Bruce reached out to me, "I am Bruce."
When Bruce smiled, his eyes were bright blue with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. I blushed. I can't help it. I tried to act as if nothing had happened, as if my face wasn't on fire. I don't think I succeeded.
I have seen Bruce Deman countless times on TV and on magazine covers. He himself is more perfect than I thought, and he is higher than I thought.
"Tell her the rules of this world, I understand. Listen to him. The cat knows what he is talking about. If you can, it is prudent to never give your full name to anyone. Some things will suddenly appear at night, They may use your name against you."
He still stretched out his hand. I took it, and we shook hands. I can't believe I'm shaking hands with Bruce Deman, he may be the most influential person in the world. His hand was warm and strong, he squeezed my hand lightly, and then let it go.
"Come in," he said, so Mingfu and I followed Bruce Deman into the chapel of Baisè.
"It's beautiful," I said.
I grew up in a Catholic family, and I am a conscientious type every Sunday. I went to a Catholic school, wearing a tartan pullover, a white shirt, and white knee-length socks, and prayed before opening the brown lunch bag. the whole process.
I am familiar with churches, familiar with any church. They all feel the same, smell the same, and look the same. The only difference is that Jesus on the cross hung on the altar.
You can learn a lot about the church and its congregation through Jesus. In the church where I went to Salem Elementary School, the image of Jesus on the altar was very beautiful. He didn't look like many Jesus' sorrows, nor was he betrayed like many Jesus. He looks otherworldly, holy, more like an angel than a person. His golden hair was curled around the crown of thorns, and his blue eyes looked at the sky. That school placed great expectations on us. We should be consistent with our words and deeds, our words and our deeds should be consistent with our thoughts.
When Jesus was in middle school, it was different. He has brown hair, brown eyes and deep skin. He looked sad, instead of looking up at the sky, he closed his eyes. His expression is that a man is doing what he thinks is the right thing, no matter how hard or painful. I like that school better.
I haven't been to church for a long time, so long that my mother stopped asking me if I went to church last week. Before that, I had never persisted in my mother's guilt journey.
Mingfu and I followed Bruce Deman through the gate and into the foyer of the church. This small entrance room is separated from the rest of the church by two swinging wooden doors from floor to ceiling. In the small room, two very simple and elegant lamps on both sides of the door give off a warm glow.
"I never thought you would live in a church," I said.
Bruce Denman's wealth is beyond my understanding. He can live wherever he wants to live; however, he chose to live in the white chapel.
"My fiancé, it was Amanda who saw the real potential of this space. She could find an uncut diamond. It was her own business. I live in a bland, rich man's house. Not at all. Not impressive." He pushed open the double doors. "This used to be a Catholic church, St. Anne's Church. It was shaped into the cross form of all traditional Catholic churches. This room was designed to separate the outside from the important work of the church. We entered the nave through these two doors. The main hall of the church. It is thought to refer to Noah’s Ark or Peter’s ship. I am not a religious person myself, but I find this symbolism and the history of the church very interesting."
The nave of the church, where the congregation once sat a long time ago, has now emptied the church benches. How many weddings are there? How many baptisms? How many funerals have you seen in this place? Memories, life, happiness, sadness, I can see a trace of their shadows in the lead-stained arched glass windows that line the wall in a straight line, but not elsewhere. This room was deprived of its original purpose and transformed into a living area. The seating area with leather sofas occupies half of the space. The other half of the room was filled with a long wooden table with open notebooks, a laptop, and a leather chair.
At the end of the room, the three steps leading to the altar remained intact, but the altar itself was blocked by a 10-foot-high screen. I can see a chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling on the other side of the huge screen. The chandelier lit up. It gleams on the screen.
On the top of the screen on the church wall in the distance, I can see part of the original church cross, with the crown of thorns on the top of Jesus' head. The eyes of this Jesus were open. He did not look up or down, but looked at the congregation. I don't know what emotion he is expressing, because I can't see his mouth, but his eyes are full of provocation.
Apart from the stained glass windows, Jesus is the only thing that makes the church scream. Elegant furniture is placed in the redesigned room, which seems to be out of step with the surroundings. Where do you put a retired Jesus? It is a blasphemy to put it anywhere. If I lived in an old church, I wouldn't care about the crucifix. I can't think of where it should be, except where it has been.
"Say Cao Cao, Cao Cao is here." Bruce said. Toyoda froze when he took a big step and looked over his shoulder.
A woman pushed open the double doors behind us. She was carrying shopping bags and humming herself, obviously not wanting to see customers. She was taken aback when she saw us and almost dropped a bag on the ground. She twisted it back onto her arm gracefully, hiding her surprise equally gracefully from her face. For a moment, I thought I saw fear in her eyes, but if that was the case, she cleverly concealed this fear with a warm and friendly smile.
"We're talking about you, Amanda. I'm talking about Abigail's friend, Abigail," Bruce said.
Amanda smiled happily, "Mingfu, it will always be my honor."
Amanda is a beautiful woman. She reminded me of an O'Hara red doll that my mother bought me when I was young. This doll is too beautiful to play with, my mother told me. She just used it to see, and I never looked at her as much as I hoped. She only wears it for special occasions.
"Amanda, you are as beautiful as before, a sight," Toyuo said.
Amanda put down her bag, hugged Toyuo, and kissed his cheek.
"It's been a long time," she said to Toyuo, then turned her attention to Bruce, "work?"
"I'm afraid it is," he said. "Can our dinner be changed?"
Amanda blinked. Her smile disappeared for a while, then came back, "Yes, of course."
"That's my girl," Bruce said.
"It's nice to meet you, Abigail," Amanda said to me before packing up and going back, and then went back along the way she came. The double doors swayed behind her.
"I hope we didn't bother you," I said.
"Don't think about it. I don't know," Bruce said. "Amanda is used to it. I am an unscrupulous workaholic. This is determined by the territory. I am afraid I have to make the most of her forgiving nature. "Okay," he turned around and spread his arms. "The downstairs has basically become a huge work area and laboratory, completely without Amanda's artistic touch. The former priest's dormitory has basically become Amanda's space. "
Danman led us to a circle of armchairs, a seating area separated from the main seating area.
"If I think there are other people who can help her, I won't come to you," Toyoda said, sitting on a plush chair.
Bruce said, "What you told me piqued my interest." He stretched out his fingers and put his elbow on the arm of the chair. "Tell me what makes you so interested, Abigail."
I told him. I told him the whole story, everything from Heben’s first dream, to the car accident, to Annabeth, to finding myself in Clare’s hospital. I am very careful and choose words. I know exactly what this sounds like. How does it sound. I keep my voice calm and detached, calm, and desperately trying not to make a crazy impression. It's not easy.
When I stopped, I almost reached the end of the story. I stopped coldly. I can't continue. I can't hear my voice anymore. Stop talking.
I sound like a complete lunatic.
Telling this story hurts my self-esteem. I sighed and blew out my mouth hard. I lower my head and close my eyes
Akio smiled sympathetically, but said nothing.
Bruce Danman said nothing, his forehead frowned.
"I'm not crazy," I said finally. Defiant.
Neither person made a comment.
"I didn't," I said again.
Mingfu sat there with his legs spread out forward. "Look," he turned to Danman. "I think you might be interested in her."
""Are you interested? This is an understatement, cat, "Danman rubs her hands, her brows are still frowning." In order to cut her brain to see clearly, I am willing to do anything. "
The morning sun came in straight through the window. He stood on tiptoe, carefully not to disturb her. It was late, or more precisely, it was 5 o'clock in the morning. He worked all night, racking his brains with notebooks, pencils, whiteboards and test results. He persisted for several hours than Carl.
He can do this. No one believed him, and even Karl began to waver. His eyes revealed this, just as he could barely make eye contact with Bruce these days. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)