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Every afternoon when I came on duty as the evening nurse,I would walk the halls of the nursing home, pausing at eachdoor to chat and observe.Often,Kate and Chris, their bigscrapbooks in their laps,would be reminiscing over the photos.Proudly,Kate showed me pictures of bygone years:Chris ——tall,
blond,handsome; Kate pretty,dark-haired, laughing.The twoyoung lovers smiling through the passing seasons.How lovely they looked now,sitting there,the light shiningon their white heads,their time- wrinkled faces smiling atthe memories of the years,caught and held forever in thescrapbooks.
How little the young know of loving, I'd think. Howfoolish to think they have a monopoly on such a preciouscommodity.The old know what loving truly means;
the youngcan only guess.
Kate and Chris were always together——in the dining room,the lounge,strolling around the big porches and lawns,always holding hands.As we staff members ate our evening meal,sometimes Kate and Chris would walk slowly by the dining-room doors.Then conversation would turn to a discussion ofthe couple's love and devotion,and what would happen whenone of them died.We knew Chris was the strong one, and Katewas dependent upon him.
How would Kate function if Chris were to die first?
Weoften wondered.
Bedtime followed a ritual. When I brought the eveningmedication,Kate would be sitting in her chair, in nightgownand slippers,awaiting my arrival.Under the watchful eyes ofChris and myself,Kate would kate her pill, then carefullyChris would help her from the chair to the bed and tuck thecovers in around her frail body.
Observing this act of love, I would think for thethousandth time,good heavens,why don't nursing homes havedouble beds for married couples? All their lives they haveslept together,but in a nursing home, they're expected tosleep in single beds.Overnight they're deprived of a comfortof a lifetime.
How very foolish such policies are,I would think as Iwatched Chris reach up and turn off the light above Kate's bed.Then tenderly he would bend,and they would kiss gently.Chris would pat her cheek,and both would smile. He wouldpull up the side rail on her bed,and only then would he turnand accept his own medication.As I walked into the hall, Icould hear Chris say,"Good night,Kate", and her returningvoice,"Good night,chris",while the space of an entire roomseparated their two beds.
I had been off duty two days and when I returned, thefirst news I heard was,"Chris died yesterday morning."
"How?"
"A heart attack.It happened quickly."
"How's kate?"
"Bad."
I went into Kate's room.She sat in her chair,motionless,hands in her lap,staring.Taking her hands in mine,I said,"Kate,it's Phyllis."
Her eyes never shifted,she only stared.I placed my handunder her chin and slowly turned her head so she had to lookat me.
"Kate,I just found out about Chris.I'm so sorry."
At the word "Chris",her eyes came back to life. Shelooked at me,puzzled,as though wondering how I had suddenlyappeared."Kate,it's me,Phyllis.I'm so sorry about Chris."
Recognition and sadness flooded her face.Tears welled upand slid down her cheeks."Chris is gone," she whispered.
"I know," I said,"I know."
We pampered Kate for a while,letting her eat in her room,surrounding her with special attention.Then gradually thestaff worked her back into the old schedule.Often,as I wentpast her room,I would observe Kate sitting in her chair,scrapbooks on her lap,gazing sadly at pictures of Chris.
Bedtime was the worst part of the day for Kate. Althoughshe was allowed to move from her bed to Chris's bed, andalthough the staff chatted and laughed with her as theytucked her in for the night,still Kate remained silent andsadly with drawn.Passing her room an hour after she had beentucked in,I'd find her wide awake,staring at the ceiling.
The weeks passed,and bedtime wasn't any better. Sheseemed so restless,so insecure.Why? I wondered. Why thistime of the day more than the other hours?
Then one night as I walked into her room, only to findthe same wideawake Kate,I said impulsively,"Kate, could itbe you miss your good-night kiss?"Bending down,I kissed herwrinkled cheek.
It was as though I had opened the floodgates. Tears randown her face; her hands gripped mine. "Chris always kissedme good-night," she cried.
"I know," I whispered.
"I miss him so,all those years he kissed me good-night."She paused while I wiped the tears."I just can't seem to goto sleep without his kiss."
She looked up at me,her eyes full of tears. "Oh, thankyou for giving me a kiss."
A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "Youknow," she said confidentially,"Chris used to sing me a song."
"He did?"
"Yes,"—her white head nodded—"and I lie here at nightand think about it."
"How did it go?"
Kate smiled,held my hand and cleared her throat. Thenher voice,small with age but still melodious, lifted softlyin song:
So kiss me,my sweet,
and so let us part
And when I grow too old to dream
That kiss will live in my heart
每天下午去值夜班的时候，我都会先在养老院各处巡视一番，在每间屋子门口停一停，看一看，和老人们聊一聊。凯蒂和克里斯经常依佃着，膝上摊着大大的相簿，一边翻看旧照片，一边追忆那逝去的年华。凯蒂自豪地把这些照片拿给我看。照片上的克里斯金发浓密，高大英俊；娇小的凯蒂黑发飘逸，笑容璀璨。这对风华正茂的情侣微笑着，任凭冬去春回，时光荏苒。而现在，他们看上去多可爱呀！他俩坐在那儿，光线在他们白发苍苍的头上闪耀。他们布满皱纹的脸上漾着微笑，沉浸在美好的往昔。这些岁月留驻在相册中，成为永远的回忆。
我常想，少男少女对爱的了解是多么少啊！认为年轻人才能独享这珍贵之物该是多么的愚蠢！老人才懂得爱情的真义，而年轻人却只能是猜测而已！
凯蒂和克里斯总是如影随形一餐厅，休息室总能见到他俩相依相偎的身影；宽大的门廊和草坪上，总能看到他俩携手漫步的画面。我们护理人员吃晚饭的时候，有时会看到凯蒂和克里斯从餐厅门口缓缓走过。这时我们的话题便会转到这对夫妻身上，他们俩是多么的相爱和忠诚，如果他们中的一个先撒手而去，另一个将会如何。我们看得出来克里斯比较坚强，凯蒂很依赖他。
我们担心，万一克里斯先走一步，凯蒂可怎么过呀？
每晚临睡前的程序都是一样的：我去送晚上服的药时，凯蒂照例总会坐在椅子上，穿着睡袍和拖鞋，等待我的到来。在克里斯和我关注的目光里，凯蒂服下药片，然后克里斯会小心翼翼地把她扶上床，并替孱弱的她掖好被子。
无数次，目睹这爱的一幕，我会想，老天！养老院为什么不为已婚的爱侣备好双人床？他们已经同床共枕了一辈子，偏偏在养老院里，却不得不各睡一个单人床。一下子他们便被剥夺了这份享受了一生的幸福。
我一边看着克里斯抬手关掉凯蒂的床头灯，一边想，养老院这样的做法多么荒唐！替凯蒂关好灯，克里斯就轻轻俯下身来，与凯蒂柔情相吻。克里斯总会拍拍凯蒂的面颊，两人相顾而笑。然后，他替她把床边上的横档拉起来。做完这一切，他才会转过身去服下自己的药。我走进楼道时，还能听见克里斯和凯蒂互道晚安。整间屋子偌大的空间将两张小床生生分隔开。
我休息了两天，再上班时，听到的第一个消息就是：“克里斯昨天早上去世了。”
“怎么回事儿？”
“心脏病发作，来得很突然。”
“凯蒂怎么样？”
“糟透了。”
我走进凯蒂的房间。她正坐在椅子上，一动不动，两手搭在膝上发呆。我握住她的手说：“凯蒂，是我，菲莉斯。”
她两眼呆视着，一眨不眨。我托起她的下巴，轻轻扳过她的头，这样她就不得不看着我。
“凯蒂，我刚刚知道克里斯的事。我很难过。”
听到“克里斯”三个字，她的眼睛重又有了生气。她看着我，一脸的迷惑，仿佛在纳闷我怎么一下子冒出来了。“凯蒂，是我，菲莉斯。克里斯的事儿我很难过。”
她反应过来了，脸上布满哀伤，泪水涌出了眼眶，流下脸颊。“克里斯去了。”她喃喃地说。
“我知道，”我说，“我知道。”
那段时间我们对凯蒂照料倍至，让她在自己房间里吃饭，给予她特别的关爱。后来护理人员又逐渐恢复了她原有的起居安排。当我经过她的房间时，常见她坐在椅子里，膝上摊着相册，悲伤地盯着克里斯的照片。
临睡前是凯蒂一天中最难捱的时光。虽然我们同意她睡到克里斯的床上，虽然我们给她盖好被子安顿她睡觉，还时常陪她聊天说笑，凯蒂仍旧是一言不发，显得悲戚孤寂。一个钟头以后，当我经过她的房间时，发现她还醒着，两眼瞪着天花板。
几个星期过去了，这种情况并无改观。她显得焦躁不安。怎么会这样呢？我寻思道，为什么临睡前她的反应尤为强烈呢？
一天晚上，我走进凯蒂的房间，看见凯蒂仍然大睁着双眼。我一时冲动地说：“凯蒂，你是不是怀念跟你道晚安的那一吻？”我俯下身，吻了吻她满是皱纹的面颊。
这一吻好像打开了一道闸门，凯蒂的泪水夺眶而出。她紧紧抓住我的双手，哭道：“克里斯总是吻我，跟我道晚安的。”
“我知道。”我低声说。
“我真想他啊。这么多年了，临睡前他总是吻我，跟我道晚安。”我替她擦去眼泪，她停了停接着说，“没有他的吻，我好像就是睡不着。”
她看着我，满眼是泪，“澳，谢谢你的吻。”
她嘴角浮上一丝微笑。“知道吗？”她悄声说，“克里斯经常给我唱一首歌。”
“是吗？”
“嗯。”——她点了点她满是白发的头——“我晚上躺在这儿，就会想起这首歌。”
“是怎么唱的？”
凯蒂笑了，拉着我的手，清了清嗓子。接着，她轻轻地哼唱起来——虽然年纪大了嗓音微弱，但是依然悦耳动听——
吻我吧，我的爱人，我们就此分开。
当我年岁已高，不再有梦，
这一吻将永驻我心。