A Friend Called Mick

For a moment nobody spoke. The wind blew along the empty platform, and somewhere behind the hills the Manchester train was getting louder. Ana could feel her heart beating in her throat. She had promised. Only a minute ago, she had promised. “This is Mick,” she heard herself say. “He’s a friend. He works at the supermarket warehouse.”

有那么一会儿，谁也没有说话。风沿着空荡荡的站台吹着，在山丘后面的某个地方，开往曼彻斯特的火车的轰鸣声越来越大。安娜能感到自己的心在嗓子眼跳动。她答应过了。就在一分钟前，她才刚刚答应过。“这是米克，”她听到自己说，“他是我的一个朋友。他在超市的仓库工作。”

“Oh. Hi,” Jess said. She looked at him the way teenagers look at most adults, politely and without much interest. Then she opened her crisps. “Are you going to Manchester? The train’s coming.”

“噢，你好，”杰丝说。她看着他，眼神就像青少年看大多数成年人那样，带着礼貌，但没有多少兴趣。接着，她打开了薯片。“你要去曼彻斯特吗？火车快来了。”

Michael opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was holding his wallet so hard that his fingers had gone white. Ana saw him look at Jess’s red hair, at her green eyes, at the small scar on her chin that Ana had never noticed before. He looked at her as if he was trying to remember every detail of her face for the rest of his life.

迈克尔张开嘴，但什么也没说出来。他紧紧地握着钱包，手指都发白了。安娜看见他看着杰丝的红头发、绿眼睛，还有下巴上的一道小伤疤——安娜以前从没注意过那个小伤疤。他看着她，仿佛想把她脸上的每一个细节都记在心里，记一辈子。