I lost my father when I was 13. My father’s death took away his discipline and my interest in my lessons. I entered the factory at the age of 16. Before that, I went to technical school for two years, but I didn’t graduate. I was fired because of a fight. I like the night shift, because my friends and I are used to sleeping during the day; I like playing cards and falling in love because I have nothing else to do.
She was transferred to our factory when I was 18. She had a pale face and long hair always tied in a dignified braid. I think she’s beautiful.
One day, I invited her to a movie. Although the method was a little old-fashioned, it showed my innocence. She smiled and refused me leniently, like a brother who made a mistake. I knew she was 8 years older than me that day, but I didn’t care because I had a girlfriend who was 6 years older than me when I was 16.
I feel that she is different from other girls. I will regret giving up with her. On New Year’s day, she had a dinner in the factory. She left the table soon. I also hurried to her office. She is reading an English book. I suggest playing cards. Whoever loses has to meet the other party’s request. As a result, she won. I asked her what she wanted me to do. Really, I would do anything for her. “Quit smoking!” she said quietly. I was stunned and asked her “why?” she still said calmly that an 18-year-old boy should not smoke so skillfully, and said that I would look better after I quit smoking. I was inexplicably moved and looked up as if I didn’t mind, because I was afraid of tears – although I hadn’t cried for many years, I would never let myself cry in front of her. She asked me when I started smoking, and I told her it was when my father died five years ago. I saw that her eyes were dim. I felt that only she had understood the sadness of my young father’s loss for so many years. Since then, she no longer regarded me as an ordinary person, which made me very happy.
I like to be close to her. In front of her, my cruelty and cynicism are gone. The only dignity left is for her. I try my best to help her work, help her carry her bike to and from work, and bring her raincoat when it rains… She says “thank you” every time, but I really don’t need to thank. She will never understand how much I want her to pay attention to my existence.
On the night shift that day, I sent her supper. She was combing her hair with her back to the door. This is the first time I saw her long hair: dark hair, weak shoulders, pale and thin hands… Everything seemed so unreal. I stood behind her in a daze, and then I couldn’t help holding on to the cold hand. I felt a slight shudder. “Pa” is the sound of the comb sliding on the ground. She broke free of my hand and bent down to pick up the comb. At that time, the feeling of palpitation almost swallowed me. She didn’t look at me and calmly told me that she was married and her son was three years old. I remember running out for a long time, as if the only way to hide the ups and downs of my mood. After I calmed down, I realized that this should have been expected. How can a gentle and beautiful 26 year old woman not be married? In my heart, I blame the man who became her husband: how could he take care of her so pale and thin? How could he let her walk so long at night alone?
I can’t control myself. I continue to pay attention to her and take care of her with my 18-year-old heart and thin shoulders, as always. She also collected my 18-year-old amorous and fragile as before, and made me understand that steadiness and persistence are the qualities that should be possessed in life.
Since my father died, I never want to stay at home during New Year’s holidays. On New Year’s Eve, I came to her house with the cold wind and the sound of festive firecrackers. I knew that their family was sharing a reunion. She couldn’t think of me at this time, but I just wanted to see her. The balcony on the second floor of her house was dark, like a dark gap in the brilliant lights. When I went upstairs, the silence inside the door was in sharp contrast to the laughter of my neighbors. I hesitated and knocked at the door. When the door opened, she stood alone in the dark, her pale face as surprised as mine. This is the first time I walked into her house. She turned on the light. Her wedding photo was prominently hung on the wall. Her husband was very handsome. She was healthy and beautiful in the photo. Suddenly, I saw a large black-and-white picture of her husband on the table next to me. She looked back at me. Her pale face was sad and moving in the dim light: “my son hasn’t seen my father. My husband died just three months after he married. There was a car accident.” before she finished, she was in tears. I held her in my arms. At the moment of universal celebration, she cried helplessly in my arms, and the colorful fireworks outside the window lit up the night sky
I finally understand that at the age of 18, I can’t afford the deep love of this woman in my arms. At this moment, I really grew up.