《渺小一生》:事情越来越恶化，他知道

　 “Are you all right?” Willem asked him one night. They had seen a play, which he had barely registered, and then had gone out to dinner, where he had half listened to Willem, hoping he was making the correct responses as he moved his food around his plate and tried to act normal.

“你还好吧？”有天晚上威廉问他。那天他们去看一出舞台剧，他根本没看进去。后来两人去餐厅吃晚餐，他漫不经心地听着威廉讲话，希望自己的回答都正确，同时拨着盘子里的食物，设法表现得很正常。

　 “Yes,” he said.

“很好啊。”他说。

　 Things were getting worse; he knew it and didn’t know how to make it better. It was eight months after the incident, and every day he thought about it more, not less. He felt sometimes as if his months with Caleb were a pack of hyenas, and every day they chased him, and every day he spent all his energy running from them, trying to escape being devoured by their snapping, foaming jaws. All the things that had helped in the past—the concentrating; the cutting—weren’t helping now. He cut himself more and more, but the memories wouldn’t disappear. Every morning he swam, and every night he swam again, for miles, until he had energy enough only to shower and climb into bed. As he swam, he chanted to himself: he conjugated Latin verbs, he recited proofs, he quoted back to himself decisions that he had studied in law school. His mind was his, he told himself. He would control this; he wouldn’t be controlled.

事情越来越恶化，他知道，却不知道该如何改善。事件过了八个月了，他每天都越常回想起来，而不是越少。他有时觉得自己跟凯莱布交往的那几个月就像一群鬣狗，每一天都追着他，每一天他都要用尽全力逃离，设法不要被它们冒着白沫、生着利齿的嘴巴噬咬、吞没。过去一切有帮助的事情（专注、割自己）现在都没用了。他割自己割得越来越凶，但那些记忆没有消失。每天早上他都去游泳，现在每天晚上也去游，游上好几英里，直到只剩下冲澡和爬上床的力气。游泳时，他会默念各种东西：背拉丁语动词变化，列举法庭证明，引用法学院学过的判例。他的脑子是他的，他告诉自己。他有办法控制，他不会受摆布。

　 “I have an idea,” Willem said at the end of another meal in which he had failed to say much of anything. He had responded a second or two too late to everything Willem had said, and after a while, they were both quiet. “We should take a vacation together. We should go on that trip to Morocco we were supposed to take two years ago. We can do it as soon as I get back. What do you think, Jude? It’ll be fall, then—it’ll be beautiful.” It was late June: nine months after the incident. Willem was leaving again at the beginning of August for a shoot in Sri Lanka; he wouldn’t be back until the beginning of October.

“我有个主意。”有回跟威廉一起吃饭，他又没说什么话，威廉便这么说。那天威廉讲任何话时，他的反应总是慢了一两秒钟，过了一会儿，他们都沉默下来。“我们应该一起去度假。我们应该实现两年前本来要去的摩洛哥之旅。等我回来，我们就去。裘德，你觉得呢？到时候是秋天了，那里一定很美。”此时是六月下旬，离事件九个月了。威廉八月初又要离开，去斯里兰卡拍新戏，要到十月初才会回纽约。

　 As Willem spoke, he was thinking of how Caleb had called him deformed, and only Willem’s silence had reminded him it was his turn to respond. “Sure, Willem,” he said. “That sounds great.”

威廉说话时，他正想着凯莱布如何说他畸形，直到威廉沉默下来，他才想到自己该回答了。“当然好，威廉，”他说，“听起来很棒。”

　 The restaurant was in the Flatiron District, and after they paid, they walked for a while, neither of them saying anything, when suddenly, he saw Caleb coming toward them, and in his panic, he grabbed Willem and yanked him into the doorway of a building, startling them both with his strength and swiftness.

那个餐厅在熨斗区，付账之后，他们散了一会儿步，两个人都没说话。突然间，他看到凯莱布迎面走来，一时恐慌就抓住威廉，把他拉到一栋大楼的门口，两个人都被他的迅速和力气之大吓了一跳。

　 “Jude,” Willem said, alarmed, “what are you doing?”

“裘德，”威廉警觉地说，“你在做什么？”

　 “Don’t say anything,” he whispered to Willem. “Just stay here and don’t turn around,” and Willem did, facing the door with him.

“不要说话，”他低声跟威廉说，“站在这里不要回头。”威廉照做，跟他一起面对眼前那扇门。

　 He counted the seconds until he was certain Caleb must have passed, and then looked cautiously out toward the sidewalk and saw that it hadn’t been Caleb at all, just another tall, dark-haired man, but not Caleb, and he had exhaled, feeling defeated and stupid and relieved all at once. He noticed then that he still had Willem’s shirt bunched in his hand, and he released it. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, Willem.”

他数着一秒秒过去，直到他很确定凯莱布已经走过去了。他小心翼翼地往人行道看，才发现那人根本不是凯莱布，只是另一个深色头发的高个子男人，但不是凯莱布。于是他吐出一口气，一时间觉得又挫败又愚蠢又解脱。他注意到自己手里还紧攥着威廉的衬衫，于是便赶紧松开。“对不起，”他说，“对不起，威廉。”

　 “Jude, what happened?” Willem asked, trying to look him in the eyes. “What was that?”

“裘德，发生了什么事？”威廉问，盯着他的眼睛看，“这是怎么回事？”

　 “Nothing,” he said. “I just thought I saw someone I didn’t want to see.”

“没事，”他说，“我只是以为我看到了一个不想看的人。”

　 “Who?”

“谁？”

　 “No one. This lawyer on a case I’m working on. He’s a prick; I hate dealing with him.”

“不重要。是个对手律师，很混蛋，我不想理他。”

　 Willem looked at him. “No,” he said, at last. “It wasn’t another lawyer. It was someone else, someone you’re scared of.” There was a pause. Willem looked down the street, and then back at him. “You’re frightened,” he said, his voice wondering. “Who was it, Jude?”

威廉看着他。“不是，”他终于说，“不是另一个律师。是别人，是某个你害怕的人。”威廉停下来，往前看着街道，然后看看后方。“你吓坏了，”他说，声音充满好奇，“裘德，到底是谁？”

　 He shook his head, trying to think of a lie he could tell Willem. He was always lying to Willem: big lies, small lies. Their entire relationship was a lie—Willem thought he was one person, and really, he wasn’t. Only Caleb knew the truth. Only Caleb knew what he was.

他摇摇头，设法编个什么谎告诉威廉。他总是跟威廉撒谎：大谎、小谎。他们的整个友谊就是一个谎言——威廉以为他是这个人，但其实他不是。只有凯莱布知道真相。只有凯莱布知道他过去是什么样的人。

　 “I told you,” he said, at last. “This other lawyer.”

“我已经告诉过你了，”他终于开口，“是另一个律师。”

　 “No, it wasn’t.”

“不，不是。”

　 “Yes, it was.” Two women walked by them, and as they passed, he heard one of them whisper excitedly to the other, “That was Willem Ragnarsson!” He closed his eyes.

“是，就是。”两个女人从他们旁边走过，他听到其中一个兴奋地跟另一个咬耳朵，“那是威廉·拉格纳松！”他闭上眼睛。

　 “Listen,” Willem said, quietly, “what’s going on with you?”

“听我说，”威廉低声说，“你到底是怎么回事？”

　 “Nothing,” he said. “I’m tired. I need to go home.”

“没事，”他说，“我累了。我得回家。”