Never settle--wait for the right one, my grandmother advised. I was certain I would know him when I saw him.
By Diane Goldberg
My grandma and grandpa celebrated their fifty-fifth anniversary surrounded by their children, grandchildren and a lifetime collection of friends. I thought that Grandma had forgotten anything she may have known about being single. I was wrong.
As she was getting ready for the party, arranging her long white hair in a French twist, my grandma commented, "I'm always surprised when I look in the mirror and see all these wrinkles." Holding her hand over her heart, she added, "In here, I'm still a young woman." She applied bright red lipstick.
I sat on the bed watching her primp. "So, what is the secret of a long, happy marriage?"
She sprayed floral cologne on her wrists. "Don't settle."
I must have looked puzzled.
"Don't settle. That is all you need to know." She tucked a stray wisp of hair in place.
I twisted my own hair around my fingers hoping to coax it into a curl. Turning the page of Grandma's photo album, I saw an out-of-focus photo of nondescript steps. "Where's this?"
"That is where your grandpa proposed to me; we had known each other six weeks. When he first saw me, he told his cousin that he had seen the girl he was going to marry. That was before we had even spoken one word to each other."
"Six weeks?" My images of Edwardian modesty shattered. My grandma was born in 1890. Opposite the picture of the steps was a sepia studio portrait of a ringleted young woman with limpid eyes. That was Grandma, in the high-collared lace blouse, her mouth primly shut, her huge eyes staring off into the unknown future. "I thought people used to have long courtships."
"I had a long courtship, it just wasn't with your grandfather." She giggled. Grandma's eyes had not changed since that young girl held her rigid pose for the photographer.
My grandma was one of thirteen children. Her parents had a large house that Grandma described as a mansion. They were an unusual family for the turn of the century. One of Grandma's sisters was a bookkeeper. Her sister Ceil was an attorney; a plaque on a building in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, marks the site of her office.
Grandma always wanted to be a wife and mother. She was twenty-five when she married my grandfather.
"Grandma, I always thought things were different back then. I thought maybe Grandpa came over and sat around the den or parlor or whatever for years before he proposed."
Grandma smiled and moved closer, just like one of my friends settling in for a good gossip. "I kept company with another man for six years. He kept pushing me to marry him. I kept saying, 'I don't want to leave my mother,' or 'I'm not ready.' I said this, I said that. The truth was, there was no spark. He was nice but...he just wasn't the one."
I leaned forward. The years had fallen off Grandma's voice. Her speech sounded young, expectant.
"Everyone kept saying, 'Annie, so when are we dancing at your wedding?' People talked--people have always liked to talk. There was talk I'd end up an old maid. We took that kind of thing seriously. I didn't say anything. I kept going out with him, but something stopped me from getting engaged. He wasn't the one. My mother was worried about me. I wasn't worried. I knew that there was someone, somewhere. I wasn't ready to settle."
She squeezed my hand.
"So, then I met your grandfather. He saw me out walking with my friends and found--who knows how--that he knew my cousin. In a few days, he managed to come calling with my cousin. I never saw the other man again.
"Six weeks later your grandpa proposed." She started laughing until tears gathered in her eyes. "He said he needed a wife to manage his money. He didn't have two dimes to rub together."
"Did you know that before you married him?" I asked, thinking of the tales I had heard about her well-off parents.
"Of course I knew that. I also knew he was the one I had waited for," she said. She looked at our faces in the ornately framed mirror. In my face she saw the young woman she had been; in her face I saw my future. I kissed Grandma's cheek, knowing I would never settle. I would wait for the right one, and now I was certain I would know him when I saw him.
译文:
命中注定的那个人
我奶奶建议说，决不要定下来，要等待命中注定的那个人。我确信当我遇到他的时候我会知道的。
我爷爷奶奶庆祝了他们的55周年纪念日，身旁围满了他们的孩子，孙子以及一生的朋友。我以为奶奶已经忘了单身是怎么回事了。我的想法是错误的。
奶奶正在准备庆祝聚会，她把长长的白发弄成法式盘发。奶奶说到：“当照镜子时，看到所有这些皱纹，我总是很惊讶。”她把手按到胸口，继续说道：“在我心里，我仍是个年轻女人。”她涂着大红的唇膏。
我坐床上，看着她打扮。“那么，幸福长久婚姻的秘密是什么呢？”
她把带花香的古龙香水喷到手腕。“不要定下来。”
当时我一定是一脸疑惑。
“不要定下来。这就是你全部该知道的。”她摆正一束乱掉的头发。
我用手整理头发，试图弄成卷发。翻着奶奶的相册簿，我看到一张照了普通台阶的模糊照片。“这是哪里?”
“就是这里你爷爷向我求婚的地方；当时我们已认识六个星期了。第一次见到我时，他对他堂兄说，他见到了他想娶的女孩了。那时我们甚至连一句话都没说过。
“六个星期？”爱德华七世时代那种朴实谨慎的形象在我心中荡然无存。我奶奶生于1890年。照片里台阶的另一端是幅棕褐色的画室肖像，一个卷发的年轻女子，眼睛清澈。她就是奶奶，穿着高领有花边的宽松上衣，嘴紧闭者，大大的眼睛看着未知的远方。“我一直以为过去人们追求别人的时间很长。”
“有个人追了我很久，只是那个人不是你爷爷。”她笑着说。从那个照片里摆着僵硬姿势的年轻女子一直到现在，奶奶的眼睛都没变过。
奶奶是她家十三个孩子之一。她父母有座大房子，奶奶称作大厦。十九世纪末二十世纪初他们家是个不同寻常的家庭。奶奶的一个姐姐是簿记员。姐姐席尔是个律师；宾夕法尼亚麦斯基波特的一栋建筑物上，有个标牌，标明是她姐姐的办公室。
奶奶总想成为一个妻子，再成为母亲。嫁给爷爷时她25岁。
“奶奶，我一直以为那时事情是不一样的。我以前以为奶奶来到爷爷家，坐在私室或客厅或什么地方几年，然后爷爷才求婚的。”
奶奶笑了，靠近我，就像一个朋友般坐下来闲谈。“我与另一个男人交往了6年。他一直催我结婚。我一直说：“我不想离开我的母亲。”或者“我还没心理准备。”我说这，说那。事实是，我们“不来电”。他不错……只是，他不是我命中注定的那个人。
“每个人都说,‘安妮，我们什么时候才能在你婚礼上跳舞呢’”人们谈论着—人总是喜欢谈论的。有人说我会成为老处女。那种事我们是严肃对待的。我什么也没说。我继续和他交往，但总有什么让我不想和他订婚。他不是我命中注定的人。我的母亲很担心我。我并不担心。我知道，某个地方某个人在等我。我还不准备安定下来。
她捏了下我的手。
“因此，之后我遇到了你爷爷。他看到我与朋友散步，然后不知怎么的发现他认识我堂兄。几天后，他和我堂兄来看我。之后，我再没见到我堂兄。”
“六星期后，你爷爷求婚了。”她开始笑了，一直笑到眼里都有了泪。“他说他需要个妻子管理他的钱。其实他非常穷。”
“结婚前你知道他穷吗？”我问道，心想着她富裕的父母的事。
“我当然知道了。我也知道他就是我等的那个人。”她说。奶奶看着镜子中我们的脸，镜子外框绚丽。从我的脸上，她看到了年轻时候的她；从她脸上，我看到以后的我。我亲吻奶奶的脸颊，我也不会定下来的。我会等那个命中注定的人，现在我确信，见到他的时候我会知道的。