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第4部分(第2页)

Dan thoughtfully chewed the end of his Bic pen。 Suddenly; for the first time in several months; words began to flow。

Missed kisses。

Missed shreds of carpet。

Torn by your Doc Marten feet。

I’ve lost weight。

Or maybe it’s just you I’m missing。

Maybe it was the promise of Vanessa or the hiss of the radiator in the corner or the chipped mug he’d drunk millions of cups of coffee out of; but suddenly; he could write。 Dan grinned to himself; adrenaline rushing from writing his first almost…poem in months。 He was back。

And better than ever?

“Daniel!” Rufus Humphrey boomed as he strode into the living room from his office。 He wore a pair of paint…stained blue sweatpants that read BROADWAY BOWLING LEAGUE down the leg and a stretched…out pink T…shirt that said CRUISE TO LOSE below a picture of Richard Simmons。 His wiry gray hair was held back with a red velvet bow; left over from Christmas。 “It’s too quiet around here since Jenny left for Bermuda or Burundi or wherever she went with her fancy Waverly friends。 Is it just me; or is Jenny noisier than before?”

“Probably。” Dan shrugged。 Jenny was currently in the Bahamas with her boarding school friend; the governor of Georgia’s daughter。 When Dan left in August; Jenny was still his little sister。 But she seemed to have matured six years in her four short months at Waverly。 Now she was self…assured and confident and didn’t cross her arms over her chest all the time。

Rufus leaned down and picked up the notebook from the coffee table。 “What is this?” he asked; flipping through pages。 “‘Doc Marten feet;’” Rufus intoned; as if reciting a monologue。 Dan cringed。 Rufus was an editor of lesser Beat poets and had always taken special interest and pride in Dan’s literary acplishments。 He suddenly felt ashamed that the only thing he’d written in the past three months was a haiku。 He’d anonymously posted it on the door of the dorm bathroom; asking his hall mates to please not pee on the floor。

“You know; this isn’t bad;” Rufus said thoughtfully; holding the book close to his face as he settled on the couch next to Dan。 “It’s a postmodern interpretation of Sandberg。 It’s been done before; but it’s not horrible。”

“Thanks。” Dan yanked the notebook away from his dad。

“And this is only the beginning。 I just know you’ll really let your creative juices flow on our retreat!” Rufus said fondly as he ruffled Dan’s hair。

Dan swatted his dad’s hand away。 Fuck。 He’d forgotten that he’d promised to join Rufus and a couple of his Beat poet buddies on an artists’ retreat over New Year’s。 He’d agreed before the Columbia acceptance had e; when anything besides his current reality had sounded like paradise。 But he didn’t want to leave Manhattan so soon。 He had so much to do before the semester started; like look for cheap studio apartments for him and Vanessa。

That would definitely surprise her。

“Don’t tell me you’re not ing!” Rufus pouted; noticing Dan’s hesitation。 “I haven’t seen you since August—the least you can do is spend four days with your old man。 I know I won’t see you much once Vanessa gets here。”

“You’ll still see me;” Dan mumbled; even though he knew it was true。 Once Vanessa was back; Dan never wanted to let her out of his sight again。 He sighed。 “No; I’ll e;” Dan said definitively as he headed toward the sink with his coffee mug。

“Great! I’ll make sure to stock up on some supplies for you; then。 We’re going to build a sweat lodge and sweat out our demons。 This old man needs a Speedo!”

“Get some bagels while you’re out!” Dan called to Rufus’s retreating back。 He turned on the water and squeezed dish soap into the sink; smiling at the tiny bubbles swishing in the coffee mug。 A poem was already forming in his head。

Avocados in the morning; with cake。

Death by chocolate。

You kill me; you really do。

And I’ve been alive too long。

Dan hurriedly set the mug on the dish drainer so he could write down the first few lines。 He sank down onto the couch and picked up his notebook。 As he started to write; he heard keys scraping in the lock。

“I’m home!” A female voice echoed through the apartment as the door creaked open。

Dan blinked and his breath caught in his throat。 So many times he’d imagined her: his perpetually black…garbed muse。 But now she was here; framed by the entryway。 Her hair had grown

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