or Sophie?Anyway, she should be one of the two. Section 14 The failure of an aircraft engine does not mean that the end of the aircraft is coming.Airplanes don't fall out of the sky like rocks, large airliners with multiple jet engines can continue to fly for half an hour to forty-five minutes before crashing.During this period, the passengers felt nothing.A plane with a dead engine doesn't feel any different in flight than a plane with a working engine, it's quieter, but only slightly.What is louder than the sound of the engine is the airframe and the wind driven by the airframe.Sometimes, when you look out of the window, you will find the ground or the sea so eerily close at hand.Or the stewardess and sir close the light window and start a movie.Passengers may even find the quieter plane more comfortable at this point. That summer, our love began to go downhill, especially my love for Hannah, and the extent to which I had no idea how much she loved me. We kept up the routine of reading aloud, showering, making love.The habit of lying together.I read Tolstoy's novel about history, great men, Russia, love and marriage for about forty to fifty hours.Hannah, as always, nervously followed the development of the storyline.What is different is that she no longer makes comments, no longer includes Natasha, Andrea, and Bill in her world, just like she once included Louisa and Amelia in her world, but into their world, like one does once in wonder, or like one enters a castle, you can come in, you can linger, you can become more and more familiar with it, but you can't Not timid at all.Before that, I read all the books I read to her myself.Also a new book for me.We made this excursion together. We made up nicknames for each other, and she started calling me not just little guy, but all kinds of different modifiers and abbreviations; frogs, toads, puppies, pebbles, roses.I kept calling her Hannah until she asked me, "If you put me in your arms and closed your eyes and thought about animals, what animals would you think about?" I closed my eyes and started thinking about animals.Her skin was smooth and soft to the touch and her lower body was strong and muscular.When I put my hand on her calf, I felt her muscles start to twitch continuously.It reminds me of the twitching of a horse's skin as it repels flies. "a horse." "A horse?" She broke free from me and sat up looking at me in surprise. "Don't you like it? I think of horses because you feel so good, smooth and soft, with a firm, strong lower body, and also because of your twitching calves." I explained my association to her. She looked at the muscles in her calves and said, "A horse," she shook her head, "How could..." That's not her character, she has never been ambiguous, either agreeing or rejecting.Under her surprised gaze, I was ready, if necessary, to take it all back, condemn myself and apologize to her.But, now I want to try my best to reconcile with her in Malay. "I can call you by different euphemisms for horses, Cheval, Hurray, Little Love, or Little Quick. I don't think of horses when I think of bits or skulls or anything you don't like, It's about its good side, its warmth and docility and strength. You're not a bunny. A kitten or a tigress. There's a nasty side to these animals that you don't have." Lie on your back with your arms under your head.Now I sit up and look at her, her eyes are empty.After a while, she turned her face to me, and her facial expression was particularly sincere. "Yes, I like it, if you call me a horse or something else, can you explain it to me?" Once, we went to a neighboring city together, and there we saw "Intrigue and Love" in a theater. It was Hannah's first time seeing a play, and she enjoyed everything there: from the performance to the champagne at the intermission.I put my arms around her waist, and it didn't matter that people might see us as a couple.I am proud of my indifference.At the same time, I also knew that if it was in the theater in my hometown, I would not be indifferent.Does she know this too? She knew that my life no longer revolved around land, school, and studies that summer.When I went to her place in the afternoon, I usually went after swimming, and this happened more and more often.In the swimming pool, our male and female students gather together to do homework, play football, volleyball, play three-person games, and flirt together.We spend all our extracurricular life there.It's important to me to be there and belong there.Depending on Hannah's working hours, I either arrive later or leave earlier than the others.I know it's not bad for my reputation, on the contrary, people think I'm funny.I also know that I haven't missed anything.But I still often get the feeling that something happened just in my absence, but who knows what.Would I rather be at the pool than at Hannah's?For a long time, I dared not ask myself this question.However, my birthday in July was celebrated at the pool.Sad birthday, Hannah received me exhausted and in a bad mood, she didn't know it was my birthday.When I asked about her birthday, she said October 21st, and didn't ask about my birthday.However, her mood was no worse than when she was usually exhausted.However, her bad mood made me angry.I wish I could get out of here and go to the pool, to go to my boys and girls, to have a lighthearted chat, laugh, and flirt.When I showed my bad mood too, we got into an argument again.When Hannah ignored me, I was afraid of losing her again, and I humbly apologized until she took me in her arms, but I was filled with resentment. Section 15 Then I started cheating on her. It's not me who spilled the beans between us or made a fool of Hannah.I didn’t say anything that I shouldn’t have said, and I didn’t say anything that should be said.I did not disclose my relationship with her.I know that denial is a subtle, disguised form of betrayal.Whether a person is able to keep a secret or deny a matter, whether he is considerate of others, whether he is able to avoid embarrassing and exasperating situations, is not visible from the outside.But this man, who is inappropriate to hide his thoughts, knows it all too well.Denial—a disguised form of betrayal that takes the foundation of our relationship. I don't remember when I first denied Hannah.On summer afternoons, the swimming pool developed the relationship between our classmates into that of friends.In the new class, apart from my neighbor at the next table—he was a classmate in my old class, I especially liked Holger Schlueter who loved history and literature as much as I did, and we quickly became confidants.He also became good friends with Sophie before long.Sophie lived not far from my house, so I went to the swimming pool with her.At first, I thought to myself that my level of trust with my friends was not enough to open up to them about my relationship with Hannah, and then I didn't find the right opportunity and the right words.Later, when everyone else is telling young people's secrets, it will be too late for me to tell about Hannah.I think that telling Hannah so late must give a false impression.I've been silent for so long because our relationship doesn't look normal to other people and I feel guilty, but I know I'm betraying her by not saying a word about Hannah, as if I'm doing it to let my friends know something Is the important thing in my life, is actually lying to myself. Although they noticed that I wasn't very open, it didn't change my reticence.Sophie and I were on our way home one night when we got caught in a big thunderstorm.We took refuge in our new home, sheltering from the rain under the eaves of a garden garden.At that time, the university building had not yet been built there, and it was just a pastoral garden.At that time, there were thunder and lightning, heavy rain and heavy rain, and at the same time, the temperature suddenly dropped by about five degrees.We were freezing cold and I had my arm around her. "Hello?" She said to me not looking at me but looking at the rain outside. "what?" "You've been sick for a long time, jaundice. Is that what you're busy with? Are you afraid you'll never be healthy again? What do the doctors say? Do you have to go to the hospital every day for blood changes or fluids?" Shame on me for making Hannah sick.But when it comes to talking about Hannah, I really can't talk about it. "No, Sophie, I'm cured, my liver is fine, and I can even drink in a year if I want, but I don't want to. I want to..." Hannah kept me busy, but I don't want to mention Hannah. "Why I come late or leave early is because of other things." "Don't you want to talk about it? Or do you actually want to but don't know how?" I don't want to talk, or don't know how?I can't even put it into words myself, but as we stood in the lightning, thunder, and crackling rain, shivering from the cold and keeping each other warm, I had a feeling that I loved She, and only to her, could mention Hannah. "Maybe next time I can talk." However, there will never be such a next time. Section 16 I never knew what Hannah did when she wasn't at work and we weren't together.When I asked her this question, she dismissed me.We have no common world in which to live, and I should be content with the place she has given me in her life that she wants to give me.It would be presumptuous of me to want to know a little more, but a little more.If we were particularly contented together, I had the feeling that everything was now allowed and allowed to be asked, and then it happened that she didn't refuse to answer my questions but avoided them. "Why do you want to know everything, little guy!" Or she put my hand on her stomach: "Do you want it to be punched out?" Or she counted on her fingers: "I want to do laundry, iron Clothes, cleaning, grocery shopping, cooking, shaking the plums from the tree and lifting them back to the house, making them into jam as quickly as possible, otherwise the little thing is eaten." She put The little finger of the left hand is placed between the thumb and index finger of the right hand, "otherwise, it will be eaten by itself." I never ran into her by chance, either on the street, or in a shop, in a movie theater, in some of the places she used to like to go to, or in the first few months I always wanted to be with her. Go together where she doesn't want to go.Sometimes we talk about movies we both watch.She watched everything indiscriminately, from German war films to hometown films, from Westerns to New Wave.I love watching Hollywood movies, whether they're about ancient Rome or westerns.There's a Western we both really like, in which Richard Weidemark plays a sheriff who has to fight a duel the next morning and is doomed to lose.In the evening, when he came to the door of Dorothy Malone, she persuaded him in vain to flee.She turned on the IF: "What are you going to do now? Are you dying for one night?" When I went to Hannah's place full of eager desires, she sometimes said to me teasingly, "What are you going to do now? For Are you dying for an hour?" 我仅有一次与汉娜不期而遇。那是七月底或八月初，放暑假的前一天。 有好几天，汉娜的情绪都极不寻常，她任性粗暴同时明显地处于一种使其极端痛苦、敏感和脆弱的压力之下。她在极力控制自己，好像要避免在压力下彻底崩溃。我问她是什么事情使她如此痛苦，她对此的反应是没好气地对待我。我不知如何是好，无论如何我不仅感觉到她对我的训斥而且也感觉到了她的无助。我尽量去陪伴她同时又尽量少打扰她。有一天，这种压力不见了。于是，我想汉娜又和从前一样了。我们朗读完之后没有马上开始朗读另一本书，我已答应这事由我来管，并带了很多书来挑选。 但是她不想挑，"让我来给你洗澡，小家伙。" 走进厨房里，我感到身上像加了一层厚布一样的闷热，但是，那不是夏日里的闷热。汉娜打开了热水炉，她让热水淌着，在里面加了几滴洗澡的香料之后给我洗澡。在那件浅蓝色的花罩裙下，她没有穿内裤。那件罩裙在潮湿的空气中贴在了汗淋淋的身上。她把我撩逗得兴奋不已。当我们做爱时，我感到她要让我体验到到目前为止所有的感受，直到我不能承受为止。她对我还从来没那么倾心过，但又不是绝对倾心，她对我从来没有绝对倾心过。但是，那情景就好像她要和我一起溺死一样。 "现在去你的朋友们那儿吧！"她和我告别之后，我就走了。房屋之间、田园之上都笼罩着炎热，柏油马路被晒得闪闪发光。我昏昏沉沉地去了游泳池，那里，孩子们玩耍的喊叫声、戏水的劈劈啪啪声传到了我耳中，好像来自很遥远的地方。总而言之，我好像在穿过一个不属于我的，我也不属于它的世界。我潜入了乳白色的放有氯气的水中不想再出来。我躺在其他人旁边，听着他们在谈论什么可笑的和不足挂齿的事情。 不知什么时候这种气氛消失了，不知什么时候，游泳池里又变得和往常一样：做作业，打排球，聊天，调情。我已记不得了，当我抬头看到她的时候我正在做什么。 她站在离我二十到三十米远的地方，穿着一条短裤，一件开襟的衬衫，腰间系着带子，正向我这边张望。我向她回望过去，离得太远，我看不清她的面部表情。我没有跳起来向她跑过去，我脑子里在想，她为什么在游泳池里？她是否愿意被我看见？她是否愿意我们被别人看到？我是否愿意我们被别人看到？因为我们还从未不期而遇过，我该如何是好？随后，我站了起来，就在我没有注视她的这一眨眼的工夫里，她离开了。 汉娜穿着短裤，一件开襟衬衫，腰间系着带子，带着我看不清的面部表情向我张望着。这也是汉娜留在我脑中的一个形象。 Section 17 第二天她不在了。和往常的时间一样我去了她那里，按响了门铃。透过房门我看到一切依旧，听得见挂钟在滴答滴答地响。 我又坐在了楼梯台阶上。在最初的几个月里，我一直知道她在哪条路段工作，尽管我不再设法去陪伴她，也不再想方设法去接她。不知从什么时候起，我不再问起此事，对此不再感兴趣了。现在，我又想到这事。 在威廉广场的电话厅里，我给有轨电车公司打了电话。电话被转来转去，最后得知汉娜·史密芝没有去上班。我又回到了火车站街，在院子里的木工厂那儿打听到那座房子为谁所有。我得到了一个名字和地址。这样我就去了基西海姆。 "史密芝女士？她今天早上搬了出去。" "那她的家具呢？" "那不是她的家具。" "她是从什么时候起住在那个房子里的？" "这与您有什么关系呢？"那个透过门窗跟我说话的女人把窗户关上了。 在有轨电车公司的办公大楼里，我到处打听人事部。有关的一位负责人很友好，也很担忧。 "她今天早上打来电话，很及时，使我们有可能安排别人来代替。她说她不再来了，彻底地不来了。"他摇着头说，"十四天前，她坐在您现在的位子上，我给她提供了一次受培训当司机的机会，可她放弃了一切。" 几天以后，我才想起来去居民登记局。她注销了户籍去了汉堡，可没有留下地址。 我难受了许多天，注意着不让父母和兄弟姐妹看出来。在饭桌上，我参与他们的谈话，吃少许的东西，如果非要呕吐不可，也能忍看到了洗手间才吐出来。我去上学，去游泳池。在游泳池一个无人找得到的偏僻的角落里把下午的时间打发掉。我的肉体思念着汉娜，但是，比这种肉体的思念更严重的是我的负疚感。当她站在那儿时，我为什么没有立即跳起来向她跑过去！这件小事使我联想起了我在过去的几个月里对她的半心半意，由于这种半心半意，我否认了她，背叛了她。她的离去是对我的惩罚。 有时候，我企图这样开脱自己，说我看见的那个人不是她。我怎么能确信就是她呢？当时我的确没有看清楚她的脸。如果真的是她，难道我连她都认不出来吗？我真的不能确定那个人是不是她。 但是，我知道那个人就是她。她站在那儿，望着我。一切都晚了。