美食、祈祷和恋爱评价 《美食祈祷和恋爱》Chapter 82 (191):向赖爷道别

《美食祈祷和恋爱》Chapter 82 (191):向赖爷道别  

Then I asked if I could take the notebook into town with me and photocopy it before it died. I had to explain what photocopying was
and promise that I would only keep the notebook for enty-four hours and that I would do it no harm. Finally
he agreed to let me take it off the porch property with my most passionate assurances that I would be careful with his grand-father's wisdom. I rode into town to the shop with the Inter puters and photocopiers and I gingerly duplicated every page
then had the new
clean photocopies bound in a nice plastic folder. I brought the old and the new versions of the book back the next day before noon. Ketut was astonished and delighted
so happy because he's had that notebook
he said
for fifty years. Which might literally mean "fifty years
" or might just mean "a really long time."
I asked if I could copy the rest of his notebooks
to keep that information safe
too. He held out another limp
broken
shredded
gasping document filled with Balinese Sanskrit and plicated sketches.
"Another patient!" he said.
"又一个病人！"他说。
"Let me heal it!" I replied.
This was another grand success. By the end of the week
I'd photocopied several of the old manuscripts. Every day
Ketut called his wife over and showed her the new copies and he was overjoyed. Her facial expression didn't change at all
but she studied the evidence thor-oughly.
And the next Monday when I came to visit
Nyomo brought me hot coffee
served in a jelly jar. I watched her carry the drink across the courtyard on a china saucer
limping slowly on the long journey from her kitchen to Ketut's porch. I assumed the coffee was intended for Ke-tut
but
no—he'd already had his coffee. This was for me. She'd prepared it for me. I tried to thank her but she looked annoyed at my thanks
kind of swatted me away the way she swats away the rooster who always tries to stand on her outdoor kitchen table when she's preparing lunch. But the next day she brought me a glass of coffee and a bowl of sugar on the side. And the next day it was a glass of coffee
a bowl of sugar and a cold boiled potato. Every day that week
she added a new treat. This was starting to feel like that childhood car trip alpha-bet-memory game: "I'm going to Grandma's house
and I'm bringing an apple . . . I'm going to Grandma's house and I'm bringing an apple and a balloon . . . I'm going to Grandma's house and I'm bringing an apple
a balloon
a cup of coffee in a jelly glass
a bowl of sugar and a cold potato . . ."
Then
yesterday
I was standing in the courtyard
saying my good-byes to Ketut
and Nyomo came shuffling past with her broom
sweeping and pretending not to be paying atten-tion to everything that happens in her empire. I had my hands clasped behind my back as I was standing there
and she came up behind me and took one of my hands in hers. She fumbled through my hand like she was trying to untumble the bination on a lock and she found my index finger. Then she wrapped her whole big
hard fist around that finger and gave me this deep
long squeeze. I could feel her love pulsing through her power grip
right up into my arm and all the way down into my guts. Then she dropped my hand and limped away arthritically
saying not a single word
continuing her sweeping as though nothing had happened. While I stood there quietly drowning in o rivers of happiness at the same time. Eat
Pray
Love