As I turned the rental1 car onto Morrie's street in West Newton, a quiet suburb of Boston, I had a cup of coffee in one hand and a cellular2 phone between my ear and shoulder. I was talking to a TV producer about a piece we were doing. My eyes jumped from the digital clock-my return flight was in a few hours-to the mailbox numbers on the tree-lined suburban3 street. The car radio was on, the all-news station. This was how I operated, five things at once.
"Roll back the tape," I said to the producer. "Let me hear that part again."
"Okay," he said. "It's gonna take a second." Suddenly, I was upon the house. I pushed the brakes, spilling coffee in my lap. As the car stopped, I caught a glimpse of a large Japanese maple4 tree and three figures sitting near it in the driveway, a young man and a middleaged woman flanking a small old man in a wheelchair. Morrie.
At the sight of my old professor, I froze.
"Hello?" the producer said in my ear. "Did I lose you?... "
I had not seen him in sixteen years. His hair was thinner, nearly white, and his face was gaunt. I suddenly felt unprepared for this reunion-for one thing, I was stuck on the phone-and I hoped that he hadn't noticed my arrival, so that I could drive around the block a few more times, finish my business, get mentally ready. But Morrie, this new, withered5 version of a man I had once known so well, was smiling at the car, hands folded in his lap, waiting for me to emerge.
"Hey?" the producer said again. "Are you there?" For all the time we'd spent together, for all the kindness and patience Morrie had shown me when I was young, I should have dropped the phone and jumped from the car, run and held him and kissed him hello. Instead, I killed the engine and sunk down off the seat, as if I were looking for something.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," I whispered, and continued my conversation with the TV producer until we were finished.
I did what I had become best at doing: I tended to my work, even while my dying professor waited on his front lawn. I am not proud of this, but that is what I did.
Now, five minutes later, Morrie was hugging me, his thinning hair rubbing against my cheek. I had told him I was searching for my keys, that's what had taken me so long in the car, and I squeezed him tighter, as if I could crush my little lie. Although the spring sunshine was warm, he wore a windbreaker and his legs were covered by a blanket. He smelled faintly sour, the way people on medication sometimes do. With his face pressed close to mine, I could hear his labored6 breathing in my ear.
"My old friend," he whispered, "you've come back at last."
He rocked against me, not letting go, his hands reaching up for my elbows as I bent7 over him. I was surprised at such affection after all these years, but then, in the stone walls I had built between my present and my past, I had forgotten how close we once were. I remembered graduation day, the briefcase8, his tears at my departure, and I swallowed because I knew, deep down, that I was no longer the good, gift-bearing student he remembered.
I only hoped that, for the next few hours, I could fool him.
Inside the house, we sat at a walnut9 dining room table, near a window that looked out on the neighbor's house. Morrie fussed with his wheelchair, trying to get comfortable. As was his custom, he wanted to feed me, and I said all right. One of the helpers, a stout10 Italian woman named Connie, cut up bread and tomatoes and brought containers of chicken salad, hummus, and tabouli.
She also brought some pills. Morrie looked at them and sighed. His eyes were more sunken than I remembered them, and his cheekbones more pronounced. This gave him a harsher, older look-until he smiled, of course, and the sagging11 cheeks gathered up like curtains.
"Mitch," he said softly, "you know that I'm dying."
I knew.
"All right, then." Morrie swallowed the pills, put down the paper cup, inhaled12 deeply, then let it out. "Shall I tell you what it's like?"
What it's like? To die?
"Yes," he said.
Although I was unaware13 of it, our last class had just begun.
It is my freshman14 year. Morrie is older than most of the teachers, and I am younger than most of the students, having left high school a year early. To compensate15 for my youth on campus, I wear old gray sweatshirts and box in a local gym and walk around with an unlit cigarette in my mouth, even though I do not smoke. I drive a beat-up Mercury Cougar16, with the windows down and the music up. I seek my identity in toughness-but it is Morrie's softness that draws me, and because he does not look at me as a kid trying to be something more than I am, I relax.
I finish that first course with him and enroll17 for another. He is an easy marker; he does not much care for grades. One year, they say, during the Vietnam War, Morrie gave all his male students A's to help them keep their student deferments.
I begin to call Morrie "Coach," the way I used to address my high school track coach. Morrie likes the nickname.
"Coach, " he says. "All right, I'll be your coach. And you can be my player. You can play all the lovely parts of life that I'm too old for now."
Sometimes we eat together in the cafeteria. Morrie, to my delight, is even more of a slob than I am. He talks instead of chewing, laughs with his mouth open, delivers a passionate18 thought through a mouthful of egg salad, the little yellow pieces spewing from his teeth.
It cracks me up. The whole time I know him, I have two overwhelming desires: to hug him and to give him a napkin.
当我那辆租来的车子拐上莫里在波士顿一个僻静的郊区西纽顿的那条街时，我手里握着一杯咖啡，肩膀和耳朵间夹着一只手机。我正在跟一个电视制片人谈一个节目。我的眼睛在数字钟一离我返回的班机时间还有几个小时——和树木成行的街道上那些邮箱号码之间跳来跳去。车上的收音机打开着，那是新闻台。这就是我的生活节奏，一心可以五用。
“把带子倒回去，”我对制片人说，“让我把那部分再听一遍。”
“好的，”他说，“稍等片刻。”
突然，那幢房子跃入了我的眼帘。我踩下刹车，咖啡晃出了杯子。车停下后，我瞥见了车道上的那棵日本大槭树和它旁边坐着的三个人。坐在两边的是一个年轻人和一个中年妇女，中间是一个坐在轮椅上的老人。
莫里-----看见我的老教授，我惊呆了。
"喂"广制片人的声音在我耳边响了起来。“你还在听吗？……”
我有十六年没有见到他。他的头发更稀了，几近花白，形容枯槁。我突然感到我还没有准备好重逢——至少，我眼下还得先应付完这个电话——我希望他并没有注意到我的到来，这样，我就可以再驶过几个街区，办完我的公事，做好心理准备。但莫里，这位我曾经是那么熟悉但现在又是那么陌生、那么憔悴的老人，此时正对着车子在微笑。他两手交叉着放在腿上，等待着我从车子里出现。
“喂，”制片人又在喊。“你在听吗？”
为了我们多年的相处，为了莫里曾经给予我的那份体贴和耐心，我应该丢掉电话，跳出车子去拥抱他，去吻他。
但我没那么做。我关掉了引擎，蹲伏下身子似乎在找东西。
“是的，我在听，”我压低嗓门继续同制片人在交谈，直到把事情谈妥。
我做了我最擅长的事情。我仍在关心我的工作，尽管来日无多的老教授在他门前草坪等着我。我并不引以为自豪，但这正是我所做的。
五分钟后，莫里拥抱了我，他稀松的头发擦过我的脸颊。我告诉他刚才我在找钥匙，所以在车里呆了那么久。我更用力地抱住他，似乎想挤碎我的小谎言。虽然春天的阳光暖融融的，他却穿着一件风衣，腿上还盖着毯子。他嘴里发出一股淡淡的酸味，那是正在服药的人常有的一种气味。由于他的脸凑得离我很近，我能听见他吃力的呼吸声。
“我的老朋友，”他轻声说，“你终于回来了。”
他倚着我摇晃着身子，始终没和我分开。当我俯下身去时，他的手抓住了我的肘部。相隔了这么多年他居然能保持着这份感情，我感到十分惊讶。但再一想。正由于我在我的过去和现在之间建立起了一堵石墙，所以我会忘记我们曾有过的亲密，我记起了毕业的那天，记起了那只皮包和我离开时他的泪花。但我没有流露出来，因为我在内心深处已经意识到，我不再是那个他记忆中的赠送他礼物的好学生了。
我所希望的是，我能在接下来的几个小时里蒙住他的眼睛。
进屋后，我们坐在一张胡桃木的餐桌旁，靠近一扇能望见邻居宅院的窗户。莫里在轮椅上不停地动，想使自己坐舒服些。他想请我吃点什么，这是他的习惯，我说好的。助手中有一位名叫康尼、长得很结实的意大利女人端上了切好的面包。土豆，以及放有鸡肉色拉。鹰嘴豆泥和小麦色拉的盘子。
她还拿来了药片。莫里朝它们看看，叹了口气。他的眼睛凹陷得比我想象中的还要深，颧骨也突得更出了。这使他显得更苍老——只有他笑的时候，那松垂的脸颊才像帷幕一样收拢起来。
“米奇，”他轻声说，“你知道我离死期不远了。”
“我知道。"
“那好，”莫里吞下了药片，放下纸杯，深深地吸了口气，再慢慢地呼出来。“要我告诉你是怎么回事吗？”
“怎么回事？死亡是怎么回事？"
“是的，”他说。
虽然我还没有意识到，但我们的最后一堂课开始了。
那是我大学的第一年。莫里的年龄比大部分教师大，而我却比大多数学生小，因为我提前一年就高中毕业了。为了在校园里不显得稚嫩，我身着旧的灰色无领长袖衫，常去当地的体育馆打拳，走路时还叼上一支没有点燃的烟，尽管我不会吸烟。我开的是一辆水星牌的破车，震耳的音乐声从没有摇上的车窗里传出来。我竭力表现出粗野的个性——然而，莫里的和蔼吸引了我，而且，也正因为他没有把我看成是一个未经世故的孩子，于是我释然了。
我上完了他的第一门课，又选了他的另一门课程。他是个打分很宽松的教授，不太注重分数。据说有一年，那是在越战期间，莫里给所有的男学生都打了A，使他们能获得缓役的机会。
我开始称呼他“教练”，就像我称呼高中的田径教练那样。莫里很喜欢这个绰号。
“教练，”他说。“好吧，我会成为你的教练，你可以做我的上场队员。凡是生活中美好但我又老得无法享受的东西，你都可以替我上场。”
有时我们一起在餐厅用餐。令我高兴的是，他比我还要不修边幅。他吃东西时爱说话，还张大嘴笑，从他满嘴的鸡蛋色拉和沾着蛋黄的牙缝里传出富有激情的思想。
他让我捧腹大笑。在我认识他的那段时间里，我最强烈的两个愿望是：拥抱他和给他一张餐巾纸。
收听单词发音 |
1
rental
|
|
| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
cellular
|
|
| adj.移动的；细胞的，由细胞组成的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
suburban
|
|
| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
maple
|
|
| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
withered
|
|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
labored
|
|
| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
briefcase
|
|
| n.手提箱，公事皮包 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
walnut
|
|
| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
sagging
|
|
| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
inhaled
|
|
| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
unaware
|
|
| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
freshman
|
|
| n.大学一年级学生(可兼指男女) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
compensate
|
|
| vt.补偿，赔偿；酬报 vi.弥补；补偿；抵消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
cougar
|
|
| n.美洲狮；美洲豹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
enroll
|
|
| v.招收；登记；入学；参军；成为会员（英)enrol | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |