《渺小一生》:他聽著哈羅德咀嚼，想著該避開還是繼續(xù)這段談話。

　 “South Dakota and Montana, mostly,” he said, and he could feel the creature inside of him sit up, aware of danger but unable to escape it.

“大部分是在南達(dá)科他州和蒙大拿州?！彼f，并且感覺到自己心底的那只活物站起來，意識到危險，但是躲不掉了。

　 “So are your parents ranchers?” asked Harold.

“所以你爸媽是牧場主人了？”哈羅德問。

　 He had learned over the years to anticipate this sequence of questioning, and how to deflect it as well. “No,” he said, “but a lot of people were, obviously. It’s beautiful countryside out there; have you spent any time in the West?”

這些年來，他已經(jīng)學(xué)會預(yù)料這一系列問題，也學(xué)會如何轉(zhuǎn)移話題?！安皇?，”他說，“不過看來那里很多人是。那里的鄉(xiāng)下很美。你們?nèi)ミ^西部嗎？”

　 Usually, this was enough, but it wasn’t for Harold. “Ha!” he said. “That’s the silkiest pivot I’ve heard in a long time.” Harold looked at him, closely enough so that he eventually looked down at his plate. “I suppose that’s your way of saying you’re not going to tell us what they do?”

通常，說到這里就夠了，但是這對哈羅德沒用?！肮?！”他說，“我好久沒看到轉(zhuǎn)得這么順的技巧了?！惫_德盯著他不放，而且近得讓他垂下目光看自己的盤子，“我想，你是要用這種方式告訴我們，你不會說出你父母是做哪一行的了？”

　 “Oh, Harold, leave him alone,” said Julia, but he could feel Harold staring at him, and was relieved when dinner ended.

“啊，哈羅德，別煩他了。”朱麗婭說，但他可以感覺到哈羅德還是盯著他看。晚餐結(jié)束時，他終于松了一口氣。

　 After that first night at Harold’s, their relationship became both deeper and more difficult. He felt he had awakened Harold’s curiosity, which he imagined as a perked, bright-eyed dog—a terrier, something relentless and keen—and wasn’t sure that was such a good thing. He wanted to know Harold better, but over dinner he had been reminded that that process—getting to know someone—was always so much more challenging than he remembered. He always forgot; he was always made to remember. He wished, as he often did, that the entire sequence—the divulging of intimacies, the exploring of pasts—could be sped past, and that he could simply be teleported to the next stage, where the relationship was something soft and pliable and comfortable, where both parties’ limits were understood and respected.

那一晚之后，他們的關(guān)系變得更緊密，卻也更艱難。他覺得自己喚醒了哈羅德的好奇心，而且他把那好奇心想象成一只活潑、眼睛發(fā)亮的狗（一只犬，堅持不懈而敏銳），不確定那是不是好事。他想更了解哈羅德，但是經(jīng)過那頓晚餐，他又想起要了解一個人的那種過程，其中的挑戰(zhàn)性總是比他記憶中大得多。他總是忘記這一點(diǎn)，又總是被逼得想起來。一如過去常常發(fā)生的，眼前他真希望這整個過程可以迅速結(jié)束，他可以用念力飛到下一階段，來到彼此關(guān)系柔軟又有彈性且舒適的狀態(tài)，雙方都了解且尊重彼此的界限。

　 Other people might have made a few more attempts at questioning him and then left him alone—other people had left him alone: his friends, his classmates, his other professors—but Harold was not as easily dissuaded. Even his usual strategies—among them, telling his interlocutors that he wanted to hear about their lives, not talk about his: a tactic that had the benefit of being true as well as effective—didn’t work with Harold. He never knew when Harold would pounce next, but whenever he did, he was unprepared, and he felt himself becoming more self-conscious, not less, the more time they spent with each other.

其他人可能會再試著問他幾次，然后就不再煩他了。他以前碰到的人，他的朋友、同學(xué)、其他教授，都是如此，但哈羅德可不像其他人那么容易放棄。就連他平時的策略（其中之一就是跟對方說他想聽聽有關(guān)他們的事情，而不是談他而已。這一招不但是實(shí)話，而且很管用）都對哈羅德無效。他從不知道哈羅德什么時候又會突襲，反正每次他都沒有準(zhǔn)備，而且兩人相處越久，他反而越加局促不安，而沒有更輕松。

　 They would be in Harold’s office, talking about something—the University of Virginia affirmative action case going before the Supreme Court, say—and Harold would ask, “What’s your ethnic background, Jude?”

他們會在哈羅德的辦公室里談著某件事情（比方弗吉尼亞大學(xué)的招生政策有不夠保障弱勢族群之嫌，整個案子將進(jìn)入最高法院），然后哈羅德會問：“那裘德，你的種族背景是什么？”

　 “A lot of things,” he would answer, and then would try to change the subject, even if it meant dropping a stack of books to cause a distraction.

“很多?！彼麜卮?，然后試著改變話題，甚至不惜把一疊書弄在地上以轉(zhuǎn)移注意力。

　 But sometimes the questions were contextless and random, and these were impossible to anticipate, as they came without preamble. One night he and Harold were in his office, working late, and Harold ordered them dinner. For dessert, he’d gotten cookies and brownies, and he pushed the paper bags toward him.

但有時那些問題又會沒頭沒腦地隨機(jī)出現(xiàn)，毫無前奏，根本不可能預(yù)料。某天晚上，他和哈羅德在他的辦公室工作到很晚，哈羅德點(diǎn)了外賣食物。餐后甜點(diǎn)是幸運(yùn)簽餅和布朗尼蛋糕，哈羅德把裝著幸運(yùn)簽餅的紙袋推向他。

　 “No, thanks,” he said.

“謝謝，我不吃?！彼f。

　 “Really?” Harold asked, raising his eyebrows. “My son used to love these. We tried to bake them for him at home, but we never got the recipe quite right.” He broke a brownie in half. “Did your parents bake for you a lot when you were a kid?” He would ask these questions with a deliberate casualness that he found almost unbearable.

“真的？”哈羅德問，抬起眉毛，“我兒子以前很愛這個。我們以前試過在家里自己做，可是怎么都做得不像?！彼岩粔K布朗尼蛋糕掰成兩半，“你小時候，爸媽會常常為你烤糕餅嗎？”他問這些問題時總是故作輕松，簡直輕松得讓人受不了。

　 “No,” he said, pretending to review the notes he’d been taking.

“沒有?！彼f，假裝在檢查之前的筆記。

　 He listened to Harold chewing and, he knew, considering whether to retreat or to continue his line of questioning.

他聽著哈羅德咀嚼，想著該避開還是繼續(xù)這段談話。

　 “Do you see your parents often?” Harold asked him, abruptly, on a different night.

“你跟你爸媽常常見面嗎？”另一晚，哈羅德又忽然問他。

　 “They’re dead,” he said, keeping his eyes on the page.

“他們過世了?！彼f，雙眼仍看著手上的筆記。

　 “I’m sorry, Jude,” Harold said after a silence, and the sincerity in his voice made him look up. “Mine are, too. Relatively recently. Of course, I’m much older than you.”

“我很遺憾，裘德?！惫_德沉默了一會兒說，那種真誠的口氣讓他抬起頭，“我父母也過世了，不算太久以前。當(dāng)然了，我比你老很多?！?

　 “I’m sorry, Harold,” he said. And then, guessing, “You were close to them.”

“我很遺憾，哈羅德?！彼f。然后猜著說，“你跟他們很親?！?

　 “I was,” said Harold. “Very. Were you close to yours?”

“是啊，”哈羅德說，“非常親。你跟你父母呢？”

　 He shook his head. “No, not really.”

他搖搖頭：“不親，不算親?！?