白裙子，红裙子(胡子宏)
 
 
    认识纯子缘于市委门前的报刊亭。数年前的夏天，有一次，我买了一本《辽宁青年》，塞到口袋里，却由于换了衣服忘记带钱，窘迫之际，一位衣着白裙子的女孩也习这本刊物并替我付了钱。我的心热乎乎的，心想这真是碰见助人为乐的好人了。我很感激地致谢并问了她的姓名单位，然后我们就大谈刊物上的某一篇文章。
 
那时我正恪守着“先立业后成家”的古训，苦心练笔，我常常把《辽宁青年》等杂志的文章读得如痴如醉，然后自己也试图涂抹几篇感人的文章。我和白裙子纯子都对那些所谓的青春白马王子灯的作家崇拜得要命，谈得很投机，似乎彼此都产生了相见恨晚的感觉……

 

我把偌多的稿件寄出去之后，收获的却是更强烈的失望。我的身心疲惫至极，突然感到很累很孤独。我想自己也许应该谈恋爱了，于是我大脑中开始刻画关于女友的形象。
 
这也是一个夏天，我同纯子相识已有一年。我们常常围绕一个话题侃侃而谈，纯子出入我的宿舍随随便便，有时我们就一块儿外出，一块儿拜访一位作家。这种近距离的接触很融洽很惬意，但始终缺少关于爱情的新鲜感。终于，一位妇联大姐问我是不是在谈恋爱时，我愣了一下并模棱两可地摇摇头。妇联大姐说：那好，我给你介绍一位罢。

数天后的一个晚上，我随妇联大姐见到了阿梅。进了她的家我就大吃一惊。那装修豪华的二层小楼，那马来西亚的进口家具和猩红的地毯，使我的心惊羡不已。阿梅身着红裙子落落大方地接待了我们。家中仅她一人，我接过阿梅递过来的一听可乐小口呷着。我们双目相望时，红裙子的眼睛就开始脉脉含情。

那个夏天，我徘徊于两个女性之间，心里矛盾得厉害。白裙子依旧同我交往，依旧很实在很随便，依旧把我的稿子誊抄得整整齐齐。只是，她没有红裙子阿梅那样浪漫，尤其是，她没有红裙子阿梅那般富有。白裙子，红裙子，一个标致端正朴实纯厚，一个漂亮妖冶浪漫新潮。终于有一天，当红裙子在我的宿舍翻阅我的作品剪贴时，白裙子不期而至……

一个月以后，当酷热的夏天即将逝去的时候，纯子拨响了我的电话，平静而果敢地说：“今天晚上等着我，我给你织了件毛衣。”那时，我们这个城市没有偌多的鲜花店和礼品屋，我知道纯子开始各我展开情感的攻势。我收下了她的毛衣，却很久没有给她任何的承诺。

两们女性都是楚楚动人，我不知如何选择。在一个辗转反侧难以入眠的夜晚，我的思维一半是白裙子一半是红裙子，两方在激烈地作战。我从床上爬起来找了两页纸，一张写了纯子，一张写了阿梅，然后揉成团。纸团落在桌子上，我犹豫着，选了一个……

是纯子。我大脑里想着我们浪漫的相识，我们谈文学时的投机，我们誊抄稿件然后寄出去时的虔诚。我们在一起，总有那么多的话题。可是，我又想到了阿梅，她那么热烈地凝视我，她那么浪漫地挽过我，尤其是，她的家庭那么富有。我又一次把纸团散落……

是阿梅。同她在一起，足可享受爱情的浪漫，也许同她结合，我不会计较没有房子住，不会担忧自己的收太少。可是，相比起纯子，阿梅的知识少得可怜，她的化妆品很多而书籍很少，总有一种不可靠的感觉。但我害怕生活的拮据，渴望那种富有。

一个月后，秋风瑟瑟，我穿上了纯子的毛衣，温暖在心。阿梅很快注意到这一点，不久就买了一件皮甲克送给我。我的心灵终于倾向于阿梅了！不知不觉，我和纯子来往日渐稀疏。阿梅常常骄傲地挽了我，我的皮鞋亮亮的，我的西装挺挺的。

当我与阿梅可言婚嫁时，阿梅单位要集资建房，因为3万元，我们产生了争执。我坚持着没有向务农的父母索要一分钱。当阿梅咬牙切齿地埋怨我是穷鬼时，我的泪水突然涌出来。我突然意识到：金钱灼疼了我的爱，我的爱情被金钱打败了……

1993年的春天，一场疾病袭击了我。那时，我与阿梅刚刚因为集资建房闹了纠纷。阿梅找了车把我送到医院，就以出差为由去了北京的一个培训班。

 

纯子探望我时，兜了许多的苹果。我正在输液，见了她，泪水就下来了。纯子握了我的手，我们相视无言。她走了，我咀嚼着纯子的苹果，没有感到任何的甘甜，只感到一种强烈的酸涩和失落。我终于明白，其实我很在意纯子，只是因为我们曾经近得触手可即，太真切太直白。而我片面地认为爱情应是浪漫的新潮的。尤其是，我在关键的时刻，没有抵挡住金钱财富的诱惑……

 

自那时至今，已逾3年，阿梅已有了家庭。纯子的音讯很少，只有一次我远远地看到她抱着女儿同丈夫一块走。我常常想起一篇寓言：一头驴，在两垛青草之间徘徊，欲吃一垛青草时，却发现另一垛青草更嫩更富有营养。于是，驴子来回奔波徘徊，没有吃上一根草，最后饿死了。

 

我没有饿死，但我觉得自己真是笨得像头驴。如今，我正顽强地战胜病魔并以每年50万字的发稿量实现着自己的作家梦，“纯子”常常出现于我偌多的爱情散文中。
 
我一直守着关于白裙子红裙子的情感秘密，不忍心让它从我的笔下流泻出来。而在这个夏天，大街上开始重新流行白裙子，这使我心中洋溢着一种沉甸甸的温暖和意味深长的遗憾。我鼓足勇气，把自己的这段经历写给青年朋友，也许你们会从中悟出些什么……
 
   （此文大约写于1995年，内容纯属虚构,发表于<<辽宁青年>>,作者:胡子宏）

       

        Once, a summer of many years ago, I bought a book called Liao Lin Youth. When I crammed the book into my pocket I found that I wasn’t carry any money because I had changed my clothes. At that awkward moment, a girl in white also bought this magazine by chance, and she paid it for me. I appreciated it, thinking I met a helpful person. Thankfully, I asked her name and working place. Then we talked much about a piece of article in that magazine. In fact, at that time, dreaming a writer’s dream, I was insisting on this principle: do a great business before marriage. So I worked very hard at my writing. I often got lost in reading some good magazines like Liao Lin Youth, then, wrote some moving story, with my heart and soul.

        I noticed that she also got the same interests in those young genius writers. I felt it was too late to meet her. After that exciting and joyful talk, we got close.

        Later, I went on reading and writing and posted out many contributions, but I became more disappointed. I got sick and tired of that life and felt terrible weariness and loneness. “ Maybe I should have a girlfriend.” I told to myself. So I began to depict the appearance of my sweet heart in my mind.
  

      It was also a summer. I had been familiar with Chun for a year. She came in and got out of my dormitory freely. We often chatted endlessly and joyfully. We often went out for a walk and visited some writers together. It was a comfortable,harmonious, and close contact, lacked the freshness and expression about love. Later a woman in the Women Federation asked me: “ Would you fall in love?” I shake my head ambiguously. So she said: “ well, let me introduce someone to you.”

      An evening, many days later, I met Mei through that lady. I had hardly come into her house when I was astonished. It was a

terrible magnificent building, two floors, Malaysian furniture, and scarlet blanket. I began to envy her…

      Mei in red greeted us warmly. She brought me a can of Coca-cola and told me she lived alone. When I saw her, she stared at

me affectionately…

      That summer I wandered between two girls, baring great ntradiction that never touched. The white shirt was still in contact with me. She was still realistic and free, and still kept my papers in good order. Yet, she was less romantic than Mei. More over, she was less rich than Mei. One was plain, bright, and beautiful; one was romantic, fresh, and pretty…

      Eventually, someday when the red shirt was looking through my scrip book about my works, the white shirt came…

      A month later, when the hot summer was flying by, Chen called me with quite and calm voice, “ please wait for me tonight,I had woven a sweater for you.” At that time, there were few flower shops and gift shops in this city. A sweater woven by hand was a great present expressing love. I knew that Chun was looking for love. I accepted her sweater but didn’t give her any promises.

        Both girls were beautiful. I didn’t know how to choose. I spent a sleepless night. I went out of my mind, in one part there was the white shirt, the other part was the red shirt, they were both fighting badly. I had to get up and spread two pieces of paper, on one was written Chun, on one was written Mei, then, I crumpled them into too balls and cast them on the desk.

      Contradictorily, I choose one…
 

      It was Chun, soon I thought about our first lucky touch, our opportunist talk about literature, and our sincerity when we

copied words and posted them. Staying with her, there was always so much to talk about… But I thought about Mei again. She always tared at me affectionately, always entwined our hands so romantic, and more over, she was so rich…
      I cast the balls again…
  

      It was Mei. Staying with her I could enjoy the romantic of love, and maybe I would have no worry about house, income and so on. However, Mei had little knowledge to compare with Chun. She had so many cosmetics and so few books. I could get for the unreliable. But I was afraid of poverty; I was longed to be rich…

      One month later, the autumn wind started to blow, I put on Chun’s sweater, warm in my heart. Mei noticed it soon, and brought a jacket for me. My heart was down towards Mei eventually. Consciously or unconsciously, I associated Chun less and less. And Mei often entwined our hands proudly, and me? My shoes were shining. My coats were sharp…

      When Mei and I started to talk about marriage, something happened. The company that Mei worked for was going to assemble money to build house for workers. Because of 30,000RMB and my insistence not to turn to my peasant parents we quarreled, when Mei complained of my poverty and murmured: “pauper…” my tears ran out, I suddenly realized: “it was money that pained my love, my love was defeated by money.”
  

      In the following spring I was attacked by hepatitis, just having experienced the dispute of gathering money for my house.Mei asked for a car to send me to a hospital, then, she went to Beijing, saying she had a business trip…

      When Chun visited me with apples, I was taking infusion. I couldn’t keep my tears back once I saw her. Chun held my hands tightly. We stared at each other without saying anything, then, she left. I chewed the apples that had no sweet taste but stronger bitter. I felt something loss. I understood at last, I cared much about Chun! Just because we got so close, we felt so natural, so direct. I had a big illusion that love should be romantic and fresh. And particularly, in the critical time, I couldn’t resist the temptation of money.
  

      But now, it has been three years. Mei has her own family. I have very few news about Chun. Just for once, in a great distance, I saw she walked with her husband, carrying a baby in her arms. I often reminds of the following fable.

        A donkey wanders between two stacks of grasses, when he is going to eat one; he finds the other is tenderer and more nutritional. Therefore, this donkey rushes between two stacks of grasses without eating a piece of grass, and die of hunger.
 

      I didn’t starve to death, but I though I was the same fool as a donkey……Now I’m fighting with the serious illness, but carry on my dreams of being a writer by 50,000 contributing words a year.

Chun appears frequently in my essay about love. I have been keeping the secret about the white shirt and the red shirt. I ‘m afraid to touch the old pain. However, in this summer, when the white shirt begin to become popular again, my heart fills a heavy warmness and deep pity. I encourage myself to write this story to young friends, so that they could learn something from it… 

                                                    JIM   2001,