《渺小一生》:那頓感恩節(jié)晚餐的主要話題是詹姆斯的女兒

　 “This is dynamite trout, Harold,” Willem said, cutting into his second piece of turkey, and everyone laughed.

“哈羅德，這是炸藥鱒魚?！蓖f，手上正切著他的第二片火雞肉，全場大笑起來。

　 What was the point, he wondered, at which he had stopped feeling so nervous and out of place at Harold’s dinners? Certainly, his friends had helped. Harold liked sparring with them, liked trying to provoke JB into making outrageous and borderline racist statements, liked teasing Willem about when he was going to settle down, liked debating structural and aesthetic trends with Malcolm. He knew Harold enjoyed engaging with them, and that they enjoyed it too, and it gave him the chance to simply listen to them being who they were without feeling the need to participate; they were a fleet of parrots shaking their bright-colored feathers at one another, presenting themselves to their peers without fear or guile.

他很好奇，要到什么時候，他在哈羅德家吃晚餐才能不再覺得這么緊張、這么格格不入？當然，他的朋友幫了他忙。哈羅德喜歡跟他們爭論，試著挑釁杰比說出過分又逼近種族歧視的話，問威廉他什么時候要定下來，跟馬爾科姆辯論結構和美學趨勢。他知道哈羅德喜歡跟他那些朋友互動，他的朋友也樂在其中，這給了他機會，只需聆聽他們發(fā)揮本色，不必覺得非得參與不可；他們是一群鸚鵡，對彼此搖晃著一身鮮亮的羽毛，把自己展示給同伴看，絲毫沒有畏懼或隱瞞。

　 The dinner was dominated by talk of James’s daughter, who was getting married in the summer. “I’m an old man,” James moaned, and Laurence and Gillian, whose daughters were still in college and spending the holiday at their friend’s house in Carmel, made sympathetic noises.

那頓感恩節(jié)晚餐的主要話題是詹姆斯的女兒，那年夏天剛結婚。“我老了?！闭材匪贡г沟溃瑒趥愃购图虬惨舶l(fā)出同情的嘆息聲，因為他們夫婦的兩個女兒還在念大學，這個感恩節(jié)去了加州卡梅爾的朋友家過節(jié)。

　 “This reminds me,” said Harold, looking at him and Willem, “when are you two ever going to settle down?”

“這個讓我想到，”哈羅德說，看著他和威廉，“你們兩個什么時候才要定下來？”

　 “I think he means you,” he smiled at Willem.

“我想他指的是你?！彼f，看著威廉微笑。

　 “Harold, I’m thirty-two!” Willem protested, and everyone laughed again as Harold spluttered: “What is that, Willem? Is that an explanation? Is that a defense? It’s not like you’re sixteen!”

“哈羅德，我今年32歲！”威廉抗議道，每個人又大笑起來。哈羅德一嘴食物，說：“這句話什么意思，威廉？算是解釋嗎，還是答辯？你又不是16歲！”

　 But as much as he enjoyed the evening, a part of his mind remained abuzz and anxious, worrying about the conversation Harold and Julia wanted to have with him the next day. He had finally mentioned it to Willem on the ride up, and in moments, when the two of them were working together (stuffing the turkey, blanching the potatoes, setting the table), they would try to figure out what Harold might have to say to him. After dinner, they put on their coats and sat in the back garden, puzzling over it again.

他那天晚上過得很開心，但心底有一部分還是很焦慮，擔心哈羅德和朱麗婭次日要跟他談的事情。在搭火車北上的途中，他終于跟威廉提了。之后在兩個人一起合作的片刻（填火雞料、把馬鈴薯燙了去皮、在餐桌上擺好餐具），他們設法猜想哈羅德可能要跟他談什么。晚餐后，他們穿上大衣到后院坐著聊天，又開始思索這個問題。

　 At least he knew that nothing was wrong with them—it was the first thing he had asked, and Harold had assured him that he and Julia were both fine. But what, then, could it be?

至少他知道他們沒事，他第一時間就確認了。哈羅德跟他保證他和朱麗婭都很好。那會是什么事呢？

　 “Maybe he thinks I’m hanging around them too much,” he suggested to Willem. Maybe Harold was, simply, sick of him.

“或許他覺得我太常跟他們在一起了?！彼f。也許哈羅德只是厭倦他了。

　 “Not possible,” Willem said, so quickly and declaratively that he was relieved. They were quiet. “Maybe one of them got a job offer somewhere and they’re moving?”

“不可能?！蓖f，快速又肯定，這讓他松了口氣。他們沉默了一會兒：“或許他們其中一個在別處找到更好的工作，所以要搬家？”

　 “I thought of that, too. But I don’t think Harold would ever leave Boston. Julia, either.”

“這個我也想過。但我覺得哈羅德不會離開波士頓。朱麗婭也是?！?

　 There weren’t, in the end, many options, at least many that would make a conversation with him necessary: maybe they were selling the house in Truro (but why would they need to talk to him about that, as much as he loved the house). Maybe Harold and Julia were splitting up (but they seemed the same as they always did around each other). Maybe they were selling the New York apartment and wanted to know if he wanted to buy it from them (unlikely: he was certain they would never sell the apartment). Maybe they were renovating the apartment and needed him to oversee the renovation.

到最后，可能的選項實在不多，至少沒那么多需要跟他談的事情：或許他們要賣掉特魯羅的房子（他很喜歡那棟房子，但為什么得跟他談？）?；蛟S哈羅德和朱麗婭要分開了（可是看起來他們的互動還是老樣子）?；蛟S他們要賣掉紐約的公寓，想問他有沒有意愿買（不大可能，他很確定他們絕不會賣掉那間公寓）?；蛟S他們要整修公寓，需要他幫忙監(jiān)工。

　 And then their speculations grew more specific and improbable: maybe Julia was coming out (maybe Harold was). Maybe Harold was being born again (maybe Julia was). Maybe they were quitting their jobs, moving to an ashram in upstate New York. Maybe they were becoming ascetics who would live in a remote Kashmiri valley. Maybe they were having his-and-hers plastic surgery. Maybe Harold was becoming a Republican. Maybe Julia had found God. Maybe Harold had been nominated to be the attorney general. Maybe Julia had been identified by the Tibetan government in exile as the next reincarnation of the Panchen Lama and was moving to Dharamsala. Maybe Harold was running for president as a Socialist candidate. Maybe they were opening a restaurant on the square that served only turkey stuffed with other kinds of meat. By this time they were both laughing so hard, as much from the nervous, self-soothing helplessness of not knowing as from the absurdity of their guesses, that they were bent over in their chairs, pressing their coat collars to their mouths to muffle the noise, their tears freezing pinchingly on their cheeks.

之后，他們的猜測變得更具體也更不可能：或許朱麗婭要出柜（或是哈羅德）?；蛟S哈羅德皈依了福音教派（也許是朱麗婭）?；蛟S他們要辭掉工作，搬去紐約州北部的靜修處。或許他們要成為苦行者，搬去克什米爾的偏僻小村定居。或許哈羅德成了共和黨員?；蛟S朱麗婭發(fā)現(xiàn)上帝了?；蛟S哈羅德被提名為檢察長，又或許哈羅德要代表社會黨競選總統(tǒng)?；蛟S他們要在劍橋市廣場開一家餐廳，只賣塞入肉類餡料的火雞。此時，他們兩個已經(jīng)笑到不行，既是出于對未知的緊張、無助和自我紓解，也是出于這些猜測的荒謬性。總之，兩人笑到坐在椅子上直不起腰，用大衣領子捂住嘴巴好悶住聲音，笑出的眼淚把臉頰都凍得發(fā)痛了。

　 In bed, though, he returned to the thought that had crept, tendril-like, from some dark space of his mind and had insinuated itself into his consciousness like a thin green vine: maybe one of them had discovered something about the person he once was. Maybe he would be presented with evidence—a doctor’s report, a photograph, a (this was the nightmare scenario) film still. He had already decided he wouldn’t deny it, he wouldn’t argue against it, he wouldn’t defend himself. He would acknowledge its veracity, he would apologize, he would explain that he never meant to deceive them, he would offer not to contact them again, and then he would leave. He would ask them only to keep his secret, to not tell anyone else. He practiced saying the words: I’m so sorry, Harold. I’m so sorry, Julia. I never meant to embarrass you. But of course it was such a useless apology. He might not have meant to, but it wouldn’t make a difference: he would have; he had.

夜里躺在床上，他又開始想這件事。那些思緒有如觸須般從他心底的某個黑暗空間悄悄爬出來，像一根細細的綠色藤蔓，緩緩鉆進他的意識里。或許他們其中一人發(fā)現(xiàn)了他的過去。或許他們會把證據(jù)拿出來給他看，一份病歷、一張照片，甚至是一段影片（這是他最大的噩夢）。他已經(jīng)決定不去否認、爭論，也不會為自己辯護。他會承認那是真的，他會道歉，解釋他不曾故意欺騙他們，并且主動表示再也不會和他們聯(lián)絡，然后他會離開。他只會要求他們幫他保密，不要告訴任何人。他練習說那些話：對不起，哈羅德。真的很對不起，朱麗婭。我從來沒有故意要讓你們難堪。當然這樣的道歉毫無作用。他可能不是故意的，但結果沒有區(qū)別：他會讓他們難堪，他已經(jīng)害他們難堪了。

　 Willem left the next morning; he had a show that night. “Call me as soon as you know, okay?” he asked, and he nodded. “It’s going to be fine, Jude,” he promised. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry, all right?”

威廉次日早晨離開了，當天晚上他有演出。“你一知道就打電話給我，好嗎？”威廉問，他點點頭?！棒玫?，一切都會沒事的?！蓖ＷC，“無論是什么，我們都會想辦法解決。別擔心，好嗎？”

　 “You know I will anyway,” he said, and tried to smile back at Willem.

“你知道我無論如何一定會擔心?！彼f，試著響應威廉的微笑。

　 “Yeah, I know,” said Willem. “But try. And call me.”

“是，我知道，”威廉說，“但努力看看，還有記得打給我?！?

　 The rest of the day he kept himself busy cleaning—there was always plenty to clean at the house, as both Harold and Julia were unenthusiastic tidiers—and by the time they sat down to an early dinner he’d made of turkey stew and a beet salad, he felt almost aloft from nervousness and could only pretend to eat, moving the food around his plate like a compass point, hoping Harold and Julia wouldn’t notice. After, he began stacking the plates to take them to the kitchen, but Harold stopped him. “Leave them, Jude,” he said. “Maybe we should have our talk now?”

剩下來的白天，他一直忙著打掃（屋子里總是有很多要打掃的，因為哈羅德和朱麗婭都不太注重整潔）。等到他們一起坐下來，提早用晚餐，吃著他做的火雞肉燉菜和甜菜沙拉時，他整個人簡直緊張得像浮在半空中，只能假裝在吃東西，把食物在盤子里移來移去，像羅盤的指針般亂晃，同時希望哈羅德和朱麗婭不會注意到。吃完后，他把盤子堆起來，準備收到廚房去，但哈羅德阻止了他：“裘德，先擱著吧。”他說，“或許現(xiàn)在我們該談談了？”

　 He felt himself go fluttery with panic. “I should really rinse them off, or everything’s going to congeal,” he protested, lamely, hearing how stupid he sounded.

他覺得自己恐慌得手忙腳亂。“我真的應該先把盤子沖一下，不然剩下的湯汁會凝結在上頭。”他無助地反抗，覺得自己好愚蠢。

　 “Fuck the plates,” said Harold, and although he knew that Harold genuinely didn’t care what did or didn’t congeal on his plates, for a moment he wondered if his casualness was too casual, a simulacrum of ease rather than the real thing. But finally, he could do nothing but put the dishes down and trudge after Harold into the living room, where Julia was pouring coffee for herself and Harold, and had poured tea for him.

“別管那些盤子。”哈羅德說。他知道哈羅德真的不在意盤子上的湯汁是否凝結，但一時之間他想到自己無所謂的態(tài)度是否太隨意了。這樣輕松的假象太不真實了。但最后，他沒辦法，只能放下盤子，跟著哈羅德走進客廳。朱麗婭正在給自己和哈羅德倒咖啡，同時給他倒茶。