《渺小一生》:“我觉得你反应过度了。”

　 “Nothing like that,” Jane had said, smiling (she was a doctor as well: a gynecologist). “But he adores you, Jude; I’m so glad you came.” He had met Andy’s parents as well, and at the end of the evening, Andy had slung an arm around his neck and given him a hard, awkward kiss on the cheek, which he now did every time they saw each other. Andy always looked uncomfortable doing it, but also seemed compelled to keep doing it, which he found both funny and touching.

“不是坏事。”简微笑着说（她也是医生，是妇科），“可是他好喜欢你，裘德，我好高兴你来了。”他也见到了安迪的父母。在那晚婚礼的尾声，安迪一手揽着他的脖子，笨拙又响亮地在他脸上亲了一下，现在每次碰到他都还会这样。安迪亲他时，表情都很不自在，好像是不得不保持这个固定的仪式，让他觉得好笑又感动。

　 He appreciated Andy in many ways, but he appreciated most his unflappability. After they had met, after Andy had made it difficult not to continue seeing him by showing up at Hood, banging on their door after he had missed two follow-up appointments (he hadn’t forgotten; he had just decided not to go) and ignored three phone calls and four e-mails, he had resigned himself to the fact that it might not be bad to have a doctor—it seemed, after all, inevitable—and that Andy might be someone he could trust. The third time they met, Andy took his history, or what he would provide of it, and wrote down the facts he would tell him without comment or reaction.

他欣赏安迪的很多方面，但最欣赏的就是他临危不乱的冷静态度。他们认识之后，安迪使他很难不持续去看诊，因为在他两次回诊没出现（他没忘记，只是决定不去而已），又不理会安迪打来的三次电话、寄来的四封电子邮件之后，安迪就会去虎德馆用力地敲他们的房门。从此他只好认命，想着有个医生或许不是坏事（毕竟，他还是得看医生），而且安迪可能值得信任。他们第三次见面时，安迪开始记录他的病历，或是他愿意讲的一切，只是记下来，从不评论也毫无回应。

　 And indeed, it was only years later—a little less than four years ago—that Andy had directly mentioned his childhood. This had been during his and Andy’s first big fight. They’d had skirmishes, of course, and disagreements, and once or twice a year Andy would deliver a long lecture to him (he saw Andy every six weeks—though more frequently these days—and could always anticipate which appointment would be the Lecture Appointment by the terseness with which Andy would greet him and conduct his examination) that covered what Andy considered his perplexing and infuriating unwillingness to take proper care of himself, his maddening refusal to see a therapist, and his bizarre reluctance to take pain medication that would probably improve his quality of life.

一直要到几年以后（将近四年前），安迪才首次直接提到他的童年，这发生在他和安迪第一次大吵期间。他们之前当然有些小争执或意见不合，而且每年总有一两次，安迪会发表一篇长篇训话（他每六个星期去安迪那里一次，不过最近频率更高了，而且总是能从安迪迎接他和检查时简短、生硬的态度，预测到这回是训话约诊），内容涵盖他不愿意好好照顾自己，莫名其妙且令人愤慨；他拒绝去做心理咨询，令人心烦；还有他不肯吃止痛药，改善自己的生活质量，实在怪异。

　 The fight had concerned what Andy had retroactively come to consider a botched suicide attempt. This had been right before New Year’s, and he had been cutting himself, and he had cut too close to a vein, and it had resulted in a great, sloppy, bloody mess into which he had been forced to involve Willem. In the examining room that night, Andy had refused to speak to him, he was so angry, and had actually muttered to himself as he made his stitches, each as neat and tiny as if he were embroidering them.

那场大吵源于安迪的事后回想，认为他上一次来看诊是自杀未遂。事情发生在新年之前，当时他在割自己，不小心割得太靠近一条静脉，结果流了好多血，弄得一塌糊涂，他不得不找威廉帮忙。那天晚上在检查室里，安迪气得不肯跟他讲话，一边帮他缝伤口一边念念有词，那些缝线整齐又利落，简直像刺绣。

　 Even before Andy had opened his mouth at his next appointment, he had known that he was furious. He had actually considered not coming in for his checkup at all, except he knew if he didn’t, Andy would simply keep calling him—or worse, calling Willem, or worse yet, Harold—until he showed up.

下一次回诊，安迪还没开口，他就知道他气坏了。他其实考虑过不要回去检查了，只不过他知道如果真的不去，安迪会一直打电话给他，甚至更糟，打给威廉，最后还可能打给哈罗德。一直打到他出现为止。

　 “I should fucking have had you hospitalized,” were Andy’s first words to him, followed by, “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“我他妈的早该送你去住院。”安迪劈头就跟他说，然后又说，“我他妈的真是个白痴。”

　 “I think you’re overreacting,” he’d begun, but Andy ignored him.

“我觉得你反应过度了。”他开口，但安迪没理他。

　 “I happen to believe you weren’t trying to kill yourself, or I’d’ve had you committed so fast your head would’ve spun,” he said. “It’s only because statistically, anyone who cuts themselves as much as you do, and for as many years as you have, is in less immediate danger of suicide than someone who’s less consistently self-injurious.” (Andy was fond of statistics. He sometimes suspected he made them up.) “But Jude, this is crazy, and that was way too close. Either you start seeing a shrink immediately or I’m going to commit you.”

“当时我碰巧相信你不是要自杀，不然我会火速把你送去住院，快到让你脑袋都晕了。”安迪说，“只是因为从统计学上说，像你这样割自己割了那么多次、又割了那么多年的人，和一个较少自残的人比起来，通常更没有迫切要自杀的需求。（安迪很喜欢统计数字。他有时怀疑这些数字是他自己编出来的。）可是裘德，这太疯狂了，也太惊险了。你得马上去看心理咨询师，否则我就要强制把你送去住院。”

　 “You can’t do that,” he’d said, furious himself now, although he knew Andy could: he had looked up the laws of involuntary commitment in New York State, and they were not in his favor.

“你不能这样做。”他说，也火大起来。他知道安迪可以，因为他查过纽约州的非自愿住院相关法律，对自己很不利。

　 “You know I can,” Andy had said. He was almost shouting at this point. Their appointments were always after office hours, because they sometimes chatted afterward if Andy had time and was in a good mood.

“你明知道我可以的。”安迪说，此时他几乎在吼。他们的约诊总是在正常看诊的时间之后，有时看完后，如果安迪有时间又心情不错，两个人还会聊一下。

　 “I’ll sue you,” he’d said, absurdly, and Andy had yelled back at him, “Go right ahead! Do you know how fucked up this is, Jude? Do you have any idea what kind of position you’re putting me in?”

“我会告死你。”他荒谬地说，安迪也吼回去：“去告啊！你知道这个状况有多糟糕吗，裘德？你知道我的立场有多为难吗？”

　 “Don’t worry,” he’d said, sarcastically, “I don’t have any family. No one’s going to sue you for wrongful death.”

“别担心。”他讽刺地说，“我没有任何家人，不会有人为了过失致死告你的。”

　 Andy had stepped back, then, as if he had tried to hit him. “How dare you,” he’d said, slowly. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

安迪后退，好像想揍他。“你居然敢讲这种话。”他缓缓地说，“你明知道我不是那个意思。”

　 And of course he did. But “Whatever,” he said. “I’m leaving.” And he slid off the table (fortunately, he hadn’t changed out of his clothes; Andy had started lecturing him before he’d had a chance) and tried to leave the room, although leaving the room at his pace was hardly dramatic, and Andy scooted over to stand in the doorway.

他当然知道。“随便你。”他说，“我要离开了。”然后他滑下诊疗台（幸好，他还没换上诊疗的病人袍，因为他没来得及换，安迪就开始训他了），想离开诊间。尽管以他的步伐，离开房间不会太戏剧化，但安迪匆忙冲到门口挡住了去路。

　 “Jude,” he said, in one of his sudden mood changes, “I know you don’t want to go. But this is getting scary.” He took a breath. “Have you ever even talked to anyone about what happened when you were a kid?”

“裘德，”他说，心情突然改变，“我知道你不想离开。这个状况变得太可怕了。”他吸了口气，“你跟别人谈过你小时候发生的事情吗？”

　 “That doesn’t have anything to do with anything,” he’d said, feeling cold. Andy had never alluded to what he’d told him, and he found himself feeling betrayed that he should do so now.

“那跟任何事情都没有关系。”他说，觉得好冷。安迪从没提过他告诉他的那些，现在居然提了，他发现自己有种被背叛的感觉。

　 “Like hell it doesn’t,” Andy had said, and the self-conscious theatricality of the phrase—did anyone really say that outside of the movies?—made him smile despite himself, and Andy, mistaking his smile for mockery, changed directions again. “There’s something incredibly arrogant about your stubbornness, Jude,” he continued. “Your utter refusal to listen to anyone about anything that concerns your health or well-being is either a pathological case of self-destructiveness or it’s a huge fuck-you to the rest of us.”

“没关系才有鬼呢。”安迪说，那种夸张得令人难为情的用词（除了在电影里，真有人这样说话吗？）让他忍不住微微笑了。安迪误以为他在嘲笑他，再度改变了心情。“裘德，你这么顽固，实在傲慢得不可理喻。”他继续说，“你完全拒绝听任何人关于你身心健康的建议，这不是自我毁灭的病理学案例，就是对我们其他人很大的羞辱。”

　 He was hurt by this. “And there’s something incredibly manipulative about you threatening to commit me whenever I disagree with you, and especially in this case, when I’ve told you it was a stupid accident,” he hurled back at Andy. “Andy, I appreciate you, I really do. I don’t know what I’d do without you. But I’m an adult and you can’t dictate what I do or don’t do.”

他被这些话伤到了。“每回我不同意你，你就威胁要把我送去住院，那才是不可理喻的控制狂。尤其这回，我明明跟你说过，那只是愚蠢的意外而已。”他朝安迪大声说，“安迪，我感激你，真的。我不知道没有你的话我会怎么样。但我是成年人了，你不能支配我做什么或不做什么。”

　 “You know what, Jude?” Andy had asked (now he was yelling again). “You’re right. I can’t dictate your decisions. But I don’t have to accept them, either. Go find some other asshole to be your doctor. I’m not going to do it any longer.”

“你知道吗，裘德？”安迪问（现在他又在吼了），“你说的没错，我不能控制你怎么决定，但我也不必接受。你去找其他混蛋当你的医生吧。我没办法替你效劳了。”

　 “Fine,” he’d snapped, and left.

“很好。”他凶巴巴地说，然后离开了。