Chapter 32 32

What is the reason for this? I guessed and guessed: on December 24th, Marcy took a direct flight from Los Angeles to Boston, and she must have been thinking over and over again in her stomach all the way.The central one must be: What is the reason for this? What is the reason why he wants to invite me to meet his parents?And, let's spend Christmas together.Does his action mean that he is... seriously thinking about it? Questions like this, of course, have never been mentioned between me and her.However, I can say with great confidence that the plane is flying in the high stratosphere, and a talented female student from Bryn Marr College on the plane must have put forward many hypotheses. Do some research to find out the motives of the man she lives with in New York.

But she never raised the question, never asked me directly: "Oliver—why did you ask me?" Luckily she didn't mention it.Because to be honest, if she mentions it, I will definitely only say: "I can't say it." I made this decision hastily on a whim, which can be said to be my old problem.I called home without consulting Marcy.I didn't even think about it in my own mind. (Though Marcie was genuinely happy when I called to get her.) I also hastily sent a self-defeating message to my brain: that was just a friend, and you were about to take her to your house just in time for Christmas.There is no special meaning here, and there is no special "intent" at all.

fart! Oliver, are you still unclear?Asking a girl to meet your parents for Christmas, what else would that mean? Dude, this isn't a dance in a college class. Now it seems that these are all clear.A whole week has passed.I'm in the terminal at Logan Airport right now, and I'm pacing around the building as if by telepathy as her plane circles and waits to land. ①Boston's airport. Oliver, what does such a gesture signify in real life? After exploring the depths of my heart these days, I can now give a sober answer.This means that you want to get married.To establish a marriage relationship.A hundred years of success.Barrett, are you willing to accept this whirlwind of coming and going?

That is why the visit to Ipswich was supposed to satisfy a long-outdated wish: that marriage had better be done with parental approval.Strange, why do I still take my parents' opinions so seriously? Do you love her or not?Oliver? spit!What time is it, and you still ask yourself such a question, silly! foolish? ——Another inner voice yelled——Now is the time to ask! Ask me if I love her? This question is too complex to answer with a simple "yes" or "no". Then why did I insist that I wanted to marry her? because…… Yes, I'm afraid this is somewhat illogical.But I always think that a genuine commitment can be a catalyst.A wedding is held, and "love" will follow.

"Oliver!" The first person to get off the plane was the one I was thinking about silently.He looked in high spirits. "Hi, I miss you so much, my friend," she said before she finished her sentence, and her hand had already reached into my jacket, stroking and caressing heartily.Although I hugged her just as tightly, I couldn't put my hands on her body presumptuously.We are in Boston after all.What's the hurry, there will be plenty of time in the future. "Where's your little bag?" I asked. "I changed to a bigger one. Checked it in." "Oh ho. Did you mean to let us see the fashion show?"

"Nothing too trendy," she replied.And that admitted: the outfits she had brought in that tote bag had been carefully thought out. She was carrying a rectangular cargo bag in her hand. I volunteered: "I'll get it." "No, this thing breaks easily," she said. " "Ha, dare to pretend to be your heart," I teased her. "Don't talk nonsense," she said. "That was a gift for your father." "Oh." "I'm a little nervous, Oliver," she said. The Mystic River Bridge has passed, and we are now caught in Christmas traffic on Highway One.

"You're bullshit," I said. "What if they don't like me?" she added. "That's okay, I'll just replace you after Christmas, isn't it?" I replied. Marcy pouted.She pursed her lips and still looked so pretty. "Why don't you say something nice to cheer me up, Oliver," she said. "I'm nervous too," I said. The car drove up Groton Street to our gate.As soon as we turned the corner, we entered our home territory.Entering the gate is the long driveway.The trees on both sides are bare, but the surrounding area still maintains a forested and quiet atmosphere.

"It's quiet," Marcy said. (She could have said "big and worthless" in the same way. I think I said it so bluntly when I went to her house, but she is by no means the kind of narrow-minded woman.) "Mom, this is Marcy Nash." Marcie's ex-husband, if nothing else, at least had a pretty good last name.It can be called extremely peaceful, and it will never arouse people's associations. "We're so glad you're here, Marcie," said Mom. "We've been looking forward to your coming." "I am also very grateful for your kind invitation."

The beautiful words are full of hype, it's all nonsense!Look at these two well-educated ladies and gentlemen, their faces are full of smiles, and their eyebrows are expressive. The old-fashioned and entertaining words they say without saying anything are a pillar of our huge society.Then there are "you must be tired enough to travel all the way", and "you are so busy for the holidays that you are hard enough", and so on. Dad came in, so the routine had to be repeated.But my father couldn't help but let out a sentence, saying that Marcy was really a good-looking talent.According to their set of rules, Marcy should be tired, so at this time she went upstairs to the guest room to freshen up and take a rest.

Leaving me and my parents, the three sat opposite each other.They all asked each other how they were doing recently, and they all said they were fine.After hearing this, everyone naturally praised it again and again.It's going to be singing carols in a minute, and Marcie ("the sweet girl" as her mother called her) is tired from traveling, can I join?It's very cold outside. "Marcie is amazing," I'm afraid I mean more than just her physical strength. "To sing carols, she's not afraid of the storm." "It's a big snowstorm," Marcie said, just walking in.He has already put on a set of ski goggles, and this year's St. Moritz ①skier's fashion clothes must be like this. "I want to sing out of tune, and I wish the wind would be stronger, so as not to be heard by others."

①A ski resort in Switzerland. "It's all right, Marcie," said Mama, who wasn't too quick-witted, but she took it seriously. "The focus is on esprit①." ①French: spirit. Whenever Mama got the chance, she slipped a few words in French between her words.She's been at Smith College for two years, don't you think so? "You have a nice suit, Marcie," Pa said.I believe he must be secretly amazed: this tailor is so skilled, and a winter suit can still bring out her... good waist. "It's windy," Marcy said. "It's really terrible to be cold in this season," my mother also said. You see, some people only talk about the weather all day long, but they can still be happy, healthy and live a long life. "Oliver told me that before we came here," Marcie said. Marcie's ability is really great, she can deal with such idle chattering.It's like jelly candy, it's like a bullet in her hands. At seven-thirty we assembled in front of the church with a dozen or so high-ranking bums from Ipswich.In our Christmas carol singing team, the oldest is Harvard Class 10 Lyman Nichols, who is seventy-nine, and the youngest is Amy Harris, who is only five years old this year.Amy is the daughter of my undergraduate classmate Stewart. I haven't met my girlfriend without being dazzled, except for Stuart.And what would he think of Marcy?I could see that his heart was in two people, one was little Amy (who was of course greatly rewarded), and the other was Sarah.Sara did not come and stayed at home with Benjamin, who was only ten months old. Suddenly, I realized that I was also trekking on the journey of life.Only then did I really feel that the years flowed by.Unconsciously, there was a sense of desolation in my heart. Stewart had a van, so we took his car.I sat Amy on my lap. "You're lucky, Oliver," said Stuart. "No," I replied. Marcie looked envious, as she had to in her part. Hear, the messenger angel is singing... We are very familiar with this program, and we are also very familiar with this route: every family of the dignified people in the parish will go there, and when they see us delivering carols to their doors, they all give a polite applause, Treat us with some non-alcoholic cider, and milk biscuits for the children. Marcy liked it a lot. "It's very country, Oliver," she said. By 9:30, almost all the houses that should be visited have been patrolled, and every round of wine that should be drunk has almost been drunk (haha, there is a Christmas saying, "the tour pays for the tour").As usual, the last stop was our grand family mansion, Dover. Ah, come, pious ones... I watched my parents come to see us at the door.Seeing the smiles on their faces, I wondered: Is it because Marcy is next to me?Or is it that little Amy Harris is not only loved by me, but also by them? Our family entertains everyone with more food and drink.In addition to the usual milk juice wine, there is also a fragrant and sweet hot wine for the adults with frozen hands and feet to drive away the cold. ("You're the savior," class 10 Nichols said, patting Dad on the back.) After a while, everyone dispersed. I drank enough hot wine. Marcy drank some strained eggnog. "That's interesting, Oliver," she said, and took my hand. I think my mother also noticed her behavior.But my mother didn't express any displeasure.If Dad had any reaction, it would be a hint of envy. We decorated the Christmas tree, and Marcie said how beautiful the baubles were, and there was a little star, which Marcie knew immediately was made of crystal. ("That's a beautiful star, Mrs. Barrett. It looks Czech." "Czech. My mother bought it shortly before the war.") There are quite a lot of quaint and rare gadgets (some of them are really old enough, I wish our family had better forget that era).Marcie and the others also hung strings of popcorn and sour fruit on the branches, and Marcie hung up, feeling embarrassed: "Who made these strings, it took a lot of effort." It's gone!" This allowed Dad to catch the words without any effort. "My wife has done almost nothing else this week." "Oh, it's true." Mom blushed. I wasn't that interested in that kind of talk, I just sat there and sipped some heartwarming mulled wine and thought: Marcie is trying to make out with them on purpose. At 11:30, the Christmas tree is fully decorated and the presents are placed under the tree. Next to the wool sock I have been using for years and years, there is an extra old sock that made its debut this year, which is for my guests. of.It's time to say see you tomorrow.Mom gave a hint, and we all went upstairs as ordered.At the stairway, everyone wished each other happiness, and hoped that they could all have a sweet dream. "See you tomorrow, Marcie," Mom said. "See you tomorrow, thank you," was the other party's reply. "See you tomorrow, honey," Mom said to me this time, and kissed me on the cheek.It was a quick kiss, which I understood as Marcy's approval. " The old couple went back to the room.Marcy turned around. "I'll sneak up to your room in a minute," I said. "Are you crazy?" "No, I'm really overwhelmed," I replied. "Hey, Marcy, it's Christmas Eve." "I wonder if your parents would freak out if they found out," she said.She was probably telling the truth. "Marcie, I bet even the old couple would think of making out tonight." "They're officially married," Marcy said.After a hasty kiss on my lips, she broke free from my hand and left. Oh, look at this bad luck! I shuffled to my old room. The interior decorations were all from my teenage years (ball game pennants, group photos of the team members), and they were all still intact, like antiques displayed in a museum.I really want to radio the guy on the boat and say, "Phil, I hope at least you've made it worthwhile." I didn't make this call. When I go to bed, I don't even know what I want for Christmas. Good morning!Merry Christmas!Come on, this pack of gifts is for you! Mom gave Dad another box of ties and high-count sea-island cotton handkerchiefs.Looks pretty much the same as last year.But the dressing gown that my father gave to my mother is similar to last year's. I got six ties, and I don't know what to call them, but according to Brooks & Co., they're the ideal tie for young people these days. ① Brooks Brothers, a high-end men's clothing store in New York. Mama gave Marcie a new book by Daphne du Maurier that had just come out. ① Daphne Du Maurier (1907-), a contemporary British female writer, author. I spend only five minutes a year shopping for Christmas gifts, and it shows in the gifts I send to everyone.Mom got some handkerchiefs, Dad got ties again, and Marcie got a book called "Happy Spoon" (to see if she was touched by anything). We all waited with eagerness (and that was only a relative term) to see what our distinguished guest would bring. First of all, unlike us, Marcie's gift was not wrapped at home.Her gift was brought from California, and the outer packaging was completely professional (I don't know which treasure it came from). Mom got a baby blue cashmere scarf ("Gee, why did you do that"). Naturally, what I gave my father was the rectangular bag. When I opened it, it turned out to be a bottle of 59-year-old "Chateau Brion" wine. Dad said: "It's a fine wine!" In fact, Dad is not an expert in wine tasting.Our "wine cellar" is quite limited, we have some scotch whiskey for father's guests, some sherry for mother's ladies' guests, and a case or two of fine champagne for grand occasions It's about time. I got a pair of gloves.Of course the stuff is very elegant, but I'm not very happy: Marcy gave me a gift that can only be worn on the arm separated by arms.That would be too far-fetched. ("So you'd rather I give you a mink-lined amulet?" she asked me afterwards. "Yes—that's where I get the worst cold!") The last one, and the last one, was given to me by my father, with this same old face every year: a check. Spread joy everywhere... Mr. Weeks' electric organ played vigorously, and we followed the procession into the church, and made our way to our usual seats.The church was already full, and people from families similar to ours were almost the same, and they all cast appreciative glances, scrutinizing our female guests there without losing their steadiness. ("She's not from here," I'm sure they all said.) But no one turned their necks and stared openly enough, except the Rhodes family. The old lady is an exception, she is already in her nineties--it is said that she is already in her nineties--so she can break the rules and allow her to look at her grandly. But everyone in the church was watching the expressions on the faces of Granny Rhodes's.They couldn't fail to see the grin on the old woman's face after she had made an impeccable observation of Marcie.Ah, this old lady is satisfied! We sang carols gracefully (not at the top of our voices like last night), and the Reverend Mr. Lindley presided over the service, but all we heard was a humming.Dad read a scripture, and in all fairness he read it well.He paused at every comma, unlike Mr. Lindley, who had to pause before reading a few words. As soon as I heard the sermon, my God, it turns out that our pastor can keep up with the world situation.He mentioned the flames of war in Southeast Asia, and asked us to take advantage of the Christmas season to reflect on how much this warring world needs a Prince of Peace①. ① Refers to Jesus Christ. Luckily Reverend Lindley was asthmatic, so he gave a very short sermon out of breath, which was a blessing. After the blessing was over and the ceremony was over, we all exited the lobby and went to the steps outside.This scene can be said to be a repeat of the annual alumni reunion after the Harvard-Yale contest.But this morning, no one smelled a trace of alcohol in their mouths. "Jackson!" "Mason!" "Harris!" "Barrett!" "Cabot!" "Lowell!" My goodness! When the names of some old friends are mentioned in the speech, the voice is clear, what is said here, it is all mumbled and unintelligible, anyway, they are all innocuous and trivial things.Mom also has some friends to say hello to, but they are much quieter. Then suddenly I heard a voice shouting loudly, clearly saying: "Ma-ah dear!" I turned around quickly and saw my girlfriend hugging someone. If it wasn't for an old guy, I'd knock out his teeth and make him swallow it, church or not! Mom and Dad rushed over immediately to see who greeted Marcy so affectionately. It was old Standish Farnham who held Marcy tightly in his arms. "Oh, Uncle Standish, I didn't expect to have the honor of meeting you here!" Mom seemed to be getting excited all of a sudden.Marcy was really his niece?This is a famous person in "Our Way". "Ma-xi, how can a lady like you who has lived in a big city for a long time come to this wild place like us?" Standish opened his mouth wide when he pronounced "ah". Big enough to swallow the entire Boston Harbor. "She's staying at our house," Mom interjected. "Oh, Alison, that's kind of you," Standish said, winking furtively in my direction. "You have to watch her carefully, and be careful not to let that pretty young man of your family get her ideas." "We've got her under glass," I said sarcastically.Mr. Standish laughed. "Are you two relatives?" I asked instantly, wishing Standish would put his hands down and stop wrapping his arms around Marcie's waist. "It's blood and blood. Mr. Farnham and my father were partners," she said. "It's not a partner," he insisted, "it's a brother." Mom let out an "oh", and it could be seen that she was eager to learn more about the situation through this new clue. "We've had some racehorses in partnership," Standish said. "Later, her father passed away, and I also sold the horses. I can no longer get the energy to play with those things." "Really?" Looking at the look on Mom's face under her Christmas hat, it can be seen that her curiosity has become a complete Vesuvius. (Because Standish was only when everyone in our family knew who Marcie's dad was.) "Come and sit with me in the afternoon if you have time," said Mr. Farnham before parting. "I've got to go back to New York, Uncle Standish." "Ah—you're such a busy little girl," he yelled happily. "Hey, no shame! Sneaking into Boston like a thief." He blew a kiss to Marcie, then turned to us and said: "Got to make her eat more. If I remember well, my little Mar--Sie was always a diet pie. Merry Christmas everyone!" He was about to go when he remembered something, and called out again: "You've done well, Ma-ah, keep it up. We're all proud of you!" Dad drove us home in Mom's van.All the way in silence, that means a lot. The Christmas lunch was underway, and Dad opened a bottle of champagne. Mom suggested, "Cheers to Marcy." We all raised our glasses and Marcy just touched his lips.That's when I did something that seemed uncharacteristic to me: I suggested, a toast to Jesus. There are six people in total.In addition to the four of us, there were two more guests: Mama's nephew Geoffrey, from Virginia, and Aunt Helen, Grandpa's sister, an old lady whom I saw She would think of Methuselah, and remember that she and her grandfather had studied at Harvard together.The old aunt was deaf, and Jeffrey seemed to have a nematode in his stomach, so he just buried himself in eating him.So the speeches during the banquet were all clichés. ① The long-lived old man in the "Bible Old Testament" is said to be 969 years old ("Genesis" 5:27). We all raved about how well that turkey was roasted. "Don't praise me, praise Florence," Mom said modestly. "She's been up at dawn to roast this turkey." "Especially the seasoning stuffed inside, the taste is absolutely amazing," my New York friend said happily. "After all, it's Ipswich's oysters, which are not comparable," said Mom, really proud of herself. We enjoyed it to the fullest, and the dishes were all so plentiful.Jeffrey and I are literally competing to see who can be the famous food today. At this time, strange!Dad opened a second bottle of champagne.My mind was in a daze, but I still had some counts in my heart. It seemed that my father and I were the only ones drinking there.I drank the most, that's why I was so dazed. And finally there's Florence's specialty, the year-round mince pies.After Xi finished, I retreated to the living room to have coffee, and it was already three o'clock in the afternoon. I'll have to wait a while before Marcy and I can start back to New York.I have to wait for my stomach to digest and digest, and my mind to wake up. Mom asked Marcie, "Shall we go for a walk, Marcie?" "Excellent, Mrs. Barrett." They went for a walk. The old aunt was already beating her food, and Geoffrey had gone upstairs to watch the football game on TV. That leaves dad and me. "I'd love to get a change of air, too, to cool off," I said. "Just go for a walk," Dad replied. As soon as we put on our coats, we came out into the cold windy air outside.It was clear to me that the idea of ​​going out for a walk had actually been suggested to him by me.I could have gone upstairs and watched football like Jeffrey did.But I don't want to do that, I want to talk.I want to talk to my dad. "She's a lovely girl," Dad asked without waiting for me to ask him. But I think that's exactly what I want to talk to him about. "Thank you, Dad," I replied. "That's my opinion too." "She seems to... like you very much." We were now in the woods.All around are trees stripped of dead leaves. "I...seem to like her a little too," I said after a long while. Dad discerned the flavor of my words word by word.I'm so talkative, he hasn't seen much before.I have been used to contradicting him over the years, so he is undoubtedly still a little worried, afraid that I might disagree with him at any time, so he will talk to him.But now he gradually realized that it would not be the case.So he boldly asked me: "Are you serious?" We walked all the way without making a sound for a long time, and finally I looked at him and replied softly: "If only I could say it right." Although what I said was vague, like a charade, Dad still understood clearly: I am not lying, this is exactly how I feel right now.Bottom line: a little overwhelmed. "Is there... anything embarrassing?" he asked. I looked at him and nodded silently. "I see," he said. How do you understand?I haven't told him anything yet. "Oliver, you are still very sad, and this should be said to be human." I was surprised that my father's eyesight was so strong.Could it be that he just wanted to say a few words... to persuade me? "No, it's not because of Gianni," I replied. "To tell you the truth, I'm ready to..." Why should I tell him? He didn't come to ask.He just waited patiently for me to get my meaning across. After a while, he said softly: "Didn't you say there is something embarrassing?" "It's her family that's giving me a hard time," I told him. "Oh?" he said. "Where are they... not very willing?" "It's my own reluctance," I answered him. "Her father..." "how?" "...the late Walter Binningdale." "I see," he said. Such a brief sentence ended the most intimate emotional exchange between our father and son in their lives.