【时间旅行者的妻子】32

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Clare spreads the towel on the ground and dumps out the contents of the bag: every imaginable kind of writing implement¹. Old ballpoint pens, little stubby pencils from the library, crayons, smelly Magic Markers, a fountain pen. She also has a bunch of her dad’s office stationery². She arranges the implements³ and gives the stack of paper a smart shake, and then proceeds to try each pen and pencil in turn, making careful lines and swirls⁴, humming to herself. After listening carefully for a while I identify her humming as the theme song of “The Dick Van Dyke⁵ Show.”

　I hesitate. Clare is content, absorbed. She must be about six; if it’s September she has probably just entered first grade. She’s obviously not waiting for me, I’m a stranger, and I’m sure that the first thing you learn in first grade is not to have any truck with strangers who show up naked in your favorite secret spot and know your name and tell you not to tell your mom and dad. I wonder if today is the day we are supposed to meet for the first time or if it’s some other day. Maybe I should be very silent and either Clare will go away and I can go munch⁶ up those apples and steal some laundry or I will revert⁷ to my regularly scheduled programming, I snap from my reverie to find Clare staring straight at me. I realize, too late, that I have been humming along with her.

　“Who’s there?” Clare hisses⁸. She looks like a really pissed off goose, all neck and legs. I am thinking fast,

　“Greetings, Earthling,” I intone, kindly⁹.

　“Mark! You nimrod!” Clare is casting around for something to throw, and decides on her shoes, which have heavy, sharp heels. She whips them off and does throw them. I don’t think she can see me very well, but she lucks out and one of them catches me in the mouth. My lip starts to bleed.

　“Please don’t do that.” I don’t have anything to staunch the blood, so I press my hand to my mouth and my voice comes out muffled¹⁰. My jaw¹¹ hurts.

　“Who is it?” Now Clare is frightened, and so am I.

　“Henry. It’s Henry, Clare. I won’t hurt you, and I wish you wouldn’t throw anything else at me.”

　“Give me back my shoes. I don’t know you. 

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