佚名/Anonymous
When I first saw her, she was walking across the med-school quad.I stood motionless as if stunned, following her with my eyes.She is the one, I said to myself.
It was the first day of school.When I asked a classmate about her, he told me to forget it.She has a boyfriend, he said.
A few months later I heard she’d ended her relationship.But I waited at least half a year to ask for a date.When I telephoned her dormitory and asked nervously for her, I transposed the syllables of her first and last names into ludicrous garble.“Dinner on Saturday?”I proposed, embarrassed and expecting rejection.“I would enjoy that,”she answered, sounding pleased.
On Saturday I greeted her at the dorm and was again entranced by her loveliness.I had made reservations at a restaurant 30 miles away.I lost my way and drove aimlessly on rural roads for an hour as my exasperation mounted.She remained good-humored-happy, she said, to tour villages whose histories she had read about.
We never located the restaurant, and then almost ran out of gas.We finally ate at 10 p.m., hamburgers and fries at a dinner.In her floral dress, with her straight blond hair and classic features, she stood out among the local kids.
Back at school, I was ready to apologize for the evening.But I felt her warm hand take mine, and then she quickly kissed my cheek.“Thank you for a wonderful evening,”she said softly.Before I comprehended what had happened, she disappeared into the dormitory.
How many times have there been moments like that, moments of such encompassing grace and love that I doubted their actuality? Moments like the day of our marriage, when on a crisp Sunday morning on the Pacific coast she entered the church on her father’s arm and I gazed down the aisle at my soon-to-be wife.Or the moments when our two children were born and her face became radiant as she emerged from the unreachable realm of labor into exultation.
But October 15, 1993, was Different.That day, we arose at 5 a.m., having a hard slept.How can you rest when a blade will soon sever flesh so dear? She kissed both of our children as they slept, but they never stirred or said“Good luck”or“I love you, Mommy.”In the hospital, after we signed the papers, I watched her change into a faded cotton gown and two pairs of socks, as if the worst injury that day would be the chill of the operating room.
She cried in my arms and said she didn’t want the surgery.I held her hand as an I.V.was inserted into her arm.In a few seconds her tears stopped and she closed those eyes that had always seemed so clever and clear, but now looked so fearful.
Feeling frantic and disconnected I kissed her, and then she was wheeled away through the unforgiving doors of the operating suite.I spent the day in the waiting room polishing a manuscript whose only significance was its power to distract.
When she returned to her room late that afternoon, on her chest was an expanse of billowing white bandage placed by a surgeon’s hands with a precision and delicacy she would have admired.I was reminded of the coverlet she had appliquéd for our children’s cradle when they were infants.The bandage looked gentle and protective—reassuring and not as harsh as I had expected.
Sitting beside her in a dimly lit room that smelled sharply of disinfectant, I realized that because my life was so intertwined with hers, I, too, was a patient.I felt depleted and wrecked as I stared blankly out the window at pink-gray clouds slowly traversing the afternoon sky.
It was almost 7 p.m.before she stirred.I heard her moan, and moved to the edge of the bed.I lightly touched her lips with an ice chip from the pitcher on her bedside table, and brushed the gray-flecked hair across her sweaty brow.
“I love you.”I said.
At these words, her eyes opened hesitantly.At first her gaze seemed confused and unfocused, but for an instant her eyes sharpened with recognition, and a gentle smile lifted the edges of her mouth.
“I love you too,”she whispered, and then her eyelids shut.I was close to exhaustion and dislocated in time as I recalled the moment I first saw her.It was as if I was young again and the sun was resplendent in the morning sky.She is the one, I said once more in my mind’s voice.She is the one.
第一次見到她時，她正在校園的操場上漫步。我站在那裏，目光追隨著她的倩影，呆住了。她就是我的至愛，我對自己說。
那正是開學的第一天，我向同學問起她，他們說她已經有男朋友了，讓我忘了她。
幾個月後，聽說她跟男朋友分手了。但是，至少過了半年後，我才向她提出約會的請求。我打電話到寢室找她，緊張得吐字不清，甚至把她的前後名字都說反了。“周六晚上請你吃晚飯，好嗎？”提議完，我尷尬極了，害怕她會拒絕。“樂意之至。”她的聲音聽起來似乎很開心。
星期六，我去宿舍接她，她的美麗再次深深地打動了我。我在30裏外的餐館預訂了晚餐。開車去那兒時，我卻迷路了，在鄉間小路上漫無目的地轉了一個多小時後，我越來越焦躁，她卻一直興致高昂。她說，她讀過這些鄉村的曆史，很高興能來遊玩。
我們最終沒能找到那家餐館，汽油快用完了。10點時，我們才吃了點漢堡和薯條，算是晚餐。她身著美麗的花裙，金黃的直發和嬌好的麵容，使她在當地孩子中間顯得更加光彩照人。
回到學校後，我正要為晚上的一切道歉，但感覺到她用自己那溫暖的手握住了我的手，然後迅速地在我臉上吻了一下，溫柔地說道：“謝謝你讓我度過一個快樂的夜晚，”我還沒回過神來，她已消失在寢室裏了。
我們之前曾有過多少這樣的時刻啊——充滿了包容、優雅與愛意，我幾乎不敢相信。記得婚禮那天，在太平洋海濱，那個清新的星期天早晨，她挽著父親的手步入教堂，我站在聖壇旁，向徐徐走來的她望去，她即將成為我妻；又或是我們的兩個孩子出生，她經曆了旁人無法體會的分娩痛楚後，臉上因欣喜而光彩四溢。
但是1993年10月15日，情形卻完全不同。那天，在一個難眠之夜之後，我們早上5點鍾就起床了。當手術刀即將劃開你心上人的血肉肌膚時，你又怎能安然入眠呢？她吻了吻我們兩個熟睡的孩子，但他們卻沒有醒來對她說“祝您好運”或者“我愛您，媽媽”。到了醫院，簽完一些文件後，我看她換上一件褪了色的棉袍和一雙襪子，似乎手術室最大的傷害是寒冷。
她撲在我懷裏哭著說不做手術。我握著她的手，注射器紮進她的手臂，淚水很快停住了，那原本清澈、機靈的雙眼，現在卻閉上了，看來起似乎充滿了恐懼。
我痛苦而慌亂地與她吻別，然後，看著她穿過那道無情的門，被推進了手術室。我整天待在候診室，用校對稿子來分散我的焦慮。
直到傍晚時，她才回到病房，胸前纏繞著一大片繃帶，我想她一定會喜歡那個外科醫生纏繞繃帶時的細心與精巧的手藝。這使我想起我們的孩子還是嬰兒的時候，她為他們的搖籃縫製床單。這些繃帶看起來親切又安全可靠——不像我想的那麽粗糙。
燈光昏暗的房間裏，充斥著強烈的消毒水的味道。坐在她旁邊，我意識到我們的生命是如此的息息相關，以至於我此時也成了病人。我茫然地盯著窗外，隻看到灰粉色的雲彩掠過傍晚的天空，我感到心力交瘁。
差不多快七點時，她微微動了一下，聽到她的呻吟，我移到床邊。從桌子上的水罐裏拿出一點冰片，輕輕碰觸她的嘴唇，拂開她額前被汗水沁濕的灰白頭發。
“我愛你。”我說。
聽到這些話，她慢慢地睜開眼睛，起初，她的目光似乎有些迷茫，沒有焦點，但很快，她的眼睛便變得透徹起來，她認出了我，嘴角浮現出一抹溫柔的笑。
“我也愛你。”她呢喃道，眼睛又閉上了。此時的我幾乎精疲力盡。回想起第一次見到她的情景，我仿佛又回到了年輕時代，回到了那個陽光燦爛的早上。她就是我的至愛。我再一次在心中對自己說道，她就是我的至愛。
1.我們之前曾有過多少這樣的時刻啊——充滿了包容、優雅與愛意，我幾乎不敢相信。
2.燈光昏暗的房間裏，充斥著強烈的消毒水的味道。坐在她旁邊，我意識到我們的生命是如此的息息相關，以至於我此時也成了病人。
3.回想起第一次見到她的情景，我仿佛又回到了年輕時代。
1.be entrance by: If you are entranced by a girl, you will fall in love with her.
2.stand out: If a person stands out among the public, he must have some special quality.