《渺小一生》:但是他无法回答自己

　 But he can’t answer himself.

但是他无法回答自己。

　 Again and again he sees Brother Luke, Dr. Traylor. As he has gotten weaker, as he has drifted from himself, he sees them more and more frequently, and although Willem and Malcolm have dimmed for him, Brother Luke and Dr. Traylor have not. He feels his past is a cancer, one he should have treated long ago but instead ignored. And now Brother Luke and Dr. Traylor have metastasized, now they are too large and too overwhelming for him to eliminate. Now when they appear, they are wordless: they stand before him, they sit, side by side, on the sofa in his bedroom, staring at him, and this is worse than if they spoke, because he knows they are trying to decide what to do with him, and he knows that whatever they decide will be worse than he can imagine, worse than what had happened before. At one point he sees them whispering to each other, and he knows they are talking about him. “Stop,” he yells at them, “stop, stop,” but they ignore him, and when he tries to get up to make them leave, he is unable to do so. “Willem,” he hears himself call, “protect me, help me; make them leave, make them go away.” But Willem doesn’t come, and he realizes he is alone and becomes afraid, concealing himself under the blanket and remaining as still as he can, certain that time has doubled back upon itself and he will be made to relive his life in sequence. It’ll get better eventually, he promises himself. Remember, good years followed the bad. But he can’t do it again; he can’t live once more through those fifteen years, those fifteen years whose half-life have been so long and so resonant, that have determined everything he has become and done.

一次又一次，他看到卢克修士、特雷勒医生。当他变得愈加虚弱，当他逐渐脱离自己，他就越来越频繁地看到他们。威廉和马尔科姆在他记忆中逐渐朦胧，卢克修士和特雷勒医生却不是。他觉得自己的过去像是一种癌症，很早以前就该治疗却没有。现在卢克修士和特雷勒医生转移了，现在他们太大又太具压倒性，无法割除了。现在他们出现时都不说话；光是站在他面前，或是并肩坐在他卧室的沙发上瞪着他看，就比他们开口讲话还糟糕，因为他知道他们在决定要对他做什么，而且他知道无论他们决定怎么做，都比他想象的还糟，比他之前碰到的状况更糟。中间一度他看到他们彼此咬耳朵，知道他们在谈他。“别说了，”他朝他们大叫，“停止，别说了。”但是他们不理他。当他想起床赶他们走时，却起不了床。“威廉，”他听到自己喊，“保护我，帮助我；叫他们离开，把他们赶走。”但威廉没出现，他明白自己是孤单一人，害怕起来。他用被单盖住自己，尽量保持不动，非常确定如果时间倒转回去，他会被迫按照顺序重过一次自己的前半生。总有一天会好转的，他向自己保证。记住，坏年代之后就是好年代了。但他没办法再来一次；他没办法再经历一次那十五年，那十五年中有一半很漫长、反响不断，决定了他往后的一切，包括变成什么样的人、做些什么样的事。

　 By the time he finally, fully wakes on Monday morning, he knows he has crossed some sort of threshold. He knows he is close, that he is moving from one world to another. He blacks out twice while simply trying to get into his wheelchair. He faints on his way to the bathroom. And yet somehow he remains uninjured; somehow he is still alive. He gets dressed, the suit and shirts he’d had recut for him a month ago already loose, and slides his stumps into the prostheses, and goes downstairs to meet Mr. Ahmed.

等到他终于、终于在星期一早上醒来，他知道自己跨过了某种门槛。他知道自己接近了，知道他正要从一个世界跨入另一个世界。光是要坐上轮椅的这段过程，他就两度失去意识。到浴室途中又晕倒了。但是他都没受伤，还活着。他换好衣服，一个月前才重新定做的衬衫和西装现在已经太大了。接着他装上义肢，下楼跟艾哈迈德先生会合。

　 At work, everything is the same. It is the new year; people are returning from their vacations. During the management committee meeting, he jabs his fingers into his thigh to keep himself alert. He feels his grip loosen around the branch.

上班时，一切与往常无异。刚放完新年假期，大家刚度假回来。管理委员会开会时，他用手指狠戳自己的大腿以保持警觉。他感觉自己抓住树枝的双手变松了。

　 Sanjay leaves early that evening; he leaves early, too. Today is Harold and Julia’s move-in day, and he has promised to go uptown to visit them. He hasn’t seen them in more than a month, and although he feels himself no longer able to gauge what he looks like, he has dressed in extra layers today—an undershirt, his shirt, a sweater, a cardigan, his suit jacket, his coat—so that he’ll appear a little bulkier. At Harold’s, he is waved in by the doorman, and up he goes, trying not to blink because blinking makes the dizziness worse. Outside their door, he stops and puts his head in his hands until he feels strong enough, and then he turns the knob and rolls inside and stares.

那天傍晚，桑杰提早离开；他也提早了。今天哈罗德和朱丽娅要搬到纽约，他答应到上城的公寓去拜访。他已经一个多月没看到他们了。他没办法判断自己的模样，但他今天多穿了一些衣服，包括汗衫、外头的衬衫、毛衣、开襟毛衣、西装外套、大衣，这样看起来就会壮一点。到了哈罗德家，门房让他进去，他搭电梯上楼，设法不要眨眼，因为眨眼会使他的晕眩恶化。到了他们那间公寓门外，他停下来把脸埋进双手里，直到他觉得够强壮了，才转开门钮进去，并且瞪大眼睛。

　 They are all there: Harold and Julia, of course, but Andy and JB and Richard and India and the Henry Youngs and Rhodes and Elijah and Sanjay and the Irvines as well, all posed and perched on different pieces of furniture as if they’re at a photo shoot, and for a second he fears he will start laughing. And then he wonders: Am I dreaming this? Am I awake? He remembers the vision of himself as a sagging mattress and thinks: Am I still real? Am I still conscious?

他们全都来了：哈罗德和朱丽娅当然在，但是还有安迪、杰比、理查德和印蒂亚、两个亨利·杨、罗兹、伊利亚、桑杰，以及欧文夫妇。他们站着或靠坐在不同的家具上，好像准备要拍大合照，一时之间，他很怕自己会大笑起来。他很纳闷：我是在做梦吗？我现在醒着吗？他还记得梦到过自己是个松垮的床垫，心想：我还真实存在吗？我的意识还清楚吗？

　 “Christ,” he says, when he is able to speak at last. “What the hell is this?”

“天啊，”他终于有办法开口了，“这是怎么回事？”

　 “Exactly what you think it is,” he hears Andy say.

“就跟你想的一样。”他听到安迪说。

　 “I’m not staying for this,” he tries to say, but can’t. He can’t move. He can’t look at any of them: he looks instead at his hands—his scarred left hand, his normal right—as above him Andy speaks. They have been watching him for weeks—Sanjay has been keeping track of the days he’s seen him eat at the office, Richard has been entering his apartment to check his refrigerator for food. “We measure weight loss in grades,” he hears Andy saying. “A loss of one to ten percent of your body weight is Grade One. A loss of eleven to twenty percent is Grade Two. Grade Two is when we consider putting you on a feeding tube. You know this, Jude, because it’s happened to you before. And I can tell by looking at you that you’re at Grade Two—at least.” Andy talks and talks, and he thinks he begins to cry, but he is unable to produce tears. Everything has gone so wrong, he thinks; how did everything go so wrong? How has he forgotten so completely who he was when he was with Willem? It is as if that person has died along with Willem, and what he is left with is his elemental self, someone he has never liked, someone so incapable of occupying the life he has, the life he has somehow made for himself, in spite of himself.

“我才不要留下来陪你们玩。”他想说，但是说不出口。他动不了。他没办法看任何一个人的脸，只能看着自己的手，他有疤的左手，他正常的右手。同时安迪在他上方开口了。他们已经观察他好几个星期——桑杰一直在观察他白天吃了什么，每天记录下来，理查德则进入他的公寓检查冰箱里的食物。“我们把体重减轻的程度分为十级。”他听到安迪说，“体重减轻百分之一到十是第一级。体重减轻百分之十一到二十是第二级。第二级就要考虑插上喂食管了。这个你知道的，因为你以前发生过这样的事情。我光凭目测，就知道你至少在第二级。”安迪说了又说，他觉得自己快要哭出来了，但是没有眼泪。一切错得太离谱了，他心想；怎么会错得这么离谱？他为什么完全忘记和威廉在一起的自己是什么样子？好像那个人也跟着威廉一起死了，留下来的是原始的他，但这个人他从来没喜欢过，这个人在处理自己的人生上太无能了，尽管那是他不由自主被安排出来的人生。

　 Finally he lifts his head and sees Harold staring at him, sees that Harold is actually crying, silently, looking and looking at him. “Harold,” he says, although Andy is still talking, “release me. Release me from my promise to you. Don’t make me do this anymore. Don’t make me go on.”

最后他终于抬起头来，看到哈罗德凝视着他，看到哈罗德在哭，没有哭出声音，只是一直看着他。“哈罗德，”虽然安迪还在讲话，但他说，“放了我吧。让我解除对你的承诺。别再逼我这样过下去了。别再逼我继续了。”

　 But no one releases him: not Harold, not anyone. He is instead captured and taken to the hospital, and there, at the hospital, he begins to fight. My last fight, he thinks, and he fights harder than he ever has, as hard as he had as a child in the monastery, becoming the monster they always told him he was, yowling and spitting in Harold’s and Andy’s faces, ripping the IV from his hand, thrashing his body on the bed, trying to scratch at Richard’s arms, until finally a nurse, cursing, sticks him with a needle and he is sedated.

但是没有人愿意放了他：哈罗德不肯，其他人也不肯。反之，他们把他抓起来带去医院，到了医院，他开始反抗。这是我最后的战役，他心想，于是他反抗得比以前都厉害，就像小时候在修道院那样，变成修士们总在骂的那种恶魔，不断哭叫，对哈罗德和安迪的脸吐口水，拔掉手上的静脉注射管，在床上翻跳着，设法抓破理查德的手臂，直到最后，一名护士一边诅咒，一边拿着针筒给他打了镇静剂。

　 He wakes with his wrists strapped to the bed, with his prostheses gone, with his clothes gone as well, with a press of cotton against his collarbone under which he knows a catheter has been inserted. The same thing all over again, he thinks, the same, the same, the same.

他醒来时，发现双手的手腕被皮带绑在床上，他的义肢被拆掉了，衣服也不见了，锁骨下方贴了一块棉片，他知道里头插了一根注射管。同样的事情从头再来一遍，他心想。又是一样，又是一样，又是一样。

　 But this time it isn’t the same. This time he is given no choices. This time, he is put on a feeding tube, which punctures through his abdomen and into his stomach. This time, he is made to go back and see Dr. Loehmann. This time, he is going to be watched, every mealtime: Richard will watch him eat breakfast. Sanjay will watch him eat lunch and, if he’s at the office late, dinner. Harold will watch him on the weekends. He isn’t allowed to go to the bathroom until an hour after he’s finished each meal. He must see Andy every Friday. He must see JB every Saturday. He must see Richard every Sunday. He must see Harold whenever Harold says he must. If he is caught skipping a meal, or a session, or disposing of food in any way, he will be hospitalized, and this hospitalization won’t be a matter of weeks; it will be a matter of months. He will gain a minimum of thirty pounds, and he will be allowed to stop only when he has maintained that weight for six months.

但这一回不一样了。这一回他没得选择。这一回他被插了喂食管，从腹部插进去，通到他的胃。这一回，他被迫回去看娄曼医生。这一回，每次都有人监视他吃饭。理查德看着他吃早餐。桑杰看着他吃午餐。如果他加班，桑杰也会看着他吃晚餐。周末由哈罗德负责看守。他吃过饭后一小时才能去洗手间。他每个星期五都得跟安迪碰面。他每个星期六都得跟杰比碰面。他每个星期天都得跟理查德碰面。另外，哈罗德随时要求，他就必须见他。如果他被抓到少吃一顿，失约没碰面，或以任何方式偷偷扔掉食物，就得回去住院，而这回可不是住几个星期就算了，而是要住上好几个月。他必须增重至少三十磅，而且之后必须维持六个月不瘦下来才行。

　 And so begins his new life, a life in which he has moved past humiliation, past sorrow, past hope. This is a life in which his weary friends’ weary faces watch him as he eats omelets, sandwiches, salads. Who sit across from him and watch as he twirls pasta around his fork, as he plows his spoon through polenta, as he slides flesh off bones. Who look at his plate, at his bowl, and either nod at him—yes, he can go—or shake their heads: No, Jude, you have to eat more than that. At work he makes decisions and people follow them, but then at one p.m., lunch is delivered to his office, and for the next half hour—although no one else in the firm knows this—his decisions mean nothing, because Sanjay has absolute power, and he must obey whatever he says. Sanjay, with one text to Andy, can send him to the hospital, where they will tie him down again and force food into him. They all can. No one seems to care that this isn’t what he wants.

于是他的新人生开始了，他过着日子，忘了羞辱、忘了忧伤、忘了希望。在这段人生里，他疲倦的朋友带着疲倦的脸，看着他吃炒蛋、三明治、沙拉。那些朋友坐在餐桌对面，看着他用叉子卷起意大利面，看着他用汤匙舀起玉米粥，看着他切下骨头旁边的肉。他们检查他的盘子、他的碗，可能点点头表示他过关，或者摇头说：不，裘德，你还得再吃一点。工作上由他做决定、大家听从，但到了下午1点，午餐送到他的办公室来，接下来半小时，虽然事务所里没有其他人知道，但他的决定完全失效，因为桑杰有绝对的权力，不管说什么他都得遵从。只要发一条手机短信，桑杰就可以送他去住院，再度把他绑在床上，强迫喂食。他们全都可以，好像没有人在乎这不是他想要的。

　 Have you all forgotten? he yearns to ask. Have you forgotten him? Have you forgotten how much I need him? Have you forgotten I don’t know how to be alive without him? Who can teach me? Who can tell me what I should do now?

你们都忘了吗？他好想问。你们都忘了他吗？你们忘了我有多么需要他吗？你们忘了我没有他就不知道该怎么活下去吗？谁能教教我？谁能告诉我，我现在该怎么办？

　 It was an ultimatum that sent him to Dr. Loehmann the first time; it is an ultimatum that brings him back. He had always been cordial with Dr. Loehmann, cordial and remote, but now he is hostile and churlish. “I don’t want to be here,” he says, when the doctor says he’s happy to see him again and asks him what he would like to discuss. “And don’t lie to me: you’re not happy to see me, and I’m not happy to be here. This is a waste of time—yours and mine. I’m here under duress.”

他第一次去找娄曼医生，是因为一份最后通牒；这回他回去，也是因为一份最后通牒。他跟娄曼医生向来处得很好，友好而疏远，但现在他充满敌意，脾气也很坏。“我不想来的。”他说。这回一听到医生说很高兴又见到他，还问他想讨论什么，他就不耐烦。“还有别跟我撒谎：你不高兴见到我，我也不高兴见到你。这是浪费时间——你的时间跟我的时间。我是被迫来的。”

　 “We don’t have to discuss why you’re here, Jude, not if you don’t want to,” Dr. Loehmann says. “What would you like to talk about?”

“裘德，我们不必讨论你为什么来，也不必讨论你想不想来，”娄曼医生说，“你想谈什么呢？”

　 “Nothing,” he snaps, and there is a silence.

“什么都不想谈。”他凶巴巴地说。两人沉默了一会儿。

　 “Tell me about Harold,” Dr. Loehmann suggests, and he sighs, impatiently.

“跟我谈谈哈罗德吧。”娄曼医生建议。他不耐烦地叹气。

　 “There’s nothing to say,” he says.

“没什么好说的。”他说。