《渺小一生》:所以我還能告訴你什么呢？

　 I stroked his hair, then, and he let me. “You don’t have to be,” I said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I wanted to cry, but I thought he might, and if he wanted to, I would try not to. “You know that, right?” I asked him. “You know this wasn’t your fault, you know you didn’t deserve this?” He said nothing, so I kept asking, and asking, until finally he gave a small nod. “You know that guy is a fucking asshole, right?” I asked him, and he turned his face away. “You know you’re not to blame, right?” I asked him. “You know that this says nothing about you and what you’re worth?”

我撫著他的頭發(fā)，他沒有反抗?！澳悴槐匦呃??！蔽艺f(shuō)，“你沒做錯(cuò)什么?！蔽蚁肟蓿矣X得他可能也想哭。如果他想哭，我就要設(shè)法別哭?！澳阒腊?？”我問(wèn)他，“你知道這不是你的錯(cuò)，你知道你不該受這種罪？”他什么都沒說(shuō)，于是我一直問(wèn)、一直問(wèn)，直到最后他輕輕點(diǎn)了個(gè)頭?！澳阒滥羌一锸莻€(gè)他媽的混蛋吧？”我問(wèn)他，他別開臉，“你知道這一切都不該怪你吧？”我問(wèn)他，“你知道這不代表你是什么樣的人，也不代表你的價(jià)值？”

　 “Harold,” he said. “Please.” And I stopped, although really, I should have kept going.

“哈羅德，”他說(shuō)，“拜托?！比缓笪彝Ｏ拢鋵?shí)我真該繼續(xù)問(wèn)下去的。

　 For a while we said nothing. “Can I ask you a question?” I said, and after a second or two, he nodded again. I didn’t even know what I was going to say until I was saying it, and as I was saying it, I didn’t know where it had come from, other than I suppose it was something I had always known and had never wanted to ask, because I dreaded his answer: I knew what it would be, and I didn’t want to hear it. “Were you sexually abused as a child?”

有一會(huì)兒，我們都沒說(shuō)話?！拔铱梢詥?wèn)你一個(gè)問(wèn)題嗎？”我說(shuō)。過(guò)了一兩秒鐘，他才點(diǎn)頭。我開口前都還不知道要說(shuō)什么，而且我說(shuō)出來(lái)的時(shí)候，也不知道那個(gè)問(wèn)題是哪里來(lái)的，只不過(guò)我想那是我一直知道、卻始終不想問(wèn)的，因?yàn)槲液ε滤幕卮?，我知道他?huì)怎么說(shuō)，而我不想聽?！澳阈r(shí)候受到過(guò)性侵害嗎？”

　 I could sense, rather than see, him stiffen, and under my hand, I could feel him shudder. He still hadn’t looked at me, and now he rolled to his left side, moving his bandaged arm to the pillow next to him. “Jesus, Harold,” he said, finally.

我可以感覺到（而非看到）他全身變得僵硬，而且在我的手底下，我發(fā)現(xiàn)他開始顫抖。他還是沒看我，而且這會(huì)兒把頭轉(zhuǎn)向了左邊，貼了繃帶的手臂放在臉旁邊的枕頭上?！疤彀?，哈羅德?！弊詈笏K于說(shuō)。

　 I withdrew my hand. “How old were you when it happened?” I asked.

我抽回手，“當(dāng)時(shí)你幾歲？”我問(wèn)。

　 There was a pause, and then he pushed his face into the pillow. “Harold,” he said, “I’m really tired. I need to sleep.”

他有一會(huì)兒沒回答，然后把臉埋進(jìn)枕頭里?！肮_德，”他說(shuō)，“我真的很累，我要睡了。”

　 I put my hand on his shoulder, which jumped, but I held on. Beneath my palm I could feel his muscles tense, could feel that shiver running through him. “It’s okay,” I told him. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” I said. “It’s not your fault, Jude, do you understand me?” But he was pretending to be asleep, though I could still feel that vibration, everything in his body alert and alarmed.

我一手放在他肩膀上，他驚跳了一下，但是我沒拿開。在我的手掌底下，我可以感覺到他的肌肉繃緊了，全身顫抖?！皼]事的?！蔽腋嬖V他，“你沒有什么好羞愧的?！蔽艺f(shuō)，“那不是你的錯(cuò)，裘德，你明白嗎？”但他假裝睡著了，不過(guò)我還是可以感覺到那種震顫，他全身警戒而恐慌。

　 I sat there for a while longer, watching him hold himself rigid. Finally I left, closing the door behind me.

我又在那里坐了一會(huì)兒，看著他全身僵硬不動(dòng)。最后我走出房間，關(guān)上門。

　 I stayed for the rest of the week. You called him that night, and I answered his phone and lied to you, said something useless about an accident, heard the worry in your voice and wanted so badly to tell you the truth. The next day, you called again and I listened outside his door as he lied to you as well: “A car accident. No. No, not serious. What? I was up at Richard’s house for the weekend. I nodded off and hit a tree. I don’t know; I was tired—I’ve been working a lot. No, a rental. Because mine’s in the shop. It’s not a big deal. No, I’m going to be fine. No, you know Harold—he’s just overreacting. I promise. I swear. No, he’s in Rome until the end of next month. Willem: I promise. It’s fine! Okay. I know. Okay. I promise; I will. You too. Bye.”

接下來(lái)那個(gè)星期，我一直待在那里。你那天晚上打電話來(lái)，我?guī)退恿穗娫?，跟你撒謊，說(shuō)他出車禍?zhǔn)裁吹?，聽到你聲音里的憂慮，我好想告訴你事實(shí)。次日，你又打來(lái)，我在他門外聽著他也跟你撒謊：“車禍。不，不，不嚴(yán)重。什么？我去理查德的別墅過(guò)周末。我開車時(shí)打瞌睡，撞到一棵樹。不知道，我累了吧——我工作量太大了。不，是租來(lái)的車。因?yàn)槲业能囁腿ケｐB(yǎng)了。沒什么大不了的。沒什么，我沒事的。沒有啦，你也知道哈羅德——他總是大驚小怪。我保證。我發(fā)誓。沒有，他在羅馬，要到下個(gè)月底才會(huì)回來(lái)。威廉，我跟你保證。沒事的！好，我知道。好，我保證。我會(huì)的，你也是。再見?！?

　 Mostly, he was meek, tractable. He ate his soup every morning, he took his pills. They made him logy. Every morning he was in his study, working, but by eleven he was on the couch, sleeping. He slept through lunch, and all afternoon, and I only woke him for dinner. You called him every night. Julia called him, too: I always tried to eavesdrop, but couldn’t hear much of their conversations, only that he didn’t say much, which meant Julia must have been saying a great deal. Malcolm came over several times, and the Henry Youngs and Elijah and Rhodes visited as well. JB sent over a drawing of an iris; I had never known him to draw flowers before. He fought me, as Andy had predicted, on the dressings on his legs and back, which he wouldn’t, no matter how I pleaded with and shouted at him, let me see. He let Andy, and I heard Andy say to him, “You’re going to need to come uptown every other day and let me change these. I mean it.”

大部分狀況下，他都很順從、很溫馴。每天早上，他會(huì)喝掉他的濃湯，吃掉他的藥。那些藥讓他變得遲鈍。每天早上他都在書房里工作，到了11點(diǎn)，他會(huì)去長(zhǎng)沙發(fā)上睡覺。睡過(guò)午餐時(shí)間和一整個(gè)下午，直到我叫他吃晚餐。你每天晚上打電話給他。朱麗婭也會(huì)打給他，我總是想偷聽，但沒聽到多少，只知道他沒說(shuō)什么，這表示一定都是朱麗婭在說(shuō)話。馬爾科姆來(lái)過(guò)幾次，還有兩位亨利·楊、伊萊賈和羅茲也來(lái)看過(guò)他。杰比送了一幅素描過(guò)來(lái)，里頭是一朵鳶尾花，我從來(lái)不知道他也會(huì)畫花。一如安迪所料，他不肯讓我?guī)退膬赏群捅巢繐Q藥，無(wú)論我怎么求他、吼他，他都不肯讓我看。他只肯讓安迪幫他換藥。我聽到安迪跟他說(shuō)：“你每隔一天就得到我診所來(lái)，讓我?guī)湍銚Q，我是認(rèn)真的。”

　 “Fine,” he snapped.

“好啦?！彼麅窗桶突卮稹?

　 Lucien came to see him, but he was asleep in his study. “Don’t wake him,” he said, and then, peeking in at him, “Jesus.” We talked for a bit, and he told me about how admired he was at the firm, which is something you never get tired of hearing about your child, whether he is four and in preschool and excels with clay, or is forty and in a white-shoe firm and excels in the protection of corporate criminals. “I’d say you must be proud of him, but I think I know your politics too well for that.” He grinned. He liked Jude quite a bit, I could tell, and I found myself feeling slightly jealous, and then stingy for feeling jealous at all.

盧西恩也來(lái)看過(guò)他，但當(dāng)時(shí)他在書房里睡覺。“別吵醒他?！北R西恩說(shuō)，然后探頭偷偷看了一下，“天啊?！蔽覀兞牧艘粫?huì)兒，他告訴我事務(wù)所里大家有多欣賞他。聽別人夸你的孩子，這種事情你永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)膩，無(wú)論他是4歲、在托兒所捏黏土很厲害，或是40歲、在大型律師事務(wù)所里很會(huì)保護(hù)企業(yè)罪犯。“我本來(lái)想說(shuō)你一定很以他為榮，但我太了解你的政治立場(chǎng)，所以就不說(shuō)了?！彼肿煨ΑＮ铱吹贸鰜?lái)，他相當(dāng)喜歡裘德，我發(fā)現(xiàn)自己有點(diǎn)嫉妒，隨即覺得自己也太小氣了。

　 “No,” I said. “I am proud of him.” I felt bad then, for my years of scolding him about Rosen Pritchard, the one place where he felt safe, the one place he felt truly weightless, the one place where his fears and insecurities banished themselves.

“不，”我說(shuō)，“我的確很以他為榮。”我覺得很自責(zé)，因?yàn)檫@些年來(lái)我都為了他待在羅普克而訓(xùn)斥他，但他在那里明明覺得很安全，也真的輕松自在，可以把他的恐懼和不安全感隔絕在外。

　 By the following Monday, the day before I left, he looked better: his cheeks were the color of mustard, but the swelling had subsided, and you could see the bones of his face again. It seemed to hurt him a little less to breathe, a little less to speak, and his voice was less breathy, more like itself. Andy had let him halve his morning pain dosage, and he was more alert, though not exactly livelier. We played a game of chess, which he won.

下個(gè)星期一，就在我離開的前一天，他看起來(lái)好多了：臉頰變成芥末黃，不過(guò)已經(jīng)消腫，又看得到臉上的骨頭了。他呼吸、講話時(shí)沒那么痛了，氣音少了些，比較像原來(lái)的樣子。安迪把他早上的止痛藥藥量減半，他的意識(shí)也更加清楚，不過(guò)精神倒不見得比較好。我們下了一盤西洋棋，他贏了。

　 “I’ll be back on Thursday evening,” I told him over dinner. I only had classes on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays that semester.

“我星期四晚上會(huì)回來(lái)。”我晚餐時(shí)告訴他。我那個(gè)學(xué)期只有周二、周三、周四有課。

　 “No,” he said, “you don’t have to. Thank you, Harold, but really—I’ll be fine.”

“不，”他說(shuō)，“你不必回來(lái)了。謝謝你，哈羅德。但我真的沒事了。”

　 “I already bought the ticket,” I said. “And anyway, Jude—you don’t always have to say no, you know. Remember? Acceptance?” He didn’t say anything else.

“我已經(jīng)買了機(jī)票，”我說(shuō)，“總之，裘德，你不必總是拒絕，你知道。還記得嗎？接受就好?！彼蜎]再說(shuō)什么了。

　 So what else can I tell you? He went back to work that Wednesday, despite Andy’s suggestion he stay home through the end of the week. And despite his threats, Andy came over every night to change his dressings and inspect his legs. Julia returned, and every weekend in October, she or I would go to New York and stay with him at Greene Street. Malcolm stayed with him during the week. He didn’t like it, I could tell, but we decided we didn’t care what he liked, not in this matter.

所以我還能告訴你什么呢？那個(gè)星期三他回去上班，不理會(huì)安迪要他休養(yǎng)到周末的建議。而安迪也不理會(huì)他的威脅，每天晚上都來(lái)幫他換藥，檢查他的兩腿。朱麗婭回來(lái)了，十月的每個(gè)周末，她或我會(huì)來(lái)紐約，住在格林街陪他。工作日，馬爾科姆會(huì)過(guò)來(lái)陪他過(guò)夜。他不喜歡，我看得出來(lái)，但我們才不管他喜不喜歡，這件事我們就是要堅(jiān)持。

　 He got better. His legs didn’t get infected. Neither did his back. He was lucky, Andy kept saying. He regained the weight he had lost. By the time you came home, in early November, he was almost healed. By Thanksgiving, which we had that year at the apartment in New York so he wouldn’t have to travel, his cast had been removed and he was walking again. I watched him closely over dinner, watched him talking with Laurence and laughing with one of Laurence’s daughters, but couldn’t stop thinking of him that night, his face when Caleb grabbed his wrist, his expression of pain and shame and fear. I thought of the day I had learned he was using a wheelchair at all: it was shortly after I had found the bag in Truro and was in the city for a conference, and he had come into the restaurant in his chair, and I had been shocked. “Why did you never tell me?” I asked, and he had pretended to be surprised, acted like he thought he had. “No,” I said, “you hadn’t,” and finally he had told me that he hadn’t wanted me to see him that way, as someone weak and helpless. “I would never think of you that way,” I’d told him, and although I didn’t think I did, it did change how I thought of him; it made me remember that what I knew of him was just a tiny fraction of who he was.

他逐漸好轉(zhuǎn)，兩腿沒有感染，背部也沒有。安迪一直說(shuō)他很幸運(yùn)。他瘦下來(lái)的體重又養(yǎng)回來(lái)了。等到你十一月初回家，他幾乎已經(jīng)痊愈了。到了感恩節(jié)時(shí)（這一年改去我們紐約的公寓過(guò)節(jié)，免得他跑太遠(yuǎn)），他的石膏已經(jīng)拆掉，而且又能走路了。晚餐時(shí)我仔細(xì)觀察他，看著他跟勞倫斯聊天，跟勞倫斯的雙胞胎女兒談笑，卻不斷想起那一夜的他，想到凱萊布抓住他手腕時(shí)，他臉上痛苦、羞愧、恐懼的表情。我想到之前得知他用輪椅的那天：在特魯羅發(fā)現(xiàn)那個(gè)袋子后不久，我到紐約參加學(xué)術(shù)會(huì)議，他坐著輪椅跟我在餐廳見面，當(dāng)時(shí)我很震驚?！澳銥槭裁磸膩?lái)沒告訴過(guò)我？”我問(wèn)，他假裝很驚訝，說(shuō)以為他講過(guò)了?！安?，”我說(shuō)，“你沒提過(guò)?！弊詈笏鸥嬖V我，他不希望我看到他那個(gè)樣子，把他當(dāng)成軟弱無(wú)助的人?！拔医^不會(huì)那樣想你的?！蔽腋嬖V他。盡管我不認(rèn)為自己會(huì)那樣想，但那的確改變了我對(duì)他的想法，那提醒了我，我對(duì)他的了解只是一小部分而已。

　 It sometimes seemed as if that week had been a haunting, one that only Andy and I had witnessed. In the months that followed, someone would occasionally joke about it: his poor driving, his Wimbledon ambitions, and he would laugh back, make some self-deprecating comment. He could never look at me in those moments; I was a reminder of what had really happened, a reminder of what he saw as his degradation.

有時(shí)候，那個(gè)星期好像是一場(chǎng)鬧鬼事件，只有安迪和我目睹。接下來(lái)幾個(gè)月，偶爾有人會(huì)拿來(lái)開玩笑：笑他駕駛技術(shù)很爛，笑他網(wǎng)球天王的野心，他也會(huì)大笑起來(lái)，說(shuō)些自我嘲諷的話。但在這些時(shí)刻，他都不敢看我，因?yàn)槲視?huì)讓他想起當(dāng)時(shí)的真相，提醒他那段引以為恥的往事。