《渺小一生》:他摇摇头，无法跟他们解释。

　 He lowered himself to the sofa, and Harold to the chair to his left, and Julia to the squashed suzani-covered ottoman facing him: the places they always sat, the low table between them, and he wished the moment would hold itself, for what if this was the last one he would have here, the last time he would sit in this warm dark room, with its books and tart, sweet scent of cloudy apple juice and the navy-and-scarlet Turkish carpet that had buckled itself into pleats under the coffee table, and the patch on the sofa cushion where the fabric had worn thin and he could see the white muslin skin beneath—all the things that he’d allowed to grow so dear to him, because they were Harold and Julia’s, and because he had allowed himself to think of their house as his.

他坐在沙发上，哈罗德坐在他左边的椅子上，朱丽娅坐在他对面那张饰有中亚手工刺绣的软凳上：他们总是坐在这样的老位置，三人中间是一张矮几。他真希望这一刻能冻结，因为这可能是他在这里的最后一刻。他最后一次坐在这个温暖而昏暗的房间里，有好多书，还有酸甜的苹果汁的气味；茶几底下是海军蓝和暗红色相间的土耳其地毯，蜷曲得皱成一团；沙发抱枕上有几处被磨得很薄，都能看到底下衬的白色薄布。他曾被允许珍爱这一切，因为它们是哈罗德和朱丽娅的，而他允许自己把他们的房子当成他自己的。

　 For a while they all sipped at their drinks, and none of them looked at the other, and he tried to pretend that this was just a normal evening, although if it had been a normal evening, none of them would be so silent.

有一会儿，他们兀自喝着咖啡和茶，不看彼此，他也试着假装这只是个寻常的夜晚。但如果这是个寻常的夜晚，他们不会这么沉默。

　 “Well,” Harold began at last, and he set his cup down on the table, readying himself. Whatever he says, he reminded himself, don’t start making excuses for yourself. Whatever he says, accept it, and thank him for everything.

“好吧。”哈罗德终于开口，把杯子放在茶几上，做好准备。他提醒自己，无论哈罗德说什么，他都不要为自己找借口。无论哈罗德说什么，只要接受就好，然后谢谢他所做的一切。

　 There was another long silence. “This is hard to say,” Harold continued, and shifted his mug in his hand, and he made himself wait through Harold’s next pause. “I really did have a script prepared, didn’t I?” he asked Julia, and she nodded. “But I’m more nervous than I thought I would be.”

接下来又是一阵沉默。“这件事很难启齿。”哈罗德接着说，一手转着马克杯，他逼自己静心熬过哈罗德的下个停顿。“我本来都准备好讲稿了，对不对？”他问朱丽娅，她点点头，“但是我比我原先以为的还要紧张。”

　 “I know,” she said. “But you’re doing great.”

“我知道。”朱丽娅说，“但是你做得很好。”

　 “Ha!” Harold replied. “It’s sweet of you to lie to me, though,” and smiled at her, and he had the sense that it was only the two of them in the room, and that for a moment, they had forgotten he was there at all. But then Harold was quiet again, trying to say what he’d say next.

“哈！”哈罗德回答，“你这样撒谎，真是太好心了。”还朝她微笑。此时，他感觉客厅里只有他们两个人，一时之间，他们根本忘了他也在场。但接着哈罗德又沉默了，努力试着说出他想说的话。

　 “Jude, I’ve—we’ve—known you for almost a decade now,” Harold said at last, and he watched as Harold’s eyes moved to him and then moved away, to somewhere above Julia’s head. “And over those years, you’ve grown very dear to us; both of us. You’re our friend, of course, but we think of you as more than a friend to us; as someone more special than that.” He looked at Julia, and she nodded at him once more. “So I hope you won’t think this is too—presumptuous, I suppose—but we’ve been wondering if you might consider letting us, well, adopt you.” Now he turned to him again, and smiled. “You’d be our legal son, and our legal heir, and someday all this”—he tossed his free arm into the air in a parodic gesture of expansiveness—“will be yours, if you want it.”

“裘德，我已经，我们已经，认识你快十年了。”哈罗德终于说了，他看着哈罗德的双眼转向自己，随即又别开，转到朱丽娅头部上方，“这些年来，你逐渐成为我们非常关心的人，对我们两个都是。当然了，你是我们的朋友，但我们觉得你对我们不只是朋友而已，而是更特别的人。”他看着朱丽娅，她再度点点头，“所以我希望你不会觉得这件事太，太冒昧，但我们在想，你或许愿意考虑让我们，呃，收养你。”现在哈罗德又转向他，露出微笑，“你会成为我们法律上的儿子，也是法律上的继承人。有一天，这一切……”他空着的那只手挥向空中，滑稽地模仿豪爽的姿势，“都会是你的，如果你想要的话。”

　 He was silent. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t react; he couldn’t even feel his face, couldn’t sense what his expression might be, and Julia hurried in. “Jude,” she said, “if you don’t want to, for whatever reason, we understand completely. It’s a lot to ask. If you say no, it won’t change how we feel about you, right, Harold? You’ll always, always be welcome here, and we hope you’ll always be part of our lives. Honestly, Jude—we won’t be angry, and you shouldn’t feel bad.” She looked at him. “Do you want some time to think about it?”

他没吭声。完全讲不出话来，无法回应，他的脸颊麻痹了，不知道自己是什么表情。这时朱丽娅也匆忙补充：“裘德，”她说，“如果你不想，无论原因是什么，我们都完全理解。这样的要求太过分了。如果你拒绝，也不会改变我们对你的感觉。对吧，哈罗德？你在这里永远、永远都会受到欢迎，而且我们希望你永远是我们生活中的一分子。老实说，裘德，我们不会生气，你也不该觉得难受。”她看着他，“你需要一点时间考虑吗？”

　 And then he could feel the numbness receding, although as if in compensation, his hands began shaking, and he grabbed one of the throw pillows and wrapped his arms around it to hide them. It took him a few tries before he was able to speak, but when he did, he couldn’t look at either of them. “I don’t need to think about it,” he said, and his voice sounded strange and thin to him. “Harold, Julia—are you kidding? There’s nothing—nothing—I’ve ever wanted more. My whole life. I just never thought—” He stopped; he was speaking in fragments. For a minute they were all quiet, and he was finally able to look at both of them. “I thought you were going to tell me you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”

这时，他才感觉到麻痹消退了。好像出于补偿似的，他的双手开始发抖，他便抓了一个抱枕用双臂抱住，好掩饰自己的颤抖。他试了好几次，才有办法开口。可是说话的时候却无法直视他们任何一个。“我不必考虑。”他说，觉得自己的声音听起来奇怪又虚弱，“哈罗德、朱丽娅，你们在开玩笑吧？这是我这辈子最渴望的，绝对、绝对没有任何事情比得上。我只是从没想到……”他停下来，觉得自己的话变得破碎。一时间，三个人都沉默下来，最后他终于有办法看他们两个：“我还以为你们要告诉我，你们再也不想跟我当朋友了。”

　 “Oh, Jude,” said Julia, and Harold looked perplexed. “Why would you ever think that?” he asked.

“啊，裘德。”朱丽娅说。哈罗德一脸困惑不解：“你怎么会这样想？”

　 But he shook his head, unable to explain it to them.

他摇摇头，无法跟他们解释。

　 They were silent again, and then all of them were smiling—Julia at Harold, Harold at him, he into the pillow—unsure how to end the moment, unsure where to go next. Finally, Julia clapped her hands together and stood. “Champagne!” she said, and left the room.

他们又沉默了，然后所有人都露出笑容——朱丽娅望向哈罗德，哈罗德朝他看，他则对着怀里的抱枕，不确定该如何结束这一刻，不确定接下来该怎么办。最后，朱丽娅两手一拍站起来。“香槟！”她说，随即离开客厅。

　 He and Harold stood as well and looked at each other. “Are you sure?” Harold asked him, quietly.

他和哈罗德也站起来，看着彼此。“你确定吗？”哈罗德低声问他。

　 “I’m as sure as you are,” he answered, just as quietly. There was an uncreative and obvious joke to be made, about how much like a marriage proposal the event seemed, but he didn’t have the heart to make it.

“跟你一样确定。”他也低声回答，脑中浮现一个显然很没创意的笑话——这整件事还真像是求婚，但他实在不忍心开这玩笑。

　 “You realize you’re going to be bound to us for life,” Harold smiled, and put his hand on his shoulder, and he nodded. He hoped Harold wouldn’t say one more word, because if he did, he would cry, or vomit, or pass out, or scream, or combust. He was aware, suddenly, of how exhausted, how utterly depleted he was, as much by the past few weeks of anxiety as well as the past thirty years of craving, of wanting, of wishing so intensely even as he told himself he didn’t care, that by the time they had toasted one another and first Julia and then Harold had hugged him—the sensation of being held by Harold so unfamiliar and intimate that he had nearly squirmed—he was relieved when Harold told him to leave the damn dishes and go to bed.

“你知道，这样你就会一辈子跟我们绑在一起了。”哈罗德微笑，一手放在他肩膀上。他听了点点头，希望哈罗德一个字都别说了。要是说了，他就会哭出来、吐出来，或是晕倒、尖叫，整个人都燃烧起来。他忽然意识到自己有多疲惫、多精疲力竭，因为过去几个星期的焦虑，也因为过去三十年那份强烈的渴念、期盼、奢望，即使他一直告诉自己他不在乎。等到他们三个向彼此举杯，先是朱丽娅拥抱他，然后是哈罗德——被哈罗德抱住的感觉熟悉又亲密，搞得他差点要扭动起来。哈罗德叫他别去管那些该死的盘子，赶快去睡觉，他才松了一口气。

　 When he reached his room, he had to lie on the bed for half an hour before he could even think of retrieving his phone. He needed to feel the solidity of the bed beneath him, the silk of the cotton blanket against his cheek, the familiar yield of the mattress as he moved against it. He needed to assure himself that this was his world, and he was still in it, and that what had happened had really happened. He thought, suddenly, of a conversation he’d once had with Brother Peter, in which he’d asked the brother if he thought he’d ever be adopted, and the brother had laughed. “No,” he’d said, so decisively that he had never asked again. And although he must have been very young, he remembered, very clearly, that the brother’s dismissal had only hardened his resolve, although of course it wasn’t an outcome that was his to control in the slightest.

等他回到自己的房间，在床上躺了半小时后，才想到要去拿手机。他需要感受身子底下那张床的结实、棉被贴着脸颊的丝滑，以及他在床上挪动时床垫那种熟悉的凹陷。他需要跟自己保证这是他的世界，他还在其中，而且刚刚发生的事情是真的。忽然间，他想起自己以前跟彼得修士的一段对话。当时他问修士他有没有可能被收养，修士大笑，“不。”修士说，太斩钉截铁了，从此他再没问过。当时他年纪一定很小，但他清楚记得修士那坚定不移的态度，反倒增强了他寻求的决心。不过当然，这种事根本不是他能控制的。

　 He was so discombobulated that he forgot that Willem was already onstage when he called, but when Willem called him back at intermission, he was still in the same place on the bed, in the same comma-like shape, the phone still cupped beneath his palm.

他整个人迷迷糊糊的，打电话时都忘了威廉这会儿已经在台上了。不过威廉在幕间休息时间回电时，他还躺在床上原来的位置，处于同样类似昏迷的状态，手机还握在手里。

　 “Jude,” Willem breathed when he told him, and he could hear how purely happy Willem was for him. Only Willem—and Andy, and to some extent Harold—knew the outlines of how he had grown up: the monastery, the home, his time with the Douglasses. With everyone else, he tried to be evasive for as long as he could, until finally he would say that his parents had died when he was little, and that he had grown up in foster care, which usually stopped their questions. But Willem knew more of the truth, and he knew Willem knew that this was his most impossible, his most fervent desire. “Jude, that’s amazing. How do you feel?”

“裘德，”威廉喘着气听他说。他听得出威廉有多么替他高兴，只有威廉知道他成长过程的大致状况（还有安迪，以及哈罗德，在某种程度上）：修道院、少年之家、寄养的道格拉斯家。至于对其他人，他都尽可能避开不谈，到最后他会说自己很小的时候父母就过世了，后来是在寄养家庭长大的，这样对方通常就会停止追问。但威廉知道更多的真相，还知道被收养是他最不可能、却也最热烈的渴望。“裘德，这真是太好了。你有什么感觉？”

　 He tried to laugh. “Like I’m going to mess it up.”

他设法挤出笑声：“觉得我会搞砸。”

　 “You won’t.” They were both quiet. “I didn’t even know you could adopt someone who’s a legal adult.”

“不会的。”两人都沉默了。“我还不知道可以收养成年人。”威廉说。