在大学里，我努力学习。我想在毕业以后找到一份好工作，因此我夜以继日地学习。我不想因为自己的无能而让我们过着艰难的生活。大学毕业后，我在保险公司找到了一份薪水丰厚的工作。两年之后，我用积攒下来的钱交了首付，买了一套漂亮的两居室，宽敞的厨房和卧室足够我们两个人使用。我知道，你会喜欢这套房子的。我搬进新家时，没有买太多的家具，只买了生活必需品，因为，我不想在你以后住进来时看到任何你不喜欢的东西。
有时候，我会坐在大门口，凝视着街道，看着来来往往的车辆。有一天，你也许就会坐在其中的一辆汽车中，我期望这一天早点儿到来。
卧室里的那张床一个人睡显得太大了，我不能四脚朝天地躺在上面，也不能睡在正中央。我睡在床的一侧，并且装做你就在我的身旁。多少个夜晚，我几乎听到了你的呼吸声。我在床的一侧· 来覆去，想叫你的名字，然而，我不知道你的名字。我只好称你为“爱人”。
“爱人？”你对着我微笑。
“与我在一起，你感到快乐吗？等了我这么久，你开心吗？”
你没有回答我的问题，只是伸手抚摸我的双唇和脸庞。我能够感受到你在抚摸我的脸，你能够触摸到我的眼泪。
“我是如此爱你！”
时光流逝，我一直努力想象着你正在做什么。我知道你就在外面的某个地方，我知道注定与我相随的人一定在某个地方，只是需要等待。我知道，如果必要的话，我可以一直等你。我爱你！
在母亲去世的时候，我独自一人处理所有的事情。我与母亲相依为命，这二十多年来，我们在分离中度过了大部分时光。一次过圣诞节的时候，她问我什么时候带个女朋友回家，我无言以对。在那晚接下来的时间里，我甚至不敢正视她的双眼。我是多么希望你能够去看望一下我的母亲啊！她的儿子有这样一个出色的女朋友，她会为此甚感自豪的。那将会是多么美妙啊！
然而，当我看着母亲的灵柩缓缓地被放进墓穴时，自己的身边并没有一个人相伴。我没能带一个女孩子给母亲看，我仍然独自一人。
那晚，我哭了。因为你不在我的身边，你不能抱着我，告诉我一切都会好的，所以我哭了。我无法握住你的手，或是亲吻你的双唇，这一切都无法实现。一直以来，我都没有，或许永远也无法梦想成真。
每天早晨，我看着镜中的自己，眼睛周围的皱纹越来越深，头发也越来越稀少，发际开始后移。我希望你仍然爱我，仍然能够看着我的脸庞微笑。
护士说道：“我想看你笑一笑。”
我笑不出来，我的心很痛。
护士警告说：“如果你不对我笑，我就会关掉电视和电灯。”我厌恶她，她总是让我做一些愚蠢的事情，比如微笑和大笑。对于生活中的悲伤，她永远不会理解。
让我一个人待一会儿吧。
“好了，没有电视节目了。晚安，先生。”她关掉电灯，关上门后就出去了。一时间，黑暗笼罩了这间狭小的卧室，外面传来了她走过走廊的脚步声。在脚步声消失之后，我听到的只有来自遥远的内心深处的回音。一滴眼泪滑落到枕头上，然后消失得无影无踪，我的世界变得越来越寂静。
我一个人。
黑暗中只有我一个人。
爱人，你为什么迟迟不肯来到我的身边？
我在等你。
我在等你啊！
苹果皮
Apple Skin
佚名 / Anonymous
"Tell her you got this especially for her," John said to me as he drove, pointing to the basket of fruit wrapped in clear acetate sitting on the back seat. "Remember when you get in, you have to bow to her. Not a half bow but the full bow, the traditional Korean way, with your hands on your forehead." I shifted in the passenger seat uncomfortably. "Then, she' s probably going to ask you questions about your ancestry, where you went to school, your goals..."
I was meeting John' s mother for the first time this afternoon and he was fervently coaching me on how to make a good impression. "While she' s talking, offer to cut her a piece of fruit from the basket. Cut the fruit in front of her so she can see how well you cut. Get an apple and make sure you peel the skin really thin so that she knows you don' t waste food. And make sure you cut it in even slices and lay it down facing the same direction so she knows you can present food in an appetizing manner..." John continued to lecture as I stared blankly out the window.
I had just started dating John, a Korean international student who had been in the States for about 3 years now. I was born in Korea, but I moved to the United States when I was five years old. I know how to speak, read, and write Korean and I thought I had learned enough from my family and watched enough TV programs to know about Korean customs. I guess I was wrong.You see, John and I had our differences. He didn' t speak perfect English, but I figured it was okay because I didn' t speak perfect Korean either.
But little problems between our differing cultures surfaced as we continued to date. When we went out to eat, I noticed he' d have trouble reading the menus. When he registered for a class, he scheduled it with my free time so that he had someone to talk for him, like a translator. I accepted the fact that he couldn' t speak perfect English, but what was really frustrating was that he wasn' t willing to try. It may have been his male pride, but I think he was more embarrassed about the puzzled looks people would give him when he talked.
There would be times when he wouldn' t talk single word for hours. It was hard for him to blend in with my Asian-American friends. Once, I and my friends were reminiscing about the 80' s, things like Michael Jackson, Madonna, teased hair and those awful UMEN cardigans. But while we were laughing away, talking about old times, John just sat there uncomfortably with half a grin on his face. I tried to include him in on our conversations by explaining what we were talking about, but by the look on his face I could tell I wasn' t very successful.
One night John came over to my house to pick me up for dinner. My brother' s friend Chris was over and they were talking in the living room. Chris said to my brother jokingly, "Man... You' re so bad..." John overheard and replied in his most perfect English, trying to be protective of my brother, "No, he isn' t bad, he' s actually a good boy. And he is definitely not a playboy." My brother and Chris stared at John in disbelief. Chris was so shocked he apologized to my brother for offending him. As for John, I knew he felt proud for sticking up for my brother. I know he meant well, but he just didn' t understand the language.
There were little things that I eventually became accustomed to. For instance, John and I always had to watch TV with the caption turned on and I had to be careful not to use any slang that he wasn' t familiar with. I had to speak slower. I always had to explain why we did certain things here, versus how they did them in Korea. I had to constantly recap the stories of the movies we just saw. But the toughest obstacle was trying to describe our feelings or thoughts to each other, trying to learn about our different worlds with our limited vocabularies.
Don' t get me wrong. I had a great time learning and experiencing new things with him. We were exposed to different worlds and we taught each other how to cope, accept, and learn in different perspectives. In fact, many couples I know have had successful intercultural relationships. But my relationship made me realize how little cultural differences can make a big difference.