《渺小一生》:“他是想自殺嗎？”

　 “You can take him home,” Andy said. He was angry. With a snap, he peeled off his gloves, which were crusty with blood, and pushed back his stool. On the floor was a long, messy paint-swipe streak of red, as if someone had tried to clean up something sloshed and had given up in exasperation. The walls had red on them as well, and Andy’s sweater was stiff with it. Jude sat on the table, looking slumped and miserable and holding a glass bottle of orange juice. His hair was glued together in clumps, and his shirt appeared hard and shellacked, as if it was made not from cloth but from metal. “Jude, go to the waiting room,” Andy instructed, and Jude did, meekly.

“你可以帶他回家了?！卑驳险f。他在生氣，啪的一聲脫掉手套，上頭沾的鮮血已經(jīng)干了，然后把坐著的椅子往后一推。地板上有一道長長的、像是顏料刷過的骯臟紅色，似乎有人想擦掉潑濺出來的血，然后又火大地放棄。墻上也有血，安迪的針織衫也沾了血，已經(jīng)干硬。裘德坐在診療臺上，看起來垂頭喪氣又凄慘，手里拿著一瓶柳橙汁。他的頭發(fā)一綹綹黏在一起，襯衫像涂了一層漆般干硬，仿佛不是布做的，而是金屬材質(zhì)?！棒玫?，你去等候室?！卑驳险f，裘德乖乖照做了。

　 Once he was gone, Andy shut the door and looked at Willem. “Has he seemed suicidal to you?”

一等裘德離開，安迪就關(guān)上門，看著威廉：“你覺得他有自殺傾向嗎？”

　 “What? No.” He felt himself grow very still. “Is that what he was trying to do?”

“什么？沒有啊。”他覺得自己全身僵硬，無法動彈，“他是想自殺嗎？”

　 Andy sighed. “He says he wasn’t. But—I don’t know. No. I don’t know; I can’t tell.” He went over to the sink and began to scrub violently at his hands. “On the other hand, if he had gone to the ER—which you guys really should’ve fucking done, you know—they most likely would’ve hospitalized him. Which is why he probably didn’t.” Now he was speaking aloud to himself. He pumped a small lake of soap onto his hands and washed them again. “You know he cuts himself, don’t you?”

安迪嘆了口氣?！八f沒有。但是我不知道。不，我不知道，我無法判斷。”他走到水槽，開始狠狠刷洗雙手，“另一方面，如果他被送去急診室——你知道，你們真他媽該這么做——他們很可能會要他住院治療。他大概就是因為這樣才不去醫(yī)院。”安迪自言自語起來，擠了一小撮洗手液在手上，又洗了起來，“你知道他總是割傷自己吧？”

　 For a while, he couldn’t answer. “No,” he said.

一時之間，他無法回答。“不知道?！彼f。

　 Andy turned back around and stared at Willem, wiping each finger dry slowly. “He hasn’t seemed depressed?” he asked. “Is he eating regularly, sleeping? Does he seem listless, out of sorts?”

安迪轉(zhuǎn)身看著威廉，緩緩擦干每一根指頭：“你不覺得他最近很沮喪？”他問，“他的飲食和睡眠都正常嗎？會不會沒精神？或者有點反常？”

　 “He’s seemed fine,” Willem said, although the truth was that he didn’t know. Had Jude been eating? Had he been sleeping? Should he have noticed? Should he have been paying more attention? “I mean, he’s seemed the same as he always is.”

“他好像還好啊?！蓖f，雖然他并不清楚。裘德都有吃飯嗎？都有睡覺嗎？他該注意到嗎？他該更留心嗎？“我的意思是，他好像就是老樣子啊。”

　 “Well,” said Andy. He looked deflated for a moment, and the two of them stood quietly, facing but not looking at each other. “I’m going to take his word for it this time,” he said. “I just saw him a week ago, and I agree, nothing seemed unusual. But if he starts behaving strangely at all—I mean it, Willem—you call me right away.”

“唔?！卑驳险f。他一時之間似乎泄了氣，然后兩個人沉默地站在那里，面對彼此卻不看對方?！斑@回我姑且相信他的說法?！彼f，“我一個星期前才看過他，所以我同意他沒有什么異常。但如果他又開始有什么怪異的舉動——我是認真的，威廉——你就馬上打電話給我。”

　 “I promise,” he said. He had seen Andy a few times over the years, and had always sensed his frustration, which often seemed directed toward many people at once: at himself, at Jude, and especially at Jude’s friends, none of whom, Andy always managed to suggest (without ever saying it aloud), were doing a good enough job taking care of him. He liked this about Andy, his sense of outrage over Jude, even as he feared his disapproval and also thought it somewhat unfair.

“我會的，我保證?！彼f。他這些年只見過安迪幾次，但總是感覺到他的懊惱。那種懊惱似乎往往一口氣針對許多人：對他自己，對裘德，尤其是對裘德的三個好友，安迪總是設(shè)法暗示（但從來沒說出口）他們沒有一個盡到照顧好他的責(zé)任。威廉喜歡安迪這一點，他會為了裘德憤慨，即使他的不滿讓威廉害怕，也覺得不太公平。

　 And then, as it often did once he had finished rebuking them, Andy’s voice changed and became almost tender. “I know you will,” he said. “It’s late. Go home. Make sure you give him something to eat when he wakes up. Happy New Year.”

然后一如往常，安迪指責(zé)過他們之后，聲音就變得近乎溫柔起來。“我知道你會的。”他說，“時候晚了，回家吧。等他醒了之后，一定要讓他吃點東西。新年快樂?！?

　 They rode home in silence. The driver had taken a single, long look at Jude and said, “I need an extra twenty dollars on the fare.”

他們沉默地乘車回家。上車時，那司機只是慢吞吞打量裘德一眼，然后說：“車錢要加收二十元?！?

　 “Fine,” Willem had said.

“行吧?！蓖f。

　 The sky was almost light, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. In the taxi, Jude had turned away from Willem and looked out of the window, and back at the apartment, he stumbled at the doorway and walked slowly toward the bathroom, where Willem knew he would start trying to clean up.

天快亮了，但他知道自己不可能睡得著。在出租車上，裘德轉(zhuǎn)過身子去看車窗外，不肯面對一旁的威廉?；氐焦r，他在門口絆了一下，然后緩緩走向浴室。威廉知道他想去把身上清理干凈。

　 “Don’t,” he told him. “Go to bed,” and Jude, obedient for once, changed direction and shuffled into the bedroom, where he fell asleep almost immediately.

“別去了?！彼嬖V他，“去睡覺吧?！濒玫码y得順從了一次，改變方向，拖著腳步進了臥室，幾乎一沾床就睡著了。

　 Willem sat on his own bed and watched him. He was aware, suddenly, of his every joint and muscle and bone, and this made him feel very, very old, and for several minutes he simply sat staring.

威廉坐在自己的床上看著他，忽然感受到他的每個關(guān)節(jié)、肌肉和骨頭。這讓他覺得自己好老好老，有好幾分鐘，他只是坐在那里看著。

　 “Jude,” he called, and then again more insistently, and when Jude didn’t answer, he went over to his bed and nudged him onto his back and, after a moment’s hesitation, pushed up the right sleeve of his shirt. Under his hands, the fabric didn’t so much yield as it did bend and crease, like cardboard, and although he was only able to fold it to the inside of Jude’s elbow, it was enough to see the three columns of neat white scars, each about an inch wide and slightly raised, laddering up his arm. He tucked his finger under the sleeve, and felt the tracks continuing onto the upper arm, but stopped when he reached the bicep, unwilling to explore more, and withdrew his hand. He wasn’t able to examine the left arm—Andy had cut back the sleeve on that one, and Jude’s entire forearm and hand were wrapped with white gauze—but he knew he would find the same thing there.

“裘德?！彼?，然后更堅定地喊了一次。看裘德沒反應(yīng)，他就去他床邊，輕推他的背部，猶豫了一會兒后，把他襯衫右邊的袖子往上推。那袖子不像平常那么柔軟，而是像塊硬紙板。盡管他只把袖子推到裘德肘彎處，已經(jīng)可以看見三道整齊的白疤，每道寬約一英寸，微微隆起，平行排列在他的手臂上。他用一根手指探入袖子，感覺那些疤痕一道一道往上增加，直到上臂。他摸到二頭肌就放棄了，不想再繼續(xù)探索，于是抽回自己的手。他沒辦法檢查左手臂——安迪剪掉了那邊的袖子，而且裘德整個前臂和左手都包著紗布——但是他知道那上頭也有同樣的疤痕。

　 He had been lying when he told Andy he hadn’t known Jude cut himself. Or rather, he hadn’t known for certain, but that was only a technicality: he knew, and he had known for a long time. When they were at Malcolm’s house the summer after Hemming died, he and Malcolm had gotten drunk one afternoon, and as they sat and watched JB and Jude, back from their walk to the dunes, fling sand at each other, Malcolm had asked, “Have you ever noticed how Jude always wears long sleeves?”

他之前跟安迪說他不知道裘德會割傷自己，其實是撒謊。或者嚴格說來，他并不確定，但他知道，而且知道很久了。那是亨明死后的那個夏天。他們在馬爾科姆家位于馬撒葡萄園的海濱別墅，有天下午他們走去沙丘區(qū)，他和馬爾科姆喝醉了，兩人坐著看杰比和裘德互丟沙子。馬爾科姆當時問：“你有沒有注意到，裘德總是穿長袖衣服？”

　 He’d grunted in response. He had, of course—it was difficult not to, especially on hot days—but he had never let himself wonder why. Much of his friendship with Jude, it often seemed, was not letting himself ask the questions he knew he ought to, because he was afraid of the answers.

他只是嗯了一聲。當然，他注意到了——不注意到也難，尤其是天熱的時候——但他從來不讓自己去想為什么。他常常覺得，他和裘德的友誼，有很大一部分就建立在他不讓自己去問一些明知該問的問題，因為他害怕那些答案。

　 There had been a silence then, and the two of them had watched as JB, drunk himself, fell backward into the sand and Jude limped over and begun burying him.

當時他和馬爾科姆沉默了一陣子，看著同樣喝醉的杰比往后倒在沙丘上，而裘德一拐一拐走過去，開始用沙子把他埋起來。

　 “Flora had a friend who always wore long sleeves,” Malcolm continued. “Her name was Maryam. She used to cut herself.”

“弗洛拉以前有個朋友總是穿長袖?！瘪R爾科姆接著說，“她的名字是瑪麗安。她以前習(xí)慣用刀子割自己?！?