《渺小一生》:黃昏突然降臨

　 “No,” says Jude, after a short silence. “I should get back, too.”

“不，”裘德沉默了一下說，“我也該回去了?！?

　 “What the hell kind of Thanksgiving is this? You guys just eat and run? What am I going to do with all that turkey?” Harold says, but his theatrical outrage is muted, and Willem can feel him looking at both of them in turn, trying to figure out what’s happening, what’s gone wrong.

“這算什么感恩節(jié)?。磕銈兙瓦@樣吃了就跑？那么多火雞肉，我要怎么辦？”哈羅德說，但他戲劇化的憤慨并不嚴(yán)重，而且威廉感覺得到他輪流看著他們兩個，想搞清楚發(fā)生了什么事、哪里不對勁。

　 He waits for Jude to get ready, trying to make small talk with Julia and ignore Harold’s unspoken questions. He goes to the car first to make it clear he’s driving, and as he’s saying goodbye, Harold looks at him and opens his mouth, and then shuts it, and hugs him instead. “Drive safely,” he says.

他等著裘德收拾東西，設(shè)法跟朱麗婭閑聊，沒理會哈羅德無言的疑問。他先走向車，表明由他開車。他說再見時，哈羅德看著他，張開嘴巴，然后又閉上，只是擁抱他?！靶⌒拈_車?！彼f。

　 In the car he seethes, keeps accelerating and then reminding himself to slow down. It’s not even eight in the morning, and it’s Thanksgiving Day, and the highway is empty. Next to him, Jude is turned away from him, his face against the glass: Willem still hasn’t looked at him, doesn’t know what expression he wears, can’t see the smudges under his eyes that Andy had told him in the hospital were a telltale sign that Jude has been cutting himself too much. His anger quickens and recedes by the mile: sometimes he sees Jude lying to him—he is always lying to him, he realizes—and the fury fills him like hot oil. And sometimes he thinks of what he said, and the way he behaved, and the entire situation, that the person he loves is so terrible to himself, and feels such a sense of remorse that he has to grip the steering wheel to make himself focus. He thinks: Is he right? Do I see him as Hemming? And then he thinks: No. That’s Jude’s delusion, because he can’t understand why anyone would want to be with him. It’s not the truth. But the explanation doesn’t comfort him, and indeed makes him more wretched.

上了車，他生起悶氣來，不斷加速，然后提醒自己慢下來?，F(xiàn)在還不到8點，今天又是感恩節(jié)，高速公路一片空蕩。在他旁邊，裘德別過身子，臉貼著車窗玻璃。威廉一直沒看他，不知道他的表情如何，看不到他眼睛下方是否發(fā)黑（安迪曾在醫(yī)院告訴他，黑影出現(xiàn)就代表裘德割自己割太兇了）。他的怒氣隨著每一英里升起又消退。有時他發(fā)現(xiàn)裘德跟他撒謊——他總是發(fā)現(xiàn)他在跟他撒謊——那股怒氣會像熱油般充滿他全身。有時他想到他說的話，還有他的舉動，以及整個狀況，想到他深愛的人對自己做出那么可怕的事，他就懊惱得必須緊抓住方向盤，逼自己專心開車。他心想：裘德說得沒錯嗎？我真的把他當(dāng)成亨明了嗎？然后他又想：不，這是裘德在胡思亂想，因為他無法理解為什么有人想跟他在一起。那不是事實。但這個解釋無法安慰他，只是讓他更難受而已。

　 Just past New Haven, he stops. Normally, the passage through New Haven is the opportunity for him to recount their favorite stories from when he and JB were roommates in grad school: The time he was made to help JB and Asian Henry Young mount their guerrilla exhibition of swaying carcasses of meat outside of the medical college. The time JB cut off all his dreads and left them in the sink until Willem finally cleaned them up two weeks later. The time he and JB danced to techno music for forty straight minutes so JB’s friend Greig, a video artist, could record them. “Tell me the one when JB filled Richard’s tub with tadpoles,” Jude would say, grinning in anticipation. “Tell me the one about the time you dated that lesbian.” “Tell me the one when JB crashed that feminist orgy.” But today neither of them says anything, and they roll past New Haven in silence.

剛過紐黑文，他停了下來。當(dāng)年他和杰比都在紐黑文的耶魯大學(xué)讀研究生，兩人是室友。所以只要經(jīng)過紐黑文，通常他就有機會再說一次他們當(dāng)年最喜歡的故事：那回他被抓去幫杰比和亞裔亨利·楊準(zhǔn)備他們的“游擊”展覽，在醫(yī)學(xué)院外頭吊起一些搖晃的動物殘骸。那回杰比剪掉所有的長發(fā)辮，留在水槽里不管，直到兩星期后威廉才終于把它們清掉。那回他和杰比隨著電子音樂連跳了四十分鐘的舞，好讓杰比的視頻藝術(shù)家朋友格雷格錄下來?！罢f說那個杰比在理查德的浴缸里裝滿蝌蚪的事?！濒玫聲f，期待地咧嘴笑著?！罢f說那回你和那個女同性戀約會的事”，“說說杰比大鬧女權(quán)主義者狂歡會的事”。但今天他們兩個都沒說話，經(jīng)過紐黑文時一路沉默。

　 He gets out of the car to gas up and go to the bathroom. “I’m not stopping again,” he tells Jude, who hasn’t moved, but Jude only shakes his head, and Willem slams the door shut, his anger returning.

他停下車來加油，還去上了洗手間?！爸笪也粫偻Ａ恕！彼嬖V裘德。裘德沒動，只是搖搖頭。于是威廉甩上車門，怒氣又回來了。

　 They are at Greene Street before noon, and they get out of the car in silence, into the elevator in silence, into the apartment in silence. He takes their bag to the bedroom; behind him, he can hear Jude sit down and begin playing something on the piano—Schumann, he recognizes, Fantasy in C: a pretty vigorous number for someone who’s so wan and helpless, he thinks sourly—and realizes he has to get out of the apartment.

他們中午前回到格林街，兩人沉默地下了車，沉默地進入電梯，沉默地回到他們的公寓。他把他們的旅行袋拿回臥室，聽到身后裘德坐下來，開始彈鋼琴，他聽出是舒曼C大調(diào)幻想曲：一首充滿活力的曲子，但彈奏的人卻如此憔悴而無助，他沒好氣地想，隨即發(fā)現(xiàn)自己必須離開公寓。

　 He doesn’t even take his coat off, just heads back into the living room with his keys. “I’m going out,” he says, but Jude doesn’t stop playing. “Do you hear me?” he shouts. “I’m leaving.”

他連大衣都沒脫，就拿著鑰匙回到客廳?！拔乙鋈ァ！彼f，但裘德繼續(xù)彈著鋼琴，沒停下?！澳懵牭?jīng)]？”他吼道，“我要離開了?！?

　 Then Jude looks up, stops playing. “When are you coming back?” he asks, quietly, and Willem feels his resolve weaken.

裘德抬起頭來，停止彈奏?！澳闶裁磿r候會回來？”他低聲問，威廉覺得自己的決心減弱了。

　 But then he remembers how angry he is. “I don’t know,” he says. “Don’t wait up.” He punches the button for the elevator. There is a pause, and then Jude resumes playing.

接著又想起自己有多生氣?！安恢?，”他說，“不必熬夜等我?！彼昧Π戳穗娞莸拟o。裘德暫停了一會兒，又開始彈奏了。

　 And then he is out in the world, and all the stores are closed, and SoHo is quiet. He walks to the West Side Highway, walks up it in silence, his sunglasses on, his scarf, which he bought in Jaipur (a gray for Jude, a blue for him), and which is of such soft cashmere that it snags on even the slightest of stubble, wrapped around his stubbly neck. He walks and walks; later, he won’t even remember what he thought about, if he thought about anything. When he is hungry, he veers east to buy a slice of pizza, which he eats on the street, hardly tasting it, before returning to the highway. This is my world, he thinks, as he stands at the river and looks across it toward New Jersey. This is my little world, and I don’t know what to do in it. He feels trapped, and yet how can he feel trapped when he can’t even negotiate the small place he occupies? How can he hope for more when he can’t comprehend what he thought he did?

之后他出了門，所有的商店都關(guān)了，蘇荷區(qū)一片安靜。他走到西城高速公路，沉默地往北走，他戴著太陽眼鏡，在印度齋浦爾買的圍巾（灰色的給裘德，藍色的給自己）圍著他布滿胡茬的脖子，那羊絨太柔軟了，連一點點胡茬都會鉤到。他走了又走；事后回憶，他連自己當(dāng)時在想些什么都不記得了，或許他根本什么都沒想。餓了，他就轉(zhuǎn)向東邊買一塊披薩，站在馬路上吃，幾乎食不知味，然后又回到西城高速公路。這是我的世界，他心想，站在哈德遜河畔看著對面的新澤西州。這是我的小世界，我在里頭卻不知道該怎么做。他覺得被困住了，但如果他連自己的一小塊地方都討不到，又怎么會被困住呢？連他以前自以為明白的東西都沒搞清楚，還能奢談什么？

　 Nightfall is abrupt and brief, and the wind more intense, and still he walks. He wants warmth, food, a room with people laughing. But he can’t bear to go into a restaurant, not by himself on Thanksgiving, not in the mood he’s in: he’ll be recognized, and he doesn’t have the energy for the small talk, the bonhomie, the graciousness, that such encounters will necessitate. His friends have always teased him about his invisibility claim, his idea that he can somehow manipulate his own visibility, his own recognizability, but he had really believed it, even when evidence kept disproving him. Now he sees this belief as yet more proof of his self-deception, his way of constantly pretending that the world will align itself to his vision of it: That Jude will get better because he wants him to. That he understands him because he likes to think he does. That he can walk through SoHo and no one will know who he is. But really, he is a prisoner: of his job, of his relationship, and mostly, of his own willful na?veté.

黃昏突然降臨，接著天很快就黑了，風(fēng)變得更強，他還繼續(xù)走著。他想要溫暖，想要食物，想要一屋子歡笑的人群。但現(xiàn)在是感恩節(jié)，他不能一個人去餐廳，不能以這樣的心情；他會被認出來，在這樣巧遇的場合里，他必須跟人寒暄閑聊、友善招呼、親切談話，此刻他實在沒有那個力氣。他的朋友總是取笑他自稱可以不讓人看見的說法，笑他覺得可以控制自己要不要被看到、要不要被認出來，但他真的相信是這樣，即使種種證據(jù)一再推翻他?，F(xiàn)在他明白，這種相信只是自我欺騙的另一個證據(jù)，證明他一直都在假裝：假裝這個世界會調(diào)整得跟他眼中的一樣；假裝裘德會好轉(zhuǎn)，因為他是這么希望的；假裝他了解他，因為他愿意這樣以為；假裝他可以走過蘇荷區(qū)而不會有人知道他是誰。但其實，他是個囚徒：被囚禁在他的工作、他的伴侶關(guān)系里，尤其是，囚禁在他自己固執(zhí)的天真里。

　 Finally he buys a sandwich and catches a taxi south to Perry Street, to his apartment that is barely his anymore: in a few weeks, in fact, it no longer will be, because he has sold it to Miguel, his friend from Spain, who is spending more time in the States. But tonight, it still is, and he lets himself in, cautiously, as if the apartment may have deteriorated, may have started breeding monsters, since he was last there. It is early, but he takes off his clothes anyway, and picks Miguel’s clothes off Miguel’s chaise longue and takes Miguel’s blanket off Miguel’s bed and lies down on the chaise, letting the helplessness and tumult of the day—only a day, and so much has happened!—descend, and cries.

最后他買了個三明治，攔了一輛出租車往南去佩里街，到那個幾乎不再屬于他的公寓：事實上，再過幾個星期，這間公寓就真的不是他的了，他已經(jīng)把這里賣給來自西班牙的演員朋友米蓋爾，他現(xiàn)在會更常待在美國。但今夜，這間公寓還是他的，他開了門進去，小心翼翼，仿佛上次來過之后，這間公寓就惡化了，生出了一堆妖怪。現(xiàn)在時間還早，但他還是把衣服都脫掉，把米蓋爾的衣服從米蓋爾的躺椅上拿起來，又去米蓋爾的床上拿了米蓋爾的毯子，接著躺在那張?zhí)梢紊希屵@一天的無助和喧嘩騷動逐漸褪去（才一天，居然就發(fā)生了這么多事！），然后哭了起來。

　 As he’s crying, his phone rings, and he gets up, thinking it might be Jude, but it’s not: it’s Andy.

他哭到一半，手機響了，他爬起來，想著可能是裘德，但結(jié)果不是，是安迪。

　 “Andy,” he cries, “I fucked up, I really fucked up. I did something horrible.”

“安迪，”他哭著說，“我搞砸了，我真的搞砸了。我做了很可怕的事情?！?

　 “Willem,” Andy says gently. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is. I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“威廉，”安迪柔聲說，“我相信沒有你想的那么糟。我覺得是你對自己太嚴(yán)苛了。”

　 So he tells Andy, haltingly, explaining what has happened, and after he is finished, Andy is silent. “Oh, Willem,” he sighs, but he doesn’t sound angry, only sad. “Okay. It is as bad as you think it is,” and for some reason, this makes him laugh a little, but then also moan.

于是，他斷斷續(xù)續(xù)地把來龍去脈告訴了安迪。講完后，安迪沉默了一會兒?！鞍?，威廉，”他嘆氣，但聽起來并沒發(fā)火，而是哀傷，“好吧，事情的確就像你想的那么糟?！辈恢醯?，這反倒讓他笑了一下，不過接著又哭了。

　 “What should I do?” he asks, and Andy sighs again.

“我該怎么做？”他問。安迪又嘆氣。

　 “If you want to stay with him, I’d go home and talk to him,” he says, slowly. “And if you don’t want to stay with him—I’d go home and talk to him anyway.” He pauses. “Willem, I’m really sorry.”

“如果你想繼續(xù)跟他在一起，等我回家就會跟他談?！彼掏痰卣f，“如果你不想繼續(xù)跟他在一起——我回家后還是會找他談?！彼麜和?，“威廉，我真的很遺憾?！?

　 “I know,” he says. And then, as Andy’s saying goodbye, he stops him. “Andy,” he says, “tell me honestly: Is he mentally ill?”

“我知道?！彼f。當(dāng)安迪說再見時，他阻止了他。“安迪，”他說，“老實告訴我吧，他精神上真的病了嗎？”