the notebook-恋恋笔记本(英文版)-第12部分

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as　hurt　and　angry；　and　tried　for　almost　an　hour　to　change　your　mind；　but　when　you　stood　firm　and　said；　〃I　can't　go　back　with　you；　I'm　so　sorry；〃　he　knew　that　your　decision　had　been　made。　You　said　he　simply　nodded　and　the　two　of　you　sat　together　for　a　long　time　without　speaking。　I　have　always　wondered　what　he　was　thinking　as　he　sat　with　you；　but　I'm　sure　it　was　the　same　way　I　felt　only　a　few　hours　before。　And　when　he　finally　walked　you　to　your　car；　you　said　he　told　you　that　I　was　a　lucky　man。　He　behaved　as　a　gentleman　would；　and　I　understood　then　why　your　choice　was　so　hard。

I　remember　that　when　I　finished　the　story；　the　room　was　quiet　until　Kate　finally　stood　to　embrace　me。　〃Oh；　Daddy；〃　she　said　with　tears　in　her　eyes；　and　though　I　expected　to　answer　their　questions；　they　did　not　ask　any。　Instead；　they　gave　me　something　much　more　special。　For　the　next　four　hours；　each　of　them　told　me　how　much　the　two　of　us　had　meant　to　them　growing　up。　One　by　one；　they　told　stories　about　things　I　had　long　since　forgotten。　And　by　the　end　I　was　crying；　because　I　realized　how　well　we　had　done　with　raising　them。　I　was　so　proud　of　them；　and　proud　of　you；　and　happy　about　the　life　we　have　led。　And　nothing　will　ever　take　that　away。　Nothing。　I　only　wish　you　could　have　been　here　to　enjoy　it　with　me。

After　they　left；　I　rocked　in　silence；　thinking　back　on　our　life　together。　You　are　always　here　with　me　when　I　do　so；　at　least　in　my　heart；　and　it　is　impossible　for　me　to　remember　a　time　when　you　were　not　a　part　of　me。　I　do　not　know　who　I　would　have　bee　had　you　never　e　back　to　me　that　day。

I　love　you；　Allie。　I　am　who　I　am　because　of　you。　You　are　every　reason；　every　hope　and　every　dream　I've　ever　had；　and　no　matter　what　happens　to　us　in　the　future；　every　day　we　are　together　is　the　greatest　day　of　my　life。　I　will　always　be　yours。

And；　my　darling；　you　will　always　be　mine。

Noah

I　put　the　pages　aside　and　remember　sitting　with　Allie　on　our　porch　when　she　read　this　letter　for　the　first　time。　It　was　late　afternoon　and　the　last　remnants　of　the　day　were　fading。　The　sky　was　slowly　changing　colour；　and　as　I　watched　the　sun　go　down　I　remember　thinking　about　that　brief；　flickering　moment　when　day　suddenly　turns　into　night。　Dusk；　I　realized；　is　just　an　illusion；　because　the　sun　is　either　above　the　horizon　or　below　it。　And　that　means　that　day　and　night　are　linked　in　a　way　that　few　things　are；　there　cannot　be　one　without　the　other；　yet　they　cannot　exist　at　the　same　time。　How　would　it　feel；　I　remember　wondering；　to　be　always　together；　yet　forever　apart？　I　know　the　answer　now。　I　know　what　it's　like　to　be　day　and　night　now；　always　together；　forever　apart。

THERE　IS　BEAUTY　where　we　sit　this　afternoon；　Allie　and　I。　This　is　the　pinnacle　of　my　life。　The　birds；　the　geese；　float　on　the　cool　water；　which　reflects　bits　and　pieces　of　their　colours　and　makes　them　seem　larger　than　they　really　are。　Allie　too　is　taken　in　by　their　wonder；　and　little　by　little　we　get　to　know　each　other　again。

〃It's　good　to　talk　to　you。　I　find　that　I　miss　it；　even　when　it　hasn't　been　that　long。〃　I　am　sincere　and　she　knows　this；　but　she　is　still　wary。　I　am　a　stranger。

〃Is　this　something　we　do　often？〃　she　asks。　〃Do　we　sit　here　and　watch　the　birds　a　lot？　I　mean；　do　we　know　each　other　well？〃

〃Yes　and　no。　I　think　everyone　has　secrets；　but　we　have　been　acquainted　for　years。〃

She　looks　to　her　hands；　then　mine。　She　thinks　about　this　for　a　moment；　her　face　at　such　an　angle　that　she　looks　young　again。　We　do　not　wear　our　rings。　Again；　there　is　a　reason　for　this。　She　asks：　〃Were　you　ever　married？〃

I　nod。　〃Yes。〃

〃What　was　she　like？〃

I　tell　the　truth。　〃She　was　my　dream。　She　made　me　who　I　am；　and　holding　her　in　my　arms　was　more　natural　to　me　than　my　own　heartbeat。　I　think　about　her　all　the　time。　Even　now；　when　I'm　sitting　here；　I　think　about　her。　There　could　never　have　been　another。〃

She　takes　this　in。　I　don't　know　how　she　feels　about　this。　Finally　she　speaks　softly；　her　voice　angelic；　sensual。　I　wonder　if　she　knows　I　think　these　things。　〃Is　she　dead？〃

〃My　wife　is　alive　in　my　heart。　And　she　always　will　be；〃　I　answer。

〃You　still　love　her；　don't　you？〃

〃Of　course。　But　I　love　many　things。　I　love　to　sit　here　with　you。　I　love　to　watch　the　osprey　swoop　towards　the　creek　and　find　its　dinner。　I　love　to　share　the　beauty　of　this　place　with　someone　I　care　about。〃

She　is　quiet　for　a　moment。　She　looks　away　so　I　can't　see　her　face。　It　has　been　her　habit　for　years。　〃Why　are　you　doing　this？〃　No　fear；　just　curiosity。　This　is　good。　I　know　what　she　means；　but　I　ask　anyway。

〃What？〃

〃Why　are　you　spending　the　day　with　me？〃

I　smile。　〃I'm　here　because　this　is　where　I'm　supposed　to　be。　It's　not　plicated。　Both　you　and　I　are　enjoying　ourselves。　Don't　dismiss　my　time　with　you—it's　not　wasted。　It's　what　I　want。　I　sit　here　and　we　talk　and　I　think　to　myself；　“What　could　be　better　than　what　I　am　doing　now？〃

She　looks　me　in　the　eyes；　and　for　a　moment；　just　a　moment；　her　eyes　twinkle。　A　slight　smile　forms　on　her　lips。　〃I　like　being　with　you；　but　if　getting　me　intrigued　is　what　you're　after　you've　succeeded。　I　admit　I　enjoy　your　pany；　but　I　know　nothing　about　you。　I　don't　expect　you　to　tell　me　your　life　story；　but　why　are　you　so　mysterious？〃

〃I　read　once　that　women　love　mysterious　strangers。〃

〃See；　you　haven't　really　answered　the　question。　You　haven't　answered　most　of　my　questions。　You　didn't　even　tell　me　how　the　story　ended　this　morning。〃

I　shrug。　We　sit　quietly　for　a　while。　Finally　I　ask：　〃Is　it　true　that　women　love　mysterious　strangers？〃

She　thinks　about　this　and　laughs。　Then　she　answers　as　I　would：　〃I　think　some　women　do。〃

〃Do　you？〃

〃Now　don't　go　putting　me　on　the　spot。　I　don't　know　you　well　enough　for　that。〃　She　is　teasing　me　and　I　enjoy　it。

We　sit　and　watch　the　world　around　us。　This　has　taken　us　a　lifetime　to　learn。　It　seems　only　the　old　are　able　to　sit　next　to　one　another　and　not　say　anything　and　still　feel　content。　The　young；　brash　and　impatient；　must　always　break　the　silence。　It　is　a　waste；　for　silence　is　pure。　Silence　is　holy。　It　draws　people　together　because　only　those　who　are　fortable　with　each　other　can　sit　without　speaking。　This　is　the　great　paradox。

Time　passes；　and　gradually　our　breathing　begins　to　coincide。　Deep　breaths；　relaxed　breaths；　and　there　is　a　moment　when　she　dozes　off；　like　those　fortable　with　one　another　often　do。　When　she　wakes；　a　miracle：　〃Do　you　see　that　bird？〃　She　points　to　it；　and　I　strain　my　eyes。　It　is　a　wonder　I　can　see　it；　but　I　can　because　the　sun　is　bright。

〃Caspian　stern；〃　I　say　softly；　and　we　devote　our　attention　to　it　as　it　glides　over　Brices　Creek。　And；　like　an　old　habit　rediscovered；　when　I　lower　my　arm；　I　put　my　hand　on　her　knee　and　she　doesn't　make　me　move　it。

SHE　IS　RIGHT　about　my　evasiveness。　On　days　like　these；　when　only　her　memory　is　gone；　I　am　vague　in　my　answers　because　I've　hurt　my　wife　unintentionally　with　careless　slips　of　my　tongue　many　times　these　past　few　years；　and　I　am　determined　not　to　let　it　happen　again。　So　I　limit　myself　and　answer　only　what　is　asked；　to　limit　the　pain。　There　are　days　she　never　learns　of　her　children　or　that　we　are　married。　I　am　sorry　for　this；　but　I　will　not　change。

Does　this　make　me　dishonest？　Perhaps；　but　I　have　seen　her　crushed　by　the　waterfall　of　information　that　is　her　life。　Could　I　look　myself　in　the　mirror　without　red　eyes　and　quivering　jaw　and　know　I　have　forgotten　all　that　was　important　to　me？　I　could　not　and　neither　can　she；　for　when　this　odyssey　began；　that　is　how　I　began。　Her　life；　her　marriage；　her　children。　Her　friends　and　her　work。

The　days　were　hard　on　both　of　us。　I　was　an　encyclopedia；　an　object　without　feeling；　of　the　whos；　whats　and　wheres　in　her　life；　when　in　reality　it　is　the　whys；　the　things　I　did　not　know　and　could　not　answer；　that　make　it　all　worth　while。　She　would　stare　at　pictures　of　forgotten　offspring；　hold　paintbrushes　that　inspired　nothing；　and　read　love　letters　that　brought　back　no　joy。　She　would　weaken　over　the　hours；　growing　paler；　being　bitter　and　ending　the　day　worse　than　when　it　began。　Our　days　were　lost　and　so　was　she。

So　I　changed。　I　learned　what　is　obvious　to　a　child。　That　life　is　simply　a　collection　of　little　lives；　each　lived　one　day　at　a　time。　That　each　day　should　be　spent　finding　beauty　in　flowers　and　poetry　and　talking　to　animals。　That　a　day　spent　with　dreaming　and　sunsets　and　refreshing　breezes　cannot　be　bettered。　But　most　of　all；　I　learned　that　life　is　for　sitting　on　benches　next　to　ancient　creeks　with　my　hand　on　her　knee　and　sometimes；　on　good　days；　for　falling　in　love。

〃WHAT　ARE　you　thinking？〃　she　asks。

It　is　now　dusk。　We　have　left　our　bench　and　are　shuffling　along　lighted　paths　that　wind　their　way　around　this　plex。　She　is　holding　my　arm　and　I　am　her　escort。　It　is　her　idea　to　do　this。　Perhaps　she　is　charmed　by　me。　Perhaps　she　wants　to　keep　me　from　falling。　Either　way；　I　am　smiling　to　myself。

〃I'm　thinking　about　you。〃

She　makes　no　response　to　this　except　to　squeeze　my　arm；　and　I　can　tell　she　likes　what　I　said。　Our　life　together　has　enabled　me　to　see　the　clues；　even　if　she　does　not　know　them　herself。　I　go　on：　〃I　know　you　can't　remember　who　you　are；　but　I　can；　and　I　find　that　when　I　look　at　you　it　makes　me　feel　good。〃

　She　taps　my　arm　and　smiles。　〃You're　a　kind　man　with　a　loving　heart。　I　hope　I　enjoyed　you　as　much　before　as　I　do　now。〃

I　think　about　this　as　we　walk　in　silence；　holding　each　other；　past　the　rooms；　past　the　courtyard。　We　e　to　the　garden；　mainly　wild　flowers；　and　I　stop　her。　I　pick　a　bundle—red；　pink；　yellow；　violet。　I　give　them　to　her；　and　she　brings　them　to　her　nose。　She　smells　them　with　eyes　closed　and　she　whispers；　〃They're　beautiful。〃　We　resume　our　walk；　me　in　one　hand；　the　flowers　in　another。　People　watch　us；　for　we　are　a　walking　miracle；　or　so　I　am　told。　It　is　true　in　a　way。

By　the　time　we　reach　the　doorway；　I　am　tired。　She　knows　this；　so　she　stops　me　with　her　hand　and　makes　me　face　her。　I　do；　and　I　realize　how　hunched　over　I　have　bee。　She　and　I　are　now　level。　Sometimes　I　am　glad　she　doesn't　know　how　much　I　have　changed。　She　turns　to　me　and　stares　for　a　long　time。

〃What　are　you　doing？〃　I　ask。

〃I　don't　want　to　forget　you　or　this　day；　and　I'm　trying　to　keep　your　memory　alive。〃

Will　it　work　this　time？　I　wonder；　then　know　it　will　not。　It　can't。　I　do　not　tell　her　my　thoughts；　though。　I　smile　instead　because　her　words　are　sweet。

〃Thank　you；〃　I　say。

〃I　mean　it。　I　don't　want　to　forget　you　again。　You're　very　special　to　me。　I　don't　know　what　I　would　have　done　without　you　today。〃

My　throat　closes　a　little。　There　is　emotion　behind　her　words；　the　emotions　I　feel　whenever　I　think　of　her。　I　know　this　is　why　I　live；　and　I　love　her　dearly　at　this　moment。　How　I　wish　I　were　strong　enough　to　carry　her　in　my　arms　to　paradise。

〃Don't　try　to　say　anything；〃　she　tells　me。　〃Let's　just　feel　the　moment。〃

And　I　do；　and　I　feel　heaven。

HER　DISEASE　is　worse　now　than　it　was　in　the　beginning；　though　Allie　is　different　from　most。　There　are　three　others　with　the　disease　here；　and　they　are　the　sum　of　my　practical　experience　of　it。　They；　unlike　Allie；　are　in　the　most　advanced　stages　of　Alzheimer's　and　are　almost　pletely　lost。　They　wake　up　hallucinating　and　confused。　They　repeat　themselves　over　and　over。　Seldom　do　they　recognize　the　people　who　love　them。　It　is　a　trying　disease；　and　this　is　why　it　is　hard　for　their　children　and　mine　to　visit。

Allie；　of　course；　has　her　own　problems。　She　is　terribly　afraid　in　the　mornings　and　cries　inconsolably。　She　sees　tiny　people；　like　gnomes；　I　think；　watching　her；　and　she　screams　at　them　to　get　away。　She　bathes　willingly　but　will　not　eat　regularly。　She　is　thin　now；　much　too　thin　in　my　opinion；　and　on　good　days　I　do　my　best　to　fatten　her　up。

But　this　is　where　the　similarity　ends。　This　is　why　Allie　is　considered　a　miracle；　because　sometimes；　just　sometimes；　after　I　read　to　her；　her　condition　isn't　so　bad。　There　is　no　explanation　for　this。　〃It's　impossible；〃　the　doctors　say；　〃she　cannot　have　Alzheimer's。〃　But　she　does。　On　most　days　and　every　morning　there　can　be　no　doubt。

But　why；　then；　is　her　condition　different？　Why　does　she　sometimes　change　after　I　read？　I　tell　the　doctors　the　reason—I　know　it　in　my　heart；　but　I　am　not　believed。　Four　times　specialists　have　travelled　from　Chapel　Hill　to　find　the　answer。　Four　times　they　have　left　without　understanding。　I　tell　them；　〃You　can't　possibly　understand　it　if　you　use　only　your　science　training　and　your　books；〃　but　they　shake　their　heads　and　answer：　〃Alzheimer's　does　not　work　like　this。　With　her　condition；　it's　just　not　possible　to　have　a　conversation　or　improve　as　the　day　goes　on。　Ever。〃

But　she　does。　Not　every　day；　not　most　of　the　time；　and　definitely　less　than　she　used　to。　But　sometimes。　And　all　that　is　gone　on　these　days　is　her　memory；　as　if　she　has　amnesia。　Her　emotions　are　normal；　her　thoughts　are　normal。　And　these　are　the　days　that　I　know　I　am　doing　right。

DINNER　IS　WAITING　in　her　room　when　we　return。　It　has　been　arranged　for　us　to　eat　here；　as　it　always　is　on　days　like　these；　and　once　again　I　could　ask　for　no　more。　The　people　here　are　good　to　me　and　I　am　thankful。

The　lights　are　dimmed；　the　room　is　lit　by　two　candles　on　the　table　where　we　will　sit；　and　music　is　playing　softly　in　the　background。　The　cups　and　plates　are　plastic　and　the　carafe　is　filled　with　apple　juice；　but　rules　are　rules　and　she　doesn't　seem　to　care。

She　inhales　slightly　at　the　sight。　Her　eyes　are　wide。　〃Did　you　do　this？〃

I　nod　and　she　walks　into　the　room。

〃It　looks　beautiful。〃

I　offer　my　arm　in　escort　and　lead　her　to　the　window。　She　doesn't　release　it　when　we　get　there。　Her　touch　is　nice；　and　we　stand　close　together　on　this　crystal　springtime　evening。　The　window　is　open　slightly　and　I　feel　a　breeze　as　it　fans　my　cheek。　The　moon　has　risen　and　we　watch　for　a　long　time　as　the　evening　sky　unfolds。

〃I've　never　seen　anything　so　beautiful；　I'm　sure　of　it；〃　she　says。

〃I　haven't；　either；〃　I　say；　but　I　am　looking　at　her。　She　knows　what　I　mean　and　I　see　her　smile。

A　moment　later　she　whispers：　〃I　think　I　know　who　Allie　went　with　at　the　end　of　the　story。〃

〃Who？〃

〃She　went　with　Noah。〃

〃You're　sure？〃

〃Absolutely。〃

I　smile　and　nod。　〃Yes；　she　did；〃　I　say　softly；　and　she　smiles　back；　her　face　radiant。

She　sits　and　I　sit　opposite　her。　She　offers　her　hand　across　the　table　and　I　take　it　in　mine；　and　I　feel　her　thumb　begin　to　move　as　it　did　so　many　years　ago。　I　stare　at　her　for　a　long　time；　living　and　reliving　the　moments　of　my　life；　remembering　it　all　and　making　it　real。　I　feel　my　throat　begin　to　tighten　and　once　again　I　realize　how　much　I　love　her。

My　voice　is　shaky　when　I　finally　speak。

〃You're　so　beautiful；〃　I　say。　I　can　see　in　her　eyes　that　she　knows　how　I　feel　about　her　and　what　I　really　mean　by　my　words。

She　does　not　respond。　Instead　she　lowers　her　eyes　and　I　wonder　what　she's　thinking。　She　gives　me　no　clues　and　I　gently　squeeze　her　hand。　I　wait。　I　know　her　heart　and　I　know　I'm　almost　there。

And　then　a　miracle　that　proves　me　right。　As　Glenn　Miller　plays　softly　in　a　candlelit　room；　I　watch　as　she　gradually　gives　in　to　the　feelings　inside　her。　I　see　a　warm　smile　begin　to　form　on　her　lips；　the　kind　that　makes　it　all　worth　while；　and　I　watch　as　she　raises　her　hazy　eyes　to　mine。　She　pulls　my　hand　towards　her。　〃You're　wonderful。。。〃　she　say