一本藍色封面的外國小說（中英雙語小說連載）
2023-06-07 19:18:58 2
9
Jumpin' 老跳
1953
Sitting in the bow, Kya watched low fingers of fog reaching for their boat. At first, torn-off cloud bits streamed over their heads, then mist engulfed them in grayness, and there was only the tick, tick, tick of the quiet motor. Minutes later, small splotches of unexpected color formed as the weathered shape of the marina gas station eased into view, as though it and not them was moving. Pa motored in, bumping gently against the dock. She'd only been here once. The owner, an old black man, sprang up from his chair to help them—the reason everybody called him Jumpin'. His white sideburns and salt-and-pepper hair framed a wide, generous face and owl eyes. Tall and spare, he seemed to never stop talking, smiling, or throwing his head back, lips shut tight in his own brand of laugh. He didn't dress in overalls, like most workmen around, but wore an ironed blue button-down shirt, too-short dark trousers, and work boots. Not often, but now and then on the meanest summer days, a tattered straw hat.
基婭坐在船頭，看著霧氣低垂的手指觸碰到小船。起初，被撕裂的雲朵碎片在頭頂湧動；接著，霧氣將它們困在一片灰濛濛之中，四下靜悄悄的，只餘發動機輕微的嘀嗒聲。幾分鐘後，出現了幾個意想不到的色塊，碼頭加油站飽經風雨侵蝕的輪廓漸漸浮現在視野裡，給人一種船不動而它在動的錯覺。爸爸把船停靠過去，輕輕地撞上碼頭。基婭只來過一次。這兒的老闆是一個年老的黑人。他從椅子上跳起來幫忙——這就是為什麼大家都管他叫老跳。他兩鬢如霜，頭髮斑白，一張大臉看上去很慷慨，眼睛像貓頭鷹。老跳又高又瘦，似乎一直在講話、微笑、仰頭，露出招牌笑容時嘴巴抿緊。他不像大部分工人那樣穿工裝褲，而是穿了熨過的、系領扣的藍色襯衫，深色短褲和工作靴。夏天最熱的那幾天，他有時會戴上一頂破爛草帽，但次數不多。
His Gas and Bait teetered on its own wobbly wharf. A cable ran from the closest oak on shore, about forty feet across the backwater, and held on with all its might. Jumpin's great-grandpa had built the wharf and shack of cypress planks way back before anybody could remember, sometime before the Civil War.
他開的「汽油和餌料」店晃晃悠悠地立在他獨佔的歪斜的碼頭上。一根電線從岸邊最近的一棵橡樹上穿過，跨越約四十英尺的死水，勉力支撐。很久很久以前，久到沒人記得清，大概是內戰前的某個時候，老跳的曾祖父用柏木板建了這個碼頭和棚屋。
Three generations had nailed bright metal signs—Nehi Grape Soda, Royal Crown Cola, Camel Filters, and twenty years' worth of North Carolina automobile license plates—all over the shack, and that burst of color could be seen from the sea through all but the thickest fog.
三代人在棚屋牆上用釘子釘滿了明亮的金屬指示牌——葡萄汽水、皇冠可樂、駱駝濾光片，還有有效期二十年的北卡羅來納汽車牌照。它們絢爛的色彩可以穿透海上最厚的霧。
「Hello, Mister Jake. How ya doin'?」
「你好，傑克先生。過得好嗎？」
「Well, Ah woke up on the right side of dirt,」 Pa answered.
「我睡醒了還躺在土地上面而不是下面。」爸爸說。
Jumpin' laughed as if he'd never heard the worn-out phrase. 「Ya got your li'l daughter with you an' all. That's mighty fine.」
老跳哈哈大笑，好像從沒聽過這老掉牙的笑話。「你帶著你的小女兒。這很好。」
Pa nodded. Then, as an afterthought, 「Yep, this here's ma daughter, Miz Kya Clark.」
爸爸點點頭，後知後覺說：「這是我的女兒，基婭·克拉克。」
「Well, I'm mighty proud to know ya, Miss Kya.」
「很榮幸認識你，基婭小姐。」
Kya searched her bare toes but found no words.
基婭盯著自己露在外面的腳趾，不知道該說些什麼。
Jumpin' wasn't bothered and kept talking about the good fishing lately. Then he asked Pa, 「Fill 'er up then, Mister Jake?」
老跳沒有在意，聊起了最近捕魚多麼輕鬆。他問爸爸：「加滿嗎，傑克先生？」
「Yeah, slam 'er right up to tha top.」
「對，加滿。」
The men talked weather, fishing, then more weather till the tank was full.
老跳一直聊天氣、捕魚、天氣，直到油箱滿了。
「Good day to y'all, now,」 he said, as he tossed off the line.
「那麼，再見。」他一邊說，一邊解開繩子。
Pa cruised slowly back onto a bright sea—the sun taking less time to devour the fog than it took Jumpin' to fill a tank. They chugged around a piney peninsula for several miles to Barkley Cove, where Pa tied to the deeply etched beams of the town wharf. Fishermen busied about, packing fish, tying line.
爸爸慢慢把船開回明亮的海上——太陽消滅大霧的速度比老跳加油要快。小船突突地繞著一個長滿松樹的半島駛了幾英裡，最後停在巴克利小灣鎮。爸爸把船系在鎮碼頭腐蝕嚴重的梁上。漁民們行色匆匆，忙著把魚裝箱和系纜繩。
「Ah reckon we can git us some rest'rant vittles,」 Pa said, and led her along the pier toward the Barkley Cove Diner. Kya had never eaten restaurant food; had never set foot inside. Her heart thumped as she brushed dried mud from her way-too-short overalls and patted down her tangled hair. As Pa opened the door, every customer paused midbite. A few men nodded faintly at Pa; the women frowned and turned their heads. One snorted, 「Well, they prob'ly can't read the shirt and shoes required.」
「我想我們可以去飯館吃點。」爸爸說，帶著基婭沿碼頭走向巴克利小灣飯館。基婭從沒吃過飯館的食物，甚至從沒進去過。她的心怦怦直跳，使勁刮蹭過短的工裝褲上已經幹了的泥點，輕拍打結的頭髮。爸爸推開門時，所有食客都頓了一下。有幾個男人對爸爸微微點頭。女人們皺起眉，別開頭。有一個人輕蔑地哼了一聲：「他們大概看不懂『衣衫不整，不得入內』。」
Pa motioned for her to sit at a small table overlooking the wharf. She couldn't read the menu, but he told her most of it, and she ordered fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, white acre peas, and biscuits fluffy as fresh-picked cotton. He had fried shrimp, cheese grits, fried 「okree,」 and fried green tomatoes. The waitress put a whole dish of butter pats perched on ice cubes and a basket of cornbread and biscuits on their table, and all the sweet iced tea they could drink. Then they had blackberry cobbler with ice cream for dessert. So full, Kya thought she might get sick, but figured it'd be worth it.
爸爸指了指能看見碼頭的一張小桌子，讓基婭坐下。她不會看菜單。爸爸告訴了她其中大部分菜品。她點了炸雞、土豆泥、肉汁、白豆、鬆軟得像新棉花一樣的餅乾。爸爸點了炸蝦、芝士玉米粉和炸綠番茄。服務員在他們桌上放了一整盤黃油塊和冰塊，一籃子玉米面包和餅乾，還有管夠的冰甜茶。他們還要了黑莓餡餅配冰激凌作為甜點。基婭吃得很撐，簡直像病了，但還是覺得很值。
As Pa stood at the cash register paying the bill, Kya stepped out onto the sidewalk, where the ripe smell of fishing boats hung over the bay. She held a greasy napkin wrapped around the leftover chicken and biscuits. Her overalls pockets were stuffed with packages of saltines, which the waitress had left right on the table for the taking.
爸爸在櫃檯買單，基婭出門走到人行道上。這裡可以聞到漁船散發的籠罩著海灣的濃鬱味道。她手裡拿著一張油膩的紙巾，包著剩下的雞肉和餅乾，工裝褲口袋裡塞滿蘇打餅乾，這是服務員留在桌上讓外帶的。
「Hi.」 Kya heard a tiny voice behind her and turned to see a girl of about four years with blond ringlets looking up at her. She was dressed in a pale blue frock and reached out her hand. Kya stared at the little hand; it was puffy-soft and maybe the cleanest thing Kya had ever seen. Never scrubbed with lye soap, certainly no mussel mud beneath the nails. Then she looked into the girl's eyes, in which she herself was reflected as just another kid.
「你好。」基婭聽到身後傳來細小的聲音，轉身看見一個長著金色長鬈髮、大概四歲的女孩正抬頭看她。小女孩穿著淡藍色連衣裙，向她伸出手。基婭看著這隻小手：柔軟而乾淨——這可能是基婭見過的最乾淨的東西，從沒有用肥皂搓洗過，指甲底下也沒有蚌泥。她望著小女孩的眼睛，那裡面映著一個完全不同的孩子。
Kya shifted the napkin to her left hand and extended her right slowly toward the girl's.
基婭把紙巾換到左手，慢慢向小女孩伸出右手。
「Hey there, get away!」 Suddenly Mrs. Teresa White, wife of the Methodist preacher, rushed from the door of the Buster Brown Shoe Shop.
「你，滾開！」突然，特蕾莎·懷特夫人，衛理公會牧師的妻子，從巴斯特·布朗鞋店裡匆忙跑了出來。
Barkley Cove served its religion hard-boiled and deep-fried. Tiny as it was, the village supported four churches, and those were just for the whites; the blacks had three more.
巴克利小灣鎮的教派紛爭不斷。雖然鎮子很小，但有四個教堂，這還只是白人教堂，黑人另外有三個。
Of course, the pastors and preachers, and certainly their wives, enjoyed highly respected positions in the village, always dressing and behaving accordingly. Teresa White often wore pastel skirts and white blouses, matching pumps and purse.
當然，牧師、傳教士和他們的妻子在鎮上很受尊重。他們的穿著和行為舉止也總是與這尊重相匹配。特蕾莎·懷特常穿淺色裙子、白襯衫，搭配淺口鞋和手提包。
Now she hurried toward her daughter and lifted her in her arms. Stepping away from Kya, she put the girl back on the sidewalk and squatted next to the child.
她衝到女兒面前，抱起她，從基婭身邊走開，再把女兒放回地上，蹲下身來。
「Meryl Lynn, dahlin', don't go near that girl, ya hear me. She's dirty.」
「梅裡爾·林恩，親愛的，不要靠近那個女孩，你聽到了嗎？她很髒。」
Kya watched the mother run her fingers through the curls; didn't miss how long they held each other's eyes.
基婭看著這位媽媽用手指梳理著女兒的鬈髮，也看清了她們長時間的互相凝視。
A woman came out of the Piggly Wiggly and walked quickly up to them. 「Ya all right, Teresa? What happened here? Was that girl botherin' Meryl Lynn?」
一個女人從雜貨店出來，快步走向她們。「你還好嗎，特蕾莎？這兒發生什麼了？這個女孩在找梅裡爾·林恩的麻煩嗎？」
「I saw her in time. Thank you, Jenny. I wish those people wouldn't come to town. Look at her. Filthy. Plumb nasty. There's that stomach flu goin' around and I just know for a fact it came in with them. Last year they brought in that case of measles, and that's serious.」 Teresa walked away, clutching the child.
「我及時看見了。謝謝，珍妮。我希望這些人不要到鎮上來。看看她，骯髒、噁心。現在有人感染急性腸胃炎，我就知道是從他們那兒來的。去年他們帶來了麻疹，當時可嚴重了。」特蕾莎走開了，手裡緊緊抓著自己的孩子。
Just then Pa, carrying some beer in a brown paper bag, called behind her, 「Whatcha doin'? C'mon, we gotta git outta here. Tide's goin' out.」 Kya turned and followed, and as they steered home to the marsh, she saw the curls and eyes of mother and child.
就在這時，爸爸拿著一個裝了啤酒的棕色紙袋在後面喊她：「幹嗎呢？走吧，我們得走了，漲潮了。」基婭轉過身，跟上他。在開船進溼地回家的路上，她眼前又浮現出那頭鬈髮和那對母女的眼睛。
Pa still disappeared some, not coming back for several days, but not as often as before. And when he did show up, he didn't collapse in a stupor but ate a meal and talked some. One night they played gin rummy, he guffawing when she won, and she giggling with her hands over her mouth like a regular girl.
爸爸還是時不時失蹤，幾天不回來，但不像以前那麼頻繁了。在家的時候也不會爛醉如泥，而是和基婭一起吃飯、聊天。一天晚上，他們玩金羅美紙牌遊戲，基婭贏了，他哈哈大笑，而基婭也像一個普通女孩那樣，捂著嘴咯咯地笑。
EACH TIME KYA STEPPED off the porch, she looked down the lane, thinking that even though the wild wisteria was fading with late spring and her mother had left late the previous summer, she might see Ma walking home through the sand. Still in her fake alligator heels. Now that she and Pa were fishing and talking, maybe they could try again to be a family. Pa had beat all of them, mostly when he was drunk. He'd be all right for a few days at a time—they would eat chicken stew together; once they flew a kite on the beach. Then: drink, shout, hit. Details of some of the bouts were sharp in her mind. Once Pa shoved Ma into the kitchen wall, hitting her until she slumped to the floor. Kya, sobbing for him to quit, touched his arm. He grabbed Kya by the shoulders, shouted for her to pull down her jeans and underpants, and bent her over the kitchen table. In one smooth, practiced motion he slid the belt from his pants and whipped her. Of course, she remembered the hot pain slicing her bare bottom, but curiously, she recalled the jeans pooled around her skinny ankles in more vivid detail. And Ma crumpled into the corner by the cookstove, crying out. Kya didn't know what all the fighting was about.
基婭每次走出門廊，都會看看小徑，想著雖然晚春已至，野紫藤將謝，而媽媽自去年夏天就已離開，但她還是有可能走過沙路回家，穿著那雙仿鱷魚皮高跟鞋。現在，她和爸爸一起捕魚、聊天，或許他們可以試著再次成為一家人。爸爸打過每一個人，大多是在他喝醉的時候。他會正常幾天——和大家一起喝雞肉燉湯，有一次還在沙灘上放風箏。然後又是喝酒，喊叫，毆打。有一些發作時的細節深深地刻在她的腦海裡。有一次，爸爸把媽媽推到廚房牆上，一直打到她癱倒在地上。基婭抓著他的手臂，哭著求他別打了。他抓住基婭的肩膀，吼叫著讓她脫掉褲子，然後把她按得半趴在餐桌上，一把解下皮帶，開始抽打。當然，她記得光著的屁股上那火辣辣的痛感，但奇怪的是，她更清楚地記得褲子堆在她瘦骨嶙峋的腳踝處的情狀。媽媽爬到爐邊的角落裡尖叫。基婭不知道所有這些毒打是為了什麼。
But if Ma came back now, when Pa was acting decent, maybe they could start over. Kya never thought it would be Ma who left and Pa who stayed. But she knew her mother wouldn't leave her forever; if she was out there somewhere in the world, she'd come back. Kya could still see the full, red lips as Ma sang to the radio, and hear her words, 「Now listen close to Mr. Orson Welles; he speaks proper like a gentleman. Don't ever say ain't, it isn't even a word.」
不過，如果媽媽現在回來，爸爸表現得體，他們或許可以重新開始。基婭從來沒想過會是媽媽離開而爸爸留下來。但她知道媽媽不會永遠離開她。如果她還在世界的某個地方，她會回來的。基婭還能看見媽媽跟著收音機唱歌時那飽滿紅潤的雙唇，聽到她說：「認真聽奧森·韋爾斯先生說話。他言語得體，是一位紳士。不要說『巴四』，那根本就不是個詞。」
Ma had painted the estuaries and sunsets in oils and watercolors so rich they seemed peeled from the earth. She had brought some art supplies with her and could buy bits and pieces at Kress's Five and Dime. Sometimes Ma had let Kya paint her own pictures on brown paper bags from the Piggly Wiggly.
媽媽用油彩和水彩畫河口，畫落日，色彩那麼豐富，畫上的事物像是從地上剝下來的。她帶過來一些美術用品，時不時也在克雷斯五分一角店零碎地買一點東西。有時候媽媽會讓基婭在雜貨店的棕色紙袋上畫她自己的畫。
IN EARLY SEPTEMBER of that fishing summer, on one afternoon that paled with heat, Kya walked to the mailbox at the end of the lane. Leafing through the grocery ads, she stopped dead when she saw a blue envelope addressed in Ma's neat hand. A few sycamore leaves were turning the same shade of yellow as when she left. All that time without a trace and now a letter. Kya stared at it, held it to the light, ran her fingers across the slanted, perfect script. Her heart banged against her chest.
在那個一起捕魚的夏天，九月初，一個熱得日光發白的下午，基婭走向小徑盡頭的郵箱。翻完那些雜貨店廣告，她僵住了，她看到一個藍色的信封，上面是媽媽整潔的筆跡。美國梧桐葉正漸漸變成她離開時的黃色。媽媽杳無音信這麼長時間，突然來了一封信。基婭盯著它，舉到光下，手指滑過那些微斜、完美的筆跡。她的心在胸腔裡怦怦跳動。
「Ma's alive. Living somewhere else. Why hasn't she come home?」 She thought of tearing the letter open, but the only word she could read for sure was her name, and it was not on the envelope.
「媽媽還活著。在某個地方。她為什麼不回來？」她想撕開信封，但她只認識自己的名字，那幾個字並不在信封上。
She ran to the shack, but Pa had motored somewhere in the boat. So she propped the letter against the saltshaker on the table where he'd see it. As she boiled black-eyed peas with onions, she kept an eye on the letter lest it disappear.
她跑回棚屋，但爸爸開船出去了。她把信靠在餐桌的鹽瓶上，這樣他就能看見了。煮黑眼豆和洋蔥的時候，基婭密切注視著那封信，怕它消失。
Every few seconds, she ducked to the kitchen window to listen for the boat's whirr. Then suddenly Pa was limp-walking up the steps. All courage left her, and she dashed past him, hollering that she was going to the outhouse; supper would be ready soon. She stood inside the smelly latrine, her heart running races to her stomach. Balancing on the wooden bench, she watched through the quarter-moon slit in the door, not knowing exactly what she expected.
每隔幾秒鐘，她就衝到廚房窗邊去聽有沒有船聲。突然，爸爸跛著腳走上了臺階。基婭所有的勇氣都消失了，她跑開了，大聲說她要去屋外的廁所，晚飯很快就好。她站在臭氣燻天的廁所裡，心臟和胃仿佛在比賽誰抽得更厲害。她在長木凳上坐下，從門上月牙形的裂縫向外望去，不知道自己到底在期待什麼。
Then the porch door slammed, and she saw Pa walking fast toward the lagoon. He went straight to the boat, a poke in his hand, and motored away. She ran back to the house, into the kitchen, but the letter was gone. She flung open his dresser drawers, rummaged through his closet, searching. 「It's mine, too! It's mine as much as yours.」 Back in the kitchen, she looked in the trash can and found the letter's ashes, still fringed in blue. With a spoon she dipped them up and laid them on the table, a little pile of black and blue remains. She picked, bit by bit, through the garbage; maybe some words had drifted to the bottom. But there was nothing but traces of cinder clinging to onionskin.
摔廊門的聲音傳來，爸爸快步走向潟湖。他直接上了船，手裡拎著一個小袋，開走了。基婭跑回棚屋，跑到廚房裡，但是信已經不見了。她猛地拉開他的抽屜，在衣櫃裡亂翻。「那也是我的！我和你有一樣的權利。」回到廚房，她翻著垃圾桶，看到了信的灰燼，邊緣還泛著藍色。她用勺子把這些舀起來，攤到桌面上，只剩一小堆黑色和藍色的殘留物。她在垃圾裡一點一點地挑。可能有些部分落到了底下。但什麼都沒了，只有粘在洋蔥皮上的灰燼。
She sat at the table, the peas still singing in the pot, and stared at the little mound. 「Ma touched these. Maybe Pa'll tell me what she wrote. Don't be stupid—that's as likely as snow fallin' in the swamp.」
她坐在桌旁，看著那一小堆灰燼。豆子還在鍋裡煮著。「媽媽碰過這些。或許爸爸會告訴我她寫了什麼。別傻了——這就和沼澤地下雪一樣不可能。」
Even the postmark was gone. Now she'd never know where Ma was. She put the ashes in a little bottle and kept it in her cigar box next to her bed.
甚至連郵戳也不見了。她永遠都不會知道媽媽在哪兒了。她把灰燼裝進一個小瓶子，收到床邊的雪茄盒裡。
PA DIDN'T COME HOME that night or the next day, and when he finally did, it was the old drunk who staggered through the door. When she mounted the courage to ask about the letter, he barked, 「It ain't none a' yo' bidness.」 And then, 「She ain't comin' back, so ya can just forget 'bout that.」 Carrying a poke, he shuffled toward the boat.
那天晚上和第二天，爸爸都沒有回家。他最後回來的時候，又變回了以前那個走路搖晃的醉漢。當她鼓足勇氣問信的事，他咆哮道：「這巴四你該關心的事！」接著又說，「她不會回來了，你趕緊忘了吧。」然後拄著棍子慢吞吞走向小船。
「That isn't true,」 Kya hollered at his back, her fists bunched at her sides. She watched him leaving, then shouted at the empty lagoon, 「Ain't isn't even a word!」
「這不是真的。」基婭衝著他的背影喊，緊握的拳頭垂在身側。她看著他離開，對著空蕩蕩的潟湖大喊：「『巴四』根本就不是個詞！」
Later she would wonder if she should have opened the letter on her own, not even shown it to Pa. Then she could have saved the words to read someday, and he'd have been better off not knowing them.
後來她想，她本應該自己打開信，甚至不必告訴爸爸，那樣她就可以留下這些文字以後看，而對爸爸來說，不知道信的存在更好。
Pa never took her fishing again. Those warm days were just a thrown-in season. Low clouds parting, the sun splashing her world briefly, then closing up dark and tight-fisted again.
爸爸再也沒有帶她去捕過魚。那些溫暖的日子只是一個額外的季節。低低的雲層分開，陽光短暫地照亮了她的世界，然後雲層合攏，陰暗而吝嗇。
KYA COULDN'T REMEMBER how to pray. Was it how you held your hands or how hard you squinted your eyes that mattered? 「Maybe if I pray, Ma and Jodie will come home. Even with all the shouting and fussing, that life was better than this lumpy-grits.」
基婭不記得該如何祈禱。重要的是手勢還是眼睛閉得有多嚴？「也許，如果我祈禱了，媽媽和喬迪就會回家。即使會被打罵，生活也比這粗玉米粉好。」
She sang mis-snippets of hymns—「and He walks with me when dew is still on the roses」—all she remembered from the little white church where Ma had taken her a few times. Their last visit had been Easter Sunday before Ma left, but all Kya remembered about the holiday was shouting and blood, somebody falling, she and Ma running, so she dropped the memory altogether.
她唱起讚美詩的片段——「露水還在玫瑰上時，他和我走在一起。」媽媽曾帶她去過幾次小小的白色教堂，這兩句是她能記起的所有。她們最後一次去那兒是媽媽離開前的復活節。但關於這個節日，基婭只記得喊叫、流血，有人摔倒，她和媽媽逃開了。後來，她索性全忘了。
Kya looked through the trees at Ma's corn and turnip patch, all weeds now. Certainly there were no roses.
基婭透過樹看著媽媽種玉米和蕪菁的那塊地，現在長滿了雜草。當然，並沒有玫瑰。
「Just forget it. No god's gonna come to this garden.」
「忘了吧。沒有神會來這個園子。」
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