《渺小一生》:可是到了夜晚，他太害怕

　 He is enjoying the dinner, amused even by how people keep adding scoops of different food to his plate, even though he hasn’t eaten much of his first serving, but he is so sleepy, and eventually he burrows back into the chair and closes his eyes, smiling as he listens to the familiar conversation, the familiar voices, fill the air around him.

他很享受這頓晚餐，甚至看大家一直夾菜到他盤子里都覺得很好玩，即使他第一次分到的菜根本沒吃多少?？墒撬Я耍詈缶屯罂炕匾巫由?，閉上眼睛，微笑聽著周圍空氣中充滿那些熟悉的交談、熟悉的聲音。

　 Eventually Willem notices that he is falling asleep, and he hears him stand. “Okay,” he says, “time for your diva exit,” and turns the chair from the table and begins pushing it away toward their bedroom, and he uses the last of his strength to answer everyone’s laughter, their song of goodbyes, to peek out around the wing of the chair and smile at them, letting his fingers trail behind him in an airy, theatrical wave. “Stay,” he calls out as he is taken from them. “Please stay. Please stay and give Willem some decent conversation,” and they agree they will; it isn’t even seven, after all—they have hours and hours. “I love you,” he calls to them, and they shout it back at him, all of them at once, although even in their chorus, he can still distinguish each individual voice.

最后威廉注意到他快睡著了，他聽到威廉站起來?！昂冒?，”威廉說，“天后要退場了?！比缓蟀岩巫訌淖狼稗D(zhuǎn)開，推向他們的臥室。他用殘存的一絲力氣回應(yīng)大家的笑聲和道別，轉(zhuǎn)頭探出椅子的翼背外看了一下，朝大家微笑，同時手指往后輕快地、戲劇化地?fù)]動?！傲粝?，”他離開時喊道，“請留下。請留下跟威廉聊個痛快?！彼麄冋f會的；畢竟，此時還不到7點，他們還有很多時間?！拔覑勰銈??！彼麄兇蠛埃麄円惨黄鸪俺鐾瑯拥脑?。雖然齊聲喊著，他還是分辨得出每個人的聲音。

　 At the doorway to their bedroom, Willem lifts him—he has lost so much weight, and without his prostheses is so less storklike a form, that now even Julia can lift him—and carries him to their bed, helps him undress, helps him remove his temporary prostheses, folds the covers back over him. He pours him a glass of water, hands him his pills: an antibiotic, a fistful of vitamins. He swallows them all as Willem watches, and then for a while Willem sits on the bed next to him, not touching him, but simply near.

到了臥室門口，威廉抱起他，把他放上床。他瘦了很多，如果沒有那對害他看起來像只鸛鳥的義肢，現(xiàn)在連朱麗婭都能抱得動他。威廉幫著他脫掉衣服，拆掉臨時義肢，又用床單蓋住他。最后幫他倒了杯水，遞給他藥丸：一顆抗生素，幾顆維生素。他全部吞下，威廉注視著他，有一會兒，威廉就坐在旁邊的床上，沒碰他，只是靠得很近。

　 “Promise me you’ll go out there and stay up late,” he tells Willem, and Willem shrugs.

“答應(yīng)我，你會出去陪他們待到很晚?！彼嬖V威廉，威廉聳聳肩。

　 “Maybe I’ll just stay here with you,” he says. “They seem to be having a fine time without me.” And sure enough, there is a burst of laughter from the dining room, and they look at each other and smile.

“或許我就在這里陪你。”威廉說，“沒了我，他們好像照樣玩得很高興?！惫?，這時餐廳剛好傳來一陣爆笑聲，他們相視微笑起來。

　 “No,” he says, “promise me,” and finally, Willem does. “Thank you, Willem,” he says, inadequately, his eyes closing. “This was a good day.”

“不，”他說，“答應(yīng)我。”威廉終于答應(yīng)了。“謝謝你，威廉。”他無力地說，閉上眼睛，“這是美好的一天?！?

　 “It was, wasn’t it?” he hears Willem say, and then he begins to say something else, but he doesn’t hear it because he has fallen asleep.

“是啊，可不是嗎？”他聽到威廉說，而且又說了些話，但是他沒聽到，因為他睡著了。

　 That night his dreams wake him. It is one of the side effects of the particular antibiotic he is on, these dreams, and this time, they are worse than ever. Night after night, he dreams. He dreams that he is in the motel rooms, that he is in Dr. Traylor’s house. He dreams that he is still fifteen, that the previous thirty-three years haven’t even happened. He dreams of specific clients, specific incidents, of things he hadn’t even known he remembered. He dreams that he has become Brother Luke himself. He dreams, again and again, that Harold is Dr. Traylor, and when he wakes, he feels ashamed for attributing such behavior to Harold, even in his subconscious, and at the same time fearful that the dream might be real after all, and he has to remind himself of Willem’s promise: Never, ever, Jude. He would never do that to you, not for anything.

那一夜，他從夢境中驚醒。做這些夢是他吃的這種抗生素的副作用之一，而且這一回是史無前例的糟。他每一夜都做夢，夢到自己在汽車旅館房間里，在特雷勒醫(yī)生的房子里。他夢到自己只有15歲，之后的三十三年都還沒發(fā)生。他夢到一些特定的顧客、特定的事件，夢到一些他都不知道自己記得的事情。他夢到自己變成盧克修士。他一次又一次夢到哈羅德就是特雷勒醫(yī)生，醒來時，他覺得很羞愧，居然把這類行為派給哈羅德，即使是在潛意識里；同時他又很怕那個夢是真的，于是不得不提醒自己威廉跟他保證過：絕對、絕對不會，裘德。他永遠(yuǎn)不會那樣對你的，絕對不可能。

　 Sometimes the dreams are so vivid, so real, that it takes minutes, an hour for him to return to his life, for him to convince himself that the life of his consciousness is in fact real life, his real life. Sometimes he wakes so far from himself that he can’t even remember who he is. “Where am I?” he asks, desperate, and then, “Who am I? Who am I?”

有時那些夢很鮮明、很真實，他要花好多分鐘，甚至一小時，才能回過神來，相信他清醒過來的生活的確是真實的人生，他的真實人生。有時醒來時，他離自己好遠(yuǎn)，甚至不記得自己是誰了?！拔以谀睦铮俊彼^望地問，又問，“我是誰？我是誰？”

　 And then he hears, so close to his ear that it is as if the voice is originating inside his own head, Willem’s whispered incantation. “You’re Jude St. Francis. You are my oldest, dearest friend. You’re the son of Harold Stein and Julia Altman. You’re the friend of Malcolm Irvine, of Jean-Baptiste Marion, of Richard Goldfarb, of Andy Contractor, of Lucien Voigt, of Citizen van Straaten, of Rhodes Arrowsmith, of Elijah Kozma, of Phaedra de los Santos, of the Henry Youngs.

然后他聽到，離他耳邊好近，仿佛那聲音發(fā)自自己的腦袋，威廉念咒語似的低聲說：“你是裘德·圣弗朗西斯。你是我最老、最親的朋友。你是哈羅德·斯汀和朱麗婭·阿特曼的兒子。你是馬爾科姆·歐文、讓·巴蒂斯特·馬里恩的朋友，你是理查德·戈德法布、安迪·康垂克特、呂西安·福格特、西提任·范·史特拉頓、羅茲·阿羅史密斯的朋友，你是伊利亞·科茲馬、菲德拉·德·洛斯·桑托斯，還有兩個亨利·楊的朋友。

　 “You’re a New Yorker. You live in SoHo. You volunteer for an arts organization; you volunteer for a food kitchen.

“你是紐約人。你住在蘇荷區(qū)。你是一個藝術(shù)組織和一間食物廚房的義工。

　 “You’re a swimmer. You’re a baker. You’re a cook. You’re a reader. You have a beautiful voice, though you never sing anymore. You’re an excellent pianist. You’re an art collector. You write me lovely messages when I’m away. You’re patient. You’re generous. You’re the best listener I know. You’re the smartest person I know, in every way. You’re the bravest person I know, in every way.

“你很會游泳。你很會烘焙。你很會做菜。你愛閱讀。你的嗓子很美，不過你現(xiàn)在都不唱了。你鋼琴彈得很好。你收藏藝術(shù)品。我出遠(yuǎn)門時，你會寫很棒的短信給我。你很有耐心。你很大方。你是我認(rèn)識最棒的傾聽者。你是我認(rèn)識最聰明的人，各方面都是。你是我認(rèn)識最勇敢的人，每一件事都很勇敢。

　 “You’re a lawyer. You’re the chair of the litigation department at Rosen Pritchard and Klein. You love your job; you work hard at it.

“你是律師。你是羅森·普理查德律師事務(wù)所訴訟部門的主任。你熱愛你的工作；你工作時非常認(rèn)真。

　 “You’re a mathematician. You’re a logician. You’ve tried to teach me, again and again.

“你是數(shù)學(xué)家。你是邏輯學(xué)家。你一直設(shè)法教我，一次又一次。

　 “You were treated horribly. You came out on the other end. You were always you.”

“你曾被很可怕地對待過。你熬過來了。你永遠(yuǎn)都是你?！?

　 On and on Willem talks, chanting him back to himself, and in the daytime—sometimes days later—he remembers pieces of what Willem has said and holds them close to him, as much as for what he said as for what he didn’t, for how he hadn’t defined him.

威廉一直說一直說，反復(fù)說到他回過神來。在白天，有時要幾天之后，他想起威廉說過的片段，在心里緊緊握住不放，不光是他說的內(nèi)容，同樣重要的是他沒說出來的，威廉沒用那些事情定義他。

　 But in the nighttime he is too terrified, he is too lost to recognize this. His panic is too real, too consuming. “And who are you?” he asks, looking at the man who is holding him, who is describing someone he doesn’t recognize, someone who seems to have so much, someone who seems like such an enviable, beloved person. “Who are you?”

可是到了夜晚，他太害怕、太迷失，根本不記得這些了。他的恐慌很真實，又很消耗精力?！澳悄闶钦l？”他問，看著眼前這個人抱住他，描述某個他不認(rèn)得的人，某個似乎擁有很多、很值得羨慕、討人喜歡的人?！澳闶钦l？”

　 The man has an answer to this question as well. “I’m Willem Ragnarsson,” he says. “And I will never let you go.”

這個問題，眼前這個人也有答案?！拔沂峭だ窦{松。”他說，“我永遠(yuǎn)不會讓你離開。”

　 “I’m going,” he tells Jude, but then he doesn’t move. A dragonfly, as shiny as a scarab, hums above them. “I’m going,” he repeats, but he still doesn’t move, and it is only the third time he says it that he’s finally able to stand up from the lounge chair, drunk on the hot air, and shove his feet back into his loafers.

“我要走了。”他告訴裘德，但他沒動。一只閃亮如金龜子的蜻蜓出現(xiàn)，在他們上方發(fā)出飛行的嗡響。“我要走了?！彼终f了一次，但還是沒動，直到他說了第三次，才有辦法從躺椅上站起身，在熱空氣中懶洋洋地將雙腳塞進(jìn)平底便鞋里。

　 “Limes,” says Jude, looking up at him and shielding his eyes against the sun.

“記得買青檸?！濒玫抡f，抬頭看著他，臉上戴著太陽眼鏡，以抵擋陽光。