《渺小一生》:可觀、不可觀，他不在乎

　 At some point he went back to work: the end of September, he thought. By this point, he knew what had happened. He did. But he was trying not to, and back then, it was still easy. He didn’t read the papers; he didn’t watch the news. Two weeks after Willem died, he and Harold had been walking down the street and they had passed a newspaper kiosk and there, before him, was a magazine with Willem’s face on it, and two dates, and he realized that the first date was the year Willem had been born, and the second was the year he had died. He had stood there, staring, and Harold had taken his arm. “Come on, Jude,” he’d said, gently. “Don’t look. Come with me,” and he had followed, obediently.

然后在某個時間，他回去上班了。他覺得應(yīng)該是九月底。此時他已經(jīng)知道發(fā)生了什么事。雖然知道，但設(shè)法不要知道；在當(dāng)時，這一點還算容易做到。他不看報紙，不看電視新聞。威廉過世兩周后，那天他和哈羅德走在路上，經(jīng)過一個報攤，忽然看到一本雜志上印著威廉的臉，還有兩個數(shù)字，然后他明白第一個數(shù)字是威廉出生的那一年，第二個數(shù)字是他死的那一年。他站在那里瞪著那本雜志看，哈羅德不得不抓住他的手臂?！白甙桑玫?，”他柔聲說，“不要看，跟我走?！彼凸怨愿吡?。

　 Before he returned to the office, he had instructed Sanjay: “I don’t want anyone offering me their condolences. I don’t want anyone mentioning it. I don’t want anyone saying his name, ever.”

他回去上班前交代桑杰：“我不要任何人來慰問我。我不要任何人提起這件事。我不要任何人提起他的名字，絕對不要。”

　 “Okay, Jude,” Sanjay had said, quietly, looking scared. “I understand.”

“好吧，裘德，”桑杰那時低聲說，一臉害怕，“我明白了。”

　 And they had obeyed him. No one said they were sorry. No one said Willem’s name. No one ever says Willem’s name. And now he wishes they would say it. He cannot say it himself. But he wishes someone would. Sometimes, on the street, he hears someone say something that sounds like his name—“William!”: a mother, calling to her son—and he turns, greedily, in the direction of her voice.

事務(wù)所里的人都乖乖照辦。沒有人來說他們很遺憾。沒有人提到威廉的名字。再也沒有人敢提起威廉的名字。而現(xiàn)在他真希望他們提起。有時在路上，他聽到有人叫著類似威廉的名字，比方一個媽媽對兒子喊：“威倫！”他會渴望地轉(zhuǎn)身，望著發(fā)出聲音的方向。

　 In those first months, there were practicalities, which gave him something to do, which gave his days anger, which in turn gave them shape. He sued the car manufacturer, the seat-belt manufacturer, the air-bag manufacturer, the rental-car company. He sued the truck driver, the company the driver worked for. The driver, he heard through the driver’s lawyer, had a chronically ill child; a lawsuit would ruin the family. But he didn’t care. Once he would have; not now. He felt raw and merciless. Let him be destroyed, he thought. Let him be ruined. Let him feel what I feel. Let him lose everything, the only things, that matter. He wanted to siphon every dollar from all of them, all the companies, all the people working for them. He wanted to leave them hopeless. He wanted to leave them empty. He wanted them to live in squalor. He wanted them to feel lost in their own lives.

頭幾個月還有些實際的事情要處理，讓他有事可做，讓他的每一天有了憤怒，也讓那些日子具體起來。他告了汽車廠、安全帶制造商、氣囊制造商、租車公司。他告了那個卡車司機、他服務(wù)的那家公司。他聽那個司機的律師說，那個司機有個長期患病的小孩，打官司會毀掉這個家，但他不在乎。以前他會在乎，現(xiàn)在不會了。他覺得自己苛刻、毫無同情心。就把他毀了吧，他心想。讓他完蛋。讓他感受我所感受到的。讓他失去一切，讓他失去所有重要的東西。他要吸干這些人、這些公司和他們員工的每一分錢。他要讓他們絕望。他要讓他們一無所有。他希望他們活得很慘。他希望他們茫然無措。

　 They were being sued, each of them, for everything Willem would have earned had he been allowed to live a normal lifespan, and it was a ridiculous number, an astonishing number, and he couldn’t look at it without despair: not because of the figure itself but because of the years that figure represented.

他們都被求償，沒有一個被漏掉，金額是威廉正常壽命下可賺到的錢。那個數(shù)字很荒謬、很嚇人，而他看到這數(shù)字覺得很絕望：不是因為數(shù)字本身，而是那個數(shù)字所代表的年數(shù)。

　 They would settle with him, said his lawyer, a notoriously aggressive and venal torts expert named Todd with whom he had been on the law review, and the settlements would be generous.

他們會跟他和解的，他的律師告訴他。那是個出了名好斗又貪婪的侵權(quán)專家，名叫托德，兩個人以前一起編過法學(xué)評論學(xué)報。而且和解金額會非?？捎^，托德說。

　 Generous; not generous. He didn’t care. He only cared if it made them suffer. “Obliterate them,” he commanded Todd, his voice croaky with hatred, and Todd had looked startled.

可觀、不可觀，他不在乎。他只在乎要讓他們痛苦?！皬氐状輾麄儭！彼械抡f，他的聲音因為恨意而沙啞，托德的表情很震驚。

　 “I will, Jude,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

“裘德，我會的?！蓖械抡f，“別擔(dān)心?！?

　 He didn’t need the money, of course. He had his own. And except for monetary gifts to his assistant and his godson, and sums that he wanted distributed to various charities—the same charities Willem gave to every year, along with an additional one: a foundation that helped exploited children—everything that Willem had he had left to him: it was a photo negative of his own will. Earlier that year, he and Willem had set up two scholarships at their college for Harold’s and Julia’s seventy-fifth birthdays: one at the law school under Harold’s name; one at the medical school under Julia’s. They had funded them together, and Willem had left enough in a trust so that they always would be. He disbursed the rest of Willem’s bequests: he signed the checks to the charities and foundations and museums and organizations that Willem had designated his beneficiaries. He gave to Willem’s friends—Harold and Julia; Richard; JB; Roman; Cressy; Susannah; Miguel; Kit; Emil; Andy; but not Malcolm, not anymore—the items (books, pictures, mementoes from films and plays, pieces of art) that he had left them. There were no surprises in Willem’s will, although sometimes he wished there would have been—how grateful he would have been for a secret child whom he’d get to meet and would have Willem’s smile; how scared and yet how excited he would have been for a secret letter containing a long-held confession. How thankful he would have been for an excuse to hate Willem, to resent him, for a mystery to solve that might occupy years of his life. But there was nothing. Willem’s life was over. He was as clean in death as he had been in life.

當(dāng)然，他不需要那些錢。他自己有錢。而且威廉的遺囑里，除了留錢給助理和教子，以及他希望捐給各個慈善機構(gòu)的金額（除了威廉每年都會捐助的那些機構(gòu)，還有一個幫助受虐兒童的基金會），其他的一切都留給了他；他的遺囑也是一樣，把一切都留給威廉。那一年稍早，他和威廉在他們大學(xué)母校設(shè)立了兩個獎學(xué)金，當(dāng)作送給哈羅德和朱麗婭的75歲生日禮物：一個在法學(xué)院，用的是哈羅德的名字；一個在醫(yī)學(xué)院，用了朱麗婭的名字。他們兩個共同成立，而且威廉留了夠多的錢給一個信托基金，讓這兩個獎學(xué)金能永遠持續(xù)下去。他處理了威廉剩下的遺產(chǎn)：開了支票給威廉指定的慈善機構(gòu)、基金會、博物館和組織。剩下的東西（書、照片、拍片和演出的紀念物、藝術(shù)品）遵照遺囑送給威廉的朋友，包括哈羅德和朱麗婭、理查德、杰比、羅蒙、克雷西、蘇珊娜、米蓋爾、基特、埃米爾、安迪，但是沒有馬爾科姆，再也沒有了。威廉的遺囑里沒有令他驚訝之處，雖然有時他真希望有：要是威廉有個私生子，跟威廉有相同的笑容，可以讓他看看，那該有多好；要是遺囑留給他一封信，說出他隱瞞已久的秘密，那該有多可怕，又多令人興奮。他會有多慶幸找到可以恨威廉、討厭威廉的借口，感謝終于解開占據(jù)他人生多年的謎團。但什么都沒有。威廉的人生結(jié)束了。他死了，跟他活著的時候一樣，干干凈凈。

　 He thought he was doing well, or well enough anyway. One day Harold called and asked what he wanted to do for Thanksgiving, and for a moment he couldn’t understand what Harold was talking about, what the very word—Thanksgiving—meant. “I don’t know,” he said.

他覺得自己過得很好，總之夠好。有天哈羅德打電話來，問他感恩節(jié)打算怎么過。一時之間，他不明白哈羅德在說什么，不懂“感恩節(jié)”是什么意思?！拔也恢??！彼f。

　 “It’s next week,” Harold said, in the new quiet voice everyone now used around him. “Do you want to come here, or we can come over, or we can go somewhere else?”

“就是下星期了?！惫_德說，用一種新的、輕柔的聲音，現(xiàn)在每個人都用這種聲音跟他講話。“你想來我們這，或者我們可以過去，還是我們?nèi)e的地方？”

　 “I don’t think I can,” he said. “I have too much work, Harold.”

“我想我沒辦法，”他說，“哈羅德，我工作實在太多了?！?

　 But Harold had insisted. “Anywhere, Jude,” he’d said. “With whomever you want. Or no one. But we need to see you.”

但哈羅德堅持?！半S便哪里都行，裘德，”他說，“看你想邀請誰一起過都可以，誰都不邀請也行。但是我們一定要跟你一起過節(jié)?！?

　 “You’re not going to have a good time with me,” he finally said.

“你們跟我在一起不會愉快的。”最后他終于說。

　 “We won’t have a good time without you,” Harold said. “Or any kind of time. Please, Jude. Anywhere.”

“如果沒有你，我們也不會愉快的，”哈羅德說，“沒有你，我們根本沒辦法過節(jié)。拜托，裘德，哪里都好。”

　 So they went to London. They stayed in the flat. He was relieved to be out of the country, where there would have been scenes of families on the television, and his colleagues happily grousing about their children and wives and husbands and in-laws. In London, the day was just another day. They took walks, the three of them. Harold cooked ambitious, disastrous meals, which he ate. He slept and slept. Then they went home.

于是他們?nèi)チ藗惗?，待在那里的公寓。能離開美國讓他松了一口氣；待在美國的話，電視上成天都是家人團聚的畫面，同事會開心地抱怨子女或妻子或丈夫或姻親。但是倫敦不過感恩節(jié)，這一天只是平常的一天。他們?nèi)齻€出門散步，哈羅德屢次滿懷抱負地做菜，做出災(zāi)難性的一餐，他吃了。他睡了又睡。然后他們回家。

　 And then one Sunday in December he had woken and had known: Willem was gone. He was gone from him forever. He was never coming back. He would never see him again. He would never hear Willem’s voice again, he would never smell him again, he would never feel Willem’s arms around him. He would never again be able to unburden himself of one of his memories, sobbing with shame as he did, would never again jerk awake from one of his dreams, blind with terror, to feel Willem’s hand on his face, to hear Willem’s voice above him: “You’re safe, Judy, you’re safe. It’s over; it’s over; it’s over.” And then he had cried, really cried, cried for the first time since the accident. He had cried for Willem, for how frightened he must have been, for how he must have suffered, for his poor short life. But mostly he had cried for himself. How was he going to keep living without Willem? His entire life—his life after Brother Luke, his life after Dr. Traylor, his life after the monastery and the motel rooms and the home and the trucks, which was the only part of his life that counted—had had Willem in it. There had not been a day since he was sixteen and met Willem in their room at Hood Hall in which he had not communicated with Willem in some way. Even when they were fighting, they spoke. “Jude,” Harold had said, “it will get better. I swear. I swear. It won’t seem like it now, but it will.” They all said this: Richard and JB and Andy; the people who wrote him cards. Kit. Emil. All they told him was that it would get better. But although he knew enough to never say so aloud, privately he thought: It won’t. Harold had had Jacob for five years. He had had Willem for thirty-four. There was no comparison. Willem had been the first person who loved him, the first person who had seen him not as an object to be used or pitied but as something else, as a friend; he had been the second person who had always, always been kind to him. If he hadn’t had Willem, he wouldn’t have had any of them—he would never have been able to trust Harold if he hadn’t trusted Willem first. He was unable to conceive of life without him, because Willem had so defined what his life was and could be.

接下來，十二月的一個星期天，他醒來時很清楚：威廉走了。永遠離開他了。永遠不會回來了。他再也看不到他了。他再也聽不到威廉的聲音，再也聞不到他的氣味，再也不會感覺到威廉的雙手擁著他了。他再也無法傾訴他的回憶，同時羞愧地啜泣，再也無法半夜從噩夢中驚醒，驚駭而茫然時感覺威廉的手摸著他的臉，聽著威廉的聲音在他上方說：“你安全了，小裘，你很安全。都結(jié)束了，都結(jié)束了，都結(jié)束了?！比缓笏蘖耍嬲乜蘖?，是威廉車禍以來他第一次哭。他為威廉哭，哭他當(dāng)時一定很害怕，哭他當(dāng)時一定很痛苦，哭他可憐的短暫人生。但最重要的是哭他自己。沒了威廉，他要怎么活下去？他的整個人生——在盧克修士之后，在特雷勒醫(yī)生之后，在修道院、汽車旅館房間、少年之家和那些卡車之后的人生，始終都有威廉在其中。自從他16歲在虎德館的宿舍房間里認識威廉以來，他們沒有一天不曾以某種方式溝通。即使吵架時，兩人還是會說話?！棒玫?，”哈羅德曾說，“以后會好轉(zhuǎn)的，我發(fā)誓。我發(fā)誓?，F(xiàn)在看起來好像不可能，但一定會好轉(zhuǎn)的。”他們都這么說，理查德、杰比、安迪，或者寫卡片給他的人。還有基特、埃米爾，他們都跟他說以后會好轉(zhuǎn)。盡管沒說出口，但私底下他心想：不會的。哈羅德?lián)碛醒鸥鞑嘉迥?。他擁有威廉三十四年。兩者根本沒辦法相提并論。威廉是第一個愛他的人，第一個沒把他當(dāng)成利用或憐憫的對象，而是當(dāng)成朋友的人；他是第二個永遠、永遠對他和善的人。如果沒有威廉，也不會有這些對他和善的人——要不是他先信任了威廉，后來也不可能信任哈羅德。沒有了威廉，他就沒辦法想象人生要怎么過，因為威廉太重要了，不但決定他現(xiàn)在的人生，也決定他往后的人生。

　 The next day he did what he never did: he called Sanjay and told him he wasn’t coming in for the next two days. And then he had lain in bed and cried, screaming into the pillows until he lost his voice completely.

次日他做了他從沒做過的事：他打電話給桑杰，說他接下來兩天不去上班了。然后，他躺在床上哭，埋在枕頭里尖叫，直到嗓子完全發(fā)不出聲音。

　 But from those two days he had found another solution. Now he stays very late at work, so late that he has seen the sun rise from his office. He does this every weekday, and on Saturdays as well. But on Sundays he sleeps as late as he can, and when he wakes, he takes a pill, one that not only makes him fall asleep again but bludgeons into obsolescence all glimmers of wakefulness. He sleeps until the pill wears off, and then he takes a shower and gets back into bed and takes a different pill, one that makes sleep shallow and glassy, and sleeps until Monday morning. By Monday, he has not eaten in twenty-four hours, sometimes more, and he is trembly and thoughtless. He swims, he goes to work. If he is lucky, he has spent Sunday dreaming of Willem, for at least a little while. He has bought a long, fat pillow, as long as a man is tall, one meant to be pressed against by pregnant women or by people with back problems, and he drapes one of Willem’s shirts over it and holds it as he sleeps, even though in life, it was Willem who held him. He hates himself for this, but he cannot stop.

在那兩天里，他找到另一個解決辦法?，F(xiàn)在他總是加班到很晚，直到天亮。每個工作日他都這樣，外加星期六。但是到了星期天，他會盡量睡到很晚，醒來時，他就吃一顆藥，讓他不但再度入睡，而且會持續(xù)消滅任何醒來的可能性。他會睡到藥效退了，起來沖個澡，回到床上吃另一顆不同的藥丸，讓他的睡眠淺而透明，直到星期一早晨。到了星期一，他已經(jīng)二十四小時沒吃東西，有時更久，所以會一直顫抖、無法思考。他先游泳，再去工作。如果運氣好，他星期天就可以夢見威廉，至少夢到一小段時間。他買了一個粗大的長抱枕，長度就像成年的高個男子，這本來是供懷孕婦女或是背部有問題的人靠著使用的，但他拿威廉的襯衫套在抱枕上，睡覺時抱著，盡管威廉生前，通常是威廉抱著他。他痛恨自己這樣，但他就是忍不住。