英语美文,说出我的爱 Tell her that I love her - By Renee Simons/徐菲菲 译

Sweat beads gathered on my forehead at just the thought of the first day of high school. I thought for sure that I was going to be singled out and embarrassed in every class and then be laughed out of the school. In first hour, when I was called to the office, being singled out became the least of my problems.

My twenty-year-old-brother, Brian, stood filling out papers for me to leave. He turned to face me and my heart sank. His face was pale and blotchy, like someone had carelessly thrown red paint on a white sheet of paper. His eyes were swollen and red. This being the first I had ever seen my brother cry, I knew that something bad had happened. He grabbed my hand and leaned down until his face was level with mine.

“Amanda has been in a car accident, and she is in the hospital,” he said. Every inch of my body went numb as I absorbed what my brother was telling me. My sister? In a car accident? How could that happen? At age seventeen, Amanda was the safest driver I knew.

Without a thought in my head, I pulled away from my brother and sprinted down the hallway. I had to get to my locker, my class and out of that school as fast as I could. Yet nothing was fast enough. Yelling over my shoulder that I would be out to the car in a minute, I opened the door to my classroom. My teacher didn’t ask what I was doing; she knew.

People watched from class windows as I ran down the hall in a panic to my locker and then out of the school doors. Nothing mattered more than getting out of that school and to where my sister was. Brian and I drove to the trauma center at Mid-Michigan Regional Medical Center. We ran into the room, and then I saw her.

She was lying on her back on a bed with her head and neck in braces. Her face was covered from the eyebrows up and you could see blood everywhere. She was hooked to several different machines to monitor her body reactions. Her entire body convulsed with the effects of the trauma. My mom and dad stood at her side crying. I walked like a zombie to her bedside.

Nothing could explain the feeling that coursed through me when she looked up at me with blood-filled eyes. In her eyes, where I expected to see fear, I saw strength. Then her eyes softened. She looked up at me and said, “I love you, Renee.” I couldn’t handle the emotion that filled me at the realization that I rarely told my sister I loved her. I tried to answer her, but she wasn’t listening anymore.

The doctors were taking her away to the x-ray room. As they wheeled her broken body down the hallway with her blood seeping into the bandages, I wanted to scream out to her that I loved her, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move, speak or even cry until she was around the corner and I could see her no more. Then the tears came. I knelt on the floor and cried in the corner. I cried tears of hopelessness and frustration.

Though everyone kept telling me she would be all right, something in their voices spoke loudly of the doubt that everyone was secretly harboring in the back of their minds. All I wanted was for the doctor to say, “She’s going to be fine.” He didn’t. Every moment that passed allowed the doubt to grow stronger and bigger. Finally, he walked tentatively down the hall and stood quietly in front of us. He started to tell us about her head.

I knew that head wounds were very dangerous and that they could result in many different injuries. It was then that the long-awaited words came—the only words, from the only person that I could accept them from the doctor. Amanda was going to be okay.

My heart leaped as I realized I still had a sister. She would never look the same and would require hours of plastic surgery, but she was alive, and that’s all that mattered to me.

A year later, I still have a sister, and even though we quarrel and nag at each other, every time that I see her face and I spot the large scar that stretches from her hairline across her forehead, down her eyelid and back up to her hair, I remember to tell her that I love her. I remember when I almost didn’t have the chance to tell her again how much I really do love her, and I thank her I still can.
 

一想到中学生涯的第一天，我的额头便直冒汗珠。我以为大家肯定会针对我，节节课都为难我，然后再哄笑着把我赶出学校。然而在第一个钟头，就在我被叫去办公室的时候，是否会被大家针对已成了我最不关心的问题。

那时，我20岁的哥哥，布莱恩，正站在那儿填写给我请假的表格。他转身面对我时，我的心一沉。他脸色苍白，布满污痕，好似有人不小心在白纸上洒了红漆。他双眼红肿。这是我第一次看见他哭，我知道一定是出事了。他抓着我的手，俯下身来，平视我。

“阿曼达出了车祸，现在她在医院，”他说道。当我明白过来他的意思的时候，我感到自己身体的每一寸都失去了知觉。我姐姐？出了车祸？怎么可能会发生呢？我17岁的姐姐阿曼达是我所知道的最稳妥的司机。

脑子里一片空白，我挣开他，奔向走廊。我得尽快回到教室，拿上储物柜里的东西，离开学校。但一切都不够快。我一边喊着我一分钟以后就会出门上车，一边开门走进教室。老师并没有多问什么，因为她知道了。

大家从教室窗户望出来，看到我正惊慌地从走廊跑向储物柜，然后冲出了校门。对我来说，此时最重要的便是离开学校，见到姐姐。布莱恩载我来到了中密歇根地区医疗中心的外伤治疗中心。我们冲进屋子，随后我见到了她。

她仰躺在床上，头和脖子都套有托架。脸从眉毛往上都被包住，血到处都是。几种不同的仪器连接在她身上，正监测着她身体的反应。她的整个身体因创伤的缘故而痉挛抽搐。爸妈在她身旁哭泣。我呆呆地走向她床边。

当她抬起头，用充血的眼睛看我时，我心里泛起一阵莫名的情绪。因为我从她的眼睛里看到的不是恐惧，而是力量。随后她的目光柔和下来。她抬头看着我，说道：“我爱你，蕾妮。”我这才意识到，我几乎不曾对她说过我爱她，我再难抑制自己的情绪。我试图想要应答，可她却没再听了。

医生要将她送到放射科。看着满是伤痕的她被推向走廊，血渗出绷带，我想大叫着告诉她：我爱她。然而我没能叫出来。我动不了，说不出话，甚至也哭不出来。直到她转过墙角而我再也看不见她时，我的眼泪才留下来。我跪在地上，在墙角痛哭流涕。我的眼泪充满着绝望与懊丧。

尽管每个人都不断地告诉我，她会好起来，但他们那不确定的语气却泄露了他们心中隐含的担忧。其实我只是希望医生能说一句，“她会好起来的。”但他没说。时间一分一秒地过去，人们的担忧也与时剧增。最后，医生终于犹豫地沿着走廊走来，在我们面前静静地站定。他告诉我们我姐姐头部的情况。

我明白头部受伤十分危险，还可能会带来多种不同的伤害。就在此时，我终于听到了期待许久的话——那只有从医生口中说出我才会相信的话：阿曼达会好起来的。

当我意识到自己不会失去姐姐时，我的心雀跃起来。尽管她的面容会发生变化，而且还需要数小时的整容手术，但她还活着，这对我来说才是最重要的。一年后，我的姐姐仍陪伴在我身边。我们也争吵不休、互相数落，但每当我看到她脸上沿着发际线、前额、眼睑一直到头发的那个巨大伤疤时，我都不忘告诉她，我爱她。因为我记得，我曾差一点就没机会再告诉她，我真的有多爱她；感谢姐姐，我还有机会。