Chapter 3 Chapter two

After an accident where the injuries were not serious, there were some pretty good things.Especially when you look worse than you really are.My body is feeling fine, but a lovely bruise blooming on my calf, a cracked skin on my thigh, a deep cut on my hand, an ugly scrape on my left cheek, redness on my wrist, and tingling, throbbing, constant pain all over my body. Pain, I enjoyed it in a masochistic way, I even kept pressing on the wounds to make them bleed on purpose.I took a shallow lukewarm shower, changed into a t-shirt and well-worn sweatpants, and lay on the bed while my motley roommate wandered into the room, checking in on me if I was okay, and reliving the incident all over again go through.I'm even starting to feel a little proud of myself.

Everything happens in slow motion.I repeated it a fourth time. David and Dalio, the two heroes who saved America, were looking down at me.Dalio lit another cigarette, only it wasn't a cigarette, and a familiar illegal smell wafted through my room. You must have fallen very naturally, Davy said, so you weren't seriously injured.It's really not that simple.That's what paratroopers are trained for.I didn't expect you to do it naturally. That's out of my control.I said. Dalio took a long drag on the joint.Otherwise, like a drunkard, he said, because their whole body is relaxed, even if they fall, they will not be injured.

Let's take a look at your injuries.Said Mike, who was sitting by the bed. If someone else had said that, I might have responded with sarcasm; but with Mike, you just can't be mean.Mike was silent.It seemed that he had to use all his strength to force him to speak, and when he really spoke up, most of the others were silent.I wanted to ask why he was more qualified than anyone else to examine my injuries, but I knew he would just shrug in response. Will it hurt?He asked, so what?He put one hand on my ribs, and then raised his legs in turn, stroking along my calf. The calf was covered with a thick layer of oil, which could not be washed off by warm soapy water.No bones were broken.He said.But I already knew that.

Pipa showed up with a small bottle of blue liquid and a handful of cotton wool. Will it sting?I ask her. Not at all, as she talked, she soaked a large piece of disinfectant and applied it to my face. Damn it!I screamed and squirmed away from her.Stop now! Be braver. Why are you brave? Because, because, she said in a mysterious way, and took another piece of soaked cotton wool to pat my thigh. Come take a breath.Dalio said as he handed me his joint. No.I said. Can I still eat?Pipa asked me. I'm starving. Owen was bringing dinner back from his studio. Owen came home with a brown shopping bag of Indian food.He put the bag on the dining table and looked up to see me sitting on the big head chair, propped up by pillows.He frowned.Did you fight?

It was a fight with the car door. I was bruised.He said. I know. It will hurt even more tomorrow. It's a pity you didn't see it, said David, who was sitting next to me.He looked more frightened than I, the subject.Her whole body flew into the air. Like a cannonball.Dalio sat down on the other side of me as he spoke. Will it hurt? Not too painful. Of course it hurts, Pipa said, look at her. No.Don't look at me.My nose is swollen to twice its normal size.How much shall we give you for dinner, Owen? Eight pounds each. Everyone grunted and rummaged in pockets and purses, counting coins and giving each other change.Dalio took out a roll of banknotes from his pocket, pulled out a twenty-pound note and threw it to Owen.Look no further, he said, I probably owe you anyway.

You won the lottery?Owen said in disbelief. Dalio looked sly.Someone owes me.He said. We sat around the kitchen table, tearing off foil lids, pulling off beer tabs, passing chipped dinner plates and assorted mismatched knives and forks.Pipa conveniently took Dalio's marijuana cigarette and took a deep breath. Lawyers can call Ma?Miles asked. Not in the office.Pipa looked around at everyone while talking, how often does this kind of scene happen?All the staff arrived and had dinner at the same table. Today, when all seven were present, Dalio tapped the table with his fork to signal everyone to keep quiet, then immediately stuffed a big mouthful of rice into his mouth and chewed it for several seconds, letting everyone wait.Same as the seven dwarves.At last he said so.

There's something we have to talk about, Miles said solemnly, first of all, I want to say You know it all.Dalio said. What? if we were the seven dwarves We are not. The jack-of-all-trades is yours.Dalio said. Because this house is mine?But which one of you will get someone to fix the plumbing and make sure every bill is paid? The seven dwarves represent the seven parts that make up the soul.Dalio said. Is this topic to compensate for my banging on the car door?I asked.The beer made me slightly drunk and the pain eased. You are cranky.Dalio said to Mike. Mike turned a deaf ear.

Are there grumpy ghosts?I asked, I don't remember such a character. It's love to be angry.David said. Pipa is a womanizer, right?Dalio winked at Davy across the table as he spoke. They imply that Pipa does not operate a normal relationship between men and women, only countless dewy marriages. Oh please, I said, you are pathetic. We should be able to decide who is the fool.Pipa said. Then you can be a sleeper too, Dalio said, no one sleeps more than you. That's not really fair.Pipa can only get enough sleep on weekends. She will go to bed in the early morning and get up in the afternoon, with swollen eyelids and a confused and satisfied look on her face.On weekdays, she is a good employee who is dedicated to her duties and gets up on time at seven o'clock.On the other hand, Dalio can sleep whenever he wants.

The good ones were picked out, Davey said, and Owen could be a sneezer. Why? Davy looked at me.That way we could fight it out between shy and pistachio, he said, and you, Estelle, don't know what it means to be shy.So unless you want to be Snow White I want to be the bad queen.She is the real woman. You screwed up the game, Dalio said, you're my pistachio. happy.Drunk and powerless.Relaxed and comfortable.I lay down on the back of the chair and looked around at everyone at the table: this group of friends of all ages, at this moment, is my closest partner to my family.There are only three roommates from the beginning who are still here, or the real starting point is earlier than the cohabitation era, or even back to college time.Miles was a young man with great ambitions and wanted to change the world. When he was still in graduate school, he bought this messy and dilapidated apartment on the outskirts of Hackney at a ridiculously low price. At that time, he didn't grow a beard. Hair is often tied back into a ponytail.Today he has a neatly trimmed dark blond goatee and is completely hairless.If I run my hands over his head, I can still feel the raised bumps on his smooth and soft skull.Pipa is another long-term tenant.She is tall and graceful, with a delicate and seductive beauty.In fact, I met her during my first semester of college and shared an apartment in my final year, so by the time we moved in with Miles, I had already figured out her domestic habits.

We were the original threesome, and it's been going on ever since, even though Miles and I were a couple for a year, and then there was a bad half a year of being disconnected and entangled, and then it was cut off.Now Miles has a proper new girlfriend, Leah; which is great, she's like a fence between us.As the saying goes: Keep your distance, and your friendship will last forever. Others around us come and go, and sooner or later the current seven will part ways.Mike is older than us, and the years are like a burden on his broad shoulders, leaving marks on him.He was short and stocky, and always stood with his feet spread apart, like a captain standing on the deck facing the storm bravely.There are light blue eyes on his face that is wrinkled by the wind and sun.Over the years, he has traveled around the world without stopping.I don't know what he's looking for, or if he's found what he's looking for, for reasons he never mentions.Now he does odd jobs here and there and lives temporarily in Maitland Road.When he was at home, he mostly hid in his small room on the top floor; but I never knew what he was doing in there, and I seldom went up to find him, although none of the doors in this room could be locked, only whether they could be closed or not. Tight difference.Sometimes when I go downstairs with insomnia in the middle of the night, I will see him sitting quietly at the dining table, with a cup of hot tea steaming around his face.

We never knew how Dalio ended up here.It used to be that his ex-girlfriend (I guess the only one he'd ever actually had) rented a room here, so he used to come and stay.Then, in the blink of an eye, she disappeared without a trace, but he stayed here, renting the smallest room on the second floor, and gradually occupying the vacant room next door.Although he had no job and couldn't pay the rent, no one was brave or tough enough to evict him.He has wild ginger hair and thick freckles, a bit of a messy tooth, and a goofy smile.Anyway, Miles made him a deal: he would renovate the house from top to bottom as payment for his sojourn.I don't think this deal is a good deal for Miles.Because as far as I know, Dalio mostly spends his time hazing, reading horoscope columns, watching TV, playing games on other people's computers, and carelessly brushing the walls with a stiff bristle brush that he doesn't bother to clean or replace paint. Davy was the last tenant to move in. Like Owen, he had only stayed for two months.He's a carpenter and builder, and the real thing, unlike Dalio, who's just a fake.Although not affiliated with the chain, he still works full time.Because much of the work is outdoor work, his skin is slightly tanned.He had gray eyes and very light hair that hung heavily over his shoulders.He was handsome, but he didn't seem to know his appearance, which I found fascinating.He has the anxiety of a boy who has just arrived in a new environment, and the corners of his eyes will wrinkle when he smiles; when he first came, I asked myself: Maybe I can consider him?Later it was decided not to.Sleeping with a roommate is taboo, and my experience with Miles is a bloody lesson. Owen, who was sitting across from me at the moment.Sullivan, with pale skin, shoulder-length dark hair, and far-set, almost black eyes, had an oriental air to him, though his ancestry, as far as I knew, was Welsh.He is a photographer.He would sell portfolios to magazines, but what he really wanted to do was start his own business.He once said that he hated taking magazine jobs.I giggled and said that fortunately he didn't have many opportunities to work for them.He didn't answer, but gave me a nasty look, and I realized it was best not to joke about his job.He looked at people, as if he was measuring the size and light for taking pictures, so as to frame them.Sometimes I wonder if he really understands or really listens to what other people have to say. The seven periods of life, Dalio said dreamily, the seven oceans, the seven continents You are wrong. Listen, said Miles, I don't want to spoil the fun, but the chances of us getting all the staff together like this are rare.Just us seven.Dalio, don't you dare to interrupt me again. You're right, it's a once-in-a-lifetime event, Davy said, why don't we take a group photo as a souvenir? We also have a real photographer here. I don't take snapshots.Owen said firmly. Don't forget that people are artists.I said sarcastically. Davy just smiled.Then I will shoot.He said. My camera is in that drawer over there.Miles said wearily. David got up and opened the drawer.not here.You must have put it somewhere else. Someone probably took it and forgot to put it back. I have one upstairs.David said. Nevermind.Just as Mike spoke, Dawei had already rushed out of the kitchen and ran upstairs two steps at a time. Silence enveloped us.A car outside the house honked its horn several times, and then we heard running footsteps.The upstairs door slammed shut. Does anyone else think this lamb tastes like dog food?Dalio asked. How do you know what dog food tastes like? Like this little lamb. Like dog food or not, there was the sound of food being chewed and plates being scraped.We rarely talk.Everyone seems to be absent-minded.Davy came back later, panting and slightly beaming, waving the camera ecstatically.After looking around, the camera wasn't where I thought it was.Come on, everyone gather together.No, Estelle, don't move.Everyone can stand around you.Owen, you stand too far.I still can't see you. That's great. Dalio, your face is covered by Pipa's shoulders.Mike, what do you look like when you smile.It's scary.Alright, count down ten seconds.Are you ready? What about you?Pipa asked him. Wait a moment. Davy pressed the shutter and ran to join us, bumped into the foot of the table, stumbled, and fell between us, so that the group huddled together, some sullen and some smiling.Just then the shutter flashed.This is exactly what the camera captures of us, blurred faces, flailing limbs, and me in the middle, jaw-dropping, bruised and swollen like a pig's head, as if I've been attacked. look at us!Pipa screamed happily.It goes without saying that she's the most photogenic of us, looking graceful amidst the mess. My eyes closed, Dalio lamented, why does this happen every time? Well, when everyone is seated again, Miles said.He pushed away the plate of curdled orange curry.I have something to say. What's up? It's hard to talk about it, but I've warned you many times. I know, it's the condition of the bathroom. Leah and I have decided to live together. Pipa cheered slightly. I frowned.What's so serious about that?I asked. She is moving here. We can find a way to adapt, Dalio said, but can she?This is the crux of the problem. I mean, says Miles, it's just me and Leah. For a moment, the audience was silent: everyone stared at him intently, as if he was hanging in mid-air without finishing his sentence. oh.Mike snorted one last time. Oh shit.Pipa said. Are you driving us away? No, Miles said, you weren't asked to go right away. How long will it give us?I asked him.My face started throbbing. several months.It's been three months.Is this long enough?That way, you'll have time to move elsewhere. I've only just moved in, and Davy said wretchedly, well, well. You can't stay here forever.Myers said. Why is it impossible?Dalio frowned.His freckles were crowded into pimples. Because things have changed, Miles said, things have changed. How are you, Estelle?David asked, your face is a little pale. I have to go to bed, I said, or at least lie down.I'm not feeling well. Pipa and Dawei helped me up, supported my elbows, and clicked their tongues a few times. I'm sorry, Miles said pathetically, maybe the timing wasn't right. There is never a right time for this kind of thing, Pipa said, come on, Estelle, first lie down in my room.In this way, one less floor to climb.If you want, I can put on some painkiller cream for you. I shuffled my feet, climbed the stairs one step at a time, and slowly walked into the bedroom where Pipa was filled with strong perfume.This is a large room at the front of the house.It was used as a living room when we first moved in, but it doesn't look like it's been painted since the fifties.The pipa didn't bother to change anything, just filled the space with cheap, gaudy ornaments and miscellaneous knick-knacks.The effect was all the more glaring because two walls were a dirty mustard yellow and the other was covered with a dizzyingly printed wallpaper with peeling adhesive.The light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling was covered by a brown paper shade, cracked on one side.A large bay window faced the street, but the shutters were half drawn, so it was always dark. Judging from my dizzy state, the mess she created can make people uneasy, almost hallucinating.There was a large single bed with a metal bed, especially incompatible with her lifestyle, with an overly ornate crimson velvet cover; a sofa bed left by her grandfather, on which clean and dirty laundry piled up, coexisting peacefully; Every drawer of the chest of drawers was opened, spilling underwear and shirts on the floor; a wardrobe was also open, and in it hung her gorgeous dresses, suits, skirts and jackets; a flimsy desk was covered with heavy paper and The document is bent.A full-length gilt-rimmed mirror was propped against the wall, and at its base were piles of makeup, jars of body lotion, sticks of face cream, necklaces, strewn earrings, and two belts.However, out of this room, Pipa always appeared fresh and impeccable every morning, without a hair floating around, and his body smelled of soap and Chanel No. 5 perfume. I pushed a pair of drawers aside and sat cautiously on the bed. Take painkillers?She reached under the bed and pulled out a pill box.With whiskey?Like a magician, she conjured a bottle of wine from under a pile of laundry on the sofa bed and waved it in front of me. No whiskey tonight. come on. She shook two white pills into my palm, then poured two finger-deep whiskeys into a tumbler and handed it to me.I swallowed the painkiller, took another sip of whiskey, and flushed the medicine down my throat. Do you want me to give you a shoulder squeeze?she asked me. This can be too painful. You are so good at making a fuss. What a strange day today.I said. I could hear the sound downstairs, followed by heavy and tired footsteps, that was Mike going back to the room, it was unmistakable. Mainly for you.Pipa said.She took the tumbler from me and poured herself a large whiskey, deftly pouring it down her throat.Son of a bitch.She opened her voice and added a sentence. Are you talking about Miles? Otherwise who else? I don't know, Pipa.Sooner or later this kind of thing will happen. I bother! If he and Leah want to live together Then she is the hidden mirror behind the scenes. You make it sound like a conspiracy. It was meant to be a conspiracy.So we're planning a counter-conspiracy operation. She went on and on about how I got a bump on the head, and it turned out to be reasonable.But I can't hear these words clearly, or I can't understand the meaning of the words.I feel exhausted.The room is sometimes in focus and sometimes blurred.I lay back on the pillow and closed my heavy eyelids.I might as well sleep here tonight.I said hoarsely. Pipa grabbed my arm and pulled me up.Oh no, no.Not tonight, honey. I climbed the stairs horizontally like a crab, and returned to my bedroom, which was white and empty compared to Pipa's gaudy and messy bedroom; there was only a small double bed, a narrow wardrobe, and a chest of drawers. There's all the stuff I dug up from the garden at the head, and then there's a big wooden rocking chair that Dalio picked up for me, filled with cushions I bought at Condon Fair.I took off my sweatpants and got under the duvet.But I was prickling and aching all over, and although I was terribly tired, it was a long time before I fell asleep.I heard many sounds: doors opening and closing; voices; people laughing; the sound of water in the sink; footsteps on the stairs; the breathing of the old house.