“然后我开始用最快的速度给她洗澡，心里盼望着能早一点结束。这时特洛伊把手放在我胳膊上，让我先停下来。他请求道：‘请给她一点时间来适应水温。’接着他开始用俄语温柔地对她说话。不一会儿，她就安静了下来，看起来像是在听他讲话。他接过我手中的毛巾和肥皂，非常温柔地擦洗着她的双手。之后，又缓慢而细心地擦洗着她的手臂和肩膀，认真地擦拭着她满是皱纹并已变得灰黄的皮肤。他的每次触摸仿佛都是爱抚，每个动作仿佛都是许诺。不久，她闭上了眼睛，在温暖的水里显得很轻松。老人喃喃低语道，‘我美丽的娜佳，你多么漂亮啊。’令我惊讶的是，斯沃博达太太居然睁开双眼，低声答道，‘我英俊的特洛伊。’更令人诧异的是，她的眼里竟含着泪水！”
海伦长长地呼了口气，接着说：“那天下午，斯沃博达太太一直都很安静。她丈夫帮我给她穿衣服，并喂她吃午餐。她埋怨午餐不合胃口，还打·了汤。斯沃博达先生耐心地清理完洒了的汤，并一直等到她发完脾气，恢复平静。之后他又慢慢地喂她把剩下的食物吃完，并陪她聊天，一直到她准备睡觉。我很担心这位老人，因为他看上去已经非常疲惫。这些事本都是我们应该做的，于是我问他为什么要坚持自己做。他转身面对着我，简单地说道：‘因为我爱她!’他又接着讲道，‘你不明白，我们结婚差不多49年了。你无法想象，我们当初在农场的生活是多么的艰苦。旱灾让我们的庄稼颗粒无收，也没有充足的牧场养牛。那时我们的孩子还小，而我甚至不知道我们是否能够熬过去那个寒冷的冬天。那一年，我也变得脾气暴躁，难以相处。然而，娜佳却一直忍受着我恶劣暴躁的脾气，也不烦扰我。但最终有一天我还是爆发了，当时一家人正在吃晚饭。娜佳做了我们最爱吃的米饭布丁。可我脑海唯一能想到的就是她得用了多少的牛奶和糖啊！
‘我一口也不想吃，猛地抓起我的碗，用力砸到墙上，然后冲出门，跑到谷仓里。我不清楚独自在那儿待了多长时间。但日落时，娜佳找到了我。她说：“特洛伊，你有麻烦，可你却并不孤单。我答应你，我会永远站在你身边，不管生活给我们带来多少艰难困苦，我都会和你一起面对。但倘若你不同意，那你就只有离开了。”尽管她满眼含泪，但语气却十分坚定。“无论何时，我们都会在这里等你，只要你愿意回到我们身边。”她轻吻我的脸颊，然后转身走回了屋子。
‘那晚我一直待在谷仓里。次日，我直接去了城里，准备在那里找一份工作。当然，我一无所获，但我还是继续在找。大约一周后，我决定放弃了。作为一个男人，一个庄稼汉，我觉得自己彻底地失败了!于是我动身回家，我不知道他们是否会欢ó我的归来，但除了家，我的确无处可去。当我走在回家的乡间小路上时，娜佳看到了我并飞快地从屋里冲了出来，朝我跑来，她的围裙带欢快地跳跃着。她张开双臂，紧紧地拥抱着我。我不禁哭了出来，像刚出生的婴儿—样紧紧地依偎着她。
‘在我人生最黑暗的时候，在我们生活最艰苦的时候，娜佳都能一直守候在我身边，那么，我现在能做的只有尽力来安慰她，让她回忆起我们曾经美好快乐的日子。每当一起吃米饭布丁时，我们总会微笑着看着彼此。而这也是现在她能想起的少数几件事情之一。’”
说完，海伦默默地望着希à。突然，希à推开椅子，站起身来，将脸颊上滚落的泪水轻轻拭去，柔声地说道：“我休息好了。我也终于明白了，这位老太太为什么总想要其它的晚餐。”然后，她看着海伦，露出了笑容并说：“只要我诚心诚意地请求他们，我敢打赌厨房一定能很快地为她做一盘米饭布丁。”
最后的告白
Words From The Heart
佚名 / Anonymous
Most people need to hear those three little words "I love you". Once in a while, they hear them just in time.
I met Connie the day she was admitted to the hospice ward, where I worked as a volunteer. Her husband, Bill, stood nervously nearby as she was transferred from the gurney to the hospital bed. Although Connie was in the final stages of her fight against cancer, she was alert and cheerful. We got her settled in. I finished marking her name on all the hospital supplies she would be using, then asked if she needed anything.
"Oh, yes," she said, "would you please show me how to use the TV? I enjoy the soaps so much and I don't want to get behind on what's happening." Connie was a romantic. She loved soap operas, romance novels and movies with a good love story. As we became acquainted, she confided how frustrating it was to be married 32 years to a man who often called her "a silly woman".
"Oh, I know Bill loves me," she said, "but he has never been one to say he loves me, or send cards to me." She sighed and looked out the window at the trees in the courtyard. "I'd give anything if he'd say 'I love you', but it's just not in his nature."
Bill visited Connie every day. In the beginning, he sat next to the bed while she watched the soaps. Later, when she began sleeping more, he paced up and down the hallway outside her room. Soon, when she no longer watched television and had fewer waking moments, I began spending more of my volunteer time with Bill.
He talked about having worked as a carpenter and how he liked to go fishing. He and Connie had no children, but they'd been enjoying retirement by traveling, until Connie got sick. Bill could not express his feelings about the fact that his wife was dying.
One day, over coffee in the cafeteria, I got him on the subject of women and how we need romance in our lives; how we love to get sentimental cards and love letters.
"Do you tell Connie you love her?" I asked (knowing his answer), and he looked at me as if I was crazy.
"I don't have to," he said. "She knows I do!"
"I'm sure she knows," I said, reaching over and touching his hands rough, carpenter's hands that were gripping the cup as if it were the only thing he had to hang onto. "But she needs to hear it, Bill. She needs to hear what she has meant to you all these years. Please think about it."
We walked back to Connie's room. Bill disappeared inside, and I left to visit another patient. Later, I saw Bill sitting by the bed. He was holding Connie's hand as she slept. The date was February 12.
Two days later I walked down the hospice ward at noon. There stood Bill, leaning up against the wall in the hallway, staring at the floor. I already knew from the head nurse that Connie had died at 11 a.m?
When Bill saw me, he allowed himself to come into my arms for a long time. His face was wet with tears and he was trembling. Finally, he leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath.
"I have to say something," he said. "I have to say how good I feel about telling her." He stopped to blow his nose. "I thought a lot about what you said, and this morning I told her how much I loved her? and loved being married to her. You should seen her smile!"
I went into the room to say my own good-bye to Connie. There, on the bedside table, was a large Valentine card from Bill. You know, the sentimental kind that says, "To my wonderful wife?I love you."
多数人都喜欢听“我爱你”这三个小巧可爱的字眼。有时他们会在需要时听到。
我看到康尼的那天，她刚被送到收容所的病房，而我则是那儿的志愿者。她的丈夫比尔不安地站在旁边，看着她从轮床被抬到病床上。康尼虽然已到了癌症晚期，但仍神清气爽。安顿好她后，我把收容所发放给她的所有用品都标上她的名字，然后又问她是否还需要别的东西。
“哦，”她说，“那么请您告诉我怎样用电视好吗？我很喜欢看肥皂剧，不想错过任何故事情节。”康尼是个追求浪漫的人。她爱看肥皂剧、浪漫小说和言情电影。我们日渐熟识，她向我抱怨说，她有多么失望，与一个常称她“傻女人”的男人共同生活了32年。
“哦，我知道比尔深爱着我，”她说，“可是他从不说他爱我，也从未给我寄过贺卡。”她叹了口气，把目光投向窗外庭院里的树林。“如果他能对我说‘我爱你’，让我付出一切我都在所不惜，可是那根本不是他的作风。”
每天比尔都来看望康尼。开始，康尼看肥皂剧时，他就坐在床边陪她。后来，她睡觉的时候多了，比尔便在病房外的走廊踱来踱去。不久后，康尼不再看电视了，清醒的时候也不多了，于是我有了更多的时间与比尔相处。
他说他是个木匠，非常爱钓鱼。他和康尼没有孩子，他们到处游玩以享受退休后的时光，直至康尼病倒。面对妻子病危的事实，他内心的感受是无以言表的。
一天，在自助餐馆喝咖啡时，我和比尔谈起了女人的话题，并谈到了生活中浪漫对我们的重要性以及我们对洋溢着柔情蜜意的卡片和情书的渴望。
“你告诉康尼你爱她了吗？”我明知故问道。他注视着我，仿佛我神经错乱。
“没那必要，”他说道，“她知道我非常爱她！”
“我也确信她是知道的，”说着，我把手伸过去,碰到了他的手，那是一双木工的粗糙的手。这双手紧握着±子，似乎那是他唯一可以抓住的东西。“但是她需要听那句话，比尔。她需要听你说，这些年她对你意味着什么。你该考虑一下。”
