双语读剧：Call me by ...（一）03:这刺痛了我

Maybe it started soon after his arrival during one of those grinding lunches when he sat next to me and it finally dawned on me that, despite a light tan acquired during his brief stay in Sicily earlier that summer, the color on the palms of his hands was the same as the pale, soft skin of his soles, of his throat, of the bottom of his forearms, which hadn’t really been exposed to much sun. Almost a light pink, as glistening and smooth as the underside of a lizard’s belly. Private, chaste, unfledged, like a blush on an athlete’s face or an instance of dawn on a stormy night. It told me things about him I never knew to ask.
It may have started during those endless hours after lunch when everybody lounged about in bathing suits inside and outside the house, bodies sprawled everywhere, killing time before someone finally suggested we head down to the rocks for a swim. Relatives, cousins, neighbors, friends, friends of friends, colleagues, or just about anyone who cared to knock at our gate and ask if they could use our tennis court—everyone was welcome to lounge and swim and eat and, if they stayed long enough, use the guesthouse.
 
一切或许始于他抵达不久后某一次磨人的午餐。当时他坐在我旁边，我总算注意到尽管那年夏天他在西西里岛逗留时晒得有点黑，但他掌心的颜色和他脚底、喉咙、前臂内侧一般白皙柔软，因为没有太多暴露在太阳下，几乎是淡粉色，像蜥蜴腹部一样光亮平滑。私密、纯洁、青涩，就像运动员脸上的红晕，像暴风雨夜的黎明曙光，透露了一些我完全不需要去问的事。
一切或许始于午餐后那些无止无尽的空闲时段，大伙儿都穿着泳衣，在屋子内外闲晃或躺倒来消磨时间，直到终于有人提议到礁石那边去游泳。不论是近亲远邻、朋友、朋友的朋友、同事，或随便哪个愿意敲我们的门、询问可否借用网球场的人，人人都被欢迎来这儿自由闲逛、游泳，与我们一同用餐；如果待得够久，当然还可以在客房留宿。
 
Or perhaps it started on the beach. Or at the tennis court. Or during our first walk together on his very first day when I was asked to show him the house and its surrounding area and, one thing leading to the other, managed to take him past the very old forged-iron metal gate as far back as the endless empty lot in the hinterland toward the abandoned train tracks that used to connect B. to N. “Is there an abandoned station house somewhere?” he asked, looking through the trees under the scalding sun, probably trying to ask the right question of the owner’s son. “No, there was never a station house. The train simply stopped when you asked.” He was curious about the train; the rails seemed so narrow. It was a two-wagon train bearing the royal insignia, I explained. Gypsies lived in it now. They’d been living there ever since my mother used to summer here as a girl. The gypsies had hauled the two derailed cars farther inland. Did he want to see them? “Later. Maybe.” Polite indifference, as if he’d spotted my misplaced zeal to play up to him and was summarily pushing me away.
But it stung me.
 
又或者一切始于海边。或在网球场上。或者就在他刚到的第一天，我们第一次并肩同行，我遵照嘱咐为他介绍房子，带他参观周边。走着走着，我总算带他深入到偏僻区域那块仿佛无边无际的荒地，通过那道古老的锻铁金属门，往曾经连接 B 城与 N 城、如今弃置已久的那段铁轨走去。“附近有废弃火车站吗？”他抬眼望向烈阳下树林深处的另一头，或许是想对屋主的儿子提出恰到好处的问题。“没有，附近从来就没有火车站。火车只是随叫随停。”他对火车很好奇，因为铁轨看起来那么窄。是有皇家标志的无顶货车，我解释道。现在是吉普赛人住在里面。从我母亲少女时期到这儿来避暑时，他们就住在那里，还把两截脱轨的货车拖到更远的内陆去了。我问他想看吗？“回头再说。或许吧。”有礼的冷淡，仿佛他识破了我以不合时宜的热情去讨好他，还立刻一把推开我。
这刺痛了我。