I was immediately ashamed of myself for my vanity, for having assumed that he wanted me to stay with him forever so that he could indulge my whims till the end of time. "I'm sorry," I said. "That was a little arrogant, wasn't it?"

"A little," he acknowledged, then kissed my ear. "But not so much, really. Darling, of course it's something we have to discuss because here's the truth—I'm wildly in love with you." I blanched in reflex, and he made a quick joke, trying to be reassuring: "I mean that in a completely hypothetical way, of course." But then he said in all seriousness, "Look, I'm fifty-two years old. Believe me, I already know how the world works. I recognize that you don't love me yet the way I love you, but the truth is that I don't really care. For some reason, I feel the same way about you that I felt about my kids when they were small—that it wasn't their job to love me, it was my job to love them. You can decide to feel however you want to, but I love you and I will always love you. Even if we never see each other again, you already brought me back to life, and that's a lot. And of course, I'd like to share my life with you. The only problem is, I'm not sure how much of a life I can offer you in Bali."

This is a concern I've had, too. I've been watching the expatriate society in Ubud, and I know for a stone-cold fact this is not the life for me. Everywhere in this town you see the same kind of character—Westerners who have been so ill-treated and badly worn by life that they've dropped the whole struggle and decided to camp out here in Bali indefinitely, where they can live in a gorgeous house for $200 a month, perhaps taking a young Balinese man or woman as a companion, where they can drink before noon without getting any static about it, where they can make a bit of money exporting a bit of furniture for somebody. But generally, all they are doing here is seeing to it that nothing serious will ever be asked of them again. These are not bums, mind you. This is a very high grade of people, multinational, talented and clever. But it seems to me that everyone I meet here used to be something once (generally "married" or "employed"); now they are all united by the absence of the one thing they seem to have surrendered completely and forever: ambition. Needless to say, there's a lot of drinking.

Of course, the precious Balinese town of Ubud is not such a bad place to putter away your life, ignoring the passing of the days. I suppose in that way it's similar to places like Key West, Florida, or Oaxaca, Mexico. Most expats in Ubud, when you ask them how long they've lived here, aren't really sure. For one thing, they aren't really sure how much time has passed since they moved to Bali. But for another thing, it's like they aren't really sure if they do live here. They belong to nowhere, unanchored. Some of them like to imagine that they're just hanging out for a while, just running the engine on idle at the traffic light, waiting for the signal to change. But after seventeen years of that you start to wonder . . . does anybody ever leave?

There is much to enjoy in their lazy company, in these long Sunday afternoons spent at brunch, drinking champagne and talking about nothing. Still, when I am around this scene, I feel somewhat like Dorothy in the poppy fields of Oz. Be careful! Don't fall asleep in this narcotic meadow, or you could doze away the rest of your life here!

So what will become of me and Felipe? Now that there is, it seems, a "me and Felipe"? He told me not long ago, "Sometimes I wish you were a lost little girl and I could scoop you up and say, ‘Come and live with me now, let me take care of you forever.' But you aren't a lost little girl. You're a woman with a career, with ambition. You are a perfect snail: you carry your home on your back. You should hold on to that freedom for as long as possible. But all I'm saying is this—if you want this Brazilian man, you can have him. I'm yours already."

我立即对自己的自负感到羞愧，竟认定他要我永远跟他在一起，让他能够一路纵容我，直到时间尽头。"对不起，"我说，"这有点傲慢，对吧？"

"是有一点，"他认同，然后亲吻我的耳朵，"但不很严重，真的。甜心，这事我们当然得讨论，因为事实上——我爱你爱得疯狂。"我反射性地脸色煞白，他于是即时开玩笑，尝试消除我的疑虑："当然，这完全是假设性的说法。"接着他郑重地说："瞧我都五十二岁的人了。相信我，我老早知道世界如何运作。我看得出你还不像我爱你那样爱我，但事实上，我并不在乎。出于某种原因，我对你的感觉就像我在我的孩子们还小的时候对他们的感觉——他们没有爱我的责任，但我有责任爱他们。你能决定自己想要的感觉，但是我爱你，也将永远爱你。即使我们彼此不再见面，你也已经让我复活，这就够了。当然，我很想和你共享生活。唯一的问题是，我不确定我在巴厘岛能提供你多少生活。"

这也是我考量过的事。我观察过乌布镇的海外人士社交圈，十分肯定那不是适合我的生活。这镇上到处看得见同一种角色——惨遭生活凌虐、磨损的西方人，他们丢下所有的挣扎，决定永久放逐巴厘岛；他们只需花两百块月租即可居于华屋，也许找个巴厘男人或女人做伴，午前喝酒也不会遭人责难，出口一些家具给某人来赚点钱。但大致说来，他们在这儿做的，是留意自己不再被要求做任何严肃的事情。请注意，这些人可不是废物。这些人是层次很高、包含多种国籍、有才华的聪明人。可是在我看来，我在此地遇见的每一人从前似乎都具有某种角色（通常是"已婚者"或"受雇者"）；如今，他们都共同缺乏似乎已被自己永远放弃的一样东西"志气"。不用说也知道，喝不少酒。

当然，这个巴厘岛的美丽小镇乌布是悠闲度日、无视于时光流逝的好地方。我想这点很类似佛罗里达的西屿（KeyWest）或墨西哥的瓦哈卡（Oaxaca）。乌布镇的多数海外人士，当你问他们在此居住多久时间，回答都不是很确定。一方面，他们不很确定打从移居巴厘岛后经过多少年头；另一方面，他们不很确定自己确实居住此地。他们无所归属，漂流不定。有些人喜欢想象自己只是在此地晃荡一阵子，就像在红绿灯前任引擎空转，等待信号灯变换一样。然而十七年过去了，你开始想……到底有没有人离开过？

在周日下午那些漫长的午餐时光，有他们的悠闲陪伴，喝香槟、言不及意，着实是一番享受。然而身临其境的我，多少觉得自己像《绿野仙踪》当中身处罂粟花丛的桃乐丝。"小心！别在这片让人昏睡的草地上睡着，否则你将昏昏沉沉度过一生！"

那往后我和斐利贝将会如何？既然"我和斐利贝"如今似乎已经成为一体的话。前不久他告诉我："有时候我希望你是迷失的小女孩，能让我把你捞起来，跟你说："来和我住吧，让我照顾你一辈子。"但你并不是迷失的小女孩。你是有远大志向的职业女性。你是完美的蜗牛：你把自己的家背在背上。你应该永久抓住这种自由。但我只想说——倘若你想要这个巴西男人，你可以拥有他。我已经是你的人。