佚名
Anonymous
AsIsaterchedinthesecondfloorwindowofourbrickschoolhousethatafternoon,myheartbegantosinkfurtherwitheachassingcar。ThiswasadayIdlookedforwardtoforweeks:MissPacesfourthgrade,end-of-the-yeararty。MissPacehadketarunningcountdownontheblackboardallthatweek,andourclassofnine-year-oldhadborderedoninsurrectionbythetimethemuch-anticiated“artyFriday”hadarrived。
IhadhailyvolunteeredmymotherwhenMissPacerequestedcookievolunteers。Momschocolatechisreignedsuremeonourblock,andIknewtheydbeahitwithmyclassmates。Buttwooclockassed,andtherewasnosignofher。Mostoftheothermothershadalreadycomeandgone,droingofftheirofferingsofunchandcrackers,chis,cucakesandbrownies。Mymotherwasmissinginaction。
“Dontworry,Robbie,shellbealongsoon,”MissPacesaidasIgazedforlornlydownatthestreet。Ilookedatthewallclockjustintimetoseeitsblackminutehandshifttohalf-ast。
Aroundme,thenoisyartyragedon,butIwouldntbudgefrommywindowwatchost。MissPacedidherbesttocoaxmeaway,butIstayedut,holdingouthoethatthefamiliarfamilycarwouldroundthecorner,carryingmyrightfullyembarrassedmotherwithatinofherfamouscookiestuckedunderherarm。
ThethreeoclockbellsoonjoltedmefrommythoughtsandIdejectedlygrabbedmybookbagfrommydeskandshuffledoutthedoorforhome。
Onthefour-blockwalktoourhouse,Ilottedmyrevenge。Iwouldslamthefrontdooruonentering,refusetoreturnherhugwhensherushedovertome,andvownevertoseaktoheragain。
ThehousewasemtywhenIarrivedandIlookedforanoteontherefrigeratorthatmightexlainmymothersabsence,butfoundnone。Mychinquiveredwithamixtureofheartbreakandrage。Forthefirsttimeinmylife,mymotherhadletmedown。
Iwaslyingface-downonmybedustairswhenIheardhercomethroughthefrontdoor。
“Robbie,”shecalledoutabiturgently。“Whereareyou?”
Icouldthenhearherdartingfranticallyfromroomtoroom,wonderingwhereIcouldbe。Iremainedsilent。Inamoment,shemountedthestes-thesoundsofherfootstesquickeningassheascendedthestaircase。
Whensheenteredmyroomandsatbesidemeonmybed,Ididntmovebutinsteadstaredblanklyintomyillowrefusingtoacknowledgeherresence。
“Imsosorry,honey,”shesaid。“Ijustforgot。Igotbusyandforgot-lainandsimle。”
Istilldidntmove。“Dontforgiveher,”Itoldmyself。“Shehumiliatedyou。Sheforgotyou。Makeheray。”
Thenmymotherdidsomethingcomletelyunexected。Shebegantolaugh。Icouldfeelhershudderasthelaughtershookher。Itbeganquietlyatfirstandthenincreasedinitsvelocityandvolume。
Iwasincredulous。Howcouldshelaughatatimelikethis?Irolledoverandfacedher,readytoletherseetherageanddisaointmentinmyeyes。
Butmymotherwasntlaughingatall。Shewascrying。“Imsosorry,”shesobbedsoftly。“Iletyoudown。Iletmylittleboydown。”
Shesankdownonthebedandbegantoweelikealittlegirl。Iwasdumbstruck。Ihadneverseenmymothercry。Tomyunderstanding,motherswerentsuosedto。IwonderedifthiswashowIlookedtoherwhenIcried。
IdeseratelytriedtorecallherownsoothingwordsfromtimesastwhenIdskinnedkneesorstubbedtoes,timeswhensheknewjusttherightthingtosay。Butinthatmomentoftearfullight,wordsofrofundityabandonedmelikeaworn-outshoe。
“Itsokay,Mom,”IstammeredasIreachedoutandgentlystrokedherhair。“Wedidntevenneedthosecookies。Therewaslentyofstufftoeat。Dontcry。Itsallright。Really。”
Mywords,asinadequateastheysoundedtome,romtedmymothertositu。Shewiedhereyes,andaslightsmilebegantocreasehertear-stainedcheeks。Ismiledbackawkwardly,andsheulledmetoher。
Wedidntsayanotherword。Wejustheldeachotherinalong,silentembrace。WhenwecametotheointwhereIwouldusuallyullaway,Idecidedthat,thistime,Icouldholdon,erhas,justalittlebitlonger。
那天下午,我坐在教学楼二楼的窗台上,心情随着过往的车辆更加低落。好几个星期前,我就开始盼望这一天的到来:裴老师带的四年级班的年终联欢就在今天举行。那个星期,裴老师还在黑板上挂了个倒计时牌。当这个期待已久的“联欢星期五”到来时,我们班九岁大的孩子们兴奋得像开了锅似的。
在裴老师征召做小甜饼的志愿者时,我高兴地推荐了妈妈。妈妈做的巧克力片在我们那个街区是公认最好吃的。我知道我的同学们也一定会喜欢的。但是都两点多了,她连个影儿都没有。其他同学的母亲多数都来过了,留下她们做的饮料、饼干、薯条、蛋糕还有核仁巧克力饼。可我妈妈却没有出现在活动中。
“别担心,罗比,她很快就来了。”当我孤独失落地盯着楼下的大街时,裴老师说。我看了看墙上的钟,黑色的分针正好指向两点半。
我的周围,热闹的联欢正如火如荼地进行着,而我却不想挪开窗口这个观察点半步。裴老师想方设法地劝我离开,我仍一动不动,一门心思地希望看到家里那辆熟悉的汽车转过街角,载着我那一定是满怀内疚的母亲,怀里抱着一罐她制作的出名的小甜饼。
三点的钟声惊扰了我的思绪,我沮丧地抓起桌上的书包,拖着沉重的脚步向家走去。
只要步行四个街区就可以到家了,一路上我就盘算着怎样报复妈妈:我一到家就狠狠地关上前门,她匆忙来迎我时拒绝和她拥抱,并发誓再也不和她说话。
当我到家时,家里空荡荡的。我到冰箱上找,看她是否给我留了便条,或许她会向我解释她没去的原因。可是什么也没有。我的心都要碎了,愤怒不已,气得下巴发抖。生平第一次,母亲让我如此失望。
听到她进门的声音,我便上楼趴在自己的床上。
“罗比,”她有些急切地叫着我,“你在哪儿?”
我听见她发疯似的逐个房间找我,想着我会在哪儿。我默不作声。不一会儿,她上楼了——脚步声越来越急促。
她走进我的房间,在我身边坐下来。我毫无表情地盯着枕头一动不动,当她不存在。
“对不起,宝贝儿,”她说,“我忘了,我太忙了,忘了——就这样苍白和简单。”
我还是没动。“不能原谅她,”我对自己说,“她让你丢脸,她把你忘了。应该惩罚她。”
而后,母亲做了一件出乎我意料的事。她开始笑,我感觉得到她在浑身打战。开始还悄无声息,接着越来越急促,声音也越来越大。