沒人告訴你婚姻有多長

我想過離開你。

I loved you. But I couldn’t stay.

我愛你。但不能留下。

I wanted to live in a city, with access to hiking trails, and coffee shops and bookstores that I could walk to. Not our Florida suburb full of palm trees and shopping plazas, a place I had never wanted, but settled in because you were already there, establishing roots. If I left, it would have freed you to live the suburban family life that belonged there, the one I assumed you wanted, the one I could never give you.

我想在一座城市里生活，附近有徒步旅行路線，有我能步行到的咖啡店和書店。不是我們這個盡是棕櫚樹和購物中心的佛羅里達(dá)郊區(qū)，這個我從來都不想要的、卻只因你在這里所以才定居的地方。我要是離開，就能讓你自由地過上屬于這里的郊區(qū)家庭生活，那種我以為你想要的生活，我永遠(yuǎn)無法給你的生活。

We went to Seattle for a wedding, and spent a day climbing the hills and touring the gardens in and around the city. “I love it here,” I said. “This is what I want.”

我們?nèi)ノ餮艌D參加了個婚禮，花了一天的時間爬山，游覽城市內(nèi)外的花園。“我喜歡這里，”我說。“這是我想要的。”

But it was 2009, and our house in Florida was worth $150,000 less than what you had paid for it. We were stuck.

但那是在2009年，我們佛羅里達(dá)的房子比你買來時貶值了15萬美元。我們沒了去路。

My legs went numb. I saw a doctor, an acupuncturist, a therapist. The doctor said nothing was wrong. The acupuncturist listened to me cry during our pre-treatment consultation, and the therapist asked me if I felt stuck.

我的雙腿開始麻痹。我看了一個醫(yī)生、一個針灸師和一個心理治療師。醫(yī)生說什么問題都沒有。針灸師看著我在治療前期的咨詢中哭泣。心理治療師問我是否感覺走投無路。

“I don’t feel stuck,” I said. “I feel trapped.”

“我不是感覺走投無路，”我說。“我是感覺深陷其中。”

The numbness was worse when we walked our little neighborhood together, and I tried to get you to discuss the prospect of leaving. All my pain and anxiety would pour into my legs until I couldn’t feel them. I was walking on stumps. I couldn’t believe that you wanted this life. You were baffled by my need to leave.

當(dāng)我們一起在那小小的居住區(qū)走著，我的麻痹會加重。我也試過和你討論離開的可能。我所有的痛苦和焦慮都灌進(jìn)了我的雙腿，直到我再也無法感覺到它們的存在。我邁出的步伐沉重。我不敢相信你會想要這樣的生活。你無法理解我為什么這么想離開。

Our friends who married in Seattle had a baby. We got the notice and cried together on the bathroom floor. I was surprised by your grief, but not by mine. I carried mine with me, grieving for something I wanted but could not have. And because I couldn’t have it, I wanted a do-over. And I wanted to give you one too.

我們那對在西雅圖結(jié)婚的朋友生了個孩子。我們得到了消息，然后在浴室的地板上一起哭泣。我驚訝于你的哀傷，但不驚訝于我的。我承載著我的悲傷，哀愁于那些我想要擁有卻不能擁有的東西。而又因?yàn)槲也荒軗碛?，所以我想重新選擇，也想讓你能重新選擇。

But I knew you would stay exactly where you were. And eventually find and fall in love with someone else. And have a child or two. And I would see you somewhere, years down the road, with a pair of beautiful toddlers on your hips. And you would be happy. But there would be a part of you that would want to stay with me, and a part of me that would want to stay with you, and we would leave the encounter devastated. I would go to my small, expensive apartment and cry, missing you and the life you were living.

但我知道你還會留在你現(xiàn)在的這個地方。最終你會找到并愛上另一個人，生一兩個孩子。多年以后，我會在某個地方看到你，懷中抱著一對漂亮的小孩。你會很快樂。但是在你的心里，會有一部分想要和我在一起，我的心里也會有一部分想要與你一起。我們會被這次遇見擊垮。我會回到我狹小而昂貴的公寓里哭泣，會想念你，和你過的生活。

I traveled by myself, going to writers’ conferences in California, where I’d try to imagine a life without you. Instead, I imagined the menu items that you might order if you were there, the conversations we’d have and the things you’d point out to me. I sat in Golden Gate Park, in the shade of old-growth eucalyptus, and watched the pollen swirl in the filtered light. I imagined taking our children there after school each day, and walking home just in time to greet you after work.

我曾獨(dú)自出行，去加利福尼亞參加作家研討會，試想一種沒有你的生活。但是，我想的是如果你在這里，你會點(diǎn)菜單上的什么菜，我們會有怎樣的對話，你會向我指出哪些事情。我在金門公園里，坐在古老桉樹的樹蔭下，看著在透射的光線中打旋的花粉。我會想象，每天放學(xué)，我?guī)е覀兊暮⒆尤ツ?，再及時地步行回家，迎接下班的你。

We went to Germany and Switzerland and Holland. With each place, a new dream. We could live in Freiburg and go hiking every day. We could live in Amsterdam and run a little shop out of the ground floor of our home. Always, we would fly back to Florida, back to our lives, and I would feel that sadness touching down.

我們?nèi)ミ^德國、瑞士、荷蘭。每個地方，都是一個新的夢想。我們可以在弗萊堡生活，每天去遠(yuǎn)足。我們可以在阿姆斯特丹生活，在自家房子的一層開一間小商店。但我們總會飛回佛羅里達(dá)，回到我們的生活，飛機(jī)落地時，那悲傷也隨之而起。

I was trapped inside myself. Each day I would go to a job that I hated and come back to a house that didn’t feel like mine and I would drink too much, climbing into a small, dark hole made for one.

我被自己所困。每一天，我都要去做我憎惡的工作，回一個不像是自己的家。我會酗酒，鉆進(jìn)一個只能容下一人的狹小黑洞。

I asked if it was O.K. with you if I quit my job and went to Arizona for a few months, just so I could spend some time alone, to write and think and find my foundation, the bedrock that had been surgically cut and irradiated out of me.

我問你，能不能接受我辭掉工作去亞利桑那州待上幾個月，這樣我能多點(diǎn)時間一個人待著，寫作，找找自己的根基——那塊被手術(shù)切除了的、被放射線照沒了的基巖。

“No,” you said. “It’s not O.K. We’re married. We’re here. I need you to stay.”

“不，”你說。“不可以。我們結(jié)婚了。我們就在這里。我要你留下。”

I didn’t know it then, but I needed to stay too. I thought I wanted to be alone but what I really wanted was for you to be free of me. I wanted you to be able to move on and to have what I couldn’t give you.

我當(dāng)時并不知道，其實(shí)我也需要留下。我以為我想自己待著，但我真正想要的其實(shí)是讓你脫離我的束縛。我想要你能向前看，想讓你擁有那些我無法給你的東西。

But I know now that you never saw it that way. When my cancer was diagnosed, you never once stopped to think about how your life might be affected by the loss of my fertility. You only thought about me, and what I needed. So you slept beside me each night in the hospital, and went home each morning to shower and walk the dog. You worked all day, went back home to the dog, and then to Whole Foods so I wouldn’t have to eat hospital food, and then came back to the hospital, and slept beside me once more. I was drugged and swollen. I didn’t realize how long the days were, or what it must have taken you to keep going. This is why you now say “we went through cancer.” Not “she,” not “Lauren,” but us, together.

但是現(xiàn)在我知道，你從沒這么想過。我被確診得了癌癥后，你從沒停下來想過，由于我失去生育能力，你的生活可能會受到什么影響。你只考慮我和我的需要。所以你每天晚上都到醫(yī)院里睡在我身邊，每天早晨回家洗澡、遛狗。你工作了一整天后，回家照看狗，然后去全食超市給我買吃的——這樣我就不必吃醫(yī)院的食物了——然后再回到醫(yī)院，睡到我身邊。我服了藥，身體臃腫。我沒有意識到過了多少天，也沒有意識到你一直這樣堅(jiān)持需要多大的毅力。所以你現(xiàn)在總是說“我們經(jīng)歷了癌癥”。不是“她”，不是“勞倫”，經(jīng)歷了癌癥，而是我們一起經(jīng)歷了癌癥。

Last year we were in Japan, hiking the Kumano Kodo, when it got dark. I was angry with you for causing us to miss the bus that took us to the trailhead, for causing us to spend four additional hours hiking the ancient pilgrimage route under the weight of our heavy packs. My knees, hips and shoulders were in excruciating pain. I decided I couldn’t take another step. I started to cry. I was desperate and exhausted. “Leave me here,” I said through tears.

去年我們在日本的熊野古道徒步時，天黑了。我很生你的氣，因?yàn)槟阕屛覀冨e過了載我們回起點(diǎn)的公共汽車，導(dǎo)致我們背著沉重的背包在古老的朝圣道路上多走了四個小時。我的膝蓋、髖部和肩膀劇烈疼痛。我覺得自己一步也走不動了。我開始哭泣。我筋疲力竭，感到絕望。“把我留在這兒吧，”我淚流滿面地說。

“Wait,” you said, and shifted your pack onto your chest, and took my pack and lifted it onto your back. Together, we descended the slippery rocks, hand-in-hand. I pointed my flashlight at our feet, and you used yours to illuminate the path ahead.

“等一下，”你說。你把自己的背包挪到胸前，把我的背包背到你的背上。我們一起手拉手在光滑的巖石上往下走。我用我的手電筒照亮我們的腳下，你用你的手電筒照亮前方的路。

It’s been 10 years since the cancer. And those sad years that followed feel almost like another sickness I went through, a fever or drug interaction. I still have no idea why you stayed. Why you tolerated me. But I’m glad you did.

癌癥已經(jīng)過去十年了。之后的那些悲傷的歲月像是我經(jīng)歷的另一場疾病，發(fā)燒或藥物反應(yīng)什么的。我還是不知道你為什么留下來。為什么容忍我。但我很高興你這樣做了。

Nobody tells you how long marriage is. When you fall in love, when you have fun with somebody, when you enjoy the way they see the world, nobody ever says, “This person will change. And so you will be married to two, three, four, five or 10 people throughout the course of your life, as you live out your vows.” Nobody warns you. But you, my dear. There is something deep and hard and lasting inside of you. And I wish I had known, when I was searching again for my bedrock, that all I had to do was reach out my hand.

沒人告訴你婚姻有多長。當(dāng)你墜入愛河時，當(dāng)你和某個人在一起很快樂時，當(dāng)你欣賞他們看世界的方式時，沒人會告訴你：“這個人會改變。所以，在你的一生中，在你履行誓言的過程中，你實(shí)際上是和兩個、三個、四個、五個或十個人結(jié)了婚。”沒人提醒你這個。但是你，我親愛的。你的內(nèi)心深處有一種深厚、堅(jiān)硬、持久的東西。我希望當(dāng)初在我再次去尋找我的基石時，我就知道這一點(diǎn)，那樣的話，我需要做的，只是伸出我的手。