LOVE in Indiana（3）

(4)

Long time no, the house is a little more modern, and not quite the same as before. Approached a look, the original is in the wooden door wooden window and added a pair of steel doors and Windows, this is afraid of someone to steal the painting? Pipe door with a cigarette happily looking at the entertainment program in the mobile phone, a head shiny, turned out not to be the original uncle, see me to go in, stretched out his hand to ask me for the door card. That's not what I was thinking when I left. Besides, I can't get in without a key card.

Twice I jumped out the window from the warehouse carrying a stool for the exhibition, but the bald man would not talk to me, let alone bring me a stool.

Is hesitating, the side of the south Tianzhu was sleeve-belt, a rustling sound, the original tube door uncle is face angrily out of the toilet.

"The new guy." He pointed contemptuously at the bald head.

"What about you?" I asked, thinking he was done.

"Call US TWO DAYS a rotation class, so big point place, need?" He opened the warehouse under the eyes of his bald head, brought out a high stool, asked me to return to the bald head when I finished.

I thanked him and saw him out. In fact, I didn't think Uncle good before. It is said that the health of his management, some places of garbage never pour, nothing is good from the self sing a paragraph, often female opera fans come to us, we are very tired, mentioned to replace him, but not. Now with a bald head, those female theatregoers will be more or less restrained. The uncle, however, had a good set of flowers; white tea, magnolia, and iris blossomed well, and especially a large pool of lotus flowers, which blossomed in July and August, was the most beautiful in the garden. I stopped by the pool to see the lotus flowers in winter, but I saw Ken walking down the hall.

He saw me, too, two or three meters away from me, with a slight pause on his feet and a slight stiffening of his face.

My face probably froze too, but I was trying to smile at him.

I don't know who started it, but it was a hello.

I used to think Ken was my best friend around here. I wasn't even in the club when I first heard about him. He started out early and came from a good family, which is the opposite of mine. To this day I remember the first time I was dragged to a society function, when I came in and saw him sitting in the front row in the pride of place, with his white shirt and short hair, and there was something neat about him. I have feelings for him is later in an annual party, that day went to a lot of old-timers, I do not know them, they do not look at me like a nobody, young Gu self into a pile, also do not listen to people, as if they are some teacher's disciples. I sat bored, from the side of a magazine, the top speech, I read below a young mother's memory of her son's prose. When I read about the young mother waiting for her six-year-old son to come out of the cremation, she tried to hold her tongue, but could not help it, and the tears started to flow down. I did not find when Ken sat down. He didn't ask me, and I didn't explain what was wrong with me. I just pushed the magazine at him. He looked convinced, whispering about a book he had read. I was glad I wasn't sitting around all the time, but I was also a little embarrassed that I had let him see one of my weaknesses. That's my soft heart. But on the surface, I came across as cold and heartless. Then for a few years we couldn't see each other. No matter what the event was, with or without important people, we would just sit and talk. No one occupies the seat next to me, and neither does he. Everyone knows that there must be one on the right and left of him. It was really unthinkable for a few years, in fact, a lot of times we don't talk about the right way, especially when it comes to XX recognize, which painting took how much money, there is no attention, and such as painting, painting style, artistic sense unrelated to the topic. But a deep friendship can only be felt with him, or let me patiently say a lot of things he wants to know. After all, we also talked about how Mrs. John Taylor's transparent collar was painted, and how Titian eliminated brushstrokes when he finished painting... We don't talk about anything but painting. I don't think it's because he married young, his family was rich, there was no need to mess up the reunions. We're just stuck in a small place and can't find anyone better to talk to. Chatting with his girlfriend, she said that there is no pure friendship between the opposite sex, how much mixed with the lust, because of sexual attraction; I also argued with her, citing Ken and me as proof that there are non-sexual, like-minded opposite-sex friends. However, I thought the like-minded after all is nothing. First he was promoted, then I went away to study for half a year, and when I returned I was surprised to find him not sitting next to me, but sitting comfortably beyond me. But I got used to the shock, the hairiness, the prickly heat like a worm creeping through my heart after two times. You will find it shameful and unnecessary to expect him to sit down again. He was more silent than before, and his eyes were bloodshot, as if he were always up late trying to paint a good picture. Slowly I heard that after I went out to study, a lot of people thought I would not come back, will be a north drift or sea drift from then on floating in a different place. That seems like a good thing. It's always good to have fewer opponents. It was said that he wanted a place in the Society, and that he had some prospect of it; He invested in a printing house and did a lot of business in making picture books. He had come to me only once in recent years, and in the middle of a break at a big convention, he suddenly walked straight across the carpet with his hands in his pants pockets and said, "Do you know Richard?" I froze for a moment and said yes. "He's on the phone?" I looked at him and couldn't say "no." "Thank you." He finished taking the call, nodded, and walked straight away with his hands in his pockets. I looked at the carpet, and thought over and over of the unkindness of his nod, wondering if I expected him to say anything else, to make up with me. When Richard came last time, I went back and forth and finally forwarded the party information to him. But he never came to talk to me that day. Maybe someone else texted him, too. I'm not the only one here who knows Richard.

So, see him pause hesitantly and ask me, "Going to the dam this afternoon?" I thought he was asking me to help him find Richard again. Didn't they just talk in the cafeteria?

"Oh. Yes, a little chat."

"Richard is fine. Let him know if you have any ideas."

"Oh."

"He was kind to everybody."

"Oh. He's all right. The event starts at two?"

"Two o 'clock."

"Oh." He nodded, but he didn't ask me how I was going to get there later, if I was going back to the hotel with the bus, or if I was going in whose car.

Shall I ask him? Wait. Take his car. Go with him? "Why don't you go? Dam."

"Go." He looked at the stool in my hand. "What are you?"

"I forgot my key card." I said.

His face stiffened slightly again, and he turned and walked down the short corridor toward his room.