佚名/Anonymous

They were going to Florida——three boys and three girls——and when they boarded the bus,they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags,dreaming of golden beaches and sea tides as the gray cold of New York vanished behind them.

As the bus passed through New Jersey,they began to notice Vingo.He sat in front of them,dressed in a plain,ill-fitting suit,never moving,his dusty face masking his age.He chewed the inside of his lip a lot,frozen into some personal cocoon of silence.

Deep into the night,outside Washington,the bus pulled into a Howard Johnsons,and everybody got off except Vingo.He sat rooted in his seat,and the young people began to wonder about him,trying to imagine his life:perhaps he was a sea captain,a runaway form his wife,an old soldier going home.When they went back to the bus,one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.

“Were going to Florida,”she said brightly,“I hear its beautiful.”

“It is.”he said quietly,as if remembering something he had tried to forget.

“Want some wine?”she said.He smiled and took a swig.He thanked her and retreated again into his silence.After a while,she went back to the others,and Vingo nodded in sleep.

In the morning,they awoke outside another Howard Johnsons,and this time Vingo went in.The girl insisted that he join them.He seemed very shy,and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches.When they returned to the bus,the girl sat with Vingo again,and after a while,slowly and painfully,he told his story.He had been in jail in New York for the past four years,and now he was going home.

“Are you married?”

“I dont know.”

“You dont know?”she said.

“Well,when I was in the can I wrote to my wife,”he said,“I told her that I was going to be away a long time,and that if she couldn’t stand it,if the kids kept asking questions,if it hurt too much,well,she could just forget me.I’d understand.Get a new guy,I said-she’s a wonderful woman,really something-and forget about me.I told her she didn’t have to write me or nothing.And she didnt.Not for three and a half years.”

“And youre going home now,not knowing?”

“Yeah,”he said shyly,“Well,last week,when I was sure the parole was coming through,I wrote her again.We used to live in Brunswick,just before Jacksonville,and There’s a big oak tree just as you come into town.I told her that if she’d take me back,she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree,and I’d get off and come home.If she didn’t want me,forget it-no handkerchief and Id go on through.”

“Wow,”the girl said,“Wow.”

She told the others,and soon all of them were in it,caught up in the approach of Brunswick,looking at the picture Vingo showed them of his wife and three children-the woman handsome in a plain way,the children still unformed in the cracked,much-handled snapshots.

Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick,and the young people took over window seats on the right side,waiting for the approach of the great oak tree.The bus acquired a dark,hushed mood,full of the silence of absence and lost years.Vingo stopped looking,tightening his face into the ex-cons mask,as if fortifying himself against still another disappointment.

Then Brunswick was ten miles,and then five.Then,suddenly,all of the young people were up out of their seats,screaming and shouting and crying,doing small dances of exultation.All except Vingo.

Vingo sat there stunned,looking at the oak tree.It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs-20 of them,30 of them,maybe hundreds,a tree that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind.As the young people shouted,the old con rose from his seat and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.

三个男孩和三个女孩打算乘长途汽车去佛罗里达游玩，他们用纸袋带了三明治和葡萄酒，眼前浮现出梦想中的金色沙滩和海浪，昏暗寒冷的纽约城渐渐在他们身后销声匿迹。

当汽车经过新泽西时，他们注意到了温哥。他一动不动地坐在他们前排，身穿简朴而不合时宜的衣服，蓬头垢面，让人简直难以判断出他的真实年龄。他不时地咬着嘴唇，默不做声，似封冻于蚕茧中。

夜幕降临，长途汽车驶至华盛顿郊外，在郝华德·约翰森饭馆的门口停下了，所有人都起身下车，只有温哥仍坐在那里一动不动，像是扎根在了座位上一样。年轻人都好奇地猜想着他的身世：他或许是名船长，一个抛家弃妻的外乡人，或是一个归家的老兵。当他们回到车上时，其中一个女孩坐到了他身旁，主动搭讪，作了自我介绍。

“我们要去佛罗里达，”她爽朗地说道，“听说那儿是个景色宜人的好地方。”

“没错。”他面无表情地答道，好像这个话题勾起了他想忘却的某些往事。

“来点儿葡萄酒吗？”她说。温哥微笑着接过酒，畅饮起来，谢过女孩，又不做声了。过了一会儿，女孩回到她的同伴中间，温哥低头打起了盹。

早上大家醒来时，车已经开到了另一家郝华德·约翰森饭馆，这次，温哥跟大家进来了。女孩坚持要他加入他们当中。但他看上去很害羞，只要了杯清咖啡，年轻人畅谈着露宿沙滩的趣事，他却紧张地吸着烟。他们回到车上后，那个女孩又坐到了温哥的旁边。坐了一会儿，温哥缓慢而又略带辛酸地说出了自己的故事：他在纽约的监狱度过了四年的时光，现在要回家了。

“你有太太吗？”

“我不知道。”

“不知道？”她说。

“噢，是这样的，在监狱时，我曾写信给她，”他说，“我告诉她，我要离开一段时间，如果她不能等我，如果她厌烦孩子总问东问西，如果她心里承受不了这样的伤害，那么，她可以忘记我，我会理解她。我让她再找一个男人——她是一位好女人——她应该把我忘记，去过新的生活。我让她不必回信给我。她真的没回。三年半了，杳无音信。”

“你现在要回家了，还不知道什么情形吗？”

“是啊，”他腼腆地说，“哦，就在上周，我得知自己可以获释了，我又写了封信给她。她住在不伦瑞克，就在捷克森威尔的下一站，镇口有棵大橡树。我告诉她，如果她还愿意接受我，就在树上挂一块黄手帕，我就会下车回家。如果她不想让我回去，就不必了——看不到手帕，我就不下车了，继续坐下去。”

“噢，”女孩唏嘘不已，“这样啊！”

女孩把这个故事讲给了其他人，很快，大家就都知道了。汽车越来越接近温哥的家乡不伦瑞克，温哥拿出妻子和孩子的照片给大家看——照片上的女人朴实而美丽，孩子们都尚在稚龄。由于摸得次数太多，照片已布满裂痕。

现在距离不伦瑞克还有20英里，年轻人都聚集到车右边靠窗子的座位，等着大橡树的出现。紧张的气氛顿时笼罩了整个车厢。温哥没有勇气望窗外，紧绷着脸，尽量掩饰自己内心的不安，他像惊弓之鸟一样，做好了失望的心理准备。

还有10英里，5英里了……突然，所有的年轻人都从座位上站了起来，尖叫着，呼喊着，欢呼雀跃不已，只有温哥例外。

温哥木讷地坐在那里，望着橡树。树上挂满了黄手帕——20条，30条，或许足有数百条。这棵树像面旗帜一样，站在那儿，迎风招展，似乎在欢迎他的归来。在那些年轻人的欢呼声中，这位刚出狱的人从座位上站了起来，走到车门，准备下车回家了。

词汇笔记

sandwich[s?nwid?，-t?]n.三明治

Do you want sandwiches for breakfast?

你想要三明治当作早餐吗？

beach[bi:t?]n.海滩

With all the beautiful beaches in the world,beach lovers have

lots of choices.

世界上有那么多美丽的海滩，喜欢海滩的人有很多选择。

introduce[，intr?dju:s]v.介绍

She introduced me to her friend.

她把我介绍给她的朋友。

painfully[peinf?li]adv.痛苦地；苦恼地；费力地

I leave with smile,painfully die in sweet.

我微笑着离开，在甜蜜中疼痛死去……

小试身手

眼前浮现出梦想中的金色海滩和海浪，昏暗寒冷的纽约城渐渐隐退在他们身后。

突然，所有的年轻人都从座位上站了起来，尖叫着，呼喊着，欢呼雀跃不已。

树上挂满了黄手帕——20条，30条，或许足有数百条。这棵树像面旗帜一样，站在那儿，迎风招展，似乎在欢迎他的归来。

短语家族

……as if remembering something he had tried to forget.

as if：好像

I told her that if she’d take me back,she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree,and I’d get off and come home.

get off：下车