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第9章一双新鞋APairofNewShoes
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佚名Anonymous
“Don'tyoujustlovemynewshoes?”
Rebecca'seyesshiassheplacesapairofeleganthigh-heeledshoesinmylap.Theshoesareimpetheirsimplidnothingbutmyoldknobbyhandsmartheirsleeklines.
“Sueleather!Thesearelovely.”
“Ay-fivedollars!”
“Heavens!Imustbegettihatseemsagreatdealofmoneyforapairofshoes.”
“Oh，Nana，Ikneos;dsaythat.”
Rebecca'slustrsinasoftcurlassheleansforwardtotouchmycheekwithakiss.Herperfumeembodiestheessenceandofyouth.Attwenty-three，sheisthebabyofthefamily.
“Noos;tfallasleep，Nana.Yourparty'sabouttobegin，”
shewhispers，andslipsoutoftheroo
&wouldbesoeasytoletmywrinkledeyelidsdroopandtofallasleeplikeafatoldthesun.Ibliimestokeepawakeandturhediningroomwhereasilverbowlofyellracesthetableinhonorofmyeighty-sixthbirthday.ThelinenhasbeenlaidandsoonIshallfeelitsessbehmyfiheheavysilverwareisinplaentIwonderifmyweak，oldhandswillhahclattersoea.Thefsoundofvoiddiionslullsmeaocaressthesmooth，coolleatherofRebecca'snewshoes，whimylap.Witheachtouch，Irelax，Iletgo.Witheaemberanotherpairofshoessolongago.WasIonlythirty-nine?Impossible!IalmosthearthevoicethateasIstoodisgafternoonilesssummerof1935.
“Missus，say，Missus!”
ThehuskyvoicestartledmeandIturnedquickly.Themanatthefencewasyoung，hardlytwenty，withblondhairtousledlikealittleboy's.Hisclothesweredustyandrumpled，andIeyedhimwarily.Ioftensawragged，tired，solitarymenpassbythehousefromtherailyardshefreights，menmovingaboutthetry，lookingforwork.MyJackwasouttheresomewhere，too.
“Missus，couldIpleasehaveadrinkof>
&heyard.”
Idpoiheehathudoortap.Ihadjustfilledthreepailsardenaowarmihetapstilldripped.
Hedragulps，sly，andtheeronhisfahishandsoverhisdustyhairandalongthebackofhisfeelsgood，”
hesaid，bywayofthanks，andstoodthere，self-sdawkward，asuddentensenesswheicedthepailssittinginthesun.
“HaveyouanyworkIdoforyou?Weedandwateryarden?”
Somegardeomatoplantsstruggledtroundthatwashardahesparsepatwaswork?Thehouserequiredacoatofpaint，butpaintoney，andIhadnoenseoflookingaround，befmyhead.
Whenhedroppedtothegrassandplacedhisheadonfoldedarms，Ifelthistirednessanddespair.Asuddeatmythroat.Heyson，Ithought.HelooksasyoungasAliewhemustbehungry.WhatcouldIgivehim?Theiceboxheldsolittle:somemilk，aknobofbutter，andafewslicesofbolognaforAice'ssupper.
&ofthesun.Sitontheporch，”
Isaid，surprisedatthefranknessofmyand.“I'llgetyousomethiionshadawayofgettihesedifficultdaysandIp;apos;ttrustmiasIp;apos;tbeartheshame-facedlookofgratitudeinhiseyes.AsIclimbedthestepstothehouse，Ibegryatmyself，atmyhelplessmyemptycupboards，attheuingdrought，atthewholedamnedsufferingtry.
Islicedaloafofbreadwithviciousswipesoftheknife，jerkedopentheiilk，twistedthelidoffajarofhome-madejam，asthoughmyfreionswouldwipeoutthefeelingofguiltathimsolittle.Whehefoodtotheporch，Isawthebarden，rinsinghisshirtihepails.Ibe，lefthimmysty，aurnedindoors.
&hedrawnblinds，thehousehadtrappedtheheatandhadbeeanairlessboxofyellowlight.Myfloweredprintdresseieachpatch，thefadeddaisiesdaredtoblooIdroppedintoanarmdswungmyswolleuponahassock.
&hesharpslapofthesdoorawakenedme，I>
“Mama，whereareyou?”
Istruggledtomyfeetandfouitable，herheadandshouldersbowediion.
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