双语故事:深情凝眸（Staring Me In The Face）(7)

　　"Hell, sounds familiar."

　　I sat down in the armchair.

　　"I had very academic parents," said Malcolm. "Was an afterthought, perhaps a mistake even. They loved me in their vague intellectual way but left me alone to get on with growing up. Hence the books."

　　"That's lonely, too," I said.

　　When I left, I took along a couple of Malcolm's books.

　　My friendship with Malcolm grew but my curiousity remained. Who did I remind him of? My mother? If so, could he be my father? Although Mom had never bothered with books, our physical similarities, apart from my tallness, were undeniable. She had never told me much about the man who had fathered me. Clever, was all she had usually said. Once though, when I had been ill with chicken pox, and hot and scratchy, she had relented.

　　"What was he like?"

　　"Skinniest man you ever saw."

　　"Where'd you meet him?"

　　"In a park. I was catching a suntan and these papers started blowin' in my face. I was a bit cheesed off at them blowin' all over me and then this man comes runnin'. He grabbed and grabbed but couldn't catch them all. So he jus' stood still, a helpless look on his face. It was so funny, I started laughin'."

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