His Little Wild Cat(7)

19

"Did you have a good Christmas?" He rolled down the window and glanced at me. Then he retracted his gaze without any emotion.

I had thought he would ask me where I and Jones had gone, but he didn't.

"Yes," I replied.

I waited for him to go on, but he lowered his head, was silent for a while, and finally said, "I’m glad to hear that."

He took out a bag from the car and handed me through the window.

"What?" I looked at the bag and didn't reach out.

I was curious. After all, I hadn't met him for a long time.

"Last time I went to France and I brought you a gift." He looked at me. He looked exhausted after a long time of work.

"Thank you." I hesitated for a while and took his bag.

"Bertram." I summoned up courage and called his name.

"Well." He looked up and his eyes lit up a little.

"I’m dating," I announced loudly as if I was trying to tell him that I didn't like him anymore, and we could finally reconcile.

I looked forward to his happy smile and praise, "Sandra, you’re doing the right thing.", "Sandra, you’ve finally grown up.", "Sandra, I can rest assured that you’re dating someone."

However, after he was silent for a long time, he said, "Okay."

"What about you? When will you get married? The New Year?" I pretended to be relaxed and wanted to ease the awkward atmosphere.

He forced a smile, "We will see."

"Are you going home?" He asked suddenly. Seeing that I didn’t speak, he said again, "Tomorrow is the anniversary of your father’s death."

Hearing his words, I was stunned.

I had been having too much fun in the past two days. Although I remember this, I didn't have time to be sad.

I finally understood why he looked so sad today.

"Okay." I went to the other side of the car, opened the door, and got in.

Over the years, I had always paid respects to my parents with him. No matter where he was and how busy he was, he would come back early and pay respects to them.

Besides, he would be very sad when the day approached.

I knew all these, but I didn’t know how close he had been with my dad. For eight years, he had been doing this and taking good care of me.

Every time I asked, he would say that my dad was his teacher and his benefactor for a lifetime.

I thought that my dad would be proud of such an excellent and graceful student in heaven.

"Did you drink again?" As soon as I got in the car, I smelt a strong smell of wine.

"A little." He forced a smile and opened the window to the maximum.

The car was steadily driving on the road, and the wind blew my hair all over my face. He realized something and rolled up the window a little.

"You should drink less in the future." Seeing him like this, I somehow felt worried about him. In these years, he had been smoking and drinking too much, and his health would break down sooner or later.

I didn't know why he had tortured himself with tobacco and alcohol all day. Apart from the fact that I had feelings for him, he was like family to me.

Anyway, I didn't want him to ruin his body.

"Okay." He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and then looked away. His voice was light.

I was a little surprised, wondering why he was so nice to me today.

He agreed to everything I said.

This felt like a farewell.

When I thought of a farewell, I felt flustered.

"How about you? Have you had enough money recently?" He suddenly tilted his head and looked at me.

"Yes." I also forced a smile, "I got my part-time job salary and a scholarship. I don’t buy anything expensive."

He was silent for a while.

"Buy whatever you like." He smiled bitterly, "I can't support you for many years anyway."

I looked at him and felt that he was implying something. I didn't understand what he meant.

"It’s your boyfriend’s turn." Hearing his words, I was startled and had goosebumps.

He was referring to Jones.

Then he probably agreed to us dating. I was suddenly relieved.

"I don't need others to support me. I can support myself." I sighed. I was not a child and I could make money myself. Even if I had to work hard, I could spend my money in peace.

"Is he good to you?" It could be seen that he had been thinking about it for a long time. After beating around the bush, he finally brought it up.

"What do you mean?" I asked, "He didn't buy me gifts or give me money, but I’m very relaxed and happy with him. Is this good or not?"

He froze for a moment and said, "That's good."

Later, he seemed to fall asleep in the car.

We didn’t talk anymore.

That was good. If he asked me about the specific situation with Jones in the past two days, it would be difficult for me to answer.

Later, Mr. Barret helped him out of the car and took him into his room. Kara went upstairs to clean up. When she came down, she told me that he seemed very drunk and he vomited several times in the middle of the night.

How much had he drunk?

20

We went to pay respects to my parents the next day. I talked to my parents a lot like in previous years.

I felt like they were by my side. I told them what had happened this year in detail, including those interesting, happy, sad, or embarrassing ones, etc.

But I didn't mention what I had done to Bertram, like my obsession. I buried it deep in my heart.

I told them that I found my boyfriend and let them rest assured. I would study hard and be useful as they had been in the future.

During this process, Bertram was standing beside me, leaning on the tree, smoking silently, and waiting for me to finish everything.

There was no expression on his face. Occasionally, when I mentioned something, he would add some details.

I suddenly realized that I was not the only one who remembered these things so clearly.

He even remembered it more clearly than I did.

I was often amazed by him. Every day, he had to deal with the calculations in business with ease and went to many business parties. But he still remembered everything about me better than I did.

Maybe this was why my dad liked him. He was smart enough.

"Is it over?" He snuffed out the cigarette and asked me.

"Almost." I looked at him and was ready to stand up.

But when I tried to get up, I found my legs numb.

He had turned around to leave, but he seemed to have eyes on the back of his head. He turned around and stretched out his arm to help me up.

I grabbed his arm and stood up slowly.

He didn't rush to leave, and just took my arm, waiting for me to recover. Then he walked forward again.

I followed him.

He walked for a while and found that I couldn’t keep up. He stopped and waited for me to catch up. This time, he walked slowly.

My parents were not buried in the cemetery but in the mountains. My parents had always wanted to live a pastoral life. Now their wish finally came true.

This hillside was a bit steep. I hadn't walked any mountain road since I was a child. I remembered that after my parents had died, I cried on this hillside and walked down the mountain. I had stumbled and gotten mud all over.

Bertram was a tall and strong young man then. He walked to the mountain alone, only to find that I didn't keep up. He ran up to me. In the end, he just carried me on his shoulder and complained about how clumsy I was.

He didn't have a good temper at the time.

After I moved into his house, he often lost his temper. At first, I thought he was angry with me. Later, Mr. Barret told me that it had nothing to do with me. He was so mad because he couldn't get over my father’s death.

Later, he slowly put away his temper, started talking to me nicely, and learned to take care of me like a parent. He often sat with me in the living room in the middle of the night, watching me crying and reflecting on his behavior with a sigh.

"Don't cry. We will support each other in the future." He hugged my trembling shoulders and cried himself.

He was 12 years older and I was living in his house. He was afraid of gossip. So Mr. Barret asked me to call him uncle.

I found it unacceptable at first. He was a big boy. I could call him brother, but it was too strange to call him uncle.

He joked, "Whether you call me uncle or brother, it makes no difference. I am bullied by you anyway."

Hearing his words, I changed my mind. I called him uncle in front of others. But when I returned home, I kicked off my slippers and threw my schoolbag aside. I threw myself onto the sofa, ordered him to bring me fruit and the computer, and listened to his lectures.

He scolded me because I was so stupid, but he always helped me sort out my homework before returning to the study to do his job.

When I recalled that time, I felt that we were like two people on the edge of a cliff warming each other, smoothing each other’s edges, and finally turning into a family.

When did I start refusing to call his uncle?

I probably had watched too many romance TV series. Whenever the heroine called the hero uncle, there generally would be no good end.

In adolescence, I started to have my thoughts, began to secretly write about him in my diary, and began to feel that those big boys in the class were naive and ridiculous, not as good as Bertram.

I started pondering my immature emotions and how to tell him how I felt.

Over time, I found that I became more and more attracted to him. Finally one day, I took a bath and put on a sexy suspender to test him.

However, he looked at me for a long time, and finally retracted his eyes, and we didn't speak that night.

It was embarrassing and shameful. I couldn't fall asleep all night, thinking about how to explain to him tomorrow.

When I got up the next morning, he was gone. After a few days, he returned home with a woman and introduced me to the woman as his niece.

At that moment, I was so heartbroken that I couldn't breathe.

Later, I felt even more painful and unwilling. I made it clear to him that I liked him, and he explicitly rejected me.

The drama of my confession of love and his refusal was repeatedly staged.

I was so tired.

Thinking of this, I suddenly thought of Jones.

I was relieved.

Finally, someone could get me out of this.