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In April, home was the last place Ness wanted to stay. All month long—the weeks leading up to his visit to Harvard—he had been packing, the pile of books and clothes growing higher and higher. Every night before going to bed, he would take the letter out from under his pillow and read it again, pondering all the details. Andrew Binner, a junior from Albany and an astrophysics major, will accompany him on campus tours, taking him to various academic and practical discussions in the dining hall and hosting him over the long weekend. From Friday to Monday, he looked at the ticket in his hand and thought, there were ninety-six hours. After Lydia's birthday dinner, he took his suitcase downstairs and packed everything he wanted to take.
Even with the door to her room closed, Lydia could hear the movement, the click of the suitcase open and then the knock of the lid against the floor. The family had never traveled. Once, when Hannah was a baby, they went to Gettysburg and Philadelphia. Based on a road map, James planned the entire itinerary like a tour of American history. For example, there's a gas station down the road called Valley Forge, and their lunch specials include "Gettysburg Shrimp" and "William Penn Pork Tenderloin." Every time they went to a restaurant, the waitress would look first at her father, then her mother, then her, Nath, and Hannah. Although she was still young at the time, Lydia knew that they would never travel again. Her father has taught summer classes every year since then, as if her suspicions were correct—to avoid taking the whole family on vacation.
There was the sound of a drawer slamming shut in Nath's room. Lydia leaned back on the bed with her heels against the Einstein postcard. There was still a sweet, cloying taste of frosting in her mouth, and the birthday cake was churning in her stomach. By the end of the summer, she thought, Nath would have to pack not just one suitcase, but a large suitcase and a stack of cardboard boxes, taking away all his books and clothes, everything that belonged to him. There would no longer be a telescope in the corner of his room, the aeronautical magazines would disappear from the cupboard, and the empty bookshelves would gather dust. Every drawer—when she opens them—will be empty. Even his sheets would disappear.
Nas opened the door and came in: "Which one is better?"
He held up two shirts, holding a hanger in one hand on which the shirts hung like a curtain. The one on the left was blue and was his best formal shirt. He wore it to the awards ceremony for his sophomore year of high school last spring. The one on the right had a swirly pattern that she had never seen before, and there was a tag hanging on the cuff.
"Where did you get that one?"
"I bought it," Nath said with a smile. In the past, when he needed clothes, Marilyn would drag him to Decker's Department Store, where he would have whatever her mother picked out for him in order to get home early. Last week, when he was counting down the time for his visit, he took the initiative to drive to the mall for the first time and bought this colorful patterned shirt. It felt like a new suit of clothing. Now, Lydia feels the same way.
"It's a bit too fancy to wear to class," Lydia said without thinking, "Or is that what everyone at Harvard wears?"
Nath put down the hanger: "They held a party for the visiting students, and the student who hosted me wrote to me that he and his roommates were going to have a party on the weekend to celebrate the end of the semester." He held up his patterned shirt, Bi leaned in front of him, his chin pressed against his collar, "Maybe I'd better try it on."
He entered the bathroom and Lydia heard the scraping of a coat hanger on the shower curtain stay. The so-called party consisted of music, dancing, beer, flirting, and the exchange of phone numbers and addresses scrawled on pieces of paper. write me a letter. Call me. Let's play together. She slowly lowered her feet and rested them on the pillow. The party is when the freshmen mix together and become some kind of new mixture.
Nath reappeared in the corridor, buttoning up the collar of his patterned shirt: "What do you think?"
Lydia bit her lip. The blue flowers on white seemed to suit him, making him appear thinner, taller and darker. Although the buttons are plastic, they sparkle like pearls. Nath looked like a different person, a person she had known long ago. She started to miss him before he left.
"The other one is better," she said. "You went to college, not a nightclub." But she knew Nath had already figured out which one to wear.
Later, toward midnight, she tiptoed into Nath's room. That night she had been trying to tell Nath about James and Louisa: what she had seen in the car that afternoon, what she "knew" about the situation. Nath has been very busy lately, and it's hard to find time for him. This was her last chance, he was leaving tomorrow morning.
There was only a small lamp on in the dim room, and Nath was kneeling on the window sill, wearing his old striped pajamas. At first, Lydia thought he was praying and she thought she was witnessing a private moment with him. She was embarrassed and prepared to close the door and go out - as if she saw him without clothes. Hearing her footsteps, Nath turned his head. The smile on his face was like the moon rising above the horizon, and Lydia realized she had made a mistake. The window is open. He was not praying, but longing for something beautiful—and she realized later that there was almost no difference between the former and the latter.
"Nass," she said, not knowing where to start, "I saw... I thought... I needed..." So an important thing was broken down into bits and pieces, but Nass didn't seem to notice her. Tangled.
"Look there," he whispered, and Lydia knelt beside him and looked out. The dark night above was like a pool of ink, glittering with stars. These stars looked completely different from the illustrations in her science book. The stars in the book were blurry and dark, like crumbling saliva, while the stars in the sky were sharp and angular, each one like a perfect period, punctuating the sky with light. Lydia looked towards the distant horizon. She could not see the houses, the lake, or the street lights. All she could see was the sky, so big and dark that it could crush her. They seemed to be on another planet. No—like floating alone in space. According to the constellation diagram posted on Ness's wall, she looked for the constellations in the sky: Orion, Cassiopeia, and the Big Dipper. Now it seems that compared with the real scene, the constellations in the picture look dull and childish, with stiff outlines, monotonous colors and far-fetched shapes. The stars in front of her eyes blinked at her like sequins on her clothes. "This is called 'infinity.'" she thought. The clear starlight fascinated her, like a needle piercing her heart.
"It's amazing," Nath said softly in the darkness. His voice sounded like it was coming from light years away.
"Yeah," Lydia heard herself say, almost in a whisper, "Magical."
The next morning, as Nath stuffed his toothbrush into the box, Lydia wandered the hallway. In ten minutes, their father would drive him to the airport in Cleveland, where TWA would take him to New York and then to Boston. It's four-thirty in the morning.
"Promise me you'll call me and tell me what's going on over there."
"Of course," Nath said. He tied up the folded clothes with elastic bands, neatly buttoned them into an "X", and closed the lid.
"you promise?"
"I promise." Nath locked the lock with one finger, held the handle, and dragged the box up. "Dad is waiting for me. We'll see you on Monday."
Just like that, he was gone.
After a long time, Lydia came downstairs for breakfast. She could almost pretend that nothing had happened. Her homework is placed next to the porridge bowl, with four small check marks in the margins of the notebook; across the table, Hannah is scooping up lumps of cereal from her bowl. Their mother sipped oolong tea and read the newspaper. There was only one difference: Nath's seat was empty, as if he had never sat there.
"Here you go," Marilyn said. "Hurry up and finish these changes, honey, or you won't have time to finish breakfast before the school bus comes."
Lydia realized that her steps were shaky, and she came to the table unsteadily. At this time, Marilyn was browsing the newspaper - President Carter's approval rating reached 65%, Mondale became his "senior adviser", the asbestos ban, the recurrence of the shooting in New York - and her eyes moved to an interesting report in the corner. : Los Angeles doctors revive a patient who had been in a coma for six years. Amazing, Marilyn thought. She looked up at her daughter. Lydia was sitting tight against the back of the chair, as if she would float out if she didn't.
That night, Nath didn't call, and Lydia shivered under the usual double attack from her parents. "I got a course schedule from the college. Would you like to study statistics this summer?" "Has anyone invited you to the dance? Well, someone will invite you soon." He didn't call on Saturday either. Lydia cried herself to sleep that day; not on Sunday either. So, this will always be the case, she thought. It's like I never had a brother.
Nath leaves and Hannah starts following Lydia around like a puppy. Every morning, as soon as Lydia's alarm clock rang, Hannah jumped to the door of her sister's room and said excitedly: "Guess what happened? Lydia, guess what happened?" But she couldn't guess it at all. , and the answer is never something important, like, it rained, pancakes were eaten for breakfast, and a blue jay appeared in the spruce tree. Every day, all day long, she would follow Lydia around, making suggestions—let’s play house, let’s have a Friday night movie night, let’s make popcorn. Lydia had kept her brother and sister at arm's length her whole life, and Lydia and Nath had adopted a silently tolerant attitude toward Hannah, a scary little satellite. Now, Lydia has discovered many small characteristics of her sister: when she talks, she will sniff her nose twice from time to time, as fast as a rabbit; she has a habit of standing on tiptoes, as if she is wearing invisible high heels. On Sunday afternoon, as soon as Hannah put her feet into the wedge shoes that Lydia had kicked to the ground, a new idea came to her: "Let's go to the lake. Lydia, let's go to the lake." But Lydia noticed something else: something silvery was shining inside Hannah's shirt.
"what is that?"
Hannah wanted to turn away, but Lydia pulled down her collar, revealing half of what was inside: a soft silver chain and a silver heart-shaped pendant. Her pendant. She hooked the chain, and Hannah began to shake and fell out of Lydia's shoe.
"What are you doing with it?"
Hannah glanced down the hallway as if the correct answer was posted on the wall. Six days ago she had found the velvet locket under Lydia's bed. "I thought you didn't want it," she whispered. Lydia wasn't listening. "Every time you see it," she seemed to hear her father's voice, "don't forget what's really important." Sociable. popular. Adapt to the environment. Don't you want to smile? what to do? Force yourself to laugh. Avoid criticism, condemnation, or complaints. Wearing those little silver shackles, Hannah was so happy, just like Lydia when she was little - timid and slow, just reaching the age where she could shoulder such a light and silvery thing.
Her hand hit Hannah on the face with a "snap". Hannah stepped back and tilted her head to the side. Then, Lydia grabbed the chain, twisted it hard, and pulled her sister over like a dog collar. "I'm sorry." Hannah wanted to say, but she was silenced. Lydia tightened her grip, and then the necklace broke, and both sisters realized at the same time that they could breathe again.
"You don't need this," Lydia said, and the kindness in her voice shocked Hannah and Lydia herself. "Listen to me, you think you do, but you don't." She said. Holding the necklace, "Promise me you'll never wear it again, ever."
Hannah shook her head, eyes wide. Lydia touched her sister's throat and rubbed her thumb over the red line drawn by the necklace on her skin.
"If you don't want to laugh, don't laugh," she said. It was difficult for Hannah to adapt to her sister suddenly paying so much attention to her, so she nodded. "must remember."
Hannah remembered her words. That night, and many nights in the years to come, she often thought of this scene. Every time she touched her throat, she seemed to touch the red line that had long since faded. At that time, Lydia looked more anxious than angry. The necklace hung from her fingers like a dead snake; her voice was almost sad, as if she had done something wrong. Instead of Hannah. That necklace was actually the last thing Hannah ever stole. Yet this moment, the last conversation she had with her sister, would become a mystery that would haunt her for a long time.
That night, Lydia took a scrap of paper from the safe in her room, and Nath wrote on it the phone number of the Harvard student who was visiting him. After dinner, when James returned to the study and Marilyn entered the living room, she opened the paper and picked up the phone on the landing. It rang six times before someone picked up. Judging from the noisy background sound, there was a party going on over there. "Who?" asked the person on the other end of the line. He asked a second time before Lydia raised her voice and said, "Nathan Lee. Visiting student. Nathan Lee." Minutes passed, and the long-distance charges were mounting—although when the phone bill arrived By that time, James had collapsed and had no intention of paying attention to the numbers above. Downstairs, Marilyn kept flipping the channel dial on the TV: "Rhoda," "Six Millionaires," "Quincy," and then "Rhoda." Finally, finally, Nath answered the phone.
"Nath," Lydia said, "it's me." She was surprised to find that tears welled up in her eyes when she heard Nath's voice - his voice was deeper and hoarse than usual, as if he had a cold. Same. In fact, Nath was now a third of the way through his first beer, and the room was glowing warmly in his eyes. And his sister's voice - monotonous from the long line - cut through those flashes of light like a dull knife.
"What's up?"
"You didn't call."
"What?"
"You promised to fight." Lydia wiped her eyes with the back of her clenched fist.
"Is this why you called?"
"No, listen, Nath, I need to tell you something." Lydia paused, thinking about how to explain. A burst of laughter erupted in the background, like a huge wave crashing on the shore.
Nath sighed. "What's wrong? Did Mom complain about your homework?" He raised the bottle to his mouth and found that the beer had warmed up and tasted bland. "Wait, let me guess. Mom bought it for you." A special gift', which turned out to be a book. Dad bought you a new dress—no, a diamond necklace—and he wanted you to wear it. Last night at dinner, you had to talk and talk and talk, Their attention is on you. Am I right?"
Lydia was stunned into silence. Ness knew their family's life better than anyone else, including the special vocabulary and hidden secrets that were never known to outsiders: a book or a dress is not as simple as reading or clothing; the more your parents pay attention to you, the more they pay attention to you. The higher your expectations, their concerns will continue to fall on you like snow, eventually crushing you. Although Nath's words were correct, the words he said in a changed voice sounded so trivial, indifferent and empty. He seemed afraid that others would hear their conversation. Her brother had become a complete stranger.
"I have to hang up," he said.
"Wait. Wait, Nath, listen."
"Jesus, I don't have time to listen to you," he added indignantly, "Why don't you tell Jack your problem?"