“You, of course,” said Harold. “You and your big-pharma spoils.”
“當(dāng)然是你啊?!惫_德說(shuō),“你和你從那些大藥廠賺來(lái)的錢?!?
But now he worries that this won’t happen after all. Don’t leave me, Harold, he thinks, but it is a dull, spiritless request, one he doesn’t expect will be answered, made more from rote than from real hope. Don’t leave me.
但現(xiàn)在他擔(dān)心這樣的狀況不會(huì)發(fā)生了。別離開(kāi)我,哈羅德,他心想,但這是個(gè)遲鈍、冷淡的請(qǐng)求,不期待有回應(yīng),只是習(xí)慣性地講一聲,并不是真正抱著期望。別離開(kāi)我。
“You’re not saying anything,” Harold says now, and he refocuses himself.
“你都不說(shuō)話?!惫_德這會(huì)兒說(shuō)。他重新打起精神。
“I’m sorry, Harold,” he says. “I was drifting a little.”
“對(duì)不起,哈羅德?!彼f(shuō),“我有點(diǎn)恍神了?!?
“I can see that,” Harold says. “I was saying: Julia and I were thinking of spending some more time here, in the city, of living uptown full-time.”
“看得出來(lái)?!惫_德說(shuō),“我剛剛在說(shuō):朱麗婭和我考慮要多花點(diǎn)時(shí)間在這里,住在上城的那間公寓?!?
He blinks. “You mean, moving here?”
他眨眨眼:“你的意思是搬來(lái)這里?”
“Well, we’ll keep the place in Cambridge,” Harold says, “but yes. I’m considering teaching a seminar at Columbia next fall, and we like spending time here.” He looks at him. “We thought it’d be nice to be closer to you, too.”
“唔,劍橋市那邊的房子還是會(huì)留著?!惫_德說(shuō),“不過(guò)沒(méi)錯(cuò),我考慮秋天在哥倫比亞大學(xué)開(kāi)一門專題研討課,我們喜歡紐約。”他看著他,“而且我們也想住得離你近一點(diǎn)。”
He isn’t sure what he thinks about this. “But what about your lives up there?” he asks. He is discomfited by this news; Harold and Julia love Cambridge—he has never thought they would leave. “What about Laurence and Gillian?”
他不知道自己有什么想法?!暗阍谀沁叺纳钅??”他問(wèn)。他被這個(gè)消息弄得很困惑,哈羅德和朱麗婭很愛(ài)劍橋市,他從沒(méi)想過(guò)他們會(huì)離開(kāi),“那勞倫斯和吉莉安呢?”
“Laurence and Gillian are always coming through the city; so is everyone else.” Harold studies him again. “You don’t seem very happy about this, Jude.”
“勞倫斯和吉莉安常常來(lái)紐約,其他人也是?!惫_德又打量著他,“裘德,你聽(tīng)到這個(gè)消息,好像不太高興?!?
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking down. “But I just hope you’re not moving here because—because of me.” There’s a silence. “I don’t mean to sound presumptuous,” he says, finally. “But if it is because of me, then you shouldn’t, Harold. I’m fine. I’m doing fine.”
“對(duì)不起,”他說(shuō),低頭看著,“我只是希望你們不要——不要因?yàn)槲叶醽?lái)這里?!眱扇顺聊艘幌隆!拔也幌胩砸詾槭?,”他終于說(shuō),“但如果真的是因?yàn)槲遥枪_德,你們就不該搬家。我很好。我過(guò)得很好?!?
“Are you, Jude?” Harold asks, very quietly, and he suddenly stands, quickly, and goes to the bathroom near the kitchen, where he sits on the toilet seat and puts his face in his hands. He can hear Harold waiting on the other side of the door, but he says nothing, and neither does Harold. Finally, minutes later, when he’s able to compose himself, he opens the door again, and the two of them look at each other.
“是嗎,裘德?”哈羅德問(wèn),非常小聲。他忽然站起來(lái),走到廚房旁的浴室里,坐在馬桶座上,臉埋進(jìn)雙手里。他聽(tīng)到哈羅德在門外等著,但他什么話都沒(méi)說(shuō),哈羅德也沒(méi)說(shuō)。幾分鐘后,他終于鎮(zhèn)定下來(lái),把門打開(kāi),兩個(gè)人看著彼此。
“I’m fifty-one,” he tells Harold.
“我51歲了?!彼嬖V哈羅德。
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harold asks.
“這表示什么?”哈羅德問(wèn)。
“It means I can take care of myself,” he says. “It means I don’t need anyone to help me.”
“這表示我可以照顧自己,”他說(shuō),“表示我不需要任何人幫我。”
Harold sighs. “Jude,” he says, “there’s not an expiration date on needing help, or needing people. You don’t get to a certain age and it stops.” They’re quiet again. “You’re so thin,” Harold continues, and when he doesn’t say anything, “What does Andy say?”
哈羅德嘆氣。“裘德?!彼f(shuō),“需要幫助,或是需要他人,是沒(méi)有截止期限的。你不會(huì)到了某個(gè)特定的年齡就停止需要?!彼麄冇殖聊艘粫?huì)兒?!澳愫檬??!惫_德接著說(shuō),看他沒(méi)吭聲,便問(wèn),“安迪怎么說(shuō)?”
“I can’t keep having this conversation,” he says at last, his voice scraped and hoarse. “I can’t, Harold. And you can’t, either. I feel like all I do is disappoint you, and I’m sorry for that, I’m sorry for all of it. But I’m really trying. I’m doing the best I can. I’m sorry if it’s not good enough.” Harold tries to interject, but he talks over him. “This is who I am. This is it, Harold. I’m sorry I’m such a problem for you. I’m sorry I’m ruining your retirement. I’m sorry I’m not happier. I’m sorry I’m not over Willem. I’m sorry I have a job you don’t respect. I’m sorry I’m such a nothing of a person.” He no longer knows what he’s saying; he no longer knows how he feels: he wants to cut himself, to disappear, to lie down and never get up again, to hurl himself into space. He hates himself; he pities himself; he hates himself for pitying himself. “I think you should go,” he says. “I think you should leave.”
“我沒(méi)辦法繼續(xù)跟你談這些?!彼詈蠼K于說(shuō),聲音刺耳又沙啞,“我沒(méi)辦法,哈羅德。你也沒(méi)辦法。我覺(jué)得自己好像只會(huì)讓你失望,我很抱歉,我對(duì)這一切都很抱歉。但我真的在嘗試。我在盡我最大的努力。如果我做得還不夠好,那很抱歉?!惫_德想插嘴,但他大聲壓過(guò)去,“我就是這個(gè)樣子。沒(méi)什么好說(shuō)的,哈羅德。我很抱歉我對(duì)你是這么大的問(wèn)題。我很抱歉我破壞了你的退休生活。我很抱歉自己沒(méi)有更快樂(lè)一點(diǎn)。我很抱歉我沒(méi)辦法把威廉拋開(kāi)。我很抱歉我的工作無(wú)法讓你尊敬。我很抱歉我是個(gè)這么沒(méi)用的人。”說(shuō)到最后,他根本不知道自己在講什么,也不知道自己有什么感覺(jué):他想割自己,想消失,想躺下來(lái)再也不要起身,想往空中跳下。他恨自己,也可憐自己。他因?yàn)榭蓱z自己而恨自己?!拔蚁肽阍撟吡恕!彼f(shuō),“我想你該離開(kāi)了?!?
“Jude,” Harold says.
“裘德?!惫_德說(shuō)。
“Please go,” he says. “Please. I’m tired. I need to be left alone. Please leave me alone.” And he turns from Harold and stands, waiting, until he hears Harold walk away from him.
“請(qǐng)你走吧,”他說(shuō),“拜托。我累了。我想自己靜一靜。拜托讓我一個(gè)人清靜一下?!彼D(zhuǎn)身背對(duì)哈羅德站在那里,等著,直到他聽(tīng)見(jiàn)哈羅德的腳步聲遠(yuǎn)去。
After Harold leaves, he takes the elevator to the roof. Here there is a stone wall, chest-high, that lines the perimeter of the building, and he leans against it, swallowing the cool air, placing his palms flat against the top of the wall to try to stop them from shaking. He thinks of Willem, of how he and Willem used to stand on this roof at night, not saying anything, just looking down into other people’s apartments. From the southern end of the roof, they could almost see the roof of their old building on Lispenard Street, and sometimes they would pretend that they could see not just the building, but them within it, their former selves performing a theater of their daily lives.
哈羅德離開(kāi)后,他搭電梯來(lái)到樓頂。大樓四周有一圈圍墻,高度到胸口,他靠在上頭,大口吸著冰冷的空氣,雙手放在圍墻上,以平息顫抖。他想著威廉,想著他和威廉以前夜里常常站在這里,什么都不說(shuō),光是望著下頭其他人的公寓。從屋頂?shù)哪线厧缀蹩梢钥吹剿麄兝贡炯{街那棟舊居的屋頂,有時(shí)他們會(huì)假裝不光是看得到那棟大樓,還可以看到里頭的自己,以前的他們像在演一出日常生活的戲。
“There must be a fold in the space-time continuum,” Willem would say in his action-hero voice. “You’re here beside me, and yet—I can see you moving around in that shithole apartment. My god, St. Francis: Do you realize what’s going on here?!” Back then, he would always laugh, but remembering this now, he cannot. These days, his only pleasure is thoughts of Willem, and yet those same thoughts are also his greatest source of sorrow. He wishes he could forget as completely as Lucien has: that Willem ever existed, his life with him.
“時(shí)空連續(xù)體里一定有個(gè)皺褶?!蓖畷?huì)以他動(dòng)作片英雄的聲音說(shuō),“你站在我身邊,但是——我可以看到你在那個(gè)破爛狗窩里走動(dòng)。老天,圣弗朗西斯,你知道這是怎么回事嗎?!”當(dāng)時(shí)他聽(tīng)了總是大笑,但現(xiàn)在回想,他卻笑不出來(lái)?,F(xiàn)在,他唯一的喜悅就是想到威廉,但這些思緒同樣是他最大的哀傷來(lái)源。他真希望自己可以像呂西安那樣徹底遺忘:忘掉威廉曾經(jīng)存在過(guò),忘掉有威廉的人生。
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