[美]T.苏珊娜埃勒/T.Suzanne Eller
杰克把文件扔到我桌上，皱着眉头，气愤地瞪着我。
“怎么了？”我问道。
他狠狠地指着计划书说：“下次想做什么改动前，先征求我的意见。”然后转身走了，留下我一个人在那里生闷气。
他怎能这样对我！我想，我只是改了一个长句，更正了语法错误，这都是我的分内之事。
其实也有人提醒过我，在我这个职位上工作的上一任女士就曾大骂过他。我第一天上班时，就有同事把我拉到一旁小声说：“已经有两个秘书因他辞职了。”
几周后，我逐渐对杰克有些鄙视了，而这又有悖于我的信条——别人打你左脸，右脸也转过去让他打；爱自己的敌人。但无论怎么做，总会挨杰克的骂。说真的，我很想灭灭他的嚣张气焰，而不是去爱他。我还为此默默祈祷过。
一天，因为一件事，我又被他气哭了。我冲进他的办公室，准备在被炒鱿鱼前让他知道我的感受。我推开门，杰克抬头看了我一眼。
“有事吗？”他突然说道。
我猛的意识到该怎么做了。毕竟，他罪有应得。
我在他对面坐下：“杰克，你对待我的方式有很大的问题。没人对我说过那样的话。作为一个职业人士，你这么做很愚蠢，我无法容忍这样的事情再次发生。”
杰克不安地笑了笑，向后靠了靠。我闭了一下眼睛，祈祷着，希望上帝能帮帮我。
“我保证，可以成为你的朋友。你是我的上司，我自然会尊敬你，礼貌待你，这是我应做的。”“每个人都应得到如此礼遇。”我说着，便起身离开，把门关上了。
那个星期余下的几天，杰克一直躲着我。他总趁我吃午饭时，把计划书、技术说明和信件放在我桌上，并且，我修改过的文件不再被打回了。一天，我买了些饼干去办公室，顺便在杰克桌上留了一包。第二天，我又留了一张字条，写道：“祝你今天一切顺利。”
接下来的几个星期，杰克不再躲避我了，但沉默了许多，办公室里也没再发生不愉快的事情。于是，同事们在休息室把我团团围起来。
“听说杰克被你镇住了，”他们说，“你肯定大骂了他一顿。”我摇了摇头，一字一顿地说：“我们会成为朋友。”我根本不想提起杰克，每次在大厅看见他时，我总冲他微笑。毕竟，朋友就该这样。
那次谈话过了一年之后，我被检查出患了乳腺癌。我才32岁，是三个漂亮孩子的母亲，我害怕极了。癌细胞已经扩散到我的淋巴腺。从统计数据来看，我时日不多了。手术后，我拜访了亲朋好友，他们尽量宽慰我，都不知道说什么好，有些人反而说错话了，另外一些人则为我难过，还得我去安慰他们。我始终没有放弃希望。
就在我出院的前一天，我看到门外有个人影。那是杰克，他尴尬地站在门口。我微笑着招呼他进来，他走到我床边，默默地把一包东西放在我旁边，那里边是几个球茎。
“这是郁金香。”他说。
我笑着，不明白他的用意。
他清了清嗓子。“回家后把它们种下，到明年春天就长出来了，”他挪挪脚，“我希望你知道，你一定看得到它们发芽开花。”
我泪眼蒙眬地伸出手。
“谢谢你。”我低声说。
杰克抓住我的手，生硬地答道：“不必客气。到明年长出来后，你就能看到我为你挑的是什么颜色的郁金香了。”而后，他没说一句话便转身离开了。
转眼间，十多年过去了。每年春天，我都会看着这些红白相间的郁金香破土而出。事实上，今年九月，医生将宣布我痊愈。我也看着孩子们高中毕业，进入了大学。
在那绝望的时刻，我祈求他人的安慰，而这个男人寥寥数语，却情真意切，温暖着我脆弱的心。
毕竟，朋友之间就该这么做。
Jack tossed the papers on my desk—his eyebrows knit into a straight line as he glared at me.“What’s wrong？”I asked.
He jabbed a finger at the proposal.“Next time you want to change anything，ask me first，”he said，turning on his heels and leaving me stewing in anger.
How dare he treat me like that，I thought.I had changed one long sentence，and corrected grammar—something I thought I was paid to do.
It’s not that I hadn’t been warned.The other women，who had served in my place before me，called him names I couldn’t repeat.One co-worker took me aside the first day.“He’s personally responsible for two different secretaries leaving the firm.”she whispered.
As the weeks went by，I grew to despise Jack.It was against everything I believed in—turn the other cheek and love your enemies.But Jack quickly slapped a verbal insult on any cheek turned his way.I prayed about it.But to be honest，I wanted to put him in his place，not love him.
One day，another of his episodes left me in tears.I stormed into his office，prepared to lose my job if needed，but not before I let the man know how I felt.I opened the door and Jack glanced up.
“What？”he said abruptly.
Suddenly I knew what I had to do.After all，he deserved it.
I sat across from him.“Jack，the way you’ve been treating me is wrong.
I’ve never had anyone speak to me that way.As a professional，it’s wrong，and it’s wrong for me to allow it to continue，”I said.
Jack snickered nervously and leaned back in his chair.I closed my eyes briefly.God help me，I prayed.
“I want to make you a promise.I will be a friend，”I said.“I will treat you as you deserve to be treated，with respect and kindness.You deserve that，”I said.“Everybody does.”I slipped out of the chair and closed the door behind me.
Jack avoided me the rest of the week.Proposals，specs，and leters appeared on my desk while I was at lunch，and the corrected versions were not seen again.I brought cookies to the office one day and left a batch on Jack’s desk.Another day I left a note.“Hope your day is going great.”it read.
Over the next few weeks，Jack reappeared.He was reserved，but there were no other episodes.Co-workers cornered me in the break room.
“Guess you got to Jack，”they said.“You must have told him off good.”I shook my head.“Jack and I are becoming friends.”I said in faith.I refused to talk about him.Every time I saw Jack in the hall，I smiled at him.After all，that’s what friends do.
One year after our“talk”，I discovered I had breast cancer.I was 32，the mother of three beautiful young children，and scared.The cancer had metastasized to my lymph nodes and the statistics were not great for long-term survival.After surgery，I visited with friends and loved ones who tried to findthe right words to say.No one knew what to say.Many said the wrong things.Others wept，and I tried to encourage them.I clung to hope.
The last day of my hospital stay，the door darkened and Jack stood awkwardly on the threshold.I waved him in with a smile and he walked over to my bed and，without a word，placed a bundle beside me.Inside lay several bulbs.
“Tulips，”he said.
I smiled，not understanding.
He cleared his throat.“If you plant them when you get home，they’ll come up next spring.”He shuffled his feet.“I just wanted you to know that I think you’ll be there to see them when they come up.”
Tears clouded my eyes and I reached out my hand.
“Thank you，”I whispered.
Jack grasped my hand and gruffly replied，“You’re welcome.You can’t see it now，but next spring you’ll see the colors I picked out for you.”He turned and left without a word.
I have seen those red and white striped tulips push through the soil every spring for over ten years now.In fact，this September the doctor will declare me cured.I’ve seen my children graduate from high school and enter college.
In a moment when I prayed for just the right word，a man with very few words said all the right things.
After all，that’s what friends do.
