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寄给园中的夫人:
在您给了我吃的,容我休息之后,我在一家商店找到了一份工作。
您让我感到值得尊敬。此时,让我来帮助您吧。
信纸中夹有3张1圆的钞票。
我凝视着手中的钱,好像再次看到那个蓬头散发、衣衫褴褛的年轻人。我的嘴唇抖了起来,但这不是哭泣的时候。“艾丽斯,亲爱的,快点。” 我一边往屋里跑,一边大叫着。“去商店买一双你能找到的最好的鞋吧。你明早将是艾克米商店应征者中最优雅的女孩。”
“妈妈,您醒了吗?您准备享用自己的生日宴了吗?”
我睁开眼睛,看到了周围我爱的人:优雅的艾丽斯,此时也已头发灰白,体态龙钟;年轻的丽贝卡,快活而可爱,所有的人,无论老少都很可爱。
“您刚才在讲故事给自己听吗,妈妈?” 艾丽斯戏弄地问道,“是一个很幸福的故事吧,妈妈。您刚才脸上还挂着笑容呢。”
“确实是一个美丽的故事。”
当我挣扎着站起来时,丽贝卡的新鞋从我的膝盖上掉了下去,发出轻柔的碰击声。
A Pair of New Shoes
Anonymous
“Don’t you just love my new shoes?”
Rebecca’s eyes shine with delight as she places a pair of elegant high…heeled shoes in my lap。 The shoes are impeccable1 in their simplicity; and nothing but my old knobby2 hands mar their sleek lines。
“Such fine leather! These are lovely。”
“And only eighty…five dollars!”
“Heavens!I must be getting old; Rebecca。 That seems a great deal of money for a pair of shoes。”
“Oh; Nana; I knew you’d say that。”
Rebecca’s lustrous hair swings in a soft curl as she leans forward to touch my cheek with a kiss。 Her perfume embodies the essence of spring and of youth。 At twenty…three; she is the baby of the family。 txt小说上传分享
一双新鞋(3)
“Now; don’t fall asleep; Nana。 Your party’s about to begin;”she whispers; and slips out of the room。
Sleep。 It would be so easy to let my wrinkled eyelids droop and to fall asleep like a fat old cat in the sun。 I blink several times to keep awake and turn my gaze to the dining room where a silver bowl of yellow roses graces the table in honor of my eighty…sixth birthday。 The linen has been laid and soon I shall feel its crispness beneath my fingertips。 The heavy silverware is in place and for a moment I wonder if my weak; old hands will handle it without embarrassing clatters on the delicate china。 The forting sound of voices and dinner preparations lulls me and I begin to caress the smooth; cool leather of Rebecca’s new shoes; which lie in my lap。 With each touch; I relax; I let go。 With each touch I remember another pair of shoes so long ago。 Was I only thirty…nine? Impossible! I can almost hear the voice that called to me as I stood in my garden on that scorching3 afternoon in that relentless summer of 1935。
“Missus; say; Missus!”
The husky voice startled me and I turned quickly。 The man at the fence was young; hardly twenty; with blond hair tousled like a little boy’s。 His clothes were dusty and rumpled; and I eyed him warily。 I often saw ragged; tired; solitary men pass by the house from the rail yards nearby; men off the freights; men moving about the country; looking for work。 My Jack was out there somewhere; too。
“Missus; could I please have a drink of water?”
“e into the yard。” I called; and pointed to the enameled cup that hung over the outdoor tap。 I had just filled three pails of water for my garden and had set them to warm in the sun。 The tap still dripped。
He drank in great gulps; swallowing slowly; and then splashed water on his face and ran his hands over his dusty hair and along the back of his neck。 “That feels good;” he said; by way of thanks; and stood there; self…conscious and awkward; a sudden tenseness ing over him when he noticed the pails sitting in the sun。
“Have you any work I can do for you? Weed and water your garden?”
Some garden! The bean and tomato plants struggled to survive in ground that was hard and cracked; and the sparse patch of lawn was no better。 What work could I offer him? The house required a coat of paint; but paint cost money; and I had none。 I made a pretense of looking around; before shaking my head。
When he dropped to the grass and placed his head on folded arms; I felt his tiredness and despair。 A sudden tightness caught at my throat。 He could be my son; I thought。 He looks as young as Alice。 I knew he must be hungry。 What could I give him? The icebox held so little: some milk; a knob of butter; and a few slices of bologna for Aice’s supper。
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