《渺小一生》:这个夜晚很热，潮湿无风

　 But he didn’t see it like this. He knew it was in part JB’s way of being ironic, of congratulating him for fortune that they both knew was, yes, excessive but also deeply appreciated. And if he was to be honest, he was also flattered by JB’s jealousy: to JB, he wasn’t a cripple who was being cosmically repaid for a lousy run; he was JB’s equal, someone in whom JB saw only the things to envy and never the things to pity. And besides, JB was right: How did he get so lucky? How did he end up with everything he had? He was never to know; he was always to wonder.

但他不是这样看的。他知道在某种程度上，两人都知道杰比带着讽刺恭喜他幸运的方式太过头，但也充满了赏识。如果要他老实说，他也觉得能被杰比嫉妒很荣幸。对杰比来说，他不是个童年不幸、成年后得到大量补偿的瘸子；他和杰比是平等的，从他身上，杰比只看到令人羡慕的事，从没看到令人怜悯的事。此外，杰比说得没错：他怎么会这么幸运？他怎么会到头来拥有这一切？他从来不明白，总是在纳闷。

　 “I don’t know, JB,” he said, handing him the first slice of cake and smiling at him, as from the dining room, he could hear Willem’s voice saying something, and then a blast of laughter from everyone else, a sound of pure delight. “But you know, I’ve been lucky all my life.”

“不知道，杰比，”他说，递给他切下来的第一块蛋糕，露出微笑，同时听到餐厅里传来威廉说话的声音，其他人随之笑起来，那是一种纯粹喜悦的声音。“但是你知道，我一生都很幸运。”

　 3

3

　 THE WOMAN’S NAME is Claudine and she is a friend of a friend of an acquaintance, a jewelry designer, which is something of a deviation for him, as he usually only sleeps with people in the industry, who are more accustomed to, more forgiving of, temporary arrangements.

那个女人名叫克劳汀，是一个泛泛之交的朋友的朋友，做珠宝设计。这对他来说偏离常态，因为他通常只跟圈内人睡觉，圈内人让他比较习惯、也比较容许临时安排。

　 She is thirty-three, with long dark hair that lightens at its tips, and very small hands, hands like a child’s, on which she wears rings that she has made, dark with gold and glinting with stones; before they have sex, she takes them off last, as if these rings, not her underwear, are what conceal the most private parts of her.

她33岁，一头深色长发，尾端发亮，还有一双很小的手，像小孩一般，上头戴着好几枚她自己做的戒指，镶着黯淡的黄金和发亮的宝石；他们上床前，她会到最后才摘下那些戒指，仿佛遮盖她最私密部分的不是内裤，而是这些戒指。

　 They have been sleeping together—not seeing each other, because he sees no one—for almost two months, which again is a deviation for him, and he knows he will have to end it soon. He had told her when they had begun that it was only sex, that he was in love with someone else, and that he couldn’t spend the night, not ever, and she had seemed fine with that; she had said she was fine with it, anyway, and that she was in love with someone else herself. But he has seen no evidence of another man in her apartment, and whenever he texts, she is always available. Another warning sign: he will have to end it.

他们一起睡觉将近两个月了，不是约会，因为他不跟任何人约会。这对他来说也是偏离常态，他知道自己得赶紧结束。刚开始，他就跟她说他爱的是另一个人，而且他不能过夜，一次都不行，她好像也都接受；她说她没问题，反正她自己也另有意中人。但他在她公寓里没看到另一个男人的痕迹，而且他每次发短信，她总是有空。这是另一个警告，他得赶紧结束才行。

　 Now he kisses her on her forehead, sits up. “I have to go,” he says.

这会儿他吻了她额头一下，坐起身来。“我得走了。”他说。

　 “No,” she says. “Stay. Just a little longer.”

“不要，”她说，“留下来。再待一会儿。”

　 “I can’t,” he says.

“没办法。”他说。

　 “Five minutes,” she says.

“五分钟。”她说。

　 “Five,” he agrees, and lies back down. But after five minutes he kisses her again on the side of the face. “I really do have to go,” he tells her, and she makes a noise, one of protest and resignation, and turns over onto her side.

“那就五分钟。”他同意了，往后躺回去。五分钟后，他又吻了她脸侧一下。“我真的非走不可了。”他告诉她。她发出一个声音，抗议又认命，转身背对他。

　 He goes to her bathroom, showers and rinses out his mouth, comes back and kisses her again. “I’ll text you,” he says, disgusted by how he has been reduced to a vocabulary consisting almost entirely of clichés. “Thank you for letting me come over.”

他到浴室冲澡，漱了口，又回来吻她一次。“我会再发短信给你。”他说，很受不了自己讲的话简直老套到了极点，“谢谢你让我过来。”

　 At home, he walks silently through the darkened apartment, and in the bedroom he takes off his clothes, gets into bed with a groan, rolls over and wraps his arms around Jude, who wakes and turns to him. “Willem,” he says, “you’re home,” and Willem kisses him to cover the guilt and sorrow he always feels when he hears the relief and happiness in Jude’s voice.

回到家，他悄悄走过黑暗的公寓，来到卧室，脱掉衣服，上了床，转过去两手抱着裘德，裘德醒来转向他。“威廉，”他说，“你回家了。”威廉吻了他，以掩饰自己的内疚和哀伤——每次他听到裘德声音里的放心和快乐，就会觉得内疚又哀伤。

　 “Of course,” he says. He always comes home; he has never not. “I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“当然了。”他说。他总是会回家，从来没有不回家。“对不起，这么晚才回来。”

　 It is a hot night, humid and still, and yet he presses against Jude as if he is trying to warm himself, threading their legs together. Tomorrow, he tells himself, he will end it with Claudine.

这个夜晚很热，潮湿无风，然而他还是紧贴着裘德，仿佛想取暖似的，两人的双腿交缠。明天，他告诉自己，他就会跟克劳汀结束了。

　 They have never discussed it, but he knows Jude knows he is having sex with other people. He has even given Willem his permission. This was after that terrible Thanksgiving, when after years of obfuscation, Jude was revealed to him completely, the shreds of cloud that had always obscured him from view abruptly wiped away. For many days, he hadn’t known what to do (other than run back into therapy himself; he had called his shrink the day after Jude had made his first appointment with Dr. Loehmann), and whenever he looked at Jude, scraps of his narrative would return to him, and he would study him covertly, wondering how he had gotten from where he had been to where he was, wondering how he had become the person he had when everything in his life had argued that he shouldn’t be. The awe he had felt for him, then, the despair and horror, was something one felt for idols, not for other humans, at least no other humans he knew.

他们从来没讨论过，但他知道裘德知道他跟其他人上床。裘德甚至主动先同意了。在那个可怕的感恩节假期之后，经过多年的含糊其词，裘德终于对他揭露了所有的过去，之前总是把他遮掩得模糊不清的云朵突然被一扫而空。有好几天，他都不知道该怎么办（除了自己也跑去做心理咨询；裘德跟娄曼医生订下第一次约诊的次日，他就打电话给自己的心理医生了），而且每次看着裘德，他会想到裘德讲的那些片段，然后他会偷偷打量他，很好奇他怎么会从当年那样变成今天这样，很纳闷他怎么能克服一切逆境、变成今天这样的人。他对他的敬畏、绝望和恐惧，是对偶像才会有的，不是对另一个人类，至少不是他认识的人。

　 “I know how you feel, Willem,” Andy had said in one of their secret conversations, “but he doesn’t want you to admire him; he wants you to see him as he is. He wants you to tell him that his life, as inconceivable as it is, is still a life.” He paused. “Do you know what I mean?”

“我知道你有什么感觉，威廉。”安迪曾在他们的某次秘密谈话中说，“但他不希望你佩服他；他希望你看到他表面的样子。他希望你告诉他，尽管他的人生难以想象，但那依然是一种人生。”他暂停，“你懂我的意思吗？”

　 “I do know,” he said.

“我懂。”他说。

　 In the first bleary days after Jude’s story, he could feel Jude being very quiet around him, as if he was trying not to call attention to himself, as if he didn’t want to remind Willem of what he now knew. One night a week or so later, they were eating a muted dinner at the apartment, and Jude had said, softly, “You can’t even look at me anymore.” He had looked up then and had seen his pale, frightened face, and had dragged his chair close to Jude’s and sat there, looking at him.

裘德刚说出自己故事的接下来几天，他可以感觉到裘德跟他在一起总是非常安静，仿佛试着不要引起注意，不想提醒威廉他现在知道了什么。大约一个星期后的某个夜晚，他们在公寓里沉默地吃着晚餐，裘德忽然轻声说：“你现在根本没办法看我了。”他抬头，看到那张苍白、恐惧的脸，于是把椅子拖近，坐在那里看着他。

　 “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m afraid I’m going to say something stupid.”

“对不起，”他喃喃说，“我是怕自己说出什么蠢话。”