《渺小一生》:庭審開(kāi)始，他表現(xiàn)得很好

　 He had known, ever since the hospital, that it was impossible to convince someone to live for his own sake. But he often thought it would be a more effective treatment to make people feel more urgently the necessity of living for others: that, to him, was always the most compelling argument. The fact was, he did owe Harold. He did owe Willem. And if they wanted him to stay alive, then he would. At the time, as he slogged through day after day, his motivations had been murky to him, but now he could recognize that he had done it for them, and that rare selflessness had been something he could be proud of after all. He hadn’t understood why they wanted him to stay alive, only that they had, and so he had done it. Eventually, he had learned how to rediscover contentment, joy, even. But it hadn’t begun that way.

自從那次自殺未遂住院后，他就知道，要說(shuō)服某個(gè)人為了自己活下去是不可能的。不過(guò)他常常覺(jué)得，更有效的方法，就是讓一個(gè)人更迫切地感覺(jué)到為別人活下去的必要：這一點(diǎn)對(duì)他向來(lái)最有說(shuō)服力。事實(shí)上，他的確欠哈羅德。他的確欠威廉。如果他們希望他活著，他就會(huì)照辦。那段時(shí)間，他一天接一天熬過(guò)去，實(shí)在不明白有什么理由活下去，但現(xiàn)在他看出自己是為他們而活，這種難得的無(wú)私，其實(shí)是值得他驕傲的。他一直不明白為什么他們希望他活下去，只知道他們就是這么希望，于是他為他們活下去了。到最后，他逐漸學(xué)會(huì)如何重新發(fā)現(xiàn)活著的滿足感，甚至是喜悅。但一開(kāi)始并不是這樣的。

　 And now he is once again finding life more and more difficult, each day a little less possible than the last. In his every day stands a tree, black and dying, with a single branch jutting to its right, a scarecrow’s sole prosthetic, and it is from this branch that he hangs. Above him a rain is always misting, which makes the branch slippery. But he clings to it, as tired as he is, because beneath him is a hole bored into the earth so deep that he cannot see where it ends. He is petrified to let go because he will fall into the hole, but eventually he knows he will, he knows he must: he is so tired. His grasp weakens a bit, just a little bit, with every week.

現(xiàn)在他再度發(fā)現(xiàn)人生越來(lái)越艱難，每一天都比前一天更困難一點(diǎn)。他的每一天里都有一棵樹(shù)站在那，黑色、垂死的樹(shù)，樹(shù)上只有一根樹(shù)枝往右突出，像是支撐稻草人的單腳，而他就抓著這根樹(shù)枝懸吊在那。他上方總是下著蒙蒙細(xì)雨，讓那根樹(shù)枝滑溜溜的。他好累，卻還是緊抓著不放，因?yàn)樵谒路降牡孛嫔嫌幸粋€(gè)深不見(jiàn)底的洞。他害怕放手，一放手就會(huì)掉進(jìn)洞里，但最后他知道自己將會(huì)放手，他知道自己非放手不可：他太累了。隨著每星期過(guò)去，他抓住樹(shù)枝的力道都減弱一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)。

　 So it is with guilt and regret, but also with a sense of inevitability, that he cheats on his promise to Harold. He cheats when he tells Harold he is being sent away to Jakarta for business and will miss Thanksgiving. He cheats when he begins growing a beard, which he hopes will disguise the gauntness in his face. He cheats when he tells Sanjay he’s fine, he’s just had an intestinal flu. He cheats when he tells his secretary she doesn’t need to get him lunch because he picked something up on the way into the office. He cheats when he cancels the next month’s worth of dates with Richard and JB and Andy, telling them he has too much work. He cheats every time he lets the voice whisper to him, unbidden, It won’t be long now, it won’t be long. He isn’t so deluded that he thinks he will be able to literally starve himself to death—but he does think that there will be a day, closer now than ever before, in which he will be so weak that he will stumble and fall and crash his head against the Greene Street lobby’s cement floors, in which he will contract a virus and not have the resources to make it retreat.

所以他懷著內(nèi)疚和歉意，但同時(shí)也是無(wú)可避免地開(kāi)始偷偷不遵守他對(duì)哈羅德的承諾。他騙哈羅德說(shuō)他被派去雅加達(dá)出差，沒(méi)辦法回美國(guó)過(guò)感恩節(jié)。他開(kāi)始留大胡子，希望遮掩瘦削憔悴的臉。他跟桑杰謊稱他很好，只是得了腸胃型流感。他跟秘書(shū)撒謊說(shuō)不必幫他買(mǎi)午餐，因?yàn)樗习嗤局幸呀?jīng)買(mǎi)了吃的。他取消了下個(gè)月和理查德、杰比、安迪的約，說(shuō)他工作太忙了。他每回都讓那個(gè)不請(qǐng)自來(lái)的聲音對(duì)他低語(yǔ)，現(xiàn)在不會(huì)太久了，不會(huì)太久了。他不會(huì)妄想能真的把自己餓死——但他的確想著，很快，有一天，他會(huì)虛弱得踉蹌絆倒，腦袋砸在格林街一樓大廳的水泥地板上，感染一種無(wú)藥可醫(yī)的病毒。

　 At least one of his lies is true: he does have too much work. He has an appellate argument in a month, and he is relieved to be able to spend so much time at Rosen Pritchard, where nothing bad has ever befallen him, where even Willem knows not to disturb him with one of his unpredictable appearances. One night he hears Sanjay muttering to himself as he hurries past his office—“Fuck, she’s going to kill me”—and looks up and sees it is no longer night, but day, and the Hudson is turning a smeary orange. He notes this, but he feels nothing. Here, his life suspends itself; here, he might be anyone, anywhere. He can stay as late as he likes. No one is waiting for him, no one will be disappointed if he doesn’t call, no one will be angry if he doesn’t go home.

他的種種謊言中，至少有一點(diǎn)是真的：他的工作真的太多了。一個(gè)月后，他有一個(gè)上訴案要出庭，他很放心可以花那么多時(shí)間在羅森·普理查德。這里從來(lái)沒(méi)有壞事降臨到他身上，就連威廉也知道不能忽然跑來(lái)這里打擾他。有天晚上，他聽(tīng)到桑杰匆忙經(jīng)過(guò)他的辦公室，一邊喃喃自語(yǔ)：“媽的，她會(huì)殺了我?！币惶ь^，他才發(fā)現(xiàn)已經(jīng)不是夜晚，天已經(jīng)亮了，哈德遜河正轉(zhuǎn)為一片臟兮兮的橘色。他注意到這個(gè)，但心里毫無(wú)感覺(jué)。在這里，他的人生暫停了；在這里，他可能是任何人，去任何地方。在這里，他留到多晚都沒(méi)關(guān)系。沒(méi)有人在等他，沒(méi)有人會(huì)因?yàn)樗麤](méi)打電話而失望，沒(méi)有人會(huì)因?yàn)樗麤](méi)回家而生氣。

　 The Friday before the trial, he is working late when one of his secretaries looks in to tell him he has a visitor in the lobby, a Dr. Contractor, and would he like him sent up? He pauses, unsure of what to do; Andy has been calling him, but he hasn’t been returning his calls, and he knows he won’t simply leave.

開(kāi)庭日之前那個(gè)星期五，他加班到很晚。一位秘書(shū)忽然探頭進(jìn)來(lái)，跟他說(shuō)大廳里有他的訪客，一位康垂克特醫(yī)生，問(wèn)要不要讓他上來(lái)。他猶豫了一下，不知道該怎么做；安迪這陣子一直打電話給他，但他都沒(méi)回電。他知道安迪不會(huì)輕易離開(kāi)的。

　 “Yes,” he tells her. “Bring him to the southeastern conference room.”

“好。”他告訴她，“帶他到東南角的會(huì)議室吧?！?

　 He waits in this conference room, which has no windows and is the most private, and when Andy comes in, he sees his mouth tighten, but they shake hands like strangers, and it’s not until his secretary leaves that Andy gets up and walks over to him.

他去那個(gè)會(huì)議室等著，里頭沒(méi)有窗子，隱秘性最高。他看到安迪進(jìn)來(lái)時(shí)嘴巴緊繃，但兩人還是像陌生人似的握了手。直到他的秘書(shū)離開(kāi)，安迪才起身走向他。

　 “Stand up,” he commands.

“站起來(lái)?！卑驳厦畹馈?

　 “I can’t,” he says.

“我沒(méi)辦法。”他說(shuō)。

　 “Why not?”

“為什么？”

　 “My legs hurt,” he says, but this isn’t true. He cannot stand because his prostheses no longer fit. “The good thing about these prostheses is that they’re very sensitive and lightweight,” the prosthetist had told him when he was fitted for them. “The bad thing is that the sockets don’t allow you very much give. You lose or gain more than ten percent of your body weight—so for you, that’s plus or minus fourteen, fifteen pounds—and you’re either going to need to adjust your weight or have a new set made. So it’s important you stay at weight.” For the past three weeks, he has been in his wheelchair, and although he continues to wear his legs, they are only for show, something to fill his pants with; they are too ill-fitting for him to actually use, and he is too weary to see the prosthetist, too weary to have the conversation he knows he’ll need to have with him, too weary to conjure explanations.

“我的腿很痛?！彼f(shuō)，但其實(shí)不是。他無(wú)法站起來(lái)，是因?yàn)樗牧x肢不合身了?！斑@些義肢的優(yōu)點(diǎn)是敏感又輕盈。”當(dāng)初試用時(shí)，義肢矯具師這么告訴他：“缺點(diǎn)是義肢托座能遷就的范圍不大。你如果體重增加或減少超過(guò)百分之十——對(duì)你來(lái)說(shuō)，就是十四五磅——你就得調(diào)整體重，或者重新訂一套義肢。所以你得注意保持體重?！边^(guò)去三個(gè)星期，他都坐在輪椅上。他還是會(huì)裝上義肢，但只是做做樣子，放在長(zhǎng)褲里；因?yàn)閷?shí)在太不合適了，根本沒(méi)辦法用。而且他實(shí)在疲倦得沒(méi)辦法去找義肢矯具師，疲倦得不想去面對(duì)勢(shì)必要進(jìn)行的對(duì)話，疲倦得不想找理由解釋了。

　 “I think you’re lying,” Andy says. “I think you’ve lost so much weight that your prostheses are sliding off of you, am I right?” But he doesn’t answer. “How much weight have you lost, Jude?” Andy asks. “When I last saw you, you were already twelve pounds down. How much is it now? Twenty? More?” There’s another silence. “What the hell are you doing?” Andy asks, lowering his voice further. “What’re you doing to yourself, Jude?

“我覺(jué)得你在撒謊?！卑驳险f(shuō)，“我想你是體重掉太多，義肢根本不合適了，對(duì)不對(duì)？”但他沒(méi)回答。“裘德，你到底瘦了多少？”安迪問(wèn)，“我上回看到你的時(shí)候，你已經(jīng)瘦了十二磅，那現(xiàn)在呢？二十磅？更多？”他還是沒(méi)吭聲?！澳闼麐尩牡降自诟闶裁矗俊卑驳蠁?wèn)，聲音壓得更低了，“你對(duì)自己做了什么，裘德？

　 “You look like hell,” Andy continues. “You look terrible. You look sick.” He stops. “Say something,” he says. “Say something, goddammit, Jude.”

“你的氣色糟透了?！卑驳侠^續(xù)說(shuō)，“你看起來(lái)一塌糊涂，一副生了病的樣子。”安迪停下?！澳阏f(shuō)話啊，”安迪說(shuō)，“說(shuō)話啊，該死，裘德?！?

　 He knows how this interaction is meant to go: Andy yells at him. He yells back at Andy. A détente, one that ultimately changes nothing, one that is a piece of pantomime, is reached: he will submit to something that isn’t a solution but that makes Andy feel better. And then something worse will happen, and the pantomime will be revealed to be just that, and he will be coerced into a treatment he doesn’t want. Harold will be called. He will be lectured and lectured and lectured and he will lie and lie and lie. The same cycle, the same circle, again and again and again, a churn as predictable as the men in the motel rooms coming in, fitting their sheets over the bed, having sex with him, leaving. And then the next one, and the next one. And the next day: the same. His life is a series of dreary patterns: sex, cutting, this, that. Visits to Andy, visits to the hospital. Not this time, he thinks. This is when he does something different; this is when he escapes.

他知道這段對(duì)話會(huì)演變成什么樣：安迪吼他，他吼回去。然后他們會(huì)達(dá)成一個(gè)暫緩的協(xié)議。這個(gè)協(xié)議最終改變不了什么，只是一出啞劇罷了：他會(huì)答應(yīng)一些事情，其實(shí)無(wú)法解決問(wèn)題，但是會(huì)讓安迪感覺(jué)好過(guò)一點(diǎn)。之后又會(huì)發(fā)生更糟的事，這出啞劇又會(huì)繼續(xù)上演，他會(huì)被迫去做他不想做的治療。哈羅德會(huì)被通知。這些人會(huì)不斷對(duì)他說(shuō)教、說(shuō)教再說(shuō)教，他則會(huì)撒謊、撒謊又撒謊。同樣的循環(huán)，同樣兜著圈子，一次一次又一次。完全可以預(yù)測(cè)這些折騰，就像走進(jìn)汽車(chē)旅館房間里的那些男人，把帶來(lái)的床單鋪在床上，跟他性交，離開(kāi)。然后下一個(gè)，然后再下一個(gè)。然后下一天，還是一樣。他的人生就是一連串枯燥乏味的模式：性交，割自己，這個(gè)，那個(gè)。去找安迪，去醫(yī)院。這回不了，他心想?，F(xiàn)在他要做點(diǎn)不一樣的；這回他要脫逃了。

　 “You’re right, Andy,” he says, in as calm and unemotive a voice as he can summon, the voice he uses in the courtroom. “I’ve lost weight. And I’m sorry I haven’t come in earlier. I didn’t because I knew you’d get upset. But I’ve had a really bad intestinal flu, one I just can’t shake, but it’s ended. I’m eating, I promise. I know I look terrible. But I promise I’m working on it.” Ironically, he has been eating more in the past two weeks; he needs to get through the trial. He doesn’t want to faint while he’s in court.

“安迪，你說(shuō)得沒(méi)錯(cuò)，”他說(shuō)，盡力拿出他在法庭上那種冷靜、不帶感情的聲音，“我瘦了。我很抱歉我沒(méi)有早點(diǎn)去找你看診，因?yàn)槲抑滥銜?huì)生氣。但是我之前得了很?chē)?yán)重的腸胃型流感，一直好不了，不過(guò)現(xiàn)在好了。我有在吃東西，我保證。我知道我氣色很差，但是我保證我會(huì)努力改善?！敝S刺的是，過(guò)去兩周他真的一直有吃東西；他得撐過(guò)這回的出庭。他不希望在法庭上暈倒。

　 And after that, what can Andy say? He is suspicious, still. But there is nothing for him to do. “If you don’t come see me next week, I’m coming back,” Andy tells him before his secretary sees him out.

他講完之后，安迪還能說(shuō)什么？他還是很疑心，但也沒(méi)法做什么?！叭绻阆滦瞧诓粊?lái)看診，我還會(huì)過(guò)來(lái)?！卑驳显诿貢?shū)送他離開(kāi)之前說(shuō)。

　 “Fine,” he says, still pleasantly. “The Tuesday after next. The trial’ll be over by then.”

“好，”他說(shuō)，還是一副和善的模樣，“下下個(gè)星期二吧。到時(shí)庭審就會(huì)結(jié)束了。”

　 After Andy leaves, he feels momentarily triumphant, as if he is a hero in a fairy tale and has just vanquished a dangerous enemy. But of course Andy isn’t his enemy, and he is being ridiculous, and his sense of victory is followed by despair. He feels, as he increasingly does, that his life is something that has happened to him, rather than something he has had any role in creating. He has never been able to imagine what his life might be; even as a child, even as he dreamed of other places, of other lives, he wasn’t able to visualize what those other places and lives would be; he had believed everything he had been taught about who he was and what he would become. But his friends, Ana, Lucien, Harold and Julia: They had imagined his life for him. They had seen him as something different than he had ever seen himself as; they had allowed him to believe in possibilities that he would never have conceived. He saw his life as the axiom of equality, but they saw it as another riddle, one with no name—Jude = x—and they had filled in the x in ways Brother Luke, the counselors at the home, Dr. Traylor had never written for him or encouraged him to write for himself. He wishes he could believe their proofs the way they do; he wishes they had shown him how they had arrived at their solutions. If he knew how they had solved the proof, he thinks, he would know why to keep living. All he needs is one answer. All he needs is to be convinced once. The proof needn’t be elegant; it need only be explicable.

安迪離開(kāi)后，他感到短暫的勝利，好像他是童話故事里的英雄，剛剛擊敗一個(gè)危險(xiǎn)的敵人。安迪當(dāng)然不是他的敵人，他這樣想很荒謬，并且緊接著勝利感而來(lái)的就是絕望。他現(xiàn)在越來(lái)越覺(jué)得，他的人生是被動(dòng)接受，而不是自己開(kāi)創(chuàng)出來(lái)的。他從來(lái)無(wú)法想象自己的人生會(huì)是什么樣；即使是小時(shí)候，即使他夢(mèng)想著會(huì)去其他地方，過(guò)另一種生活，他都無(wú)法想象其他地方或其他生活的畫(huà)面；從小他就被教導(dǎo)他是什么樣的人、未來(lái)會(huì)變成什么樣，他也一直相信這些說(shuō)法。但后來(lái)，他的朋友，還有安娜、呂西安、哈羅德和朱麗婭，幫他想象他的人生。他們看待他的眼光和他自己的想法截然不同；他們讓他相信自己原來(lái)不可能想到的種種機(jī)會(huì)，他把自己的人生視為相等公理，但他們把他的人生視為另一個(gè)無(wú)名的謎語(yǔ)——裘德＝x。他們讓這個(gè)x代表各式各樣的事物，那是盧克修士、少年之家的輔導(dǎo)員、特雷勒醫(yī)生從來(lái)不會(huì)替他寫(xiě)、也不會(huì)鼓勵(lì)他自己寫(xiě)的。他真希望自己能像他們那樣，相信他們的種種證明；他真希望他們演算給他看，看他們是如何解開(kāi)這個(gè)題目的。如果他知道他們是怎么解開(kāi)這個(gè)證明題，他心想，他就會(huì)知道該如何活下去。他唯一需要的就是一個(gè)解答。他唯一需要的就是被說(shuō)服一次。這個(gè)證明的過(guò)程不必很厲害，只要可以理解就好了。

　 The trial arrives. He does well. At home that Friday, he wheels himself into the bedroom, into bed. He spends the entire weekend in a sleep that is unfamiliar and eerie, less a sleep than a glide, weightlessly moving between the realms of memory and fantasy, unconsciousness and wakefulness, anxiety and hopefulness. This is not the world of dreams, he thinks, but someplace else, and although he is aware at moments of waking—he sees the chandelier above him, the sheets around him, the sofa with its wood-fern print across from him—he is unable to distinguish when things have happened in his visions from when they have actually happened. He sees himself lifting a blade to his arm and slicing it down through his flesh, but what springs from the slit are coils of metal and stuffing and horsehair, and he realizes that he has undergone a mutation, that he is no longer even human, and he feels relief: he won’t have to break his promise to Harold after all; he has been enchanted; his culpability has vanished with his humanity.

庭審開(kāi)始，他表現(xiàn)得很好。那個(gè)星期五他回家，坐在輪椅上進(jìn)入臥室，爬到床上。整個(gè)周末他陷入一種不熟悉又怪異的睡眠中，不大像在睡覺(jué)，而是在滑翔，輕飄飄地在回憶和幻想的領(lǐng)域間移動(dòng)，無(wú)知覺(jué)卻又警覺(jué)不安，焦慮又充滿希望。這不是夢(mèng)的世界，他心想，而是別的地方。他知道自己有時(shí)會(huì)醒來(lái)片刻，看到頭上的枝狀吊燈、身上的床單、房間另一頭有鱗毛蕨印花的沙發(fā)，但他無(wú)法辨識(shí)自己看到的事物是幻覺(jué)，還是確實(shí)存在。他看到自己拿刀片往手臂的肉割下去，但切口涌出來(lái)的是金屬?gòu)椈?、填充物和馬毛，然后他明白自己產(chǎn)生了突變。他現(xiàn)在不再是人類了，覺(jué)得松了一口氣：他總算不必打破他對(duì)哈羅德的承諾了；他被施了魔法；隨著他失去人類的身份，他的罪責(zé)也跟著消失了。

　 Is this real? the voice asks him, tiny and hopeful. Are we inanimate now?

這是真的嗎？那個(gè)聲音問(wèn)他，小聲而充滿希望。我們現(xiàn)在是無(wú)生命的物體了嗎？