《渺小一生》:但他知道，凯莱布不再是人类

　 Caleb doesn’t say anything for a minute, just finishes drinking his bottle of water. “You can still walk, though, right?”

有一分钟，凯莱布什么都没说，只是喝掉他手上那瓶水。“不过你还是可以走路，对吧？”

　 He forces himself to look back at Caleb. “Well—technically, yes. But—”

他逼自己看着凯莱布：“唔，严格来说，没错。但是……”

　 “Jude,” says Caleb, “I know your doctor probably disagrees, but I have to say I think there’s something a little—weak, I guess, about your always going to the easiest solution. I think you have to just endure some things, you know? This is what I meant with my parents: it was always such a succumbing to their every pain, their every twinge.

“裘德，”凯莱布说，“我知道你的医生大概不同意，但我必须说，我觉得你总是挑最简单的解决方式，实在有点软弱吧。我认为你就是必须忍受一些事，你知道吗？我对我父母的想法就是这样：他们总是轻易地屈服于每一种疼痛、每一次的不舒服。

　 “So I think you should tough it out. I think if you can walk, you should. I just don’t think you should get into this habit of babying yourself when you’re capable of doing better.”

“所以我想，你应该要坚强起来。我想如果你可以走路，那就该走。我只是认为，当你有能力做得更好的时候，就不该养成这种宠爱自己的习惯。”

　 “Oh,” he says. “Right. I understand.” He feels a profound shame, as if he has just asked for something filthy and illicit.

“啊，”他说，“好，我明白。”他忽然觉得很羞愧，好像自己刚刚提了什么肮脏而不正当的要求。

　 “I’m going to shower,” says Caleb, after a silence, and leaves.

“我要去冲澡了。”凯莱布沉默了一会儿说，随即走开。

　 For the rest of the day, he tries to move very little, and Caleb, as if not wanting to find reason to get angry with him, doesn’t ask him to do anything. Caleb makes lunch, which they both eat on the sofa, both working on their computers. The kitchen and living room are one large sunlit space, with full-length windows that open onto the lawn overlooking the beach, and when Caleb is in the kitchen making dinner, he takes advantage of his turned back to inch, wormlike, to the hallway bathroom. He wants to go to the bedroom to get more aspirin out of his bag, but it’s too far, and he instead waits in the doorway on his knees until Caleb turns toward the stove again before crawling back to the sofa, where he has spent the entire day.

剩下的那一整个白天，他都尽量少移动，而凯莱布仿佛不想找到对他发脾气的理由，也没要求他做任何事。凯莱布做了午餐，两个人在沙发上吃完后，便各自对着电脑工作。厨房和相连的客厅是一整个阳光明亮的空间，一整面落地窗面向草坪，往外俯瞰着沙滩。等到凯莱布去厨房做晚餐时，他趁着他背对客厅的机会，像蠕虫般慢慢移动到门厅的洗手间。他想去卧室的袋子里拿阿司匹林，但那里太远了，于是他跪在门口，等到凯莱布再度面向灶台时，才爬回自己待了一整天的沙发。

　 “Dinner,” Caleb announces, and he takes a breath and brings himself to his feet, which are cinder blocks, they are so heavy and clunky, and, watching them, begins to make his way to the table. It feels like it takes minutes, hours, to walk to his chair, and at one point he looks up and sees Caleb, his jaw moving, watching him with what looks like hate.

“晚餐好了。”凯莱布宣布。他吸了口气站起来，两脚感觉像煤渣砖，沉重又笨拙，然后他盯着脚，开始走向餐桌。感觉好像走了好几个小时，才走到餐椅旁。中间他一度抬头看着凯莱布，他的下颌移动，看着他的眼神似乎带着恨意。

　 “Hurry up,” Caleb says.

“快点。”凯莱布说。

　 They eat in silence. He can barely stand it. The scrape of the knife against the plate: unbearable. The crunch of Caleb biting down, unnecessarily hard, on a green bean: unbearable. The feel of food in his mouth, all of it becoming a fleshy nameless beast: unbearable.

他们沉默地吃着。他简直受不了。刀子摩擦着餐盘：受不了。凯莱布咀嚼四季豆的嘎吱声大得没必要：受不了。他嘴里的食物全化为一头肉乎乎的野兽：受不了。

　 “Caleb,” he begins, very quietly, but Caleb doesn’t answer him, just pushes back his chair and stands and goes to the sink.

“凯莱布。”他开口了，很小声，但凯莱布没回应，只是把椅子往后一推，站起来走向水槽。

　 “Bring me your plate,” Caleb says, and then watches him. He stands, slowly, and begins his trek to the sink, eyeing each footfall before he begins a new step.

“把盘子拿来给我。”凯莱布说，然后看着他。他慢吞吞站起来，开始艰难地走向水槽，看着每次脚落地，才敢走下一步。

　 He will wonder, later, if he forced the moment, if he could have in fact made the twenty steps without falling had he just concentrated harder. But that isn’t what happens. He moves his right foot just half a second before his left one has landed, and he falls, and the plate falls before him, the china shattering on the floor. And then, moving as swiftly as if he’d anticipated it, there is Caleb, yanking him up by his hair and punching him in the face with his fist, so hard that he is airborne, and when he lands, he does so against the table, knocking the base of his skull against its edge. His fall makes the bottle of wine jump off the surface, the liquid glugging onto the floor, and Caleb makes a roar, and snatches at the bottle by its throat and hits him on the back of his neck with it.

后来他很好奇，如果他在那一刻更努力一点、更专心一点，是否能设法走完那二十步而不摔倒。反正那样的状况没有发生。他左脚还没落地，右脚就提早半秒抬起来，他摔倒了，手上那叠瓷盘落在前方，砸在地板上哗啦响。然后，凯莱布冲过来，快得好像他早就料到了，他来到他面前，抓起他的头发，用拳头打他的脸，力道大得让他往后飞起来，落地时撞上茶几，后脑勺撞在桌沿上。茶几上的葡萄酒也被撞倒了，没喝完的酒咕噜咕噜流到地上，凯莱布大吼一声，抓住酒瓶的颈部，朝他的后颈敲下去。

　 “Caleb,” he gasps, “please, please.” He was never one to beg for mercy, not even as a child, but he has become that person, somehow. When he was a child, his life meant little to him; he wishes, now, that that were still true. “Please,” he says. “Caleb, please forgive me—I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“凯莱布，”他猛吸一口气，“拜托，拜托。”他从来不是那种求饶的人，就连小时候都不会，但不知怎的，他已经变成这样的人了。在他小时候，这条命对他来说没什么意义；但现在，他真希望还是那样。“拜托，”他说，“凯莱布，拜托原谅我。对不起，对不起。”

　 But Caleb, he knows, is no longer human. He is a wolf, he is a coyote. He is muscle and rage. And he is nothing to Caleb, he is prey, he is disposable. He is being dragged to the edge of the sofa, he knows what will happen next. But he continues to ask, anyway. “Please, Caleb,” he says. “Please don’t. Caleb, please.”

但他知道，凯莱布不再是人类了，他变成了一头狼或是郊狼，他就是肌肉，是愤怒。他对凯莱布无足轻重，只是头猎物，可以被丢弃。他被拖到沙发边缘，他知道接下来会发生什么，但无论如何还是继续哀求着。“拜托，凯莱布，”他说，“拜托不要。凯莱布，拜托。”

　 When he regains consciousness, he is on the floor near the back of the sofa, and the house is silent. “Hello?” he calls, hating the quaver in his voice, but he doesn’t hear anything. He doesn’t need to—he knows, somehow, that he is alone.

再度恢复知觉时，他发现自己躺在沙发后方的地板上，屋子里很安静。“哈喽？”他喊道，好恨自己声音里的颤抖，没听到任何动静。其实他用不着听，就知道屋里只有他一个人。

　 He sits up. He pulls up his underwear and pants and flexes his fingers, his hands, brings his knees to his chest and back down again, moves his shoulders back and forward, turns his neck from left to right. There is something sticky on the back of his neck, but when he examines it, he’s relieved to see it’s not blood but wine. Everything hurts, but nothing is broken.

他坐起身。把内裤和长裤拉起来，活动一下手指和双手，膝盖缩到胸口又放下，肩膀前后动一动，脖子左右转一转。他颈背有点黏黏的，但他伸手检查后松了一口气，发现那不是血，而是葡萄酒。他全身都在痛，但没有伤口。

　 He crawls to the bedroom. He quickly cleans himself off in the bathroom and gathers his things and puts them in his bag. He scuttles to the door. For an instant he is afraid that his car will have disappeared, and he will be stranded, but it is there, next to Caleb’s, waiting for him. He checks his watch: it is midnight.

他爬到浴室，迅速清理好自己，收拾好东西放进包里，爬到前门。一时之间，他很怕自己的车不见了，那他就会被困在这里。但是还好，车子还在，就停在凯莱布的车旁边，等着他。他看了手表一眼：半夜12点了。

　 He moves his way across the lawn on his hands and knees, his bag slung painfully over one shoulder, the two hundred feet between the door and the car transforming themselves into miles. He wants to stop, he is so tired, but he knows he must not.

他用双臂和膝盖爬过草坪，包包痛苦地从一边肩膀悬吊而下，前门到汽车的那两百码简直像是有几英里长。他好想停下来，他好累，但他知道自己不能停。

　 In the car, he doesn’t look at his reflection in the mirror; he starts the engine and drives away. But about half an hour later, once he knows he is far enough from the house to be safe, he begins to shake, so badly that the car swerves beneath him, and he pulls off the road to wait, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel.

上车后，他没敢看镜子里的自己，就发动引擎开走了。开了大约半小时，一旦他知道自己离那房子够远、够安全了，他才开始发抖，抖到车子都开不稳。于是他停到路边等待，前额靠在方向盘上。