《渺小一生》:盡管這棟房子毫無特色

　 After they were done, the doctor escorted him once again to the door, and gave him the same little shove inside. “Wait,” he said to the man, as he was closing the door. “My name’s Joey,” and when the man said nothing, only stared at him, “what’s yours?”

兩人吃完后，那醫(yī)生又帶他走到地下室門邊，同樣輕輕推他一把?！暗纫幌?，”他對著正要關(guān)上門的醫(yī)生說，“我叫喬伊?！蹦悄腥耸裁炊紱]說，只是看著他，他又問：“你呢？”

　 The man kept looking at him, but now he was, he thought, almost smiling, or at least he was about to make some sort of expression. But then he didn’t. “Dr. Traylor,” the man said, and then pulled the door quickly shut behind him, as if that very information was a bird that might fly away if it too were not trapped inside with him.

那男人還是看著他，他覺得他幾乎要露出微笑，或至少打算擠出什么表情。但接著那男人又板起臉：“特雷勒醫(yī)生?！蹦悄腥苏f，然后趕緊出去關(guān)上門，仿佛這個信息就像一只鳥，如果不趕緊關(guān)門，就會飛出去。

　 The next day he felt less sore, less febrile. When he stood, though, he realized he was still weak, and he swayed and grabbed at the air and in the end, he didn’t fall. He moved toward the bookshelves, examining the books, which were paperbacks, swollen and buckling from heat and moisture and smelling sweetly of mildew. He found a copy of Emma, which he had been reading in class at the college before he ran away, and carried the book slowly up the stairs with him, where he found the place he’d left off and read as he ate his breakfast and took his pill. This time there was a sandwich as well, wrapped in a paper towel, with the word “Lunch” written on the towel in small letters. After he had eaten, he went downstairs with the book and sandwich and lay in bed, and he was reminded of how much he had missed reading, of how grateful he was for this opportunity to leave behind his life.

次日他覺得不那么酸痛，燒也退了一些。但他站起來時，才發(fā)現(xiàn)自己還是很虛弱，搖搖晃晃地用兩手亂抓著空氣，總算沒倒下去。他走向書架，檢視上頭的書，都是平裝本，因為濕熱而腫脹鼓起，發(fā)出了一股濃濃的霉味。他找到一本簡·奧斯汀的《愛瑪》，他逃跑前在社區(qū)大學(xué)的課堂上正在讀這本，于是他拿著書緩緩爬上樓梯，查到自己之前讀到哪里，然后邊讀邊吃早餐、吞下藥丸。這回托盤里還有個三明治，外頭包著一張廚房紙巾，上頭寫著“午餐”。他吃完早餐后，就拿著書和三明治下樓躺在床上，這才發(fā)現(xiàn)自己多么懷念閱讀，又多么慶幸能有機(jī)會沉湎在閱讀中，忘掉眼前的生活。

　 He slept again; woke again. By evening, he was very tired, and some of the pain had returned, and when Dr. Traylor held open the door for him, it took him a long time to mount the stairs. At dinner, he didn’t say anything, and neither did Dr. Traylor, but when he offered to help Dr. Traylor with the dishes or the cooking, Dr. Traylor had looked at him. “You’re sick,” he said.

他睡了，又醒來。傍晚時他非常疲倦，身上又痛了起來。當(dāng)特雷勒醫(yī)生幫他開門時，他花了好久才爬上樓梯。晚餐時，他什么話都沒說，特雷勒醫(yī)生也不吭聲，但吃完之后，他主動表示要幫特雷勒醫(yī)生洗碗或做飯，特雷勒醫(yī)生看著他，“你生病了。”他說。

　 “I’m better,” he said. “I can help you in the kitchen if you want.”

“我好多了?！彼f，“如果你希望，我在廚房可以幫忙?！?

　 “No, I mean—you’re sick,” Dr. Traylor said. “You’re diseased. I can’t have a diseased person touching my food,” and he had looked down, humiliated.

“不，我的意思是——你生病了?！碧乩桌仗乩桌蔗t(yī)生說，“你身上有病。我不能讓生病的人碰我的食物。”他低下頭，覺得很難堪。

　 There was a silence. “Where are your parents?” Dr. Traylor asked, and he shook his head again. “Speak,” Dr. Traylor said, and this time he was impatient, although he still hadn’t raised his voice.

接下來是一段沉默?！澳愕母改冈谀睦?？”特雷勒醫(yī)生問。他又搖搖頭?！罢f話。”特雷勒醫(yī)生說，這回他很不耐煩，雖然嗓門沒提高。

　 “I don’t know,” he stammered, “I never had any.”

“我不知道?！彼Y(jié)巴著說，“我從來沒有父母?！?

　 “How did you become a prostitute?” Dr. Traylor asked. “Did you start yourself, or did someone help you do it?”

“那你是怎么變成男妓的？”特雷勒醫(yī)生問，“你是自己開始的，還是有人幫你的？”

　 He swallowed, feeling the food in his stomach turning to paste. “Someone helped me,” he whispered.

他吞下口水，覺得肚子里的食物成了糨糊。“有人幫我的。”他低聲說。

　 There was a silence. “You don’t like it when I call you a prostitute,” the man said, and he managed, this time, to raise his head and look at him. “No,” he said. “I understand,” the man said. “But that is what you are, isn’t it? Although I could call you something else, if you like: a whore, maybe.” He was quiet again. “Is that better?”

又是一陣沉默?！澳悴幌矚g我叫你男妓。”那男人說。這回他設(shè)法抬頭看他?！皩?。”他說?！拔伊私?，”那男人說，“不過你本來就是，不是嗎？如果你想要的話，我可以叫你別的，或許流鶯吧?！彼殖聊恕！斑@樣有比較好嗎？”

　 “No,” he whispered again.

“沒有?！彼值吐曊f。

　 “So,” the man said, “a prostitute it is, then, right?” and looked at him, and finally, he nodded.

“那么，”那男子說，“就是男妓了，好嗎？”并且看著他。他總算點了頭。

　 That night in the bedroom, he looked for something to cut himself with, but there was nothing sharp in the room, nothing at all; even the books had only soft bloated pages. So he pressed his fingernails into his calves as hard as he could, bent over and wincing from the effort and discomfort, and finally he was able to puncture the skin, and then work his nail back and forth in the cut to make it wider. He was only able to make three incisions in his right leg, and then he was too tired, and he fell asleep again.

那一夜在臥室里，他想找東西割自己，但房間里沒有任何鋒利的東西，完全沒有；就連那些書也只有膨脹發(fā)軟的紙頁。于是他把指甲用力按進(jìn)小腿里，彎下腰，吃力得皺起臉來，最后終于刺穿皮膚，然后他用指甲來回割扯，好把那開口割得大一點。他只在右腿上割了三道，就累得睡著了。

　 The third morning he felt demonstrably better: stronger, more alert. He ate his breakfast and read his book, and then he moved the tray aside and stuck his head through the flapped cutout and tried and tried to fit his shoulders through it. But no matter what angle he tried, he was simply too large and the opening too small and at last he had to stop.

第三天早上他確實好多了，更強(qiáng)壯，也更警覺。他吃了早餐，讀了書，然后挪開托盤，頭探出門下方有遮簾的開口，試了又試，但無論用什么角度，肩膀就是鉆不過去，他的塊頭太大，那個洞又太小，最后他只好放棄。

　 After he had rested, he poked his head through the hole again. He had a direct view of the living room to his left, and the kitchen area to his right, and he looked and looked as if for clues. The house was very tidy; he could tell from how tidy it was that Dr. Traylor lived alone. If he craned his neck, he could see, on the far left, a staircase leading to a second story, and just beyond that, the front door, but he couldn’t see how many locks it had. Mainly, though, the house was defined by its silence: there was no ticking of clocks, no sound of cars or people outside. It could have been a house zooming through space, so quiet was it. The only noise was the refrigerator, purring its intermittent whir, but when it stopped, the silence was absolute.

他休息了一會兒，又把頭探出洞。往左可以看到客廳，往右是廚房，他四處看了又看，像在尋找線索。整棟屋子非常整潔，從那整潔的程度看得出特雷勒大夫是一個人獨居。如果他伸長脖子，可以看到右邊遠(yuǎn)處有一道階梯通向二樓，再過去是前門，但他看不清上頭有幾道鎖。不過整棟屋子最顯著的就是安靜：沒有滴答的鐘響，沒有外頭傳來的汽車或人聲。感覺上這可能是一棟在太空里飄浮的房子，就是安靜到那種程度。唯一的聲音是冰箱，間歇地發(fā)出呼嚕聲，但是一停止運轉(zhuǎn)，就完全寂靜無聲。

　 But as featureless as the house was, he was also fascinated by it: it was only the third house he had ever been in. The second had been the Learys’. The first house had been a client’s, a very important client, Brother Luke had told him, outside Salt Lake City, who had paid extra because he didn’t want to come to the motel room. That house had been enormous, all sandstone and glass, and Brother Luke had come with him, and had secreted himself in the bathroom—a bathroom as big as one of their motel rooms—off the bedroom where he and the client had had sex. Later, as an adult, he would fetishize houses, especially his own house, although even before he had Greene Street, or Lantern House, or the flat in London, he would treat himself every few months to a magazine about homes, about people who spent their lives making pretty places even prettier, and he would turn the pages slowly, studying every picture. His friends laughed at him for this, but he didn’t care: he dreamed of the day he’d have someplace of his own, with things that were absolutely his.

盡管這棟房子毫無特色，他卻對它非常感興趣：這是他這輩子進(jìn)過的第三棟房子。第二棟是黎瑞家。第一棟是一個顧客家，就在鹽湖城外。盧克修士跟他說那是一個非常重要的顧客，因為不想去汽車旅館的房間，就額外多付錢請他們過去。那個房子很大，全是砂巖和玻璃，盧克修士跟他一起進(jìn)去，偷偷躲在他和顧客性交那個臥室旁的浴室里（那浴室大得就像他們汽車旅館的房間）。后來他長大成人后有了戀房癖，尤其是他自己的房子，不過早在他擁有格林街、燈籠屋或倫敦那層公寓之前，他每隔幾個月就會買一本家居雜志欣賞，看著里頭報道人們花很多工夫讓漂亮的地方更漂亮，他會緩緩翻著紙頁，審視每一張照片。他的朋友因此取笑他，但他不在乎。他夢想有一天他會擁有自己的地方，里面的東西完全屬于他。

　 That night Dr. Traylor let him out again, and again it was the kitchen, and the meal, and the two of them eating in silence. “I feel better now,” he ventured, and then, when Dr. Traylor didn’t say anything, “if you want to do something.” He was realistic enough to know that he wasn’t going to be allowed to leave without repaying Dr. Traylor in some way; he was hopeful enough to think that he might be allowed to leave at all.

那一晚特雷勒醫(yī)生又讓他出來，還是到廚房，兩人沉默地吃著晚餐?！拔矣X得好一些了?！背酝旰笏衷囂揭幌拢乩桌蔗t(yī)生什么都沒說，“如果你想做什么的話?！彼軐嶋H，知道如果不用某種方式償還特雷勒醫(yī)生，休想離開；他當(dāng)時還抱著足夠的希望，覺得自己應(yīng)該可以獲準(zhǔn)離開。

　 But Dr. Traylor shook his head. “You may feel better, but you’re still diseased,” he said. “The antibiotics take ten days to eliminate the infection.” He took a fish bone, so fine it was transluscent, out of his mouth, placed it on the edge of his plate. “Don’t tell me this is the first venereal disease you’ve ever had,” he said, looking up at him, and he flushed again.

但特雷勒醫(yī)生搖搖頭?！澳慊蛟S覺得好一點了，但你還是有病?！彼f，“抗生素要十天才能消除感染?！彼麖淖炖锬贸鲆桓胪该鞯募?xì)魚刺，放在盤子邊緣?！翱蓜e跟我說這是你第一次得性病?！彼f，抬頭看著他。他又臉紅了。

　 That night he thought about what to do. He was almost strong enough to run, he thought. At the next dinner, he would follow Dr. Traylor, and then when his back was turned, he would run to the door and outside and look for help. There were some problems with this plan—he still didn’t have his clothes; he didn’t have any shoes—but he knew that there was something wrong with this house, that there was something wrong with Dr. Traylor, that he had to get out.

那一夜他想著該怎么做。他強(qiáng)壯得幾乎可以跑了，他心想。下回晚餐，他會跟著特雷勒醫(yī)生，等到他轉(zhuǎn)身，他就跑出門求救。這個計劃有一些問題，特雷勒醫(yī)生還是沒把他的衣服還給他，他也沒有任何鞋子。但他知道這棟屋子不對勁，特雷勒醫(yī)生不對勁，他得離開才行。