《渺小一生》:莱纳斯没有什么不好

　 And so, another Friday. He goes to Andy’s. The scale: Andy sighing. The questions: his replies, a series of yeses and nos. Yes, he feels fine. No, no more pain than usual. No, no sign of wounds. Yes, an episode every ten days to two weeks. Yes, he’s been sleeping. Yes, he’s been seeing people. Yes, he’s been eating. Yes, three meals a day. Yes, every day. No, he doesn’t know why he then keeps losing weight. No, he doesn’t want to consider seeing Dr. Loehmann again. The inspection of his arms: Andy turning them in his hands, looking for new cuts, not finding any. The week after he returned from Beijing, the week after he had lost control, Andy had looked at them and gasped, and he had looked down, too, and had remembered how bad it had been at times, how insane it had gotten. But Andy hadn’t said anything, just cleaned him up, and after he had finished, he had held both of his hands in both of his.

又来到一个星期五。他去安迪的诊所。量体重：安迪叹气。问问题：他回答，都是一连串的是和不。是的，他觉得很好。不，没有异常的疼痛。不，没有出现那些疮的迹象。是的，每十天或两星期背部的疼痛会发作。是的，他都有睡觉。是的，他有跟朋友碰面。是的，他有吃东西。是的，一天三餐。是的，每天都是。不，他不知道为什么他还是越来越瘦。不，他不考虑再去看娄曼医生了。然后，安迪检查他的两只手臂，在手中转来转去，寻找新割伤，都没找到。他从北京回来的那个星期，他失控的那个星期，安迪看到那些割伤，猛吸了一口气。他也低下头，想起有时他的感觉有多糟糕，自己变得多么疯狂。但安迪什么都没说，只是帮他清洁伤口，弄完之后，他握住他的双手。

　 “A year,” Andy had said.

“一年了。”安迪当时说。

　 “A year,” he had echoed. And they had both been silent.

“一年了。”他也说。然后两个人沉默下来。

　 After the appointment, they go around the corner to a small Italian restaurant that they like. Andy is always watching him at these dinners, and if he thinks he’s not ordering enough food, he orders an additional dish for him and then badgers him until he eats it. But at this dinner he can tell Andy is anxious about something: as they wait for their food, Andy drinks, quickly, and talks to him about football, which he knows he doesn’t care about and never discusses with him. Andy had talked about sports with Willem, sometimes, and he would listen to them argue over one team or another as they sat at the dining table eating pistachios and he prepared dessert.

看完诊，他们走过街角到他们很喜欢的一间意大利小餐厅。安迪总是在这些晚餐时刻观察他，如果觉得他点的菜不够多，就会帮他多点一道，一直逼他吃。但是这一天的晚餐，他看得出来安迪心事重重。他们等着上菜时，安迪喝酒喝得很快，还跟他聊美式橄榄球，他明知道他不迷橄榄球，以前从不跟他聊的。安迪以前有时会跟威廉聊运动，两人坐在餐厅里边吃开心果，边为了某支球队争辩。同时，他会在旁边准备甜点。

　 “Sorry,” Andy says, at last. “I’m babbling.” Their appetizers arrive, and they eat, quietly, before Andy takes a breath.

“对不起，”安迪最后终于说，“我在碎碎念个不停。”他们的开胃菜上来了，两个人安静吃着，然后安迪吸了口气。

　 “Jude,” he says, “I’m giving up the practice.”

“裘德，”他说，“我准备要退休了。”

　 He has been cutting into his eggplant, but now he stops, puts down his fork. “Not anytime soon,” Andy adds, quickly. “Not for another three years or so. But I’m bringing in a partner this year so the transition process will be as smooth as possible: for the staff, but especially for my patients. He’ll take over more and more of the patient load with each year.” He pauses. “I think you’ll like him. I know you will. I’m going to stay your doctor until the day I leave, and I’ll give you lots of notice before I do. But I want you to meet him, to see if there’s any sort of chemistry between you two”—Andy smiles a bit, but he can’t bring himself to smile back—“and if there’s not, for whatever reason, then we’ll have plenty of time to find you someone else. I have a couple of other people in mind who I know would be amenable to giving you the full-service treatment. And I won’t leave until we get you settled somewhere.”

他正在切他的茄子，这会儿停下来，放下叉子。“现在还早，”安迪赶紧补充，“大概还要三年。不过我今年会找个搭档进来，让过渡期尽可能顺利：对员工，尤其对我的病人。他会逐步接收我的病人。”他暂停了一下，“我想你会喜欢他，一定会的。在我离开之前，我照样是你的医生，会照样关心你。但是我希望你认识他一下，看你们两个是不是合得来。”安迪微笑一下，但他没办法微笑以对。“如果合不来，无论原因是什么，我们还有很多时间帮你找别人。我心里还有两个人选，可以给你全方位的照顾。而且帮你找到新人选之前，我不会退休的。”

　 He still can’t say anything, can’t even lift his head to look at Andy. “Jude,” he hears Andy say, softly, pleadingly. “I wish I could stay forever, for your sake. You’re the only one I wish I could stay for. But I’m tired. I’m almost sixty-two, and I always swore to myself I’d retire before I turned sixty-five. I—”

他还是说不出话来，连抬头看着安迪都没办法。“裘德，”他听到安迪轻声地恳求，“为了你，我真希望我能永远不退休。你是我唯一放不下的人。但是我累了。我快62岁了，我老发誓说我要在65岁前退休。我……”

　 But he stops him. “Andy,” he says, “of course you should retire when you want to. You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m happy for you. I am. I’m just. I’m just going to miss you. You’ve been so good to me.” He pauses. “I’m so dependent on you,” he admits at last.

但他阻止他讲下去。“安迪，”他说，“你想退休的时候，当然就该退休。你没有义务跟我解释。我很替你开心。真的。我只是，我只是会很想念你的。”他最后终于承认。

　 “Jude,” Andy begins, and then is silent. “Jude, I’ll always be your friend. I’ll always be here to help you, medically or otherwise. But you need someone who can grow old with you. This guy I’m bringing in is forty-six; he’ll be around to treat you for the rest of your life, if you want him.”

“裘德，”安迪开口又停下，“裘德，我永远会是你的朋友。我永远会陪着你，无论是医疗或其他方面。但你需要一个可以跟你一起变老的人。我找来的这个人46岁；如果你愿意，他会一直帮你看诊的。”

　 “As long as I die in the next nineteen years,” he hears himself saying. There’s another silence. “I’m sorry, Andy,” he says, appalled by how wretched he feels, how pettily he is behaving. He has always known, after all, that Andy would retire at some point. But he realizes now that he had never thought he would be alive to see it. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Don’t listen to me.”

“只要我在接下来的十九年内死掉，”他听到自己脱口而出。两人又沉默了一会儿，“对不起，安迪。”他说，很受不了自己这么难过，还有自己表现得这么小气，毕竟他一直知道安迪有一天会退休的。但现在他才明白，他从来没想到自己能活着看到这一天。“对不起，”他又说了一次，“别把我的话当真。”

　 “Jude,” Andy says, quietly. “I’ll always be here for you, in one way or another. I promised you way back when, and I still mean it now.

“裘德，”安迪低声说，“我永远都会陪着你的，不论退不退休。我很早就跟你承诺过了，现在这个话还是不变。

　 “Look, Jude,” he continues, after a pause. “I know this isn’t going to be easy. I know that no one else is going to be able to re-create our history. I’m not being arrogant; I just don’t think anyone else is going to totally understand, necessarily. But we’ll get as close as we can. And who couldn’t love you?” Andy smiles again, but once more, he can’t smile back. “Either way, I want you to come meet this new guy: Linus. He’s a good doctor, and just as important, a good person. I won’t tell him any of your specifics; I just want you to meet him, all right?”

“听我说，裘德，”安迪暂停一下又继续说，“我知道这对你来说不容易。我知道没有其他人能复制我们的历史。不是我狂妄，我只是不认为其他人能完全了解。但我们会尽量想办法。何况谁能不爱你呢？”安迪又笑了。再一次，他没办法微笑以对。“总之，我希望你来认识这位新医生莱纳斯。他是个好医生，而且同样重要的，他是个好人。我不会把你所有的细节状况告诉他；我只是希望你跟他认识一下，好吗？”

　 So the next Friday he goes uptown, and in Andy’s office is another man, short and handsome and with a smile that reminds him of Willem’s. Andy introduces them and they shake hands. “I’ve heard so much about you, Jude,” Linus says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally.”

于是下一个星期五，他去了上城安迪的诊所，诊间里有另一个男人，个子矮而英俊，微笑时让他想起威廉。安迪介绍他们认识，两人握手。“裘德，我听过好多你的事。”莱纳斯说，“很高兴终于认识你了。”

　 “You too,” he says. “Congratulations.”

“我也是，”他说，“恭喜了。”

　 Andy leaves them to talk, and they do, a little awkwardly, joking about how this meeting seems like a blind date. Linus has been told only about his amputations, and they discuss them briefly, and the osteomyelitis that had preceded them. “Those treatments can be a killer,” Linus says, but he doesn’t offer his sympathy for his lost legs, which he appreciates. Linus had been a doctor at a group practice that he’d heard Andy mention before; he seems genuinely admiring of Andy and excited to be working with him.

安迪离开让他们聊一下。他们聊着，有点尴尬，打趣说这有点像在相亲。安迪只跟莱纳斯说了他截肢的事，他们简短聊了两腿的状况，还有之前的骨髓炎。“那些治疗有可能造成生命危险。”莱纳斯说，不过他没对他失去双腿表示同情，这点他很感激。他之前听安迪说，莱纳斯原先跟别的医生联合开业；而他似乎真的很欣赏安迪，也很兴奋两人能共事。

　 There is nothing wrong with Linus. He can tell, by the questions he asks, and the respect with which he asks them, that he is indeed a good doctor, and probably a good person. But he also knows he will never be able to undress in front of Linus. He can’t imagine having the discussions he has with Andy with anyone else. He can’t imagine allowing anyone else such access to his body, to his fears. When he thinks of someone seeing his body anew he quails: ever since the amputation, he has only looked at himself once. He watches Linus’s face, his unsettlingly Willem-like smile, and although he is only five years older than Linus, he feels centuries older, something broken and desiccated, something that anyone would look at and quickly throw the tarpaulin over once more. “Take this one away,” they’d say. “It’s junked.”

莱纳斯没有什么不好。从莱纳斯问的问题，还有提问时尊重的态度，看得出他是个好医生，大概也是个好人。但他也知道自己永远没办法在莱纳斯面前脱掉衣服。他无法想象自己能像跟安迪那样跟其他人讨论。他无法想象让其他人像安迪那样接触他的身体，接触他的恐惧。光是想到又有个人要看到他的身体，他就胆怯起来：自从截肢以来，他只看过自己一次。他看着莱纳斯的脸，看着那令人不安、神似威廉的微笑。尽管他只比莱纳斯年长五岁，却感觉像老了几百岁，像个破烂、干燥的尸骸，任何人看一眼就会把外头的防水布盖回去。“这个拿走。”他们会说，“这是垃圾。”

　 He thinks of the conversations he will need to have, the explanations he will need to give: about his back, his arms, his legs, his diseases. He is so sick of his own fears, his own trepidations, but as tired as he is of them, he also cannot stop himself from indulging them. He thinks of Linus paging slowly through his chart, of seeing the years, the decades, of notes Andy has made about him: lists of his cuts, of his wounds, of the medications he has been on, of the flare-ups of his infections. Notes on his suicide attempt, on Andy’s pleas to get him to see Dr. Loehmann. He knows Andy has chronicled all of this; he knows how meticulous he is.

他想着往后必须谈的，想着他得解释的事情：有关他的背部、他的手臂、他的双腿、他的疾病。他受不了自己的害怕和惊惶，但尽管他这么厌倦这些情绪，还是忍不住纵容它们。他想到莱纳斯缓缓翻阅他的病历，看到这二三十年来安迪写下的纪录：列出他的割伤、他无法愈合的疮、他接受的药物治疗、他复发的感染，还有他自杀未遂、安迪恳求他去看娄曼医生的事情。他知道安迪把这些全部记录下来了；他知道安迪有多么一丝不苟。

　 “You have to tell someone,” Ana used to say, and as he had grown older, he had decided to interpret this sentence literally: Some One. Someday, he thought, somehow, he would find a way to tell some one, one person. And then he had, someone he had trusted, and that person had died, and he didn’t have the fortitude to tell his story ever again. But then, didn’t everyone only tell their lives—truly tell their lives—to one person? How often could he really be expected to repeat himself, when with each telling he was stripping the clothes from his skin and the flesh from his bones, until he was as vulnerable as a small pink mouse? He knows, then, that he will never be able to go to another doctor. He will go to Andy for as long as he can, for as long as Andy will let him. And after that, he doesn’t know—he will figure out what to do then. For now, his privacy, his life, is still his. For now, no one else needs to know. His thoughts are so occupied with Willem—trying to re-create him, to hold his face and voice in his head, to keep him present—that his past is as far away as it has ever been: he is in the middle of a lake, trying to stay afloat; he can’t think of returning to shore and having to live among his memories again.

“你得找个人说出来。”以前安娜总是这么说。等到他年纪大一些，就决定把这句话照字面解释：告诉某个人就好。有一天，他心想，他会找到方法告诉某个人的，一个人就好。他也找到一个可以信赖的人说出来，但现在这个人死了，他再也没有那个勇气把自己的故事再说一次了。但说到底，每个人不都是这样？只会对一个人真正说出自己的人生？大家怎能期待他一再重复，让他每说一次就像被剥掉衣服、皮肉从骨头上脱离，直到他脆弱无助得像只小小的粉红色老鼠？他知道，他绝对没办法看另一个医生。他会继续找安迪，越久越好，拖到安迪拒绝为止。之后，他就不知道了，到时候再来想办法吧。眼前，他的隐私、他的人生，还是他自己的。眼前，没必要让其他人知道。他的思绪几乎完全被威廉占据了——设法重新创造他，在脑袋里留住他的脸和声音，设法把他留在当下。他的过去离得好远好远：他像在湖中央，设法不要沉没；他无法想象回到岸上，不得不再度活在那些记忆中。

　 He doesn’t want to go to dinner with Andy that night, but they do, telling Linus goodbye as they leave. They walk to the sushi restaurant in silence, sit in silence, order, and wait in silence.

那天晚上，他不想跟安迪去吃晚餐，但还是去了。临走时他们跟莱纳斯说了再见。他们默默走向那间寿司餐厅，沉默地坐下来，点了菜，然后沉默地等着上菜。