You are my happiness 你才是我的幸福 She was dancing. My crippled grandmother was dancing. I stood in the living room doorway absolutely stunned. I glanced at the kitchen table and sure enough-right under a small, framed drawing on the wall-was a freshly baked peach pie.I heard her sing when I opened the door but did not want to interrupt the beautiful song by yelling I had arrived, so I just tiptoed to the living room. I looked at how her still-lean body bent beautifully, her arms greeting the sunlight that was pouring through the window. And her legs… Those legs that had stiffly walked, aided with a cane, insensible shoes as long as I could remember. Now she was wearing beautiful dancing shoes and her legs obeyed her perfectly. No limping. No stiffness. Just beautiful, fluid motion. She was the pet of the dancing world. And then she’d had her accident and it was all over. I had read that in an old newspaper clipping. She turned around in a slow pirouette and saw me standing in the doorway. Her song ended, and her beautiful movements with it, so abruptly that it felt like being shaken awake from a beautiful dream. The sudden silence rang in my ears. Grandma looked so much like a kid caught with her hand in a cookie jar that I couldn’t help myself, and a slightly nervous laughter escaped. Grandma sighed and turned towards the kitchen. I followed her, not believing my eyes. She was walking with no difficulties in her beautiful shoes. We sat down by the table and cut ourselves big pieces of her delicious peach pie. “So…” I blurted, “How did your leg heal?” “To tell you the truth—my legs have been well all my life,” she said. “But I don’t understand!” I said, “Your dancing career… I mean… You pretended all these years? “Very much so,” Grandmother closed her eyes and savored the peach pie, “And for a very good reason.” “What reason?” “Your grandfather.” “You mean he told you not to dance?” “No, this was my choice. I am sure I would have lost him if I had continued dancing. I weighed fame and love against each other and love won.” She thought for a while and then continued. “We were talking about engagement when your grandfather had to go to war. It was the most horrible day of my life when he left. I was so afraid of losing him, the only way I could stay sane was to dance. I put all my energy and time into practicing—and I became very good. Critics praised me, the public loved me, but all I could feel was the ache in my heart, not knowing whether the love of my life would ever return. Then I went home and read and re-read his letters until I fell asleep. He always ended his letters with ‘You are my Joy. I love you with my life’ and after that he wrote his name. And then one day a letter came. There were only three sentences: ‘I have lost my leg. I am no longer a whole man and now give you back your freedom. It is best you forget about me.’” “I made my decision there and then. I took my leave, and traveled away from the city. When I returned I had bought myself a cane and wrapped my leg tightly with bandages. I told everyone I had been in a car crash and that my leg would never completely heal again. My dancing days were over. No one suspected the story—I had learned to limp convincingly before I returned home. And I made sure the first person to hear of my accident was a reporter I knew well. Then I traveled to the hospital. They had pushed your grandfather outside in his wheelchair. There was a cane on the ground by his wheelchair. I took a deep breath, leaned on my cane and limped to him. ” By now I had forgotten about the pie and listened to grandma, mesmerized. “What happened then?” I hurried her when she took her time eating some pie. “I told him he was not the only one who had lost a leg, even if mine was still attached to me. I showed him newspaper clippings of my accident. ‘So if you think I’m going to let you feel sorry for yourself for the rest of your life, think again. There is a whole life waiting for us out there! I don’t intend to be sorry for myself. But I have enough on my plate as it is, so you’d better snap out of it too. And I am not going to carry you-you are going to walk yourself.’” Grandma giggled, a surprisingly girlish sound coming from an old lady with white hair. “I limped a few steps toward him and showed him what I’d taken out of my pocket. ‘Now show me you are still a man,’ I said, ‘I won’t ask again.’ He bent to take his cane from the ground and struggled out of that wheelchair. I could see he had not done it before, because he almost fell on his face, having only one leg. But I was not going to help. And so he managed it on his own and walked to me and never sat in a wheelchair again in his life.” “What did you show him?” I had to know. Grandma looked at me and grinned. “Two engagement rings, of course. I had bought them the day after he left for the war and I was not going to waste them on any other man.” I looked at the drawing on the kitchen wall, sketched by my grandfather’s hand so many years before. The picture became distorted as tears filled my eyes. “You are my Joy. I love you with my life.” I murmured quietly. The young woman in the drawing sat on her park bench and with twinkling eyes smiled broadly at me, an engagement ring carefully drawn on her finger.  她在跳舞。我那身有残疾的祖母居然在跳舞。我站在客厅的门口，被彻底惊呆了。我扫了一眼厨房的餐桌，果不其然，在餐桌上——墙上那幅小小的镶框画像的正下方——有一块新鲜出炉的烤蜜桃派。 当我推门进屋的时候，我听到了她在唱歌，但我不想大喊自己回来了，不想打断那美妙的歌声，于是我踮着脚尖走到客厅。我看着她那依然消瘦的身体优雅地弯下，她的手臂迎向从窗口倾泻而入的阳光。而她的腿……自我能记事以来，她总是拄着拐杖，穿着便鞋，走起路来腿脚僵硬。可现在，她正穿着美丽的舞鞋，而她的双腿完全听从着她的支配。不再蹒跚，不再僵硬。只有优美、流畅的动作。她曾是舞蹈界的宠儿。可是后来她遭遇了一场意外，舞蹈生涯因此而结束。我是从一张老旧的剪报中读到这个的。 她缓缓地转身做了一个足尖旋转，见到我站在门口。她的歌声嘎然而止，还有她那优美的动作，一切停止得如此突然，感觉像是从一场美梦中被人摇醒了。突如其来的寂静冲击着我的耳朵。祖母看起来很像是一个伸手从饼干罐里偷吃却被抓了个正着的小孩，我不禁发出了一阵略带一丝紧张的大笑。祖母叹了口气，转身走向厨房。我跟在她身后，还是不敢相信自己的眼睛。她穿着那双美丽的舞鞋，行走自如。我们坐在了桌边，从她那美味的蜜桃派中切出了大大的几块，俩人一起吃。 “那么……”我脱口而出道，“你的腿是怎么好了的？” “跟你说实话吧——我的腿一直都挺好的，”她说。 “可是我不明白！”我说，“你的舞蹈事业……我是说……难道这些年来你一直在假装？” “的确如此，”祖母闭上眼睛，品尝着蜜桃派，“而且是因为一个非常好的理由。” “什么理由？” “你的祖父。” “你是说，他让你不要再跳舞了？” “不，这是我自己的选择。我确信如果我再继续跳舞的话，我就会失去他了。我权衡名利和爱情孰轻孰重之后，选择了爱情。” 她想了一下，然后接着说道：“当你祖父不得不去从军参战的时候，我们已经到了谈婚论嫁的阶段了。他离开的那段日子是我一生中度过的最可怕的时期。我很害怕会失去他，能让我不至于疯掉的唯一方法就是跳舞。我把我所有的精力和时间都投入到了练习之中，于是我成为了很棒的舞者。评论家对我好评连连，公众对我钟情有嘉，可我唯一能感觉到的却是我心中的痛，因为不知道我一生的挚爱是否能平安归来。然后我回到家里，一遍又一遍地读着他的来信，直到睡去。他总是在信的结尾写着：‘你才是我的幸福。爱你一生。’然后才是他的签名。但有一天我又收到了他的来信。信中只有三句话：‘我失去了一条腿。我不再是一个完整的人了，所以现在我将自由归还给你。你最好还是把我忘掉吧。’” “于是我立刻做出了决定。我向众人告别，离开了这个城市。当我再度归来的时候，我为自己买了一副拐杖，并用绷带把我的腿包得紧紧的。我告诉每一个人，说我遭遇了一场车祸，我的腿再也不可能完全复原了。我的舞蹈生涯就此结束了。没有人怀疑这个故事——我在回家之前已经学会如何惟妙惟肖地跛行。我确保第一个听说我出车祸的是一位我熟知的记者。接着我来到了你祖父所在的医院。他们用轮椅把他推了出来。在他轮椅旁边的地上有一副拐杖。我深深吸了一口气，靠在我的拐杖上，一瘸一拐地向他走去。” 此刻，我已经忘记了那块蜜桃派，入迷地听着祖母说话。“然后发生了什么事情呢？”当她停下来吃了几口派时，我追问道。 “我告诉他，他并不是唯一失去了一条腿的人，尽管我的腿没给截掉。我给他看了关于我发生车祸的剪报。‘所以，如果你觉得我会让你在余生自怨自艾，想都别想。在外面还有全新的生活在等待着我们！我不打算为此而顾影自怜。而眼下我要做的事情已经够多的了，所以你最好也赶紧给我振作起来。而且你可别想我会背你——你要自己向前走。’”祖母咯咯地笑着，这位满头银发的老妇人令人吃惊地发出了少女般的笑声。 “我一瘸一拐地走开了几步，然后让他看我从口袋里掏出的一样东西。‘现在让我看看，你还是个男子汉。我可不会说第二次。’他弯下腰从地上拿起他的拐杖，挣扎着从那副轮椅中站出来。可以看得出他之前从未这样做过，现在只有一条腿的他差点扑倒在地。但我没打算帮他。接着他设法自己站稳了，向我走来，而且在他的后半生里再也没有坐回到轮椅上。” “你给他看了什么东西呢？”我一定要知道。祖母看着我咧嘴而笑，说道：“当然是一对订婚戒指了。在他从军参战的第二天我就买了这对戒指，我可不想把戒指浪费在任何其他男人身上。” 我看着厨房墙壁上的那幅画像,那是多年前我祖父亲手绘就的。我眼中满含泪水,眼前的画像变得模糊起来。“你才是我的幸福。爱你一生。”我轻声低语道。画像中的年轻女人坐在公园长椅上,眼神清亮,笑容可掬地看着我,她的手指上被精心地画有一枚订婚戒指。 | |
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[ 此帖被Donut hole在2014-03-09 15:10重新编辑 ]