《渺小一生》:但即使在當(dāng)時(shí)，他也沒辦法相信她。

　 “Ah, yes,” she said. They were quiet. “Jude,” she began, and then stopped. “You’ll find your own way to discuss what happened to you. You’ll have to, if you ever want to be close to anyone. But your life—no matter what you think, you have nothing to be ashamed of, and none of it has been your fault. Will you remember that?”

“啊，就是啊?！彼f。他們沉默了一會兒。“裘德，”她開口，然后又停下來，“你會找到自己的方法去談過去發(fā)生的事。如果你想跟任何人親近的話，你非找到不可。但是你的人生……不論你怎么想，你都沒有什么好羞愧的，那一切都不是你的錯(cuò)。這個(gè)你要記住，好不好？”

　 It was the closest they had ever gotten to discussing not only the previous year but the years that preceded it, too. “Yes,” he told her.

那是最接近討論的一次，不光是談過去一年，也包括更早以前?！昂??！彼嬖V她。

　 She glared at him. “Promise me.”

她目光炯炯地瞪著他：“答應(yīng)我?！?

　 “I promise.”

“我答應(yīng)?！?

　 But even then, he couldn’t believe her.

但即使在當(dāng)時(shí)，他也沒辦法相信她。

　 She sighed. “I should’ve made you talk more,” she said. It was the last thing she ever said to him. Two weeks later—July third—she was dead. Her service was the week after that. By this point he had a summer job at a local bakery, where he sat in the back room spackling cakes with fondant, and in the days following the funeral he sat until night at his workstation, plastering cake after cake with carnation-pink icing, trying not to think of her.

她嘆氣，“我早該逼你多談一些的?！彼f。那是她跟他說的最后一件事。兩星期后的七月三日，她過世了。她的告別式在她死后的第二周舉行。那時(shí)，他已經(jīng)在當(dāng)?shù)匾患颐姘暾业绞钇诠ぷ?，天天坐在店后的廚房里做翻糖裝飾蛋糕。葬禮后的那些日子，他都在工作臺從早坐到晚，用粉紅色糖霜裝飾一個(gè)又一個(gè)蛋糕，試著不去想她。

　 At the end of July, the Douglasses moved: Mr. Douglass had gotten a new job in San Jose, and they were taking Agnes with them; Rosie was being reassigned to a different family. He had liked the Douglasses, but when they told him to stay in touch, he knew he wouldn’t—he was so desperate to move away from the life he was in, the life he’d had; he wanted to be someone whom no one knew and who knew no one.

到了七月底，道格拉斯夫婦搬家了：道格拉斯先生在加州圣荷西找到了新工作，他們會帶著阿格尼絲過去，蘿西則被重新安置到另一個(gè)寄宿家庭。他喜歡道格拉斯夫婦，但當(dāng)他們跟他說保持聯(lián)絡(luò)時(shí)，他知道自己不會——他太想脫離眼前的人生、過去的人生了，他想成為一個(gè)全新的自己：沒有人認(rèn)識他，他也不認(rèn)識任何人。

　 He was put into emergency shelter. That was what the state called it: emergency shelter. He’d argued that he was old enough to be left on his own (he imagined, also illogically, that he would sleep in the back room of the bakery), and that in less than two months he’d be gone anyway, out of the system entirely, but no one agreed with him. The shelter was a dormitory, a sagging gray honeycomb populated by other kids who—because of what they had done or what had been done to them or simply how old they were—the state couldn’t easily place.

他被送到緊急收容所。這是州政府的稱呼：緊急收容所。他爭辯說他已經(jīng)夠大了，可以自己生活（他還很不合邏輯地想象，自己會睡在面包店后頭的房間里），而且再過不到兩個(gè)月他就會離開，完全脫離這個(gè)系統(tǒng)，但是沒有人同意他的意見。那個(gè)收容所是個(gè)破爛的灰色蜂巢式宿舍，里頭還有其他州政府一時(shí)無法順利安置的男孩——他們會被送到那里，是因?yàn)樗麄冏鲞^的事、別人對他們做過的事，或純粹只是因?yàn)槟昙o(jì)的關(guān)系。

　 When it was time for him to leave, they gave him some money to buy supplies for school. They were, he recognized, vaguely proud of him; he might not have been in the system for long, but he was going to college, and to a superior college at that—he would forever after be claimed as one of their successes. Leslie drove him to the Army Navy Store. He wondered, as he chose things he thought he might need—two sweaters, three long-sleeve shirts, pants, a gray blanket that resembled the clotty stuffing that vomited forth from the sofa in the shelter’s lobby—if he was getting the correct things, the things that might have been on Ana’s list. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that there was something else on that list, something essential that Ana thought he needed that he would now never know. At nights, he craved that list, sometimes more than he craved her; he could picture it in his mind, the funny up-and-down capitalizations she inserted into a single word, the mechanical pencil she always used, the yellow legal pads, left over from her years as a lawyer, on which she made her notes. Sometimes the letters solidified into words, and in the dream life he’d feel triumphant; ah, he’d think, of course! Of course that’s what I need! Of course Ana would know! But in the mornings, he could never remember what those things were. In those moments he wished, perversely, that he had never met her, that it was surely worse to have had her for so brief a period than to never have had her at all.

等到他要離開時(shí)，他們給了他一些錢去買上學(xué)需要的東西。這時(shí)他發(fā)現(xiàn)，他們似乎隱隱以他為榮：他進(jìn)入這個(gè)系統(tǒng)的時(shí)間或許不長，但他要去上大學(xué)，而且是一間很好的大學(xué)，日后他將永遠(yuǎn)成為他們手上成功的案例之一。萊斯莉開車載他去軍用剩余物資商店。他在里頭逛，挑選他認(rèn)為自己可能需要的東西——兩件針織衫、三件長袖襯衫、長褲、一條灰色毯子（看起來很像收容所大廳里那張破沙發(fā)露出來的填充物）——一邊想著自己是否挑對了東西，想著這些東西可能也出現(xiàn)在安娜的清單上。他不禁一直去想那張清單上還有別的東西，還有些基本的、安娜覺得他需要的物品，但如今他永遠(yuǎn)不會知道了。在夜里，他渴望著那張清單，有時(shí)甚至壓過對她的渴望。他可以想象那張清單的樣子，她穿插在單個(gè)詞匯里那些可笑的大寫字母，她習(xí)慣用的自動鉛筆，她用的黃色箋紙簿（她以前當(dāng)律師時(shí)留下來的，她都用這些簿子寫筆記）。有時(shí)那些字?jǐn)D在一起。而在夢里，他會覺得很得意，他心想，當(dāng)然了！那當(dāng)然是他需要的！當(dāng)然安娜會知道！但早上醒來，他再也不記得上頭的內(nèi)容。在那些時(shí)刻，他就會賭氣地希望自己從來不曾認(rèn)識她，因?yàn)橛兴诘臅r(shí)間這么短暫，比根本沒有過還糟糕。

　 They gave him a bus ticket north; Leslie came to the station to see him off. He had packed his things in a double-layered black garbage bag, and then inside the backpack he’d bought at the Army Navy Store: everything he owned in one neat package. On the bus he stared out the window and thought of nothing. He hoped his back wouldn’t betray him on the ride, and it didn’t.

他們給了他一張北上的巴士車票，萊斯莉去車站送他離開。他把自己的東西裝在一個(gè)雙層黑色垃圾袋里，然后放進(jìn)他在軍用物資店買來的背包里。他擁有的一切全都裝成干凈利落的一包。在巴士上，他望著車窗外，腦袋里什么都不想。他希望自己的背部不要在車上出狀況，幸好沒有。

　 He had been the first to arrive in their room, and when the second boy came in—it had been Malcolm—with his parents and suitcases and books and speakers and television and phones and computers and refrigerator and flotillas of digital gadgetry, he had felt the first sensations of sickening fear, and then anger, directed irrationally at Ana: How could she let him believe he might be equipped to do this? Who could he say he was? Why had she never told him exactly how poor, how ugly, what a scrap of bloodied, muddied cloth, his life really was? Why had she let him believe he might belong here?

他是第一個(gè)抵達(dá)宿舍的人。等到第二個(gè)人進(jìn)來（馬爾科姆），身后跟著他的父母、一堆行李箱和書、喇叭、電視、電話、電腦、冰箱以及一大堆數(shù)碼小玩意兒，他第一次感到那種害怕得快要吐出來的感覺，然后是生氣，而且很沒道理地生安娜的氣：她怎么能讓他相信自己適合讀大學(xué)？他怎么能真的這么以為？她為什么從沒提過他到底有多窮、有多丑，而且他的人生其實(shí)是一塊染了血和泥巴的破布？她為什么讓他相信自己可能屬于這里？

　 As the months passed, this feeling dampened, but it never disappeared; it lived on him like a thin scum of mold. But as that knowledge became more acceptable, another piece became less so: he began to realize that she was the first and last person to whom he would never have to explain anything. She knew that he wore his life on his skin, that his biography was written in his flesh and on his bones. She would never ask him why he wouldn’t wear short sleeves, even in the steamiest of weather, or why he didn’t like to be touched, or, most important, what had happened to his legs or back: she knew already. Around her he had felt none of the constant anxiety, nor watchfulness, that he seemed condemned to feel around everyone else; the vigilance was exhausting, but it eventually became simply a part of life, a habit like good posture. Once, she had reached out to (he later realized) embrace him, but he had reflexively brought his hands up over his head to protect himself, and although he had been embarrassed, she hadn’t made him feel silly or overreactive. “I’m an idiot, Jude,” she’d said instead. “I’m sorry. No more sudden movements, I promise.”

幾個(gè)月過去了，這種感覺逐漸減少，但是從來沒有消失過，那感覺黏在他身上，像一層薄薄的霉。等到他比較可以接受這件事了，另一件卻變得難以接受：他開始明白她是第一個(gè)、也是最后一個(gè)他不必解釋任何事的人。她知道他的皮膚上就刻畫著他的人生，他的自傳就寫在他的皮肉和骨頭上。她永遠(yuǎn)不會問他天氣熱成這樣，為什么不穿短袖衣服，也不會問他為什么他不喜歡被人碰觸，更重要的是，不會去問他的兩腿和背部發(fā)生過什么事，因?yàn)樗呀?jīng)知道了。在她身邊，他不會有面對其他人時(shí)那種持續(xù)不斷的焦慮或警覺；那樣隨時(shí)保持警惕真是累死人，但最后那也成為他生活的一部分，就像保持姿勢端正一樣，成了一種習(xí)慣。有回她朝他伸出手，后來他才知道她是想擁抱他，但當(dāng)時(shí)他反射性地舉起雙手抱住頭保護(hù)自己。盡管他事后很難為情，但她從不曾讓他覺得自己很愚蠢或反應(yīng)過度?！棒玫?，我真是個(gè)白癡?！彼f，“真對不起。我保證，以后不會再有突然的動作了。”

　 But now she was gone, and no one knew him. His records were sealed. His first Christmas, Leslie had sent him a card, addressed to him through the student affairs office, and he had kept it for days, his last link to Ana, before finally throwing it away. He never wrote back, and he never heard from Leslie again. It was a new life. He was determined not to ruin it for himself.

但現(xiàn)在她不在了，沒有人了解他了。他過去的記錄已經(jīng)封存。他的第一個(gè)圣誕節(jié)，萊斯莉寄了一張卡片給他，地址寫的是他學(xué)校的學(xué)生事務(wù)處。那是他和安娜之間最后的聯(lián)系，他把卡片留在手上幾天，最后還是扔掉了。他從來沒回信，也從此沒了萊斯莉的消息。這是全新的人生，他下定決心不要?dú)У羲?

　 Still, sometimes, he thought back to their final conversations, mouthing them aloud. This was at night, when his roommates—in various configurations, depending on who was in the room at the time—slept above and next to him. “Don’t let this silence become a habit,” she’d warned him shortly before she died. And: “It’s all right to be angry, Jude; you don’t have to hide it.” She had been wrong about him, he always thought; he wasn’t what she thought he was. “You’re destined for greatness, kid,” she’d said once, and he wanted to believe her, even though he couldn’t. But she was right about one thing: it did get harder and harder. He did blame himself. And although he tried every day to remember the promise he’d made to her, every day it became more and more remote, until it was just a memory, and so was she, a beloved character from a book he’d read long ago.

然而，有時(shí)他會回想起他們最后的幾次談話，還會說出聲來。那是在夜里，他的室友們各自睡在上鋪或旁邊（不見得都在，要看當(dāng)時(shí)的狀況）。“別讓這種沉默變成習(xí)慣?！彼^世前不久曾這么警告過他。還有“裘德，生氣沒關(guān)系，你不必隱藏自己的憤怒。”她錯(cuò)看他了，他總這么想，他不是她以為的那樣?！澳阕⒍ㄒ龃笫碌模⒆??！彼谢卣f，他很想相信她，卻辦不到。可是她有件事想得沒錯(cuò)：的確是越來越難。他的確是怪自己。盡管他每天都努力記住他答應(yīng)過她的事情，但隨著每一天過去，那承諾變得越來越遙遠(yuǎn)，直到最后只成了一段回憶。她也一樣，成為他許久以前讀過的書里一個(gè)鐘愛的人物。

　 “The world has two kinds of people,” Judge Sullivan used to say. “Those who are inclined to believe, and those who aren’t. In my courtroom, we value belief. Belief in all things.”

“世界上有兩種人。”沙利文法官總是這么說，“一種傾向于相信，另一種傾向于不相信。在我的法庭里，我們重視相信，相信一切?！?

　 He made this proclamation often, and after doing so, he would groan himself to his feet—he was very fat—and toddle out of the room. This was usually at the end of the day—Sullivan’s day, at least—when he left his chambers and came over to speak to his law clerks, sitting on the edge of one of their desks and delivering often opaque lectures that were interspersed with frequent pauses, as if his clerks were not lawyers but scriveners, and should be writing down his words. But no one did, not even Kerrigan, who was a true believer and the most conservative of the three of them.

他常常如此宣告，講完了就會吃力地站起來（他非常胖），蹣跚走出房間。這通常發(fā)生在一天終了（至少對沙利文是如此），他走出辦公室，過來找他的助理們，坐在其中一個(gè)人的辦公桌邊，開始講話。他講的內(nèi)容往往模糊難懂，還常常穿插著暫停，好像他的助理們不是律師，而是書記官，應(yīng)該記下他講的話。但沒人記，就連他們?nèi)酥凶钫嫘南嘈欧ü?、立場最保守的克里根也沒記。

　 After the judge left, he would grin across the room at Thomas, who would raise his eyes upward in a gesture of helplessness and apology. Thomas was a conservative, too, but “a thinking conservative,” he’d remind him, “and the fact that I even have to make that distinction is fucking depressing.”

法官離開后，他會朝對面的托馬斯咧嘴一笑，托馬斯則會眼睛往上看，表示無奈和歉意。托馬斯也是保守派，不過“是會思考的保守派”。他會提醒他：“可是我居然還得講出這個(gè)差別，真是他媽的令人沮喪。”

　 He and Thomas had started clerking for the judge the same year, and when he had been approached by the judge’s informal search committee—really, his Business Associations professor, with whom the judge was old friends—the spring of his second year of law school, it had been Harold who had encouraged him to apply. Sullivan was known among his fellow circuit court judges for always hiring one clerk whose political views diverged from his own, the more wildly, the better. (His last liberal law clerk had gone on to work for a Hawaiian rights sovereignty group that advocated for the islands’ secession from the United States, a career move that had sent the judge into a fit of apoplectic self-satisfaction.)

他和托馬斯在同一年開始當(dāng)法官助理。他讀法學(xué)院第二年的春天，法官的非正式尋才委員（其實(shí)就是他的商業(yè)法教授，也是法官的老朋友）來找他，提供這個(gè)工作機(jī)會，當(dāng)時(shí)哈羅德鼓勵他申請這份工作。沙利文在巡回法院的法官同僚都知道，他總是會雇一個(gè)政治觀點(diǎn)跟他存在分歧的助理，而且歧異越大越好（他的上一個(gè)自由派助理辭職后，去幫一個(gè)倡議脫離美國獨(dú)立的夏威夷主權(quán)團(tuán)體工作，他的選擇讓法官得意了好一陣子）。

　 “Sullivan hates me,” Harold had told him then, sounding pleased. “He’ll hire you just to spite me.” He smiled, savoring the thought. “And because you’re the most brilliant student I’ve ever had,” he added.

“沙利文恨我。”哈羅德當(dāng)時(shí)告訴他，口氣很樂，“他雇用你，是為了要?dú)馕??！彼⑿?，想得很開心，還補(bǔ)了一句，“因?yàn)槟闶俏医踢^最有才氣的學(xué)生。”

　 The compliment made him look at the ground: Harold’s praise tended to be conveyed to him by others, and was rarely handed to him directly. “I’m not sure I’m liberal enough for him,” he’d replied. Certainly he wasn’t liberal enough for Harold; it was one of the things—his opinions; the way he read the law; how he applied it to life—that they argued about.

這番恭維讓他低頭看著地上：哈羅德對他的贊美，通常都是通過別人轉(zhuǎn)述，很少當(dāng)面說出來。“我不確定我對他來說夠不夠自由派。”他回答。當(dāng)然他對哈羅德來說不夠自由派，這是他們爭執(zhí)的老問題之一：他的意見，他解讀法律的方式，還有在生活中的運(yùn)用。