《渺小一生》:下回他醒來時，那個人不見了

　 He was the same as those boys, but he was really not: he was different. He would never be one of them. He would never be someone who would run across a field while his mother called after him to come have a snack before he played so he wouldn’t get tired. He would never have his bed in the cabin. He would never be clean again. The boys were playing on the field, and he was driving with Brother Luke to the doctor, the kind of doctor he knew from his previous visits to other doctors would be somehow wrong, somehow not a good person. He was as far away from them as he was from the monastery. He was so far gone from himself, from who he had hoped to be, that it was as if he was no longer a boy at all but something else entirely. This was his life now, and there was nothing he could do about it.

他跟那些男孩一樣，但其實并非如此：他不一樣。他永遠不會是那些人中的一員。他永遠不會是那種跑過球場、同時母親在后頭喊他先過來吃些點心再打球才不累的男孩。他永遠不會有小木屋里自己的床。他永遠不干凈了。那些男孩在球場上打球，而他則和盧克修士開車去看醫(yī)生，根據(jù)他之前去看別的醫(yī)生的經(jīng)驗，他知道這種醫(yī)生有某些地方不對勁，總之不是好人。他離那些男孩好遠，就像離修道院那么遠。他離自己好遠，離他原先期盼的自己好遠，遠得簡直就好像他根本不再是一個男孩，而是完全不同的東西。現(xiàn)在這就是他的人生，而他完全無能為力。

　 At the doctor’s office, Luke leaned over and held him. “We’re going to have fun tonight, just you and me,” he said, and he nodded, because there was nothing else he could do. “Let’s go,” said Luke, releasing him, and he got out of the car, and followed Brother Luke across the parking lot and toward the brown door that was already opening to let them inside.

到了那家診所，盧克湊過來抱著他?！拔覀兘裉焱砩弦煤瞄_心一下，只有你和我。”修士說。他點點頭，因為他沒有別的選擇。“走吧?！北R克說著，放開他。于是他下了車，跟著盧克修士穿過停車場，走向已經(jīng)打開等著他們的那扇褐色門。

　 The first memory: a hospital room. He knew it was a hospital room even before he opened his eyes because he could smell it, because its quality of silence—a silence that wasn’t really silent—was familiar. Next to him: Willem, asleep in a chair. Then he had been confused—why was Willem here? He was supposed to be away, somewhere. He remembered: Sri Lanka. But he wasn’t. He was here. How strange, he thought. I wonder why he’s here? That was the first memory.

第一段記憶：一間醫(yī)院病房。他睜開眼睛之前就知道這是醫(yī)院病房，因為他聞得出來，也因為那種安靜的特征（一種不是真正安靜的安靜）很熟悉。接下來他發(fā)現(xiàn)：威廉睡在一張椅子上。這讓他很困惑，為什么威廉在這里？他應該在外地，在另一個地方啊。他也想起來，是斯里蘭卡。但他不在那里。他在這里。好奇怪，他心想。不知道他為什么在這里？這是第一段記憶。

　 The second memory: the same hospital room. He turned and saw Andy sitting on the side of his bed, Andy, unshaven and awful-looking, giving him a strange, unconvincing smile. He felt Andy squeeze his hand—he hadn’t realized he had a hand until he felt Andy squeeze it—and had tried to squeeze back, but couldn’t. Andy had looked up at someone. “Nerve damage?” he heard Andy ask. “Maybe,” said this other person, the person he couldn’t see, “but if we’re lucky, it’s more likely it’s—” And he had closed his eyes and fallen back asleep. That was the second memory.

第二段記憶：同樣的醫(yī)院病房。他轉頭看到安迪坐在床邊，沒刮胡子，看起來很憔悴，給了他一個奇怪、勉強的微笑。他覺得安迪握緊了他的手（他原先都沒意識到自己有手，直到感覺安迪握緊它），他試著回握，但沒辦法。安迪抬頭看著某個人。“神經(jīng)受損？”他聽到安迪問?！盎蛟S吧?！绷硪粋€他看不到的人說，“但如果運氣好的話，比較可能是……”然后他閉上眼睛又陷入沉睡。那是第二段記憶。

　 The third and fourth and fifth and sixth memories weren’t really memories at all: they were people’s faces, their hands, their voices, leaning into his face, holding his hand, talking to him—they were Harold and Julia and Richard and Lucien. Same for the seventh and eighth: Malcolm, JB.

第三、第四、第五和第六段記憶其實根本不算是記憶：是幾個人的臉、他們的手、他們的聲音，湊向他的臉，握住他的手，跟他講話——有哈羅德、朱麗婭、理查德、呂西安。第七和第八段記憶也一樣：馬爾科姆、杰比。

　 The ninth memory was Willem again, sitting next to him, telling him he was so sorry, but he had to leave. Just for a little while, and then he’d be back. He was crying, and he wasn’t sure why, but it didn’t seem so unusual—they all cried, they cried and apologized to him, which he found perplexing, as none of them had done anything wrong: he knew that much, at least. He tried to tell Willem not to cry, that he was fine, but his tongue was so thick in his mouth, a great useless slab, and he couldn’t make it operate. Willem was already holding one of his hands, but he didn’t have the energy to lift the other so he could put it on Willem’s arm and reassure him, and finally he had given up.

第九段記憶又是威廉，坐在他旁邊，跟他說他很抱歉，但他得離開了。說只去一陣子就會回來。威廉在哭，他不知道為什么，但那好像沒什么稀奇，因為他們全在哭，不但哭，還跟他道歉，搞得他很困惑，因為他們沒有做錯什么事，這點至少他還知道。他想叫威廉不要哭，說自己很好，但嘴巴里的舌頭很厚，這么大的一片卻毫無用處，他根本使喚不了。威廉握著他一只手，但他沒有力氣抬起另一只手放在威廉的手臂上向他保證，最后只好放棄了。

　 In the tenth memory, he was still in the hospital, but in a different room, and he was still so tired. His arms ached. He had two foam balls, one cupped in each palm, and he was supposed to squeeze them for five seconds and then release them for five. Then squeeze them for five, and release them for five. He couldn’t remember who had told him this, or who had given him the balls, but he did so anyway, although whenever he did, his arms hurt more, a burning, raw pain, and he couldn’t do more than three or four repetitions before he was exhausted and had to stop.

在第十段記憶里，他還在醫(yī)院，但在不同的病房，他還是很累，雙臂疼痛，兩只手掌各握著一個發(fā)泡橡膠球，他應該捏住五秒鐘，再松開五秒鐘。然后再捏住五秒鐘，松開五秒鐘。他不記得是誰叫他這樣做了，也不記得是誰給了他那兩個球，但他還是照做，雖然每次做，他的手臂都會更痛，一種破皮的灼痛。他頂多做三四輪，就筋疲力盡，不得不停止。

　 And then one night he had awoken, swimming up through layers of dreams he couldn’t remember, and had realized where he was, and why. He had gone back to sleep then, but the next day he turned his head and saw a man sitting in a chair next to his bed: he didn’t know who the man was, but he had seen him before. He would come and sit and stare at him and sometimes he would talk to him, but he could never concentrate on what the man was saying, and would eventually close his eyes.

某天晚上他醒來，往上方游出層層他記不清的夢境，意識到自己身在何處，以及為什么。接著他又睡著了，但次日他轉頭看到一名男子坐在床邊的一張椅子上，他不知道這個人是誰，但是之前見過。他會坐在那里看著他，有時會跟他講話，但他完全無法專心聽那人在講什么，最后總是閉上眼睛。

　 “I’m in a mental institution,” he told the man now, and his voice sounded wrong to him, reedy and hoarse.

“我在一個精神治療機構里?！边@回他告訴那名男子，他的聲音聽起來不對勁，尖利又沙啞。

　 The man smiled. “You’re in the psychiatric wing of a hospital, yes,” he said. “Do you remember me?”

那男人笑了。“沒錯，你在一家醫(yī)院的精神科大樓，”他說，“你記得我嗎？”

　 “No,” he said, “but I recognize you.”

“不記得，”他說，“但是我認得你。”

　 “I’m Dr. Solomon. I’m a psychiatrist here at the hospital.” There was a silence. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“我是所羅門醫(yī)生，是這家醫(yī)院的精神科醫(yī)生，”他停頓一下，“你知道你為什么在這里嗎？”

　 He closed his eyes and nodded. “Where’s Willem?” he asked. “Where’s Harold?”

他閉上眼睛點點頭?！巴?？”他問，“哈羅德呢？”

　 “Willem had to go back to Sri Lanka to finish shooting,” said the doctor. “He’ll be back”—he heard the sound of paper flipping—“October ninth. So in ten days. Harold’s coming at noon; it’s when he’s been coming, do you remember?” He shook his head. “Jude,” the doctor said, “can you tell me why you’re here?”

“威廉必須回斯里蘭卡拍片，”那醫(yī)生說，“他會在……”他聽到翻紙的聲音，“十月九日回來。所以再過十天。哈羅德中午會過來；他向來是中午過來，你記得嗎？”他搖頭?！棒玫?，”那醫(yī)生說，“你能告訴我你為什么在這里嗎？”

　 “Because,” he began, swallowing. “Because of what I did in the shower.”

“因為，”他開口了，吞咽著，“因為我在淋浴間做的事情。”

　 There was another silence. “That’s right,” said the doctor, softly. “Jude, can you tell me why—” But that was all he heard, because he had fallen asleep again.

接下來是一段沉默?！皼]錯，”那醫(yī)生輕聲說，“裘德，你能告訴我為什么……”但他只聽到這里，因為他又睡著了。

　 The next time he woke, the man was gone, but Harold was in his place. “Harold,” he said, in his strange new voice, and Harold, who had been sitting with his elbows on his thighs and his face in his hands, looked up as suddenly as if he’d shouted.

下回他醒來時，那個人不見了，換成哈羅德坐在那個位置上。“哈羅德。”他說，用他奇怪的新聲音。本來手肘撐在大腿上、臉埋在雙手里的哈羅德忽然抬頭看，好像他在大叫。

　 “Jude,” he said, and sat next to him on the bed. He took the ball out of his right hand and replaced it with his own hand.

“裘德?！彼f，站起來坐到床沿。他從他右手拿走那個球，握在自己手里。

　 He thought that Harold looked terrible. “I’m sorry, Harold,” he said, and Harold began to cry. “Don’t cry,” he told him, “please don’t cry,” and Harold got up and went to the bathroom and he could hear him blowing his nose.

他覺得哈羅德氣色好差?！皩Σ黄穑_德。”他說。哈羅德開始哭?！皠e哭，”他告訴他，“拜托別哭?！惫_德起身走到浴室，他可以聽到他在里頭擤鼻子。

　 That night, once he was alone, he cried as well: not because of what he had done but because he hadn’t been successful, because he had lived after all.

那天晚上，只剩他一個人時，他也哭了：不是因為他所做的事，而是因為他沒成功，因為他還活著。