"What are you guys talking about? You seem so happy," Noah walks into the gym from outside.
"Oliver wants to invite Lily for horse riding. Would you like to come?"
"Of course."
The horse farm is located in the outskirts. The two kids put on their smart equestrian attires, ride the horses, and are led around in circles by the coaches. As they are about to pick up the pace, there is suddenly a commotion nearby. Noah goes to check and says that the mare is giving birth to a foal.
I take a shortcut through the corridor to the stable and look down, there is a the little foal soaked in wetness, struggling to stand up, with a pair of bright and splendid eyes that look like stars.
Oliver and Lily stand hand in hand, watching beside it.
I caution them to speak softly and not disturb the mare and her foal, and then go to the resting area to get lemonade for the two of them.
Today is hot, after pouring the drinks, I can't help but stand under the air conditioning for a while.
It feels so refreshing.
I close my eyes.
When I open them again, I notice that Noah is standing outside the resting area's glass door, staring at me in a daze.
"Do you want some water too?" I smile.
Noah remains stunned for a few seconds before nodding.
I put down the two cups I have prepared for the children, pick up a new one, fill it with ice water, and hand it to him.
"Macy, over the years, you seem to have not changed at all," he suddenly says.
Is he talking about my appearance?
I look down at my white linen short-sleeved shirt and grayish-green trousers.
"You look exactly the same as when I first saw you, especially your eyes," Noah continues.
Back then...Back then...
It was one afternoon, and I was delivering documents to Elliot's office. When the knocking sound came from outside, Noah drapped his coat over me. Countless rays of sunlight reflected into the glass curtain wall outside the floor-to-ceiling window.
I remain silent for several seconds.
"It's so hot outside, drink some water," I change the subject.
He drinks the water, and I avert my gaze, staring at the painting behind him.
But Noah persists, "Elliot went to Tunisia..."
"Uh-huh."
Actually, the conversation has already taken a strange turn at this point. We are at the horse farm, discussing an old friend who is no longer part of my life. But I don't object.
Noah finds it difficult to articulate further, so I ask softly, "What happened to him?"
Noah ponders for a while and only says, "He goes to Tunisia every summer."
I smile, "Oh, the sea there is beautiful."
"He especially likes... the mint tea there,"
I can only smile, but I know it in my heart.
"But he still doesn't sleep very well."
I tighten my lips. "Is that so?"
Why can't he sleep well?
But all I can manage is a plain "Is that so?"
Noah looks at me for a while, then Noah and Lily run over, saying they are hungry and want to eat at McDonald's.
This little interlude quickly came to an end.
In early August, during the scorching season, I moved with Oliver. The new house is in the suburbs, with a small garden where you can hear the cicadas' chorus in the heat of summer nights.
At the end of the month, I quietly celebrated my birthday.
Oliver even ordered me a cake.
I drink wine while he has juice. When we clink glasses, I faintly hear the sound of something cracking inside my body.
Yes, I am twenty-eight now.
"Mom, what birthday wish did you make?" Oliver asks.
"I wish for freedom and happiness, for both of us."
I know that the sound of cracking was not an illusion. It's the sound of the shell around my body breaking. In a state of chaos, I regain my vision, open my eyes to see this world again.
I can feel it.
The next day, I fly to Paris. The temperature here is equally sultry, with emerald-green rivers and lush sidewalks.
Today is the opening of the Morandi exhibition in Paris.
I wear a little black dress, with pearl earrings and a pearl necklace, and give a speech at the opening ceremony. Then I stand at the entrance of the art gallery, distributing wristbands to visitors. The wristbands come with a pink rose, the same pink rose that appears repeatedly in Morandi's still-life paintings.
The crowd gradually enters, walking and stopping in front of each painting, resting on benches when they get tired.
A parent comes with a little girl in a white dress. I bend down and tie a wristband on her hand too. The adult-sized wristband looks loose now, so I tighten the clasp and smile at her, saying, "There you go."
"Thank you." the little girl says.
Then, just as I am about to stand up, my ears suddenly ring, almost deafening me.
Elliot, in a black suit, walks towards me, a few strands of hair falling over his forehead, and his handsome face is captivating.
He sees me too and after a moment of being taken aback, he snaps back to reality.
"Noah bought me a ticket to come and see," his voice is somewhat nervous, glancing around.
Noah appears at just the right moment, waving the two tickets in his hand, smiling at me. "I bought the tickets, so we can see the exhibition."
"Yeah."
I smile lightly, then lower my head and put wristbands on their wrists.
Noah pats Elliot's shoulder, saying, "I'll go ahead," and lifts the black velvet curtain to enter the exhibition.
Elliot is left alone.
Some visitors mistake Elliot for a staff member and come over to ask if there is an introduction to the art exhibition. Elliot picks up a stack of brochures from the table and hands them out one by one.
After a while, the crowd thins out.
He glances towards the door, approaches me, opens his mouth, but only murmurs, "The sun is so intense today."
Yeah.
I tilt my head slightly to look outside, and then I notice Elliot's increasingly gaunt cheeks and the faint dark circles under his eyes.
The whites of his eyes are a horrible red.
My voice becomes hoarse, "Elliot, how long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?"
"I..." Elliot tries to feign nonchalance, forcing a smile that lights up his entire face. But when he sees my eyes blurred with tears, he can't find the words to speak.
After a few seconds of silence, he can only whisper, "I'm sorry..."
My nose tingles, my voice becoming more choked, "What did you promise me?"
Elliot promised me to eat and sleep well.
But at this moment, he can only lower his gaze and say, "I'm sorry, I can't make it."
The setting sun breaks through the obstacles of the buildings, casting a ray of evening sunlight into the art gallery.
Elliot turns his head and looks outside, squinting, "I'm leaving now."
Hearing his words, before my mind can process it, my body has already made the decision.
Yeah, I took a step forward and held Elliot's wrist.
His fingertips are cool, and mine are just warm enough.