《渺小一生》:他后退，雙眼仍盯著那幅畫

　 The piece isn’t large—just four feet by three feet—and is horizonally oriented. It is by far the most sharply photorealistic painting JB has produced in years, the colors rich and dense, the brushstrokes that made Willem’s hair feathery-fine. The Willem in this painting looks like Willem did shortly before he died: he thinks he is seeing Willem in the months before or after shooting The Dancer and the Stage, for which his hair was longer and darker than it was in life. After Dancer, he decides, because the sweater he is wearing, a black-green the color of magnolia leaves, is one he remembers buying for Willem in Paris when he went to visit him there.

作品本身并不大，是橫向的四英尺乘三英尺。這是杰比至今為止畫過最清晰的照相寫實作品，畫中的顏色豐富而濃密，威廉頭發(fā)的筆觸像羽毛般精細(xì)。畫中的威廉看起來是過世前不久的那個樣子，他記得威廉在拍《舞臺上的舞者》的前后幾個月就是這個模樣，因為他在戲中的頭發(fā)留得比較長、顏色也比較深。他判定，應(yīng)該是拍完這部電影之后，因為他穿的那件毛衣是木蘭花葉的墨綠色，他記得是他去巴黎探班時，在那買給威廉的。

　 He steps back, still looking. In the painting, Willem’s torso is directed toward the viewer, but his face is turned to the right so that he is almost in profile, and he is leaning toward something or someone and smiling. And because he knows Willem’s smiles, he knows Willem has been captured looking at something he loves, he knows Willem in that instant was happy. Willem’s face and neck dominate the canvas, and although the background is suggested rather than shown, he knows that Willem is at their table; he knows it from the way JB has drawn the light and shadows on Willem’s face. He has the sense that if he says Willem’s name, then the face in the painting will turn toward him and answer; he has the sense that if he stretches his hand out and strokes the canvas, he will feel beneath his fingertips Willem’s hair, his fringe of eyelashes.

他后退，雙眼仍盯著那幅畫。畫中，威廉的軀干面向觀者，但他的臉轉(zhuǎn)向右邊，幾乎是側(cè)面，他的身體則靠向某個東西或某個人，露出微笑。因為他了解威廉的微笑，所以他知道威廉被拍到時，正看著他所愛的東西，他知道威廉那一刻很快樂。威廉的臉和脖子占據(jù)了畫布的大部分，背景不太清楚，但他從杰比在威廉臉上畫的光和影，知道威廉坐在他們公寓的餐桌前。他有種感覺，如果他喊威廉的名字，畫中那張臉就會轉(zhuǎn)向他回應(yīng)；他感覺如果他伸出手撫摸畫布，他的手指就可以摸到威廉的頭發(fā)、威廉的睫毛。

　 But he doesn’t do this, of course, just looks up at last and sees JB smiling at him, sadly. “The title card’s been mounted already,” JB says, and he goes slowly to the wall behind the painting and sees its title—Willem Listening to Jude Tell a Story, Greene Street—and he feels his breath abandon him; it feels as if his heart is made of something oozing and cold, like ground meat, and it is being squeezed inside a fist so that chunks of it are falling, plopping to the ground near his feet.

當(dāng)然，這些他都沒做，最后只是往旁邊抬頭，看到杰比朝他憂傷地微笑?！爱嬅目ㄆ呀?jīng)貼好了。”杰比說。于是他緩緩走到畫作后方的墻上，看到了標(biāo)題——《威廉聽裘德說故事，格林街》。他覺得無法呼吸；感覺他的心臟仿佛是某種濕黏而冰冷的東西做的，像絞肉，而且被握在拳頭里，大塊大塊地掉下來，落在他腳邊的地上。

　 He is abruptly dizzy. “I need to sit,” he finally says, and JB takes him around the corner, to the other side of the wall where Willem will hang, where there’s a small cul-de-sac. He half sits atop one of the crates that’s been left here and hangs his head, resting his hands on his thighs. “I’m sorry,” he manages to say. “I’m sorry, JB.”

他忽然覺得暈眩?！拔业米聛??！彼詈笳f。杰比帶他走過轉(zhuǎn)角，來到掛著威廉那幅畫的墻壁后方，那是個小小的死巷。他半坐在堆在那里的條板箱上，垂著頭，雙手放在大腿上?！皩Σ黄?，”他設(shè)法開口，“對不起，杰比?！?

　 “It’s for you,” JB says, quietly. “When the show comes down, Jude. It’s yours.”

“那是給你的?！苯鼙容p聲說，“裘德，等展覽結(jié)束，那幅畫就是你的了?！?

　 “Thank you, JB,” he says. He makes himself stand upright, feels everything within him shift. I need to eat something, he thinks. When was the last time he ate? Breakfast, he thinks, but yesterday. He reaches his hand out toward the crate to center himself, to stop the rocking he feels within his head and spine; he feels this sensation more and more frequently, a floating away, a state close to ecstasy. Take me somewhere, he hears a voice inside him say, but he doesn’t know to whom he is saying this, or where he wants to go. Take me, take me. He is thinking this, crossing his arms over himself, when JB suddenly grabs him by his shoulders and kisses him on the mouth.

“謝謝你，杰比?！彼f。他逼自己站起來，覺得體內(nèi)的一切都移位了。我得吃點東西，他心想。他上次吃東西是什么時候？早餐，他心想，不過是昨天的早餐。他伸手摸著條板箱想穩(wěn)住自己，想停止腦袋和脊椎的搖晃；他越來越常有這種感覺，像是要飄走、接近出神的狀態(tài)。帶我走，他聽到腦袋里有個聲音說，但他不知道他是對誰說，也不知道自己想去哪里。帶我走，帶我走。他想著這個，雙手交抱在胸前，此時杰比忽然抓住他肩膀，吻在他嘴上。

　 He wrenches away. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, and he fumbles backward, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

他掙脫了?！澳闼麐尩脑诟闶裁?？”他問，一邊踉蹌后退，用手背抹著嘴巴。

　 “Jude, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,” JB says. “You just look so—so sad.”

“裘德，對不起，我沒有任何意思?！苯鼙日f，“只是你看起來好……好悲傷?！?

　 “So this is what you do?” he spits at JB, who steps toward him. “Don’t you dare touch me, JB.” In the background, he can hear the chatter of the installers, JB’s gallerist, the curators. He takes another step, this time toward the edge of the wall. I’m going to faint, he thinks, but he doesn’t.

“所以你就這樣？”他朝走向他的杰比啐道，“杰比，你敢再碰我試試看?！北尘奥曋校牭玫侥切┎颊谷藛T、代理杰比的畫廊經(jīng)理、策展人的說話聲。他又朝墻角走了一步。我要昏倒了，他心想，但結(jié)果沒有。

　 “Jude,” JB says, and then, his face changing, “Jude?”

“裘德，”杰比說，然后他的臉色變了，“裘德？”

　 But he is moving away from him. “Get away from me,” he says. “Don’t touch me. Leave me alone.”

他設(shè)法離開杰比?！半x我遠(yuǎn)一點，”他說，“別碰我。別來煩我?！?

　 “Jude,” JB says in a low voice, following him, “you don’t look good. Let me help you.” But he keeps walking, trying to get away from JB. “I’m sorry, Jude,” JB continues. “I’m sorry.” He is aware of the pack of people moving as a clump to the other side of the floor, hardly noticing him leaving, JB next to him; it is as if they don’t exist.

“裘德，”杰比低聲說，跟著他，“你看起來氣色很差。讓我?guī)湍惆??！钡^續(xù)走，設(shè)法擺脫杰比?！棒玫?，對不起?！苯鼙壤^續(xù)說，“對不起?！彼庾R到那些人成群走向這層樓的另一頭，根本沒發(fā)現(xiàn)他要離開，而杰比跟在他旁邊；好像他們并不存在。

　 Twenty more steps to the elevators, he estimates; eighteen more steps; sixteen; fifteen; fourteen. Beneath him, the floor has become a loosely spinning top, wobbling on its axis. Ten; nine; eight. “Jude,” says JB, who won’t stop talking, “l(fā)et me help you. Why won’t you talk to me anymore?” He is at the elevator; he smacks the button with his palm; he leans against the wall, praying he’ll be able to stay upright.

離電梯只剩二十步了，他估計，再十八步，十六，十五，十四。他腳下的地板變成一個快轉(zhuǎn)不動的陀螺，軸心搖晃著。十，九，八。“裘德，”杰比說，他就是不肯閉嘴，“讓我?guī)湍?。你現(xiàn)在為什么不再跟我講話了？”他來到電梯口，狠狠用手掌拍了電梯鈕，然后靠在墻壁上，祈禱自己不要倒下。

　 “Get away from me,” he hisses at JB. “Leave me alone.”

“離我遠(yuǎn)一點，”他咬牙低聲對杰比說，“別來煩我?！?

　 The elevator arrives; the doors open. He steps toward them. His walk now is different: he still leads with his left leg, always, and he still lifts it unnaturally high—that hasn’t changed, that has been dictated by his injury. But he no longer drags his right leg, and because his prosthetic feet are so well-articulated—much more so than his own feet had been—he is able to feel the roll of his foot as it leaves the floor, the complicated, beautiful pat of it laying itself down on the ground again, section by section.

電梯來了；門打開。他走進(jìn)去?，F(xiàn)在他走路的方式不一樣了：一如往常，他還是左腿先跨，而且腳抬起時仍然很高、很不自然。這點并沒有改變，從他當(dāng)年車禍?zhǔn)軅詠砭捅仨氝@樣。但現(xiàn)在他不會再拖著右腳走路，因為他的義肢做得太好了，比原來的腳還好。他現(xiàn)在可以感覺到他的腳離開地板的轉(zhuǎn)動，感覺到它落回地板那種復(fù)雜、優(yōu)美的輕拍，每個局部動作都清楚分明。

　 But when he is tired, when he is desperate, he finds himself unconsciously reverting to his old gait, with each foot landing flatly, slabbily, on the floor, with his right leg listing behind him. And as he steps into the elevator he forgets that his steel-and-fiberglass legs are made for more nuance than he is allowing them, and he trips and falls. “Jude!” he hears JB call out, and because he is so weak, for a moment everything is dark and empty, and when he regains his vision, he sees that the flock of people have heard JB cry out, that they are now walking in his direction. He sees as well JB’s face above him, but he is too tired to interpret his expression. Willem Listening to Jude Tell a Story, he thinks, and before him appears the painting: Willem’s face, Willem’s smile, but Willem isn’t looking at him, he is looking somewhere else. What if, he thinks, the Willem of the painting is in fact looking for him? He has a sudden urge to stand to the painting’s right, to sit in a chair in what would be Willem’s sightline, to never leave that painting by itself. There is Willem, imprisoned forever in a one-sided conversation. Here he is, in life, imprisoned as well. He thinks of Willem, alone in his painting, night after night in the empty museum, waiting and waiting for him to tell him a story.

但是當(dāng)他疲倦的時候、絕望的時候，他發(fā)現(xiàn)自己會不自覺地回到以前習(xí)慣的步態(tài)，每一步都是左腳直直落地，后面的右腳拖著往前。此刻當(dāng)他走進(jìn)電梯時，他忘了他現(xiàn)在鋼質(zhì)加玻璃纖維的雙腿比以前輕巧細(xì)致多了，于是絆了一下，摔倒了?！棒玫拢　彼牭浇鼙群?。由于他太虛弱了，一時間周圍的一切黑暗又空蕩，等到視覺恢復(fù)，他看見一群人聽到杰比的喊叫，正朝他走過來。他也看到杰比的臉在他上方，但他累得無法解讀他的表情?！锻狋玫抡f故事，格林街》，他心想，眼前出現(xiàn)了那張畫：威廉的臉、威廉的微笑，但威廉沒在看他，而是看著別的地方。如果畫中的威廉其實是在找他呢？他忽然好想站在那幅畫的右側(cè)，坐在一張威廉目光可及的椅子上，永遠(yuǎn)不要離開那幅畫。威廉在那里，永遠(yuǎn)囚禁在一個單方對話中。他在這里，活著，同樣被囚禁著。他想著威廉，孤單地在他的畫中，夜復(fù)一夜待在空蕩的美術(shù)館里，苦苦等著他去說故事。

　 Forgive me, Willem, he tells Willem in his head. Forgive me, but I have to leave you now. Forgive me, but I have to go.

原諒我，威廉，他告訴腦袋里的威廉。原諒我，但是我現(xiàn)在得離開你了。原諒我，但是我得走了。

　 “Jude,” JB says. The elevator doors are closing, but JB reaches his arm out to him.

“裘德。”杰比說。電梯門要關(guān)上了，但杰比朝他伸出手臂。

　 But he ignores it, works himself to his feet, leans into the corner of the elevator car. The people are very close now. Everyone moves so much faster than he does. “Stay away from me,” he says to JB, but he is quiet. “Leave me alone. Please leave me alone.”

他沒理會，只是設(shè)法站起身，靠在電梯里的角落。那些人現(xiàn)在很接近了。每個人動作都比他快得多?！半x我遠(yuǎn)一點，”他對杰比說，但是很小聲?！皠e來煩我。拜托別來煩我。”

　 “Jude,” JB says again. “I’m sorry.”

“裘德，”杰比又說，“對不起?！?