《渺小一生》:“愛你的哈羅德?！?/h1>
“But it was Jacob’s,” he heard himself say.
“但那是雅各布做的?！彼躲兜卣f。
“Yes,” said Harold. “And it still is.” He stood. “Look at me, Jude,” he said, and he finally did. “It’s okay. Come on,” and Harold held out his hand, and he took it, and let Harold pull him to his feet. He wanted to howl, then, that after everything Harold had given him, he had repaid him by destroying something precious created by someone who had been most precious.
“沒錯?！惫_德說，“摔破了也還是?！彼酒饋怼！翱粗?，裘德?！彼f。他終于看了?！皼]事的。來吧?！惫_德伸出一只手，他握住了，讓哈羅德拉他站起來。那時他好想大哭，在哈羅德給了他一切之后，他的回報竟是毀掉他最心愛的人所做的珍貴物件。
Harold went upstairs to his study with the mug in his hands, and he finished his cleaning in silence, the lovely day graying around him. When Julia came home, he waited for Harold to tell her how stupid and clumsy he’d been, but he didn’t. That night at dinner, Harold was the same as he always was, but when he returned to Lispenard Street, he wrote Harold a real, proper letter, apologizing properly, and sent it to him.
哈羅德拿著馬克杯碎片上樓回他的書房，他則默默地打掃完客廳。美好的白天逐漸變得灰暗。朱麗婭回家時，他等著哈羅德跟她說他有多愚蠢、多笨拙，但沒有。那天的晚餐席上，哈羅德跟往常沒有兩樣。等到他回到利斯本納街，他手寫了一封得體的信，很得體地道歉，然后寄給哈羅德。
And a few days later, he got a reply, also in the form of a real letter, which he would keep for the rest of his life.
幾天后，他收到了回信，也是手寫的信，日后他將珍藏一輩子。
“Dear Jude,” Harold wrote, “thank you for your beautiful (if unnecessary) note. I appreciate everything in it. You’re right; that mug means a lot to me. But you mean more. So please stop torturing yourself.
“親愛的裘德，”哈羅德寫道，“謝謝你漂亮（但是沒必要）的信。我感激你所寫的一切。你說得沒錯，那個馬克杯對我意義重大，但是你的意義更重大。所以請別再折磨自己了。
“If I were a different kind of person, I might say that this whole incident is a metaphor for life in general: things get broken, and sometimes they get repaired, and in most cases, you realize that no matter what gets damaged, life rearranges itself to compensate for your loss, sometimes wonderfully.
“如果我是另一種人，我可能會說，這整件事就是人生大致狀況的隱喻：東西會破損，有時能被修復，但大多數(shù)情況下，你會明白無論什么被毀掉了，生活都會自我調(diào)整，彌補損失，有時甚至是令人驚嘆的補償。
“Actually—maybe I am that kind of person after all.
“其實呢——或許我就是那種人。
“Love, Harold.”
“愛你的哈羅德?！?
It was not so many years ago—despite the fact that he knew otherwise, despite what Andy had been telling him since he was seventeen—that he was still maintaining a sort of small, steady hope that he might get better. On especially bad days, he would repeat the Philadelphia surgeon’s words to himself—“the spine has wonderful reparative qualities”—almost like a chant. A few years after meeting Andy, when he was in law school, he had finally summoned the courage to suggest this to him, had said aloud the prediction he had treasured and clung to, hoping that Andy might nod and say, “That’s exactly right. It’ll just take time.”
盡管他知道不是如此，盡管從他17歲起安迪就一直告訴他那些話，不過幾年前，他還抱著某種小小的、堅定的希望，覺得自己可能會好轉(zhuǎn)。尤其在特別糟糕的日子里，他會把費城那位外科醫(yī)師的話說給自己聽，“脊椎有很神奇的恢復能力”，一遍又一遍，簡直像在念經(jīng)。認識安迪幾年后他上了法學院，終于鼓起勇氣跟安迪提起，把他珍愛且緊抓不放的這句預言說出來，希望安迪會點點頭說“一點也沒錯，只是需要時間而已”。
But Andy had snorted. “He told you that?” he asked. “It’s not going to get better, Jude; as you get older, it’ll get worse.” Andy had been looking down at his ankle as he spoke, using tweezers to pick out shreds of dead flesh from a wound he’d developed, when he suddenly froze, and even without seeing Andy’s face, he could tell he was chagrined. “I’m sorry, Jude,” he said, looking up, still cupping his foot in his hand. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you differently.” And when he couldn’t answer, he sighed. “You’re upset.”
但安迪聽了冷哼一聲，“他這么告訴你？”他問，“這個狀況不會好轉(zhuǎn)的，裘德。等到你年紀大一些，狀況還會惡化。”安迪當時正低頭看著他的腳踝，用鑷子把死肉從一個瘡里夾出來。他聽了忽然全身僵住，即使沒看到安迪的臉，也知道他很懊惱。“裘德，對不起?！卑驳险f著抬頭看，手還握著他的腳，“很抱歉我只能這樣告訴你?！笨此麤]回答，安迪嘆了口氣，“你不高興。”
He was, of course. “I’m fine,” he managed to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Andy.
沒錯，那是當然。“我沒事?！彼O(shè)法開口，但還是沒有勇氣看安迪。
“I’m sorry, Jude,” Andy repeated, quietly. He had two settings, even then: brusque and gentle, and he had experienced both of them often, sometimes in a single appointment.
“我很抱歉，裘德。”安迪又輕聲說了一遍。即使在當時，安迪就有兩種反應模式：兇巴巴和溫柔。兩種他都常常碰到，有時還是在同一次看診時。
“But one thing I promise,” he said, returning to the ankle, “I’ll always be here to take care of you.”
“但有件事我可以保證?！卑驳险f，又回去對著他的腳踝，“我永遠會照顧你?！?
And he had. Of all the people in his life, it was in some ways Andy who knew the most about him: Andy was the only person he’d been naked in front of as an adult, the only person who was familiar with every physical dimension of his body. Andy had been a resident when they met, and he had stayed in Boston for his fellowship, and his postfellowship, and then the two of them had moved to New York within months of each other. He was an orthopedic surgeon, but he treated him for everything, from chest colds to his back and leg problems.
安迪說到做到。就某些方面而言，安迪是他生命中最了解他的人。安迪是他成年后唯一赤身裸體面對過的人，也是唯一熟悉他身體實際狀況的人。他們認識時，安迪是住院醫(yī)生，在研究生時期以及之后的時間里，他一直待在波士頓。后來，他們兩人又在幾個月內(nèi)先后搬到紐約。他是整形外科醫(yī)生，但他會幫他治療各種狀況，從感冒到背痛到腿的毛病。
“Wow,” Andy said dryly, as he sat in his examining room one day hacking up phlegm (this had been the previous spring, shortly before he had turned twenty-nine, when a bout of bronchitis had been snaking its way through the office), “I’m so glad I specialized in orthopedics. This is such good practice for me. This is exactly what I thought I’d do with my training.”
“哇，”有天安迪看著他坐在診療室里咳痰（前一年春天，在他滿29歲前不久，辦公室的人紛紛染上了支氣管炎），不動聲色地諷刺說，“我真高興我專攻的是整形外科，這對我真是個好練習。我想我受的訓練就是要我做這個?！?
He had started to laugh, but then his coughing had begun again and Andy had thumped him on the back. “Maybe if someone recommended a real internist to me, I wouldn’t have to keep going to a chiropractor for all my medical needs,” he said.
他想笑，但又接著咳了一輪，咳到安迪得用力拍他的背部?！叭绻腥私o我推薦一個真正的內(nèi)科醫(yī)生，我就不必跑來找一個整脊師來滿足我所有的醫(yī)療需求了?！彼f。
“Mmm,” Andy said. “You know, maybe you should start seeing an internist. God knows it’d save me a lot of time, and a shitload of headaches as well.” But he would never go to see anyone but Andy, and he thought—although they had never discussed it—that Andy wouldn’t want him to, either.
“哦……”安迪說，“你知道，或許你真的該去看內(nèi)科醫(yī)生。天曉得那會節(jié)省我多少時間，還有一大堆麻煩?！钡税驳弦酝?，他絕不會去看其他醫(yī)生，而且，他認為安迪也不希望他去找別人，只是他們從來沒談過這個問題。
For all Andy knew about him, he knew relatively little about Andy. He knew that he and Andy had gone to the same college, and that Andy was a decade older than he, and that Andy’s father was Gujarati and his mother was Welsh, and that he had grown up in Ohio. Three years ago, Andy had gotten married, and he had been surprised to be invited to the wedding, which was small and held at Andy’s in-laws’ house on the Upper West Side. He had made Willem come with him, and was even more surprised when Andy’s new wife, Jane, had thrown her arms around him when they were introduced and said, “The famous Jude St. Francis! I’ve heard so much about you!”
安迪知道他這么多，他對安迪卻所知甚少。他知道安迪和他畢業(yè)于同一所大學，比他大十歲，也知道安迪的父親來自印度古吉拉特邦，母親是威爾士人，而安迪是在俄亥俄州長大的。三年前，安迪要結(jié)婚時，他很驚訝自己會受邀參加。那是個小小的婚禮，地點在安迪的岳父母位于上西城的一棟房子里。他找威廉陪他一起去。讓他更驚訝的是，安迪跟他們介紹新婚妻子簡時，簡張開雙手抱住他說：“大名鼎鼎的裘德·圣弗朗西斯！我聽說過你好多事情！”
“Oh, really,” he’d said, his mind filling with fear, like a flock of flapping bats.
“啊，真的?！彼f，滿心的恐懼像是一群撲著翅膀的蝙蝠。
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