Chapter 23 twenty three

The date on Marcie's end would have to be postponed. Coincidentally, there was such a thing, and the time I met her happened to be about five o'clock in the afternoon.Later, when I went to the office, I thought, wouldn't this just conflict with my time to see a psychiatrist?So I called to discuss and wanted to make some adjustments. "What's the matter—retiring, my friend?" There was no meeting in her office this time.She teased me as much as she could. "I'll just put it off for an hour. Only sixty minutes!" "Reliable?" Marcy asked. "Believe it or not, it's up to you, don't you?"

In short, we had no choice but to run in the twilight.Fortunately, at this time, there is a lake with clear water reflecting the brilliant lights of the city, and the scenery is absolutely beautiful. Once I saw her again, I felt that all the uneasiness that had been lingering in my heart all day suddenly dissipated a lot.Look how beautiful she is!How can I be so forgetful: look how beautiful she is!After we kissed, we started running. "Are you busy today?" I asked. "Oh, it's not the same old headaches: there's a backlog of some goods, some goods can't be supplied, some little trouble with the transportation, some suicides that make everyone's eyes turn pale. But The main thing is thinking about you."

I typed the draft and thought of something to say.However, the innocuous running gossip died down afterwards, and I inevitably returned to the question I had raised earlier.Now she has come.Both have arrived.What was she thinking? "Don't you ever wonder where we're going?" "I think you must have a book in your heart, my friend." "Have you brought any clothes?" "We can't just go to dinner in our tracksuits, can we?" I'd love to know how many clothes she brought in total. "Where are all your things?" "In my car." She gestured toward Fifth Avenue. "There is only one air travel bag in total. You can carry it on and off the plane by yourself, that's the kind. It's very practical."

"You can leave as soon as you want to carry it with you." "Yes," she said, pretending not to understand what I was saying.We ran around again. "I've thought about it, let's go to my house," I pretended to say casually. "OK." "The house is not very big..." "That's nothing." "... just have to cook... and cook for yourself. People, it's just you and me. I'll do the hard work of doing the dishes. . . . " "That's good," she replied.After another hundred yards, she finally broke through our silent run.

"But Oliver," she said to me, with a little worry, "who's going to do the hard work of cooking?" I look at her. "I can tell from the feeling in my stomach that you are not joking." She really wasn't joking.When we were on the last lap, she revealed to me just how much of a cook she was.In this regard, her basic skills are equal to zero.At the beginning, she also wanted to sign up for the "famous chef" cooking school to learn some skills, but Michael firmly opposed it.It is said that you want to invite a master chef to cook a meal, isn't it always there when you are invited?I was secretly a little proud when I heard it.When it comes to cooking and cooking, making pasta, scrambled eggs, and doing some fresh tricks, I still have a hand.So I'm still old-fashioned in front of her, and I can teach her things in the kitchen.

Then we took the car to my house - it took more time to take the car than to walk.We stopped halfway to buy some takeaway food from a Chinese restaurant.I couldn't decide which dishes to choose, so I hesitated for a while. "What's the matter?" Marcy asked, seeing me poring over the menu. "It's not easy. I'm really a little undecided." Marcie said, "It's just a meal." Whether there was any meaning to it, or whether there was still a word left, I'll never be able to figure it out. I sit in my living room with last week's New York Times weekly issue and try to settle down.There was a lady taking a shower in the bathroom at the moment, and I just thought it was nothing unusual.

"Hey," I heard her call, "the towels here have a... smell." "Yeah," I said. "Do you still have clean ones?" "Nope," I said. There was no sound for a long time. "Just so-so," she said. There was a woman's breath in the bathroom.I thought I'd just have a quick shower (I have nothing in my bathroom but a crappy showerhead), but the smell kept me lingering.Am I reluctant to leave this warm current that makes me feel at ease? Yes, I am a passionate person.And a highly sensitive person.But it is strange to say that tonight, at this very moment, even though there is a woman in the outer room who is waiting for me to play "play house" with me, and willing to do everything according to my weird rules, I But I can't tell whether the feeling in my heart is joy or sadness.

I just feel that there is such a taste in my heart. Marcy Binningdale was in my little kitchen, not pretending to know, trying to light the gas range. "How can you light it without firewood?" I coughed from the gas, and hurriedly opened the window. "I'll show you." "I'm sorry, friend," she said, too embarrassed. "When I got to you, I was at a loss for what to do." I warmed up the cooked vegetables I bought, took out a few cans of beer, and poured another glass of orange juice.Marcie set the table on the low coffee table. "Where did you get these knives and forks?" she asked.

"Oh, I didn't buy it from one place." "I said. Why are there no pairs." "I like to have more variety." (Yes, we used to have a set of tableware. I'm afraid of the situation, and I put away everything that the couple used.) We sat on the ground and had dinner.I was nervous inside, but I tried to pretend to be as comfortable as possible on the surface.I am really afraid that the poor furnishings of my room, with the shabby appearance of a bachelor, will make my guest feel nostalgic for her old life. "That's not bad," she said, and gently pressed my hand. "Can you play some music?"

"I don't have any equipment here." (I've given away Janney's stereo VCR.) "Is there nothing?" "Only the radio, which I use as my alarm clock in the morning." "Can I listen to QAR Radio?" she asked. I nodded, forced a smile, and Marcy stood up.The radio is by the bed.It was about four or five steps away from where we sat on the ground.I wasn't sure if she'd turn on the radio and come back, or if she'd have to wait for me.Does she see my discouragement?Did she ever realize that my fiery passion had already turned into smoke?

Suddenly the phone rang. Marci happened to be standing in front of the phone. "I'll pick it up, Oliver?" "What's wrong?" "Maybe it's some little girl in your heart," she said with a smile. "You're looking too high. How could such a thing happen. Then just listen to it." She shrugged and picked up the phone to listen. "Hello. . . . Yes, that's right, it's the number. . . . Yes. He's... Who am I, you ask? Why are you asking that?" Damn, who is calling this call, actually interrogating the guests in the house?I stood up and snatched the phone with a straight face. "Hello? Who are you?" The other party didn't make a sound at first, and then only heard: "Congratulations!" A hoarse voice spoke. "Ah—it's Phil." "Oh, thank God!" Such a pious Cavilelli, his voice sounded like thunder when he mentioned God. "How are you, Phil?" I just asked nonchalantly. He didn't seem to hear at all, just kept asking him. "Is she good-looking?" "Who are you talking about, Philip?" I replied coldly. "It's her, it's your girl, that girl who answered the phone just now." "Oh, it's the girl who does the chores for me," I said. "Still busy with you at ten o'clock at night? Come on--don't play tricks. Just do it to me." "I mean my secretary. You remember Anita—the one with the thick hair. I had a case with the local board of education and I had to ask her to take some notes for me." "Don't lie to me. If that woman is Anita, then I'm the Cardinal of Cranston." "Phil, I'm busy right now." "I know you're busy. Then I won't bother you any more. I'll write to you later, but if you don't write back to me, I won't agree." Philip never speaks softly, so he yelled every sentence on the phone, and I can hear clearly from every corner of the room.Marcy was delighted to hear that. "Hi," I was surprised myself, and said it so calmly, "When will we get together?" "On your wedding day," said Philip. "what?" "Hey, is she tall or short? Fat or thin? White or black?" "She's as black as a brown loaf." "Ha!" I said something extra, making a joke, but Phil immediately caught the handle, "You admit it, it really is your girl. Hey, does she like you?" "I do not know either." "I'm really asking too much. How can she not like you! Look at you! If she still needs to hear the introduction, please ask her to listen to the phone, and I will encourage her again. Hi——please Where is she coming to listen to?" "That's nothing for you to worry about." "So she already has you in her heart? Does she love you very much?" "I do not know either." "Then what is she doing at your house at ten o'clock at night?" Marcy laughed so hard that tears flowed down her cheeks, and she didn't have time to wipe them away.She is laughing at me.Because I was trying so hard to look Puritan, but I was showing my feet everywhere. "Oliver, I know I'm bothering you, so I just ask you a question, and you can answer me in one sentence. As for whether you answer or not, it depends on whether you are willing or not." "About our reunion, Phil..." "Oliver, that's not what I'm asking." "Then what do you want to ask, Philip?" "When are you going to get married, Oliver?" With a loud click, he hung up the phone.I seem to have heard a giggle, too, far away from Cranston. "Who's that?" Marcie asked, though I'm sure she'd already guessed. "He seems to love you quite a bit." I looked at her gratefully: she understood. "Yeah. I kind of love him too." Marcie came and sat down on the bed and took my hand. "I know you're uncomfortable," she said. "It's a bit cramped here, with a small place and a lot of stuff," I said back to her. "You think too much. In fact, why don't I." We were relatively speechless for a while.Based on her intuition, how much can she guess about my thoughts? "Michael and I have never shared a room in that big suite over there," Marcie said to me all of a sudden later. "I've never shared a room with Jenny either...in this room." "I understand that," she said. "But if I ever meet Michael's parents, I'm bound to get a little headache and nausea or something. You can't help but feel bad when you think of Jenny so vividly." Everything she said made sense, and I couldn't refute a word. "Do you think it's better for me to go back?" she asked me. "If you let me go back, there will be absolutely nothing I can't figure out." Without even thinking about it, I replied "no" to her - because how else could I say it? "Let's go for a walk. Find a place to have a drink." Marcie has this strange temper: when she encounters something, she will "eat" it before talking about it.I'm not saying she's bad, I just admire her: I admire her strength, her ability to... deal with difficult situations. I ordered wine and orange juice for her. She realized that I was clenching my teeth and trying to "stiff", so the conversation was limited to innocuous topics.We're talking about her work. Most of us don't know much about what a corporate president of a chain store actually does.Actually, that's not a very interesting job.When I become the president, I have to visit every store, and I have to walk through every aisle between the shelves. "Go often?" "There is almost no time to stop. If you don't go to the domestic branch, you have to go to Europe and Asia to see the exhibitions there. In order to get some inspiration, the popular 'popular' products in the next pandemic may be reborn like this." "What the hell do you mean by 'popular' in your business jargon, Marcy?" "For example, the silly cashmere sweater I gave you, if you wear it, it will help us to promote this 'novel' product and make the so-called 'popular'. A sweater, nothing more ordinary, two, There are thirty stores selling them all. We have to rely on our sharp eyes to find products that can build our company's image, that is, products that customers have never thought of but feel that they need it when they see it. If we look for If it is accurate, customers will scramble to buy after seeing our advertising introduction. Do you understand?" "From the perspective of economics," I said in a proud tone of a famous university student, "you are creating false demand, and pushing consumers are originally worthless commodities." "It's not so stupid to say it, but it's a good word," she said, nodding. "To put it more clearly, if you say 'dung is popular now', then everyone will rush to buy dung." "Yes. But the difficulty lies in whether you can get ahead of others and come up with such a clever trick!" Marcy's car is still parked in front of my house (which is actually illegal).We got back very late.But once I got out and walked around, I felt much more relaxed.Maybe it was drinking a little wine that made me feel this way. "Okay, I'll take you home," she said. How cleverly said!It's all up to me.In my stomach, the idea...is finally decided. "Marcy, if you go back, you will sleep in a room alone, and I will sleep in a room alone. From an economic point of view, the utilization rate of the bedroom area is too low. You agree with me Is this the conclusion?" "Agreed," she said. "Besides, I really want to hold you in my arms." She admitted that what I said was right on her heart. Marcy woke me up and brought me a cup of coffee. How about serving it in a styrofoam cup? "I still can't turn on the gas stove," she said. "So I went to the shop around the corner to buy it."