佚名
Anonymous
TheyweregoingtoFlorida——threeboysandthreegirls——andwhentheyboardedthebus，theywerecarryingsandwichesandwineinaerbags，dreamingofgoldenbeachesandseatidesasthegraycoldofNewYorkvanishedbehindthe
AsthebusassedthroughNewJersey，theybegantonoticeVingo.Hesatinfrontofthem，dressedinalain，ill-fittingsuit，nevermoving，hisdustyfacemaskinghisage.Hechewedtheinsideofhislialot，frozenintosomeersonalcocoonofsilence.
Deeintothenight，outsideWashington，thebusulledintoaHowardJohnsons，andeverybodygotoffexcetVingo.Hesatrootedinhisseat，andtheyoungeolebegantowonderabouthim，tryingtoimaginehislife:erhashewasaseacatain，arunawayformhiswife，anoldsoldiergoinghome.Whentheywentbacktothebus，oneofthegirlssatbesidehimandintroducedherself.
“WeregoingtoFlorida，”
shesaidbrightly，“Ihearitsbeautiful.”
“Itis.”
hesaidquietly，asifrememberingsomethinghehadtriedtoforget.
“Wantsomewine?”
shesaid.Hesmiledandtookaswig.Hethankedherandretreatedagainintohissilence.Afterawhile，shewentbacktotheothers，andVingonoddedinslee.
Inthemorning，theyawokeoutsideanotherHowardJohnsons，andthistimeVingowentin.ThegirlinsistedthathejointheHeseemedveryshy，andorderedblackcoffeeandsmokednervouslyastheyoungeolechatteredaboutsleeingonbeaches.Whentheyreturnedtothebus，thegirlsatwithVingoagain，andafterawhile，slowlyandainfully，hetoldhisstory.HehadbeeninjailinNewYorkfortheastfouryears，andnowhewasgoinghome.
“Areyoumarried?”
“Idontknow.”
“Youdontknow?”
shesaid.
“Well，whenIwasinthecanIwrotetomywife，”
hesaid，“ItoldherthatIwasgoingtobeawayalongtime，andthatifshecouldn’tstandit，ifthekidsketaskingquestions，ifithurttoomuch，well，shecouldjustforgetme.I’dunderstand.Getanewguy，Isaid-she’sawonderfulwoman，reallysomething-andforgetaboutme.Itoldhershedidn’thavetowritemeornothing.Andshedidnt.Notforthreeandahalfyears.”
“Andyouregoinghomenow，notknowing?”
“Yeah，”
hesaidshyly，“Well，lastweek，whenIwassurethearolewascomingthrough，Iwroteheragain.WeusedtoliveinBrunswick，justbeforeJacksonville，andThere’sabigoaktreejustasyoucomeintotown.Itoldherthatifshe’dtakemeback，sheshouldutayellowhandkerchiefonthetree，andI’dgetoffandcomehome.Ifshedidn’twantme，forgetit-nohandkerchiefandIdgoonthrough.”
“Wow，”
thegirlsaid，“Wow.”
Shetoldtheothers，andsoonallofthemwereinit，caughtuinthearoachofBrunswick，lookingattheictureVingoshowedthemofhiswifeandthreechildren-thewomanhandsomeinalainway，thechildrenstillunformedinthecracked，much-handledsnashots.
Nowtheywere20milesfromBrunswick，andtheyoungeoletookoverwindowseatsontherightside，waitingforthearoachofthegreatoaktree.Thebusacquiredadark，hushedmood，fullofthesilenceofabsenceandlostyears.Vingostoedlooking，tighteninghisfaceintotheex-consmask，asiffortifyinghimselfagainststillanotherdisaointment.
ThenBrunswickwastenmiles，andthenfive.Then，suddenly，alloftheyoungeolewereuoutoftheirseats，screamingandshoutingandcrying，doingsmalldancesofexultation.AllexcetVingo.
Vingosattherestunned，lookingattheoaktree.Itwascoveredwithyellowhandkerchiefs-20ofthem，30ofthem，maybehundreds，atreethatstoodlikeabannerofwelcomebillowinginthewind.Astheyoungeoleshouted，theoldconrosefromhisseatandmadehiswaytothefrontofthebustogohome.
三个男孩和三个女孩打算乘长途汽车去佛罗里达游玩，他们用纸袋带了三明治和葡萄酒，眼前浮现出梦想中的金色沙滩和海浪，昏暗寒冷的纽约城渐渐在他们身后销声匿迹。
当汽车经过新泽西时，他们注意到了温哥。
他一动不动地坐在他们前排，身穿简朴而不合时宜的衣服，蓬头垢面，让人简直难以判断出他的真实年龄。
他不时地咬着嘴唇，默不做声，似封冻于蚕茧中。
夜幕降临，长途汽车驶至华盛顿郊外，在郝华德·约翰森饭馆的门口停下了，所有人都起身下车，只有温哥仍坐在那里一动不动，像是扎根在了座位上一样。
年轻人都好奇地猜想着他的身世：他或许是名船长，一个抛家弃妻的外乡人，或是一个归家的老兵。
当他们回到车上时，其中一个女孩坐到了他身旁，主动搭讪，作了自我介绍。
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