《渺小一生》:他也恢復(fù)了看報(bào)紙的習(xí)慣

　 “I do,” he said. It was what he had always told Malcolm: “Of course your dad loves you, Mal. Of course he does. Parents love their kids.” And once, when Malcolm was very upset (he could no longer remember why), he had snapped at him, “Like you’d know anything about that, Jude,” and there had been a silence, and then Malcolm, horrified, had begun apologizing to him. “I’m sorry, Jude,” he’d said, “I’m so sorry.” And he’d had nothing to say, because Malcolm was right: he didn’t know anything about that. What he knew, he knew from books, and books lied, they made things prettier. It had been the worst thing Malcolm had ever said to him, and although he had never mentioned it to Malcolm again, Malcolm had mentioned it to him, once, shortly after the adoption.

“我知道。”他說。他也總是這么告訴馬爾科姆：“馬爾，你爸當(dāng)然愛你了。父母當(dāng)然會愛小孩?！庇谢伛R爾科姆非常沮喪（他已經(jīng)不記得是為了什么），聽到他這么說就兇巴巴地回嘴：“不要講得一副你懂這種事情的樣子，裘德?！苯又鴥扇顺聊艘粫?。這時(shí)馬爾科姆嚇壞了，開始跟他道歉?！皩Σ黄?，裘德，”他說，“對不起?！彼麩o話可說，因?yàn)轳R爾科姆說得沒錯(cuò)：這種事他真的一點(diǎn)也不懂。他所知道的，全是書上讀來的，而書本會撒謊，會把事情美化。那是馬爾科姆跟他講過最殘忍的話。他從來沒再跟馬爾科姆提起，但馬爾科姆后來又跟他提過一次，就是在他被收養(yǎng)后不久。

　 “I will never forget that thing I said to you,” he’d said.

“我永遠(yuǎn)無法忘記我跟你說過的那件事?！瘪R爾科姆曾說。

　 “Mal, forget it,” he’d told him, although he knew exactly what Malcolm was referring to, “you were upset. It was a long time ago.”

“馬爾，算了吧。”他告訴他，他完全知道馬爾科姆指的是什么，“你當(dāng)時(shí)心情很不好，而且都過去那么久了?！?

　 “But it was wrong,” Malcolm had said. “And I was wrong. On every level.”

“可是那樣說是不對的?！瘪R爾科姆說，“而且我錯(cuò)了。大錯(cuò)特錯(cuò)。”

　 As he sat with Mr. Irvine, he thought: I wish Malcolm could have had this moment. This moment should have been Malcolm’s.

他跟歐文先生坐在一起時(shí)，他心想：我真希望馬爾科姆擁有這一刻。這一刻應(yīng)該是馬爾科姆的。

　 And so now he visits the Irvines after visiting Lucien, and the visits are not dissimilar. They are both drifts into the past, they are both old men talking at him about memories he doesn’t share, about contexts with which he is unfamiliar. But although these visits depress him, he feels he must fulfill them: both are with people who had always given him time and conversation when he had needed it but hadn’t known how to ask for it. When he was twenty-five and new to the city, he had lived at the Irvines’, and Mr. Irvine would talk to him about the market, and law, and had given him advice: not advice about how to think as much as advice about how to be, about how to be a curiosity in a world in which curiosities weren’t often tolerated. “People are going to think certain things about you because of how you walk,” Mr. Irvine had once said to him, and he had looked down. “No,” he’d said. “Don’t look down, Jude. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a brilliant man, and you’ll be brilliant, and you’ll be rewarded for your brilliance. But if you act like you don’t belong, if you act like you’re apologetic for your own self, then people will start to treat you that way, too.” He’d taken a deep breath. “Believe me.” Be as steely as you want to be, Mr. Irvine had said. Don’t try to get people to like you. Never try to make yourself more palatable in order to make your colleagues more comfortable. Harold had taught him how to think as a litigator, but Mr. Irvine had taught him how to behave as one. And Lucien had recognized both of these abilities, and had appreciated them both as well.

于是，現(xiàn)在他去看過呂西安之后，就來看歐文先生，兩次探訪沒有什么不同。兩個(gè)人都在緬懷過去，兩次都是老人在跟他講他并未參與的回憶，講的背景脈絡(luò)他都不熟悉。盡管這些探視讓他沮喪，他卻覺得非去不可：這兩個(gè)人都曾在他需要、但不知道如何請求時(shí)，花時(shí)間和他談話。他25歲剛搬來紐約時(shí)，曾住在歐文家一陣子。歐文先生會跟他談金融市場、法律，給他建議，主要不是針對如何思考，而是如何處世，如何在一個(gè)不太容忍奇特人物的世界里繼續(xù)做自己?！叭藗儠?yàn)槟阕呗返姆绞?，對你產(chǎn)生一些既定的想法。”歐文先生有回跟他說，他聽了垂下眼睛?！安灰?，”歐文先生說，“不要低頭看，裘德。這沒什么好羞愧的。你很優(yōu)秀，你會有光明的前途，你的優(yōu)秀會得到回報(bào)。但如果你表現(xiàn)得一副你不配的樣子，如果你表現(xiàn)得好像你對自己感到遺憾，那么人們也會開始用那樣的方式對待你，”歐文先生深吸一口氣，“相信我?！北M量擺出你想要的強(qiáng)硬姿態(tài)，歐文先生曾跟他說。別想討人喜歡。絕對不要為了討好同事而變得親切。哈羅德曾教他如何像一個(gè)訴訟律師那樣思考，但歐文先生教了他一個(gè)訴訟律師該有的舉止。而呂西安看得出他這兩種能力，也非常欣賞。

　 That afternoon his visit at the Irvines’ is brief because Mr. Irvine is tired, and on his way out he sees Flora—Fabulous Flora, of whom Malcolm was so proud and so envious—and they speak for a few minutes before he leaves. It is early October but still warm, the mornings like summer but the afternoons turning dark and wintry, and as he walks up Park to his car, he remembers how he used to spend his Saturdays here twenty years ago: more. Then he would walk home, and on his way he would occasionally stop by a famous, pricey bakery on Madison Avenue that he liked and buy a loaf of walnut bread—a single loaf cost as much as he was willing to spend on a dinner back then—that he and Willem would eat with butter and salt. The bakery is still there, and now he veers west off Park to go buy a loaf, which somehow seems to have remained fixed in price, at least in his memory, while everything else has grown so much more expensive. Until he began his Saturday visits to Lucien and the Irvines, he couldn’t remember the last time he was in this neighborhood in daytime—his appointments with Andy are in the evenings—and now he lingers, looking at the pretty children running down the wide clean sidewalks, their pretty mothers strolling behind them, the linden trees above him shading their leaves into a pale, reluctant yellow. He passes Seventy-fifth Street, where he once tutored Felix, Felix who is now, unbelievably, thirty-three, and no longer a singer in a punk band but, even more unbelievably, a hedge fund manager as his father once was.

那天下午他去歐文先生家的拜訪非常短暫，因?yàn)闅W文先生累了，正要出門去看弗洛拉——非凡的弗洛拉，馬爾科姆以前以她為榮，也很羨慕她。于是他們只談了幾分鐘，他就離開了?，F(xiàn)在是十月初，還很溫暖，上午像夏天，但下午就變得昏暗，而且寒冷得像冬天。當(dāng)他走向公園大道回到停車的地方時(shí)，想起二十多年前的星期六，他總是經(jīng)過這一帶。他會走回家，路上偶爾在麥迪遜大道上一家他很喜歡、知名而昂貴的面包店停一下，買一條核桃面包，回去和威廉配著奶油和鹽吃——當(dāng)時(shí)一條面包就要花掉他一頓晚餐錢。那家面包店還在，這會兒他過了公園大道往西走，要去買一條面包，二十幾年來各種物價(jià)都上漲好多，但那面包不知怎的價(jià)錢還是一樣，至少就他記憶所及是如此。直到他星期六開始拜訪呂西安和歐文夫婦，他都不記得上回白天來這一帶是什么時(shí)候的事了——他和安迪的約診都在晚上。現(xiàn)在他緩緩?fù)白?，看到漂亮的兒童奔跑在寬闊而干凈的人行道上，他們漂亮的媽媽漫步跟在后頭，頭上高大的椴樹葉漸漸不情愿地轉(zhuǎn)成一種蒼白的黃。他經(jīng)過75街，想到自己以前就在那當(dāng)菲利克斯的家教?，F(xiàn)在菲利克斯33歲了，真是難以置信，而且沒在朋克樂團(tuán)當(dāng)主唱了，更難以置信的是，他成了對沖基金經(jīng)理人，跟他父親一樣。

　 At the apartment he cuts the bread, slices some cheese, brings the plate to the table and stares at it. He is making a real effort to eat real meals, to resume the habits and practices of the living. But eating has become somehow difficult for him. His appetite has disappeared, and everything tastes like paste, or like the powdered mashed potatoes they had served at the home. He tries, though. Eating is easier when he has to perform for an audience, and so he has dinner every Friday with Andy, and every Saturday with JB. And he has started appearing every Sunday evening at Richard’s—together the two of them cook one of Richard’s kaley vegetarian meals, and then India joins them at the table.

回到公寓后，他把面包切片，也切了幾片奶酪，然后把盤子拿到餐桌上，瞪著它看。他現(xiàn)在很努力好好吃東西，重拾生活中的種種習(xí)慣和常規(guī)。但吃東西不知怎的對他來說變得很困難。他的胃口消失了，任何東西吃起來都像糨糊，或像以前他在少年之家吃的那種干粉調(diào)成的洋芋泥。但是他還是繼續(xù)努力。吃給別人看的時(shí)候，會比較容易，于是他每周五和安迪吃晚餐，每周六和杰比吃晚餐。而且他開始每個(gè)周日晚上都去理查德家——他們兩個(gè)會一起用羽衣甘藍(lán)做一道素食，然后跟印蒂亞一起吃。

　 He has also resumed reading the paper, and now he pushes aside the bread and cheese and opens the arts section cautiously, as if it might bite him. Two Sundays ago he had been feeling confident and had snapped open the first page and been confronted with a story about the film that Willem was to have begun shooting the previous September. The piece was about how the movie had been recast, and how there was strong early critical support for it, and how the main character had been renamed for Willem, and he had shut the paper and had gone to his bed and had held a pillow over his head until he was able to stand again. He knows that for the next two years he will be confronted by articles, posters, signs, commercials, for films Willem was to have been shooting in these past twelve months. But today there is nothing in the paper other than a full-page advertisement for The Dancer and the Stage, and he stares at Willem’s almost life-size face for a long, long time, holding his hand over its eyes and then lifting it off. If this were a movie, he thinks, the face would start speaking to him. If this were a movie, he would look up and Willem would be standing before him.

他也恢復(fù)了看報(bào)紙的習(xí)慣。這會兒他把面包和奶酪推到一旁，小心翼翼地打開藝文版，好像那會咬他似的。兩周前的星期日，他信心十足、利落地打開藝文版的第一版，就看到一篇報(bào)道，是關(guān)于去年九月威廉準(zhǔn)備開拍的電影。那篇報(bào)道談到電影如何重新選角，目前初步的影評非常正面，而且劇中主角的名字改為威廉以資紀(jì)念。他合上報(bào)紙，回到床上倒下，拿枕頭蓋住頭，直到有辦法再站起來。他知道接下來兩年，他還會看到威廉過去十二個(gè)月本來要拍的電影的相關(guān)文章、海報(bào)、廣告牌、電視廣告。但今天報(bào)上沒有這類報(bào)道，只有一個(gè)《舞臺上的舞者》的滿版廣告，他看著上頭幾乎跟真人一樣大的那張臉，看了好久好久，一手撫過那雙眼睛，然后把報(bào)紙舉得遠(yuǎn)一些。他心想，如果這是一部電影，那張臉就會開始跟他說話。如果這是一部電影，他抬起眼睛，威廉就會站在他面前。

　 Sometimes he thinks: I am doing better. I am getting better. Sometimes he wakes full of fortitude and vigor. Today will be the day, he thinks. Today will be the first day I really get better. Today will be the day I miss Willem less. And then something will happen, something as simple as walking into his closet and seeing the lonely, waiting stand of Willem’s shirts that will never be worn again, and his ambition, his hopefulness will dissolve, and he will be cast into despair once again. Sometimes he thinks: I can do this. But more and more now, he knows: I can’t. He has made a promise to himself to every day find a new reason to keep going. Some of these reasons are little reasons, they are tastes he likes, they are symphonies he likes, they are paintings he likes, buildings he likes, operas and books he likes, places he wants to see, either again or for the first time. Some of these reasons are obligations: Because he should. Because he can. Because Willem would want him to. And some of the reasons are big reasons: Because of Richard. Because of JB. Because of Julia. And, especially, because of Harold.

有時(shí)他心想：我現(xiàn)在好一些了。我逐漸好轉(zhuǎn)了。有時(shí)醒來時(shí)，他覺得自己充滿勇氣與活力。就從今天開始，他心想。今天會是我真正好轉(zhuǎn)的第一天。今天開始，我會比較不想念威廉。接著就會發(fā)生某些事，往往不過是走進(jìn)衣柜間，看到威廉那一排襯衫孤單地等待著，再也不會被穿上，于是他的野心、他的滿懷期望就會溶解，整個(gè)人再度被拋入絕望之中。有時(shí)他心想：我可以做到。但現(xiàn)在他越來越明白：我做不到。他答應(yīng)自己每天要找個(gè)新的理由活下去。有些理由很微小，比方他喜歡的味道、他喜歡的交響曲、他喜歡的畫作、他喜歡的建筑物、他喜歡的歌劇和書籍、他想去看的地方，無論是重訪或初次造訪。有些理由是應(yīng)盡的義務(wù)或責(zé)任：因?yàn)樗麘?yīng)該活下去。因?yàn)樗梢曰钕氯?。因?yàn)橥畷Ｍ钕氯?。而有些理由則是很重大的：因?yàn)槔聿榈?。因?yàn)榻鼙?。因?yàn)橹禧悑I。尤其是，因?yàn)楣_德。

　 A little less than a year after he had tried to kill himself, he and Harold had taken a walk. It was Labor Day; they were in Truro. He remembers that he was having trouble walking that weekend; he remembers stepping carefully through the dunes; he remembers feeling Harold trying not to touch him, trying not to help him.

他自殺未遂將近一年后，有一回他和哈羅德在散步。那是勞動節(jié)假期，他們在特魯羅。他記得那個(gè)周末他走路有困難；他記得自己小心翼翼地走過那些沙丘；他記得他感覺到哈羅德試著不要觸摸他、不要幫他。

　 Finally they had sat and rested and looked out toward the ocean and talked: about a case he was working on, about Laurence, who was retiring, about Harold’s new book. And then suddenly Harold had said, “Jude, you have to promise me you won’t do that again,” and it was Harold’s tone—stern, where Harold was rarely stern—that made him look at him.

最后他們終于坐下來休息，望著大海聊天。談到他目前進(jìn)行的一個(gè)案子，談到勞倫斯在辦退休，談到哈羅德的新書。哈羅德忽然說：“裘德，你得答應(yīng)我不能再這樣做了?！惫_德的口氣難得非常鄭重，讓他轉(zhuǎn)過去看著他。

　 “Harold,” he began.

“哈羅德?！彼_口了。

　 “I try not to ask you for anything,” Harold said, “because I don’t want you to think you owe me anything: and you don’t.” He turned and looked at him, and his expression too was stern. “But I’m asking you this. I’m asking you. You have to promise me.”

“我試著不要求你任何事，”哈羅德說，“因?yàn)槲也幌Ｍ阏J(rèn)為你欠我什么，你本來就不欠，”哈羅德轉(zhuǎn)過來望著他，臉上的表情也很鄭重，“但是我現(xiàn)在要求你這件事。你一定要答應(yīng)我。”

　 He hesitated. “I promise,” he said, finally, and Harold nodded.

他猶豫了一下。“我答應(yīng)你?！弊詈笏K于說。哈羅德點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭。

　 “Thank you,” he said.

“謝謝你?！惫_德說。

　 They had never discussed this conversation again, and although he knew it wasn’t quite logical, he didn’t want to break this promise to Harold. At times, it seemed that this promise—this verbal contract—was the only real deterrent to his trying again, although he knew that if he were to do it again, it wouldn’t be an attempt: this time, he would really do it. He knew how he’d do it; he knew it would work. Since Willem had died, he had thought about it almost daily. He knew the timeline he’d need to follow, he knew how he would arrange to be found. Two months ago, in a very bad week, he had even rewritten his will so that it now read as the document of someone who had died with apologies to make, whose bequests would be attempts to ask for forgiveness. And although he isn’t intending to honor this will—as he reminds himself—he hasn’t changed it, either.

他們后來再也沒有討論過這段談話。他知道這不合邏輯，但他不想打破對哈羅德的這個(gè)承諾。有時(shí)，仿佛唯一真正阻止他再嘗試的，就是這個(gè)承諾、這個(gè)口頭契約。他知道如果自己再試一次，就不會是未遂了：這回，他會成功的。他知道自己要怎么做，知道怎么樣可以成功。自從威廉死后，他幾乎每天都想到自殺的事。他知道自己該照什么時(shí)間表進(jìn)行，知道該怎么安排讓自己被發(fā)現(xiàn)。兩個(gè)月前，有個(gè)星期他狀況非常糟糕，他甚至重寫了一份遺囑，現(xiàn)在看起來像是滿懷歉意死去的人所寫下的文件，他留給人們的遺贈則是試圖要求他們原諒。他提醒自己，他不打算執(zhí)行這份遺囑，但他也沒有更改。

　 He hopes for infection, something swift and fatal, something that will kill him and leave him blameless. But there is no infection. Since his amputations, there have been no wounds. He is still in pain, but no more—less, actually—than he had been in before. He is cured, or at least as cured as he will ever be.

他希望自己能感染，迅速而致命地死掉，這樣就沒有人會怪他了。但他沒有感染。自從截肢之后，他再也沒長那些難以愈合的瘡了。他還是會感到疼痛，但并沒有比以前嚴(yán)重，事實(shí)上還減輕了。他痊愈了，至少已經(jīng)痊愈到他所能達(dá)到的極限。

　 So there is no real reason for him to see Andy once a week, but he does anyway, because he knows Andy is worried he will kill himself. He is worried he will kill himself. And so every Friday he goes uptown. Most of these Fridays are just dinner dates, except for the second Friday of the month, when their dinner is preceded by an appointment. Here, everything is the same: only his missing feet, his missing calves, are proof that things have changed. In other ways, he has reverted to the person he was decades before. He is self-conscious again. He is scared to be touched. Three years before Willem died he had finally been able to ask him to massage the cream into the scars on his back, and Willem had done so, and for a while, he had felt different, like a snake who had grown a new skin. But now, of course, there is no one to help him and the scars are once again tight and bulky, webbing his back in a series of elastic restraints.

所以他沒有理由每星期都去安迪那看診，但他還是去，因?yàn)樗腊驳虾軗?dān)心他會自殺，連他自己都很擔(dān)心。每個(gè)星期五，他都去上城找安迪。這些星期五他大都只跟安迪約晚餐，只有每個(gè)月的第二個(gè)星期五例外，他們吃晚餐前會先看診。一切都跟往常一樣：只是他的腳不見了、小腿不見了，證明事情還是有所改變。在其他方面，他回復(fù)到了二十年前的老樣子。他又變得很害羞，很怕被碰觸。威廉死前三年，他總算提起勇氣開口要威廉幫忙用藥膏按摩他的背部，于是威廉開始幫他。有一陣子，他感覺不一樣了，好像一條蛇開始長出新皮。但現(xiàn)在，當(dāng)然沒人幫他按摩，那些疤再度回復(fù)到了緊繃笨重的狀態(tài)，像一條條纏在他背部的橡皮繩。

　 He knows now: People don’t change. He cannot change. Willem had thought himself transformed by the experience of helping him through his recovery; he had been surprised by his own reserves, by his own forebearance. But he—he and everyone else—had always known that Willem had possessed those characteristics already. Those months may have clarified Willem to himself, but the qualities he had discovered had been a surprise to nobody but Willem. And in the same way, his losing Willem has been clarifying as well. In his years with Willem, he had been able to convince himself that he was someone else, someone happier, someone freer and braver. But now Willem is gone, and he is again who he was twenty, thirty, forty years ago.

現(xiàn)在他明白了：人是不會變的。他無法改變。威廉一直以為自己因?yàn)閰f(xié)助他復(fù)原的經(jīng)驗(yàn)而改變；他很驚訝自己能夠如此克制、寬容。但他和其他人一直都知道，威廉本來就有這樣的個(gè)性。那幾個(gè)月可能讓威廉自己也明白了，但他發(fā)現(xiàn)的特質(zhì)對其他人而言并不意外，只有威廉自己感到驚訝。同樣地，他也逐漸明白自己失去威廉了。和威廉在一起的那幾年，他一直可以說服自己他是另一個(gè)人，一個(gè)比較快樂、比較自由、比較勇敢的人。但現(xiàn)在威廉走了，他再度回到二十年、三十年、四十年前的自己了。