Later!” The word, the voice, the attitude.
I’d never heard anyone use “later” to say goodbye before. It sounded harsh, curt, and dismissive, spoken with the veiled indifference of people who may not care to see or hear from you again.
It is the first thing I remember about him, and I can hear it still today. Later!
I shut my eyes, say the word, and I’m back in Italy, so many years ago, walking down the tree-lined driveway, watching him step out of the cab, billowy blue shirt, wide-open collar, sunglasses, straw hat, skin everywhere. Suddenly he’s shaking my hand, handing me his backpack, removing his suitcase from the trunk of the cab, asking if my father is home.
It might have started right there and then: the shirt, the rolled-up sleeves, the rounded balls of his heels slipping in and out of his frayed espadrilles, eager to test the hot gravel path that led to our house, every stride already asking, Which way to the beach?
This summer’s houseguest. Another bore.
 
“回头再说！”那字眼、那声音、那态度。
我从未听过任何人用“回头再说”这句话来道别。听起来刺耳、简慢轻蔑，语气中有着隐藏的冷淡，感觉说话的人似乎不情愿再见到你或收到你的音信。
这是我关于他的第一个记忆，至今依稀可闻。回头再说！
闭上眼睛，说出这句话，我仿佛一下子又回到多年前的意大利：我沿着林荫车道走，看着他走下出租车，身上是件宽松的蓝衬衫，领口大敞，戴着太阳眼镜、草帽，露出大片肌肤；下一刻，他就跟我握手，把背包递给我，从出租车后备厢里拿出手提箱，寒暄着问我父亲是否在家。
一切或许始于那个地方、那个瞬间：那件衬衫、卷起的衣袖、浑圆的脚后跟在磨损的布面平底凉鞋里滑进滑出的样子、急着试探通往我们家的那条砾石道热腾腾的温度，迈开的每一步伐仿佛都在问着：“哪条路通往海边？”
今年夏天的来客，又一个讨厌鬼。
 
Then, almost without thinking, and with his back already turned to the car, he waves the back of his free hand and utters a careless Later! to another passenger in the car who has probably split the fare from the station. No name added, no jest to smooth out the ruffled leave-taking, nothing. His one-word send-off: brisk, bold, and blunted—take your pick, he couldn’t be bothered which.
You watch, I thought, this is how he’ll say goodbye to us when the time comes. With a gruff, slapdash Later!
Meanwhile, we’d have to put up with him for six long weeks.
I was thoroughly intimidated. The unapproachable sort.
I could grow to like him, though. From rounded chin to rounded heel. Then, within days, I would learn to hate him.
This, the very person whose photo on the application form months earlier had leapt out with promises of instant affinities.
 
接着，背对出租车的他几乎不假思索地挥挥空着的那只手，朝车上另一位或许是从车站一起拼车过来的乘客吐出一句漫不经心的“回头再说”。没加上名字，没有一句俏皮话来缓和告别时那种不甚愉悦的气氛，什么都没有。他那简短的道别显得快活、唐突、干脆——随你怎么说，他才不在乎。
看着吧，到时候他也会这样跟我们道别。用一个粗鲁又马虎的“回头再说”！
同时，我们得忍受他漫长的六个星期。
我有点害怕。他肯定是那种难以相处的人。
不过，我也可能会慢慢喜欢他。从他圆圆的下巴到圆圆的脚跟。接着，几天之内，我会开始恨他。
正是他，几个月前照片还贴在申请表的人，带着让人不由得喜欢的亲和力，活脱脱出现我眼前。
 

《请以你的名字呼唤我》