Blog 9 ‘No word to say'

‘Exclusive news! An airline departed from… when it approached the destination, it underwent a sudden strong blow of wind and lost balance...The pilot resolved to abandon the plane, and fortunately all the passengers followed the instructions and took correct actions in time…No one died.’

‘Su-cks! No exciting news at all!’ shouted Mr. Smith, and switched the channel at once.

‘What’s wrong, my dear?’ asked Mrs. Smith.

‘Nothing more than trivial! What a waste of time!’

‘Never mind darling, breakfast is ready. It’s five to eight, you’ve to get faster now.’

‘Thanks. I promise I would never watch this banal news!’ His ranting not only shook the wooden table, which was trying to stick to the ground but failed again, but also caused an invisible vibration in a heart which have longed for disentangling itself from the perennial clamour.

But once again the vibration pacifies. ‘I’ve got to prepare breakfast for Jane. Enjoy.’ She said to him.

‘This is the last breakfast for you.’ She said to herself.

The bustling city is full of vim and vigour—at least apparently, it is. Here and there, it is crowded with ambitious people who aspire for making a change today. Continuously, traffic lights change their colour, flaunting its beauty, though all of them share only three colours and only display one kind for a period. Alongside the street are transplanted trees—still three types, what makes difference is that now they cooperate each other and exhort their effort to make up for each other, in order to beautify themselves. Now Mr. Smith alights from the subway, away from a swarm, and prepares to enter another swarm.

‘Su-cks!’

He kicks away the fallen leaves. Several insects sucking the juice are also kicked away.

In front of him is a grand building. It can dazzle all those who glance at it with the sunshine it reflects. Today, the cloudy weather saves peoples’ eyes including Mr. Smith’s. The receptionist in the hall expected that she would not hear something as usual.

‘Damn it!’ Instead of sunshine, today cloud infuriates Mr. Smith.

‘Goodbye, mom!’

‘See you!’ She responds the angelic look with an angelic smile. Burdened with miscellaneous chores, she still can sometimes conciliate herself with this ordinary but priceless happiness. Every morning, she has to go through an undesirable greeting, followed by a short, potent tranquilizer. The wild fluctuation in life nearly tore her heart: however hard she tried, she could not lull herself into getting accustomed to being insulted. She would rather paralyze all her senses--but she’s a human, and no medicine can work without hurting her. She is determined. When she squirted the poison into the wine bottle, she thought she was determined.

‘Mr. Smith?’ Outside Mr. Smith’s office, a young lady knocked the door softly. It was so soft that even she does not believe she has heard the knock. She raises her hand and wants to knock again. Surprisingly, nothing is knocked by her because the amiable Mr. Smith expeditiously opens the door before she knocks on it.

‘This is the summary for yesterday’s meeting. Please check it, Mr. Smith.’

‘Thank you very much…By the way, how about having dinner together tonight?’

Three seconds last for an hour as if time stagnated.

‘I mean…’ This expression is fabulous to prolong the time for thinking.

‘I mean there’s a new restaurant opening near my daughter’s school. She said many of her classmates think the food is really delicious. My wife and my daughter will go there before us. Then we can have dinner together. I think my naughty daughter really needs to learn something from you. Would you please do me the favour to educate her during the dinner?’

‘I’d like to go, but I’m afraid…’

‘It may not be far from your place. And I can drive you back. So come and join us, will you?’

She replies with a grin.

‘Could you please give me a hand? I don’t feel like being bothered by her so much! It affects my work! Help me is also helping you!’

The slumbering lady suddenly realizes something and nods her head reluctantly.

‘So good! After work, say six o’clock this afternoon, you come to my office and we can go together.’

‘Thank you, I know.’ Lathery overcame her. She replied torpidly, hunching that something terrifying would happen.

The evening arrives rather quickly. In the daytime, the sky is covered by the cloud; night arrives, cloud does not scatter. Darkness dominates the night so cloud’s contribution in darkening the sky seems insignificant. Under the sky, numerous cars congest the street and grumble each other. A variety of lights emanate from thousands of skyscrapers. They light up the city, adding romance and illusion to the modern world. The icy wind blasts thought out the city. When people’s faces are warmed by alcohol, the wind, however strong and cold, embraces people and brings great comfort to their face. It is more like a morning of spring rather than a night of autumn. Autumn and spring share so many similarities with each other, especially the neither too hot nor too cold climate. It is time for revelry.

However, hot, vigorous summer comes after spring; bleak, brutal winter comes after autumn.

They stroll on the avenue where deciduous trees sprawl on the road and no one observes this scenery. Like tears will not stop dropping on the land from one’s eyes unless no tear remains in the eye, when the first leave is carelessly blown down by the wind, one after one, leaves sheath the landscape though they will soon be swept. Once in a while, some people pass by them. She dares not to keep close to him. He keeps making the acquaintance with her. Seen from far, they look like a couple; approaching and having a look, one can find she never smiles and their distance is just acceptable. Still, no one would take a glance at them, because it’s none of a stranger’s business.

‘Well, go across the street and we will arrive at the restaurant.’

They stand still, waiting for the traffic light turning green on a crossroad.

Finally, he catches an opportunity to reach into his wallet and take his hand phone.

He makes it. The light turns green.

She intends to go across, but he is contacting someone. She has to wait until he stops.

15of 30 seconds pass, she could clearly hear what he is talking.

‘Hello…Yes…You say you two cannot come? Why?...’

‘Sorry, Mr. Smith, we have to go.’

‘Okay, I see…’ He turns his head to her and blurts out. ‘I’ll go right now.’ It is not easy for him to spare a sentence when he is talking.

On hearing what he said, she starts crossing the road. On hearing what he said, she becomes increasingly frightened. It seems she has to dinner with him alone. She has thought of it but immediately repressed this horrible idea. What she hasn’t anticipated, what she is afraid for all her life—at length, comes. She wanders on the road with an absent mind. Actually, it would be better to say she lost her mind.

Several steps after her, he indulges in his perfect performance. He giggles voicelessly and prepares to walk, without noticing that only 5 seconds is not enough for him to leisurely walk across the street.

In their house, Mrs. Smith is awaiting her husband. The poison would not kill him—she is not such a witch. She just wants to play a trick on him. It would let him sleep for a short time, but cease her trouble for ever. ‘It would suit you well, my husband. You will wake up two days later, during which I would prepare well for my departure and breaking up with you. You will live a good life since then. So do I.’ She is taking the last responsibility for him. Today, she comes back from work much earlier than usual. She prepares a feast for him. She still loves her, at the cost of her own happiness. Cutlery, napkin, dishes, and wine. Everything in need has been placed on the table.

The telephone rings. It’s his husband’s number. ‘Kidding me?!’ For the first time in her life, she shouted like her husband. If it is, all her plans would be aborted, and she would be humiliated again, extremely.

‘Is that Mrs. Smith?’ A woman begins the conversation, rather breathlessly.

‘Yes, I am. What’s up?’ Luckily it’s not him. But why it is a woman?

‘I am sorry, but your husband was crashed by a car just now. He has been sent into X hospital, 10^th ward at level 3. You’d better go and see him! He is dying!’

Exactly it was, the last time she prepared breakfast for him. He even would have no chance to have her well-prepared last dinner. They would separate sooner than she had considered. But it is he who leaves her, rather than vice versa. Life ridicules her all the time, in the past, at present. She used to care everything. Now only his condition concerns her.

Different wards serve for different purposes. Some wards abound with the joy of new births, while others are filled with sadness and silence. The number ‘10’ symbolizes that a person has gone through all and is able to leave the world without pity. In order to contain a mountain of medical equipments, this ward is simply decorated. It looks austere. Nearly everywhere in the room is in white, the holy colour. The colourful thing is fixed on the wall. There is a picture of summer views. It’s an idyllic village. On the right, Iris is in blossom. The white flowers bow in an elegant arc, perhaps caused by a light blow of wind. A pond is on the left, where water can only be seen among pretty pink lotus. It is a sunny day. If the patient in this room survives, the expectation of the hospital as well as the patient would come true, and the patient would view the scenery with his own eyes.

Seldom does the patient have the opportunity. After all, this room is disparate from others: ICU. It often says to the patient, ‘see you.’ It has witnessed lots of people’s entering the pearly gates.

The feeble Mr. Smith can choose to gloss over the truth, but Mrs. Smith already knows what he has done. Mr. Smith doesn't know she knows, and he neither knows what she has done for him.

‘Darling, I’m going to die… But before I die, I have one thing to say…’

Overwhelmed by grievance, Mrs. Smith gives up her turn to talk. She has shouldered all her responsibility. She is a kind and upright female for all her life. She does nothing wrong except in today. She cannot tolerate her unfortunate, but still, she has to. She is determined not to tell him her scheme, even though he is going to die. She would rather bear the indelible guilty for the rest of her life than pass a little anger to her dying husband.

‘Say it, I’m glad to hear.’ Her voice trembles and tears wells up in her eyes.

‘Though I must say that what you do usually su-cks, I can still stand you. Today I want to date with my secretary. I apologize for you, because you are my wife, we have the relationship…I just mean…’

This time, he is so artless. But he closes his eyes before finishes his last words.

She doesn’t want to see his cremation. She hates him. She doesn’t feel she is guilty any more. She is right. She rushes back home, determined to sell the house, leave the city, and launch a pristine new life.

She opens the door, only to find her daughter and her boyfriend lying on the floor.