《渺小一生》:六年前他有回要去過(guò)感恩節(jié)，

　 He didn’t know what it was—maybe it was just the calmness of Andy’s voice, the steadiness with which he made his promise that made him realize that he was serious this time in a way he hadn’t been before; or maybe it was just the realization that yes, he was tired, so tired that he was willing, finally, to accept someone else’s orders—but over the next week, he did as he was told. He ate his meals, even as the food transformed itself by some strange alchemy to mud, to offal: he made himself chew and swallow, chew and swallow. They weren’t big meals, but they were meals. Andy called every night at midnight, and Willem called every morning at six (he couldn’t bring himself to ask, and Willem never volunteered, whether Andy had contacted him). The hours in between were the most difficult, and although he couldn’t cease cutting himself entirely, he did limit it: two cuts, and he stopped. In the absence of cutting, he felt himself being tugged toward earlier punishments—before he had been taught to cut himself, there was a period in which he would toss himself against the wall outside the motel room he shared with Brother Luke again and again until he sagged, exhausted, to the ground, and his left side was permanently stained blue and purple and brown with bruises. He didn’t do that now, but he remembered the sensation, the satisfying slam of his body against the wall, the awful pleasure of hurling himself against something so immovable.

他不知道原因是什么——或許只是安迪聲音里的冷靜，那平穩(wěn)的口氣讓他明白這回安迪是前所未有的認(rèn)真；或許他只是發(fā)現(xiàn)，沒(méi)錯(cuò)，他累了，累得終于愿意接受他人的命令——下一個(gè)星期，他乖乖遵照安迪的話。他每頓飯都吃，盡管那些食物被某些奇怪的魔法變成了泥巴和被丟棄的動(dòng)物內(nèi)臟，他仍逼自己咀嚼后吞下去，咀嚼后吞下去。他吃得并不多，但好歹都吃了。安迪每天晚上12點(diǎn)會(huì)打電話來(lái)，威廉則是每天早上6點(diǎn)打來(lái)（他無(wú)法鼓起勇氣問(wèn)是不是安迪聯(lián)絡(luò)過(guò)他，威廉也從沒(méi)主動(dòng)說(shuō)）。12點(diǎn)到6點(diǎn)之間是最難熬的。他無(wú)法完全不去割自己，但他設(shè)下了限制：割兩道，就停下。不割自己的時(shí)候，他覺(jué)得有一股力量把他拖向更早的懲罰——在他被教導(dǎo)割自己之前，有一段時(shí)期他會(huì)站在他和盧克修士住的汽車旅館房間外，一次又一次朝墻壁撞，直到他最后垮在地上，筋疲力盡，身體左側(cè)永遠(yuǎn)是一塊塊藍(lán)色、紫色、褐色的瘀傷。他現(xiàn)在不會(huì)去撞了，但他記得那個(gè)感覺(jué)，那種身體撞在墻上的滿足感，把自己摔向一個(gè)固定不動(dòng)的物體時(shí)所產(chǎn)生的可怕愉悅感。

　 On Friday he saw Andy, who wasn’t approving (he hadn’t gained any weight), but also didn’t lecture him (nor had he lost any), and the next day he flew to Boston. He didn’t tell anyone he was going, not even Harold. Julia, he knew, was at a conference in Costa Rica; but Harold, he knew, would be home.

星期五他去看安迪，他并不滿意（他的體重完全沒(méi)增加），但也沒(méi)跟他說(shuō)教（也完全沒(méi)減輕），次日他飛到波士頓。他事先沒(méi)告訴任何人他要過(guò)去，連哈羅德都沒(méi)說(shuō)。他知道朱麗婭正在哥斯達(dá)黎加參加學(xué)術(shù)會(huì)議，但哈羅德會(huì)在家。

　 Julia had given him a set of keys six years ago, when he was arriving for Thanksgiving at a time when both she and Harold happened to have department meetings, so he let himself into the house and poured a glass of water, looking out at the back garden as he drank. It was just before noon, and Harold would still be at his tennis game, so he went to the living room to wait for him. But he fell asleep, and when he woke, it was to Harold shaking his shoulder and urgently repeating his name.

六年前他有回要去過(guò)感恩節(jié)，因?yàn)榈诌_(dá)時(shí)他們夫婦碰巧都在各自的部門開(kāi)會(huì)，于是朱麗婭事先配了一副鑰匙給他。這回他自己用鑰匙開(kāi)門進(jìn)去，倒了一杯水，邊喝邊看著后院。此時(shí)不到中午，哈羅德還在打網(wǎng)球，所以他走到客廳等候。但他睡著了，醒來(lái)時(shí)，哈羅德正搖著他的肩膀，著急地猛喊他的名字。

　 “Harold,” he said, sitting up, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry; I should’ve called.”

“哈羅德?！彼f(shuō)，坐了起來(lái)，“對(duì)不起，對(duì)不起，我應(yīng)該先打電話的?！?

　 “Jesus,” Harold said, panting; he smelled cold and sharp. “Are you all right, Jude? What’s wrong?”

“天啊?！惫_德喘著氣說(shuō)，身上一股冰冷、辛辣的氣味，“你還好吧，裘德？出了什么事？”

　 “Nothing, nothing,” he said, hearing before he said it how absurd his explanation was, “I just thought I’d stop by.”

“沒(méi)事，沒(méi)事?！彼f(shuō)，還沒(méi)說(shuō)出口就覺(jué)得自己的解釋很荒謬，“我只是想過(guò)來(lái)看看?！?

　 “Well,” said Harold, momentarily silent. “It’s good to see you.” He sat in his chair and looked at him. “You’ve been something of a stranger these past few weeks.”

“唔?！惫_德說(shuō)，頓了一下，“看到你，我很高興?！彼聛?lái)看著他，“過(guò)去幾個(gè)星期，你有點(diǎn)像陌生人?！?

　 “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“我知道?！彼f(shuō)，“對(duì)不起?！?

　 Harold shrugged. “No apologies necessary. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

哈羅德聳聳肩：“不需要道歉。我只是很高興你沒(méi)事?！?

　 “Yes,” he said. “I’m okay.”

“是啊?！彼f(shuō)，“我沒(méi)事?！?

　 Harold tilted his head. “You don’t look too good.”

哈羅德歪著頭：“你看起來(lái)不太好?！?

　 He smiled. “I’ve had the flu.” He gazed up at the ceiling, as if his lines might be written there. “The forsythia’s falling down, you know.”

他微笑：“我之前得了流行性感冒?！彼峡粗旎ò?，好像他的臺(tái)詞就寫在上頭，“外頭的那些連翹樹(shù)籬都快垮了，你知道?！?

　 “I know. It’s been a windy winter.”

“我知道，今年冬天風(fēng)很大。”

　 “I’ll help you stake it, if you want.”

“我可以幫你把那些木樁撐好，如果你想的話?！?

　 Harold looked at him for a long moment then, his mouth slightly moving, as if he was both trying and not trying to speak. Finally he said, “Yeah. Let’s go do that.”

哈羅德看了他半天，嘴巴稍微動(dòng)了一下，好像同時(shí)想說(shuō)話又不想說(shuō)話。最后他說(shuō)：“好啊，我們?nèi)ヅ??！?

　 Outside it was abruptly, insultingly cold, and both of them began sniffling. He positioned the stake and Harold hammered it into the ground, although the earth was frozen and chipped up into pottery-like shards as he did. After they’d gotten it deep enough, Harold handed him lengths of twine, and he tied the center stalks of the bush to the stake, snugly enough so they’d be secure, but not so snug that they’d be constricted. He worked slowly, making sure the knots were tight, snapping off a few branches that were too bent to recover.

外頭的寒冷簡(jiǎn)直是折磨，他們兩個(gè)人都開(kāi)始吸鼻子。他把木樁擺好，哈羅德用槌子把它敲進(jìn)土里，冰凍的泥土像碎陶片般往上裂開(kāi)。等到木樁敲得夠深，哈羅德就把一段段繩子遞給他，他再把灌木樹(shù)籬中央的樹(shù)干綁在木樁上，必須綁得夠緊才好固定位置，但也不能緊到限制樹(shù)的生長(zhǎng)。他慢慢綁好，確定那些結(jié)打得很緊，又折掉幾根太彎、無(wú)法挽救的樹(shù)枝。

　 “Harold,” he said, when he was halfway down the bush, “I wanted to talk to you about something, but—I don’t know where to begin.” Stupid, he told himself. This is such a stupid idea. You were so stupid to think any of this could ever happen. He opened his mouth to continue and then shut it, and then opened it again: he was a fish, dumbly blowing bubbles, and he wished he had never come, had never begun speaking.

“哈羅德。”他說(shuō)，此時(shí)他們已經(jīng)處理完一半的灌木樹(shù)籬，“我想跟你談一件事，但是……我不知道該從何說(shuō)起?！闭娲溃嬖V自己。這個(gè)主意真蠢。你太蠢了，居然以為這種事情可能發(fā)生。他張開(kāi)嘴想繼續(xù)說(shuō)，隨即又閉上，然后又打開(kāi)：他是一只魚(yú)，傻乎乎地吐著泡泡。他真希望自己根本沒(méi)來(lái)，根本沒(méi)有開(kāi)口談。

　 “Jude,” said Harold, “tell me. Whatever it is.” He stopped. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“裘德，”哈羅德說(shuō)，“告訴我吧，不管是什么事。”他暫停一下，“你改變心意了嗎？”

　 “No,” he said. “No, nothing like that.” They were silent. “Are you?”

“沒(méi)有?！彼f(shuō)，“不，不是那樣的?！彼麄冇殖聊艘粫?huì)兒，“那你呢？”

　 “No, of course not.”

“沒(méi)有，當(dāng)然沒(méi)有。”