花月留痕

這一天是在愛(ài)爾蘭酒吧。窗外是冷雨和落葉，室內(nèi)的光線昏暗異常。我和一位穿GUCCI羊皮短裙、吸Roseman香煙的女子坐在假壁爐前的舊沙發(fā)里，談她的“短暫的初戀”。她現(xiàn)在的丈夫是一名來(lái)自荷蘭的生意人。年紀(jì)當(dāng)然比她大很多，當(dāng)然有不止一個(gè)孩子，當(dāng)然有足以讓她一生不用勞動(dòng)只管享樂(lè)的錢(qián)，當(dāng)然給了她一個(gè)很優(yōu)越的物質(zhì)環(huán)境，當(dāng)然不論走到哪里都把她帶在左右，當(dāng)然要求她講英語(yǔ)，也當(dāng)然常常讓她感到差異的存在和內(nèi)心的落寞。

于是，她終于來(lái)對(duì)我說(shuō)她的故事了。那是一個(gè)十七年前和她同桌的男孩子，有著清澈的目光和挺拔的身材、良好的學(xué)習(xí)成績(jī)和前途無(wú)量的口碑。那時(shí)候她暗戀他，常常在課間休息的時(shí)候悄悄佇立在木頭格子的窗戶邊上，看著他矯健的身影活躍在籃球場(chǎng)上。她知道關(guān)于他的一切，但是她覺(jué)得他不知道關(guān)于她的一切。那時(shí)候的她“沒(méi)有現(xiàn)在這么放縱”。一直到畢業(yè)他們考上不同的大學(xué)各奔東西，又到四年之后大學(xué)畢業(yè)，他們從不聯(lián)系。但她仍然熟知他的一切，比如交了幾個(gè)女朋友，又都散了；考了研究生，成績(jī)優(yōu)秀，卻又最終放棄了；隨著他做中醫(yī)的父母移民到英國(guó)，有了自家的診所。

本來(lái)，她的初戀只是一只青澀的果實(shí)，只是一段沒(méi)有第二個(gè)主角的回憶，只是一場(chǎng)無(wú)疾而終的小浪漫。

然而一個(gè)契機(jī)竟然讓他們?cè)陟F都的街頭重逢，他剛剛離婚，她被去看望前妻的丈夫留在酒店。本來(lái)，他們只想在街角的小咖啡店隨便喝點(diǎn)什么慶祝異鄉(xiāng)遇舊友，結(jié)果，她講述了持續(xù)多年的眷戀，他的一句“我什么都知道，但知道又如何”將她一輩子的眼淚惹出來(lái)，一發(fā)不可收拾。

接下來(lái)，他們?nèi)チ艘患揖频?，開(kāi)了一間鐘點(diǎn)房，作了“一直想做卻總以為今生也不可能有機(jī)會(huì)做的事情”。然后，他們分手，各道珍重，不說(shuō)“再見(jiàn)”。

說(shuō)到這里，一度表情冷峻、充滿嘲諷的女人竟然淚流滿面。她說(shuō)：“我總覺(jué)得人生是永不重復(fù)的季節(jié)變換，不僅僅有春夏秋冬。每一個(gè)季節(jié)和每一天都有不同，所以要花月留痕?！?/p>

那一天她的話常常在我心頭回蕩，就像當(dāng)時(shí)我們談話間一直聽(tīng)著的老歌。那是一首被很多人翻唱到濫的英文歌——《你可曾記得》

人就這樣的，因?yàn)榭偸侨滩蛔∫獑?wèn)：你可曾記得？因?yàn)椴荒艽_定你真的可曾記得，所以總也忍不住要花月留痕。

Making Marks of the Past Years

That day a woman in a GUCCI leather skirt and I sat in an old sofa in front of the decorative fireplace in the dimly light Irish Bar.Outside the window leaves were falling in the chily rain.She lit a Roseman and started telling me about her“short-lived first love.” She married a divorced Dutch businessman，who certainly had a couple of children，was much older，and rich enough to satiisfy her material needs——she did not need to work and she could live in ease and comfort in the rest part of her life. She certainly had to speak English in any place he took her to. She certainly was aware of their difference and often felt lost and lonely.

Consequently she told me the story about herself at last seventeen years ago，her desk-mate was a boy with limpid eyes. He was tall，made good grade and everyone said he had a boundless future. Secretly she fell in love with him. She would quietly stood beside the lattice window during a break，watching him vigorously playing on the basketball court.She knew everything about him but she thought he knew nothing about her. In those days she was“not as self-indulgent as she is.”They went to different cities to study in different universities after they graduated from high school. Even though they did not keep contact with each other，she knew that in the next few years he broke with each of his girlfriends，refused to go to a graduate school even though he had passed the examination with excellent marks，immigrated to England with his parents who were doctors of traditional Chinese medicine，and owned a clinic there.

Her first love would have been a sour green fruit，a memory short of a male protagonist or a romance that ended in peace if nothing had happened.

However accidentally they met with each other in the street of London. He had had a divorce. Her husband had gone to see his ex-wife，leaving her alone in the hotel. At first they just wanted to have some drinks in the cafe in the street corner to celebrate their reunion in a foreign country. In the end she told him that she had been in love with hime for many years.He said，“I know everything. What can I do even though I know your heart？”Heraing his word，she could not refrain from bursting into tears.

They entered a hotel，rent a room by the hour，did“the thing they had wanted to but thought they had no chance to do”and then parted each other，saying“take good care”instead of“good-bye”.

She had looked cynical and stone-faced a moment before but when she finished her story，tears were running down her face. She said，“I believe life is not a cycle of the four seasons. It is a process in which seasons change but never repeat. Each season is unique，so is each day. Therefore we should make marks of the past years.”

Like the old song we heard while we were talking，her words lingered on in my mind that day. It was an English song named“Do You Remember”. So many singers had sung it so many times.

We do things in the same way. Because we often need to ask ourselves“Do you remember？”and because we are uncertain if we really remember，we can＇t help making marks of the past years.■