All the way home, James thinks to himself: It is not too late. It is not too late. With each mile marker, he repeats it until he is back in Middlewood, the college and then the lake whipping by. When at last he pulls into their driveway, the garage door is open, and Marilyn’s car nowhere in sight. Each breath sways him, no matter how hard he tries to keep upright. All these years he has remembered only: She ran away. He has taken this for granted: She came back. And: She stayed. As he reaches for the front doorknob, his legs wobble. It is not too late, he assures himself, but inside, he quavers. He cannot blame her if she has gone away again, this time for good.
回家的路上，詹姆斯不断地告诉自己：“还不算太晚。还不算太晚。”每前进一英里，他就重复一遍，他进入米德伍德，看到他的学校，然后是那个湖。当他终于开进自家车道时，发现车库门是开着的，玛丽琳的车没在里面。他只觉得天旋地转。他仍旧清晰地记得多年前的那种感觉，起初，她逃走了，等他习以为常了，她回来了，然后，她留了下来。他握住门把，双腿颤抖。还不算太晚，他向自己保证，但他的内心深处早就动摇了。如果她再次离开，他无法去指责她，而且，一旦走了，这一次她就不会再回来了。
In the front hall, a heavy silence greets him, like that of a funeral. Then he steps into the living room and sees a small figure huddled on the floor. Hannah. Curled in a ball, hugging herself with both arms. Eyes a watery red. He remembers suddenly a long-ago afternoon, two motherless children on a cold doorstep.
前厅弥漫着沉重的寂静，如葬礼一般。他步入客厅，看到一个小身影蜷缩在地板上。汉娜。她已经团成了一个球，两条胳膊箍着自己，眼圈通红。詹姆斯突然想起多年前的那个下午，两个没有母亲的孩子坐在冰冷的台阶上。
“Hannah?” he whispers, even as he feels himself collapsing, like an old building grown too weak to stand. His bag drops from his fingers to the floor. It’s as if he’s breathing through a straw. “Where’s your mother?”
“汉娜。”他小声说，觉得自己像一幢即将倒掉的旧楼，再也站不稳了。手提包从他指间滑落，掉到地板上。他仿佛是在透过一根麦秆呼吸。“你妈妈呢？”
Hannah looks up. “Upstairs. Sleeping.” Then — and this is what gives James his breath again –“I told her you would come home.” Not smugly, not triumphantly. Just a fact, round and simple as a bead.
汉娜抬起头。“在楼上。睡觉。”詹姆斯立刻觉得自己又能喘气了。“我告诉过她，你会回家的。”她看上去并没有沾沾自喜，或是得意洋洋。这是事实，千真万确的事实。
James sinks to the carpet beside his small daughter, silenced by gratitude, and Hannah considers whether to say more. For there is more, much more: how she and her mother had curled up together on Lydia’s bed and cried and cried all afternoon, holding each other so close that their tears mixed, until her mother had fallen asleep. And how, half an hour ago, her brother had arrived home in a police car, rumpled and groggy and stinking to high heaven but strangely serene, and had gone straight up to his room and into bed. Hannah, peeking from behind the curtain, had seen Officer Fiske at the wheel, and late that night, Marilyn’s car will quietly reappear in the driveway, washed, keys set neatly on the driver’s seat. It can wait, she decides. She is used to keeping people’s secrets, and there is something more pressing to tell her father.
詹姆斯跌坐在小女儿身边的地毯上，感激得说不出话来，汉娜则在考虑是否需要多说几句。因为，确实还有很多事要说。她和母亲在莉迪亚的床上抱头痛哭了一下午，她们靠得那么近，眼泪都混在了一起，后来，她母亲不知不觉睡着了。半小时前，她哥哥坐着警车回家，身体晃悠得一塌糊涂，但情绪出奇地平静，他直接上楼睡觉去了。汉娜从帘子后面看到，开车的是菲斯克警官。当天晚上，玛丽琳的车会安静地重新出现在车道上，而且洗过了，钥匙则端正地摆在驾驶座上。还是等等再说吧，汉娜决定。她已经习惯了为人们保守秘密，而且，还有更重要的事情需要告诉父亲。
She tugs at his arm, pointing upward, and James is surprised by how small her hands are, and how strong. “Look.”
她拽拽他的胳膊，向上一指，她的小手居然这么有劲，詹姆斯觉得非常惊奇。“看。”
At first, so overcome with relief, so accustomed to ignoring his youngest, he sees nothing. It is not too late, he thinks, glancing up at the ceiling, clean and bright as a new sheet of paper in the late-afternoon sun. Not yet the end.
起初，由于刚从巨大的情绪波动中恢复过来，加上习惯于对小女儿采取忽略态度，詹姆斯什么都没看见。还不算太晚，他告诫自己，然后他凝视着天花板——在夕阳的映照下，它干净明亮得如同一张白纸。似乎什么都没有。
“Look,” Hannah insists again, tipping his head with a peremptory hand. She has never dared to be so bossy, and James, startled, looks carefully and sees it at last: a white footprint against the off-white, as if someone has stepped in paint and then onto the ceiling, leaving one faint but perfect track. He has never noticed it before. Hannah catches his eye and the look on her face is serious and proud, as if she’s discovered a new planet. It’s ridiculous, really, a footprint on the ceiling. Unexplainable and pointless and magical.
“看。”汉娜又说，她不容置辩地指着他的头顶。她从来不敢如此霸道，吃惊的詹姆斯小心翼翼地望过去，终于看到了。奶油色的天花板上，有一个白色的鞋印，仿佛有人先踩到了涂料，然后又踩了天花板一脚，留下了清晰完美的印迹。以前他从未注意到。他的目光被汉娜的脸吸引过去，她的表情既严肃又自豪，就像是发现了一颗新的行星。其实，天花板上的鞋印说到底是一样荒唐的东西，无法解释，毫无意义，是魔法般的存在。
Hannah giggles, and to James it sounds like the tinkling of a bell. A good sound. He laughs too, for the first time in weeks, and Hannah, suddenly bold, nestles close to her father. It feels familiar, the way she melts into him. It reminds him of something he’s forgotten.
汉娜傻笑起来，在詹姆斯耳中，她的笑声像铃声般清脆。很好听。他也笑了，这是几周以来的第一次。汉娜一下子胆大起来，依偎着父亲。这感觉很熟悉，让他想起被他忘记的一些事。
He’d say this, over and over, while she nestled her face in his hair and giggled. He could feel her hot little breath on his scalp, on the back of his ears. He’d wander the living room, peering behind furniture and around doorways. “I can hear her,” he’d say. “I can see her foot.” He’d squeeze her ankle, clutched tight in his hand. “Where is she? Where’s Lydia? Where could she be?” He would twist his head and she’d duck, squealing, while he pretended not to notice her hair dangling over his shoulder. “There she is! There’s Lydia!” He’d spin faster and faster, Lydia clinging tighter and tighter, until he collapsed on the rug, letting her roll, laughing, off his back. She never got tired of it. Found and lost and found again, lost in plain sight, pressed to his back, her feet clasped in his hands. What made something precious? Losing it and finding it. All those times he’d pretended to lose her. He sinks down on the carpet, dizzy with loss.
他会不停地说下去，莉迪亚则把脸埋在他头发里，咯咯地笑。女儿温热柔和的气息喷在他的头皮上和耳朵后面，他在客厅里乱转，在家具后面和走廊里假装寻找。“我能听到她的声音，”他说，“我能看到她的脚。”他捏捏她的脚踝，紧紧握住，“她在哪儿？莉迪亚在哪儿？她能去哪儿呢？”他扭头向后看，莉迪亚就尖叫着往旁边一闪，他假装没有看到她垂在他肩膀上的头发。“她在那！她在那！”他越转越快，莉迪亚越抓越紧，最后，他躺到地毯上，她笑着从他背上滚下来。这个游戏她永远玩不腻，找到了再“消失”，“消失”了再找。有时，她直接踩着他的手，爬上他的背，大咧咧地“消失”在他面前。是什么让某些东西变得宝贵？失而复得。他一直在假装失去她。他坐在地毯上，怅然若失。
“You know what I’d do with your sister sometimes?” he says slowly. “When she was small, really small, even smaller than you. You know what I’d do?” He lets Hannah climb onto his back. Then he stands and turns side to side, feeling her weight shift against him. “Where’s Lydia?” he says. “Where’s Lydia?”
“你知道有时候我会和你姐姐做什么吗？”他慢慢地说，“她小的时候，非常小，甚至比你现在还小。你知道我会怎么做吗？”他让汉娜爬上他的背，然后站起来左右摇晃，感到她的重心在他身上变换。“莉迪亚去哪儿了？”他说，“莉迪亚去哪儿了？”
And he feels himself rising, pushing himself back up to his knees.
他膝盖着地，直起了身体。
“Daddy?” Hannah whispers. “Will you do that again?”
“爸爸，”汉娜耳语道，“你能再来一次吗？”
“I’m home,” James says, and Hannah rises on tiptoes, edging toward the door. She can feel the room is poised on the edge — of what, she’s not sure, but she does not want to destroy this beautiful, sensitive balance. Accustomed to being overlooked, she sidles toward her mother, ready to slip by unnoticed. Then Marilyn touches a gentle hand to her shoulder, and Hannah’s heels land on the floor with a surprised thump.
“我回家了。”詹姆斯说。汉娜轻手轻脚地爬起来，向门口蹭去。她能感觉到房间里有一种沉静的气氛——她不确定这是什么，但她不想打破如此完美和敏锐的平衡。习惯于被忽视的她挪到母亲身边，做好了悄悄溜出去的准备。这时，玛丽琳轻轻碰了一下她的肩膀，汉娜吃了一惊，脚跟“砰”地落到地板上。
There is so much more to do, so much yet to be mended. But for now, he thinks only of this, his daughter, here in his arms. He had forgotten what it was like to hold a child — to hold anyone — like that. How their weight sank into you, how they clung instinctively. How they trusted you. It is a long time before he is ready to let her go.
还有很多事情需要做，很多东西要修补。但是现在，他想到的只有怀里的女儿。他已经忘记像这样抱着小孩——或者抱任何人——的感觉。他们的重量沉进你的身体，他们本能地抓着你，对你完全信任，他抱了汉娜很长时间才放手。
Then he feels small arms curling round his neck, the warmth of a small body leaning against him.
然后，一条小胳膊搂住他的脖子，温暖的小身体贴在他身上。
“You’re home,” Marilyn says. All of them know it is a question.
“你回家了。”玛丽琳说。他们都明白，这是一个问句。
And when Marilyn wakes and comes downstairs, just as the light is fading, this is what she finds: her husband cradling their youngest in a circle of lamplight, a tender look of calm on his face.
玛丽琳睡醒来到楼下的时候，天刚开始黑，她看到丈夫抱着小女儿蜷缩在灯下，神色平静温柔。
“It’s all right,” Marilyn says. “Your father and I just need to talk.” Then — and Hannah flushes with delight — she kisses her on the head, right where the hair parts, and says, “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“没关系，”玛丽琳说，“你爸爸和我需要谈谈。”汉娜的脸高兴得红了起来——玛丽琳亲亲她的前额，恰好在头发分开的地方，她随后说：“我们明天早晨见。”
Halfway up the steps, Hannah pauses. From downstairs, she hears only a low murmur of voices, but for once she does not creep back down to listen. We’ll see you in the morning, her mother had said, and she takes this as a promise. She tiptoes across the landing — past Nath’s room, where behind the closed door her brother lies in a dreamless sleep, the remnants of the whiskey slowly steaming from his pores; past Lydia’s room, which looks, in the dark, like nothing has changed, though nothing could be further from the truth; all the way up to her own room, where through the windows the lawn outside is just beginning to turn from inky blue to black. Her glow-in-the-dark clock reads just past eight, but it feels later, like the middle of the night, the darkness quiet and thick as a down comforter. She wraps that feeling around her. From up here, she can’t hear her parents talking. But it’s enough to know that they’re there.
楼梯上到一半，汉娜停住脚步，她只能听到楼下传来喁喁低语，但她这次没有爬回去偷听。“我们明天早晨见。”她母亲说了，她把这当成一句承诺。她轻轻走过平台——经过内斯的房间，门后面，她哥哥正在沉睡，残留的威士忌缓缓从他的毛孔中蒸发出来；经过莉迪亚的房间，在黑暗中，那里好像什么都没有发生过，但实际却发生了翻天覆地的变化。一路向上，她来到自己的房间，窗外的草坪刚开始从蓝黑色变为黑色。她的夜光闹钟显示，现在刚过八点，但感觉却像半夜，沉寂厚重的黑暗犹如一床羽绒被。她静静体会着被它包围的感觉。在阁楼上，她虽然听不到父母的声音，但足以感受到他们就在那里。
Downstairs, Marilyn lingers in the doorway, one hand on the jamb. James tries to swallow, but something hard and sharp lodges in his throat, like a fishbone. Once he had been able to read his wife’s mood even from her back. By the tilt of her shoulders, by the shifting of her weight from left foot to right, he would have known what she was thinking. But it’s been a long time since he looked at her carefully, and now, even face-to-face, all he can see are the faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the faint wrinkles where her blouse has been crushed, then straightened.
楼下，玛丽琳在走廊里徘徊，一只手放在门把手上。詹姆斯想吞咽口水，却如鲠在喉。他已经学会从背后读懂妻子的情绪。从她肩膀倾斜的角度，以及左脚到右脚重心的切换，他已经明白了她的想法。不过，他已经很长时间没有这样认真地看她了，现在，即便是脸对着脸，他看到的也只有她眼角模糊的皱纹，还有她衬衫上的皱褶，时而出现，时而舒展。
“I thought you’d gone,” she says at last.
“我以为你走了。”她终于说。
When James’s voice squeezes around the sharp thing in his throat, it comes out thin and scratched. “I thought you had.”
詹姆斯的声音嘶哑而尖利：“我以为你走了。”
And for the moment, this is everything they need to say.
这一刻，他们只需要说这一句就够了。
Some things they will never discuss: James will never talk to Louisa again, and he will be ashamed of this for as long as he lives. Later, slowly, they will piece together other things that have never been said. He will show her the coroner’s report; she will press the cookbook into his hands. How long it will be before he speaks to his son without flint in his voice; how long it will be before Nath no longer flinches when his father speaks. For the rest of the summer, and for years after that, they will grope for the words that say what they mean: to Nath, to Hannah, to each other. There is so much they need to say.
有些事情他们永远不会讨论，但是，詹姆斯不会再和路易莎说话，他将为他们曾经的关系羞愧一辈子。然后，他们会谈到一些从未说开的话题。他会把验尸报告给她看，她则把烹饪书交到他手里。他不记得从什么时候开始，自己和儿子说话时，语气里不再有火药味，也不记得从什么时候开始，儿子也不再和他针锋相对。在这个夏天剩下的日子里，以及以后的很多年，詹姆斯和玛丽琳说话时会选择真正能表达自己的意思的措辞，无论是对内斯，对汉娜，还是互相之间。他们需要说的太多太多。
In bed, they touch each other gently, as if it’s the first time they’ve ever been together: his hand sliding carefully across the small of her back, her fingers careful and deliberate as she undoes the buttons of his shirt. Their bodies are older now; he can feel his shoulders sagging, he can see the silver scars from childbirth crisscrossing just below her waistline. In the dark they are careful of each other, as if they know they are fragile, as if they know they can break.
他们在床上轻轻地互相抚摸，就像第一次在一起时那样，他的手小心地划过她的后背，她的手指仔细地解开他的衣扣。他们的身体变老了一些，他能感觉得出自己肩膀下垂了，也摸得到她腰线以下分娩手术留下的十字形疤痕。黑暗中，他们温柔相待，似乎明白彼此的脆弱和不堪一击。
In this moment of silence, something touches James’s hand, so light he can barely feel it. A moth, he thinks. The sleeve of his shirt. But when he looks down, he sees Marilyn’s fingers curled over his, the merest curve as they squeeze. He has almost forgotten what it felt like, to touch her. To be forgiven even just this much. He bows his head and rests it on the back of her hand, overwhelmed with gratitude at having one more day.
在这个静谧的时刻，有个东西触到了詹姆斯的手，它是那么的轻，他几乎感觉不到。是一只蛾子，他想，是他的衬衫袖口。然而，他低下头时，却看到玛丽琳的手指勾住他的手指，它们轻轻碰在一起。他几乎已经忘记了碰触她是什么感觉。错了这么多，他依然得到了原谅。他弯下腰，把头放到玛丽琳的手上，被感激之情所淹没。
In the night, Marilyn wakes and feels her husband’s warmth beside her, smells the sweet scent of him, like toast, mellowed and organic and bittersweet. How lovely it would be to stay curled here against him, to feel his chest rising and falling against her, as if it were her own breath. Right now, though, there is something else she must do.
深夜，玛丽琳醒过来，发觉丈夫温暖地躺在自己身边，他身上的味道像烤面包片一样甜，又带着醇酒的芳香和苦涩。在这里和他靠在一起是多么的幸福——感觉他胸口的起伏，仿佛那是她自己的呼吸。然而现在，她必须做点别的事。
At the doorway to Lydia’s room, she pauses with her hand on the knob and rests her head against the frame, remembering that last evening together: how a glint of light had caught Lydia’s water glass and she’d looked at her daughter across the table and smiled. Spinning out her daughter’s future, brimming with confidence, she’d never imagined even for a second that it might not happen. That she might be wrong about anything.
她站在莉迪亚房间门口，握着门把手迟疑了一会儿。她把头靠在门框上，回忆着她和女儿相处的最后一晚——莉迪亚的高脚杯的反光闪进她的眼睛，她朝桌子对面微笑着看过去，自信满满地遐想女儿的未来，却从未去想这一切可能不会发生，她可能搞错了一切。
That evening, that sureness, feels ancient now, like something grown small with the distance of years. Something she’d experienced before her children, before marrying, while she was still a child herself. She understands. There is nowhere to go but on. Still, part of her longs to go back for one instant — not to change anything, not even to speak to Lydia, not to tell her anything at all. Just to open the door and see her daughter there, asleep, one more time, and know all was well.
当时的胸有成竹已经远去，似乎那是多年前的某种古老的感觉，是她在结婚前甚至童年时代的体验。她明白，他们没有别的去处，只能向前。她心里的某个部分仍旧希望回到那个瞬间——什么都不要改变，甚至不和莉迪亚说话，什么都不告诉她。只是敞开门，再看一眼睡梦中的女儿，知道一切都好。
And when at last she opens the door, this is what she sees. The shape of her daughter there in the bed, one long lock of hair stretched across the pillow. If she looks hard, she can even see the rise and fall of the flowered comforter with each breath. She knows she’s been granted a vision, and she tries not to blink, to absorb this moment, this last beautiful image of her daughter sleeping.
当她终于推开房门，眼前出现的是这一幕：床上躺着她的女儿，一绺长发搭在枕头上，如果仔细观察，甚至看得出羽绒被随着她的呼吸一起一伏。她知道这是上天赐予她的幻象，她拼命不去眨眼，想要记住女儿睡着时的样子。
Someday, when she’s ready, she’ll pull the curtains, gather the clothing from the bureau, stack the books from the floor and pack them away. She’ll wash the sheets, open desk drawers, empty the pockets of Lydia’s jeans. When she does, she’ll find only fragments of her daughter’s life: coins, unsent postcards, pages torn from magazines. She’ll pause over a peppermint, still twisted in cellophane, and wonder if it’s significant, if it had meant something to Lydia, if it was just overlooked and discarded. She knows she’ll find no answers. For now, she watches the figure in the bed, and her eyes fill with tears. It’s enough.
将来的某一天，等她准备好了，她会拉开窗帘，收起抽屉里的衣服，把地板上的书放好。她会清洗床单，打开书桌抽屉，清空莉迪亚的裤子口袋，这些地方装着女儿生活中仅存的碎片：硬币、没寄出的明信片、杂志上撕下来的书页。她会对着一块包着玻璃纸的薄荷糖发一会儿呆，想知道这是不是什么重要的东西，是对莉迪亚有什么意义，还是被她忘记和丢弃的东西。她知道自己不会找到答案。现在，她只能注视着床上的人影，眼里噙满泪水。这就够了。
When Hannah comes downstairs, just as the sun is rising, she counts carefully: two cars in the driveway. Two rings of keys on the hall table. Five sets of shoes — one Lydia’s — by the door. Though this last causes a sting, just between the collarbones, these sums bring her comfort. Now, peeking through the front window, she sees the Wolffs’ door open and Jack and his dog emerge. Things will never be the same again; she knows this. But the sight of Jack and his dog, heading for the lake, brings her comfort, too. As if the universe is slowly returning to normal.
汉娜下楼时，太阳刚刚升起，她谨慎地数了数，车道上停着两辆车，前厅桌子上放着两套钥匙，门口摆着五双鞋——其中一双是莉迪亚的。虽然看到这双鞋时，她觉得锁骨一痛，但这些数目让她安心。她从前窗往外看，发现伍尔夫家的门被打开，杰克和他的狗正走出来。虽然她知道很多事都和以前不一样了，但看到杰克和他的狗朝湖边走，她依然觉得安心，仿佛宇宙慢慢恢复了正常。
For Nath, though, at his window upstairs, the opposite is true. Awaking from his deep and drunken sleep, the whiskey purged from his body, everything seems new: the outlines of his furniture, the sunbeams slicing across the carpet, his hands before his face. Even the pain in his stomach — he hasn’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast, and that, like the whiskey, is long gone — feels bright and clean and sharp. And now, across the lawn, he spots what he’s sought every day for so long. Jack.
然而，站在楼上窗前的内斯，想法却正好相反。他从醉酒的睡眠中醒来，威士忌已经离开了他的身体，每样东西仿佛都焕然一新：家具的轮廓、分割地毯的阳光、举到眼前的他的手，连胃部的疼痛——自从昨天早餐之后他就没吃东西，那时吃下的食物，早就和威士忌一起消失了——也是那么清晰和尖锐。而且，他的视线越过草坪，看到了自己天天都在搜寻的目标。杰克。
“Nath,” she calls. “Nath, it’s not his fault.” Nath doesn’t stop. He’s not running, just marching with a fierce and angry stride toward the corner, where Jack has just disappeared. He looks like the cowboys in their father’s movies, determined and tense-jawed and unshakable in the middle of the deserted street. “Nath.” Hannah grabs his arm, but he keeps walking, unmoved, and she scurries to keep up. They’re at the corner now, and both of them see Jack at the same moment, sitting on the dock, arms wrapped around his knees, the dog lying beside him. Nath pauses to let a car go by and Hannah tugs his hand, hard.
“内斯，”她叫道，“内斯，不是他的错。”内斯没有停。他没在跑，只是气冲冲地迈着大步，朝街角前进，杰克刚从那里消失。他看上去就像詹姆斯的电影里面的那些牛仔，坚定地走在荒凉的街道上，肌肉绷紧，不可动摇。“内斯。”汉娜抓住他的胳膊，但他无动于衷，继续向前走，她只能快步跟着。他们来到街角，同时看到了杰克，他坐在码头上，胳膊抱着膝盖，狗趴在旁边。内斯收住脚，让一辆车先过去，汉娜则用力拉着他的手。
He does not bother to change his clothes, or to grab his keys, or to think at all. He simply pulls on his tennis shoes and barrels down the stairs. The universe has given him this chance, and he refuses to squander it. As he yanks open the front door, Hannah is merely a startled blur in the front hall. For her part, she does not even bother to put on shoes. Barefoot, she darts after him, the asphalt still cool and damp against her feet.
他不在乎换没换衣服、拿没拿钥匙，他没有心思考虑别的事。他蹬上网球鞋，飞速蹿下楼梯。老天给了他这个机会，不能浪费。他猛地拉开前门，在他眼里，前厅里的汉娜无非是一个吓坏了的模糊黑点。而她连穿不穿鞋都不在乎，光着脚便跟着内斯冲了出去，沥青地面依旧泛着凉意，踩起来有潮湿的感觉。
“Please,” she says. “Please.” The car passes and Nath hesitates, but he’s been waiting for answers so long. Now or never, he thinks, and he jerks himself free and crosses the street.
“求你了，”她说，“求你了。”那辆车开走了，内斯迟疑了一下，但他等待答案已经等了那么久。要么现在就问，要么永远闭嘴，他想。他挣脱了汉娜的手，穿过马路。
If Jack hears them coming, he doesn’t show it. He stays there, looking out over the water, until Nath is standing right over him.
就算杰克听到了他们过来，他也没有表现出来。他坐在那里，望着水面，直到内斯站在他的面前。
“Did you think I wouldn’t see you?” Nath says. Jack doesn’t reply. Slowly, he gets to his feet, facing Nath with his hands tucked in the back pockets of his jeans. As if, Nath thinks, he’s not even worth fighting. “You can’t hide forever.”
“你觉得我看不见你吗？”内斯说。杰克没回答，他慢慢地站起来，手插在裤子后袋里，脸朝着内斯。内斯想，他好像连架都不屑于打。“你不能永远藏着。”
“I know it,” Jack says. At his feet, the dog utters a low, moaning whine.
“我知道。”杰克说。他脚旁的狗发出低沉的哀鸣。
“Nath,” Hannah whispers. “Let’s go home. Please.”
“内斯，”汉娜小声说，“我们回家吧，求你了。”
Nath ignores her. “I hope you were thinking about how sorry you are,” he says.
内斯无视她。“我希望你知道你该有多么抱歉。”他说。
“I am so sorry,” Jack says. “About what happened to Lydia.” A faint tremor shakes his voice. “About everything.” Jack’s dog backs away, huddling against Hannah’s legs, and she’s sure now that Nath’s hands will unclench, that he’ll turn around and leave Jack alone and walk away. Except he doesn’t. For a second he seems confused — then being confused makes him angrier.
“我是觉得抱歉。”杰克说，“对莉迪亚的事感到抱歉。”他的声音似乎有些发抖，“对一切抱歉。”他的狗吓得向后一退，和汉娜的腿碰到一起。她觉得内斯会松开拳头，转身离开，让杰克独自留在这里。然而他没有，他只是疑惑了一会——而疑惑让他更加愤怒。
“Do you think that changes anything? It doesn’t.” The knuckles of his fists have gone white. “Tell me the truth. Now. I want to know. What happened between you two. What made her go out on that lake that night.”
“你觉得这样就能改变什么吗？不可能。”他捏紧拳头，指关节变得发白，“告诉我真相。现在。我想知道，你们两个之间发生了什么，那天晚上她为什么会跑到湖那里去。”
Nath takes a half-step closer. He is so close now, so close to understanding, that it makes him dizzy. “What?” he says, almost whispering, so quiet now that Hannah can hardly hear him. “That it’s your fault?”
内斯向前跨了半步。他现在靠得非常近，近到能够明白他的意思，但是，他却觉得头晕。“说什么？”他问，几乎是在耳语，声音低到汉娜几乎听不清楚，“承认那是你的错吗？”
In the second before Jack’s head moves, she understands what’s going to happen: Nath needs a target, somewhere to point his anger and guilt, or he’ll crumble. Jack knows this; she can see it in his face, in the way he squares his shoulders, bracing himself. Nath leans closer, and for the first time in a long time, he looks Jack right in the eye, brown on blue. Demanding. Begging. Tell me. Please. And Jack nods his head. Yes.
在杰克的头移动之前，汉娜突然意识到接下来会发生什么——内斯需要一个目标，一个让他发泄愤怒和内疚的目标，否则他就会崩溃。而杰克明白这一点，她从他脸上看得出来，从他挺胸抬头的样子也看得出来。内斯又靠近了一点，许久以来，他第一次直视杰克的眼睛，棕色对蓝色。他在命令，在恳求：告诉我。求你了。杰克点点头：好。
Jack half shakes his head, as if he doesn’t understand the question. “I thought Lydia told you –” His arm twitches, as if he’s about to take Nath by the shoulder, or the hand. “I should have told you myself,” he says. “I should have said, a long time ago –“
杰克微微摇头，似乎没听懂内斯的问题。“我以为莉迪亚告诉了你……”他的胳膊晃动着，似乎准备抓住内斯的肩膀或者手，“我应该自己告诉你的，”他说，“我应该说的，很久以前就应该……”
He had thought that when he found Jack, when his fist hit Jack’s smug face, he’d feel better. That everything would change, that the hard glob of anger that has grown inside him would crumble like sand. But nothing happens. He can still feel it there, a lump of concrete inside, scraping him raw from the inside out. And Jack’s face isn’t smug, either. He’d expected at least defensiveness, maybe fear, but in Jack’s eyes he sees nothing of that. Instead Jack looks at him almost tenderly, as if he’s sorry for him. As if he wants to reach out and put his arms around him.
找到杰克的时候，他想过，如果自己的拳头打在杰克脸上，他会感觉好一点，一切都会不一样，他内心的愤怒会像沙子一样消散。然而，什么都没有发生。他觉得自己的愤怒还在那里，像一块混凝土，从里到外地刮擦着他。杰克的脸上也没有得意的表情，连戒备和恐惧都没有，他只是近乎温柔地看着内斯，仿佛为他感到难过，仿佛他想要伸出胳膊来抱住他。
Then his fist smashes into Jack and Jack doubles over. Nath has never hit anyone before, and he’d thought it would feel good — powerful — his arm uncoiling like a piston. It doesn’t. It feels like punching a piece of meat, something dense and heavy, something that does not resist. It makes him feel a little sick. And he’d expected a pow, like in the movies, but there’s hardly any noise at all. Just a thump, like a heavy bag falling to the floor, a faint little gasp, and that makes him feel sick, too. Nath readies himself, waiting, but Jack doesn’t hit back. He straightens up, slowly, one hand on his stomach, his eyes watching Nath. He doesn’t even make a fist, and this makes Nath feel sickest of all.
接着，他的拳头就砸向杰克，杰克弯下了腰。内斯以前从来没有打过人，他以为打人的感觉一定很好——当他的胳膊像活塞一样伸展开的时候，他会觉得非常强大。但事实并非如此。他觉得自己在打一块肉，密实沉重，不会反抗的肉。他感到有点恶心。他希望听到的是电影里那样“砰砰”的声音，而拳头打在杰克身上，却只有沉闷的捶击声，像一只沉重的袋子倒在地板上，只有一声微微喘息，这也让他恶心。内斯摆好姿势等着，但杰克没有还击。他缓缓直起身子，一手捂着肚子，眼睛盯着内斯，他连手都没有握成拳头，这让内斯彻底想吐。
He grabs Jack by the shoulder and swings again and Hannah looks away just before his fist meets Jack’s face. This time, a trickle of red drips from Jack’s nose. He doesn’t wipe it away, just lets it drip, from nostril to lip to chin.
他揪住杰克的肩膀，又开始摇晃，在他的拳头触到杰克的脸之前，汉娜偏过头去。这一次，杰克的鼻子流下一串红色液滴。他没有去擦，而是让它们流，从鼻孔到嘴唇到下巴。
“Come on,” Nath shouts. “Are you too ashamed to hit back?”
“快点，”内斯喊道，“你心虚得没法还手了吗？”
“Stop it,” she screams, and only when she hears her own voice does she realize she’s crying, that her cheeks and her neck and even the collar of her T-shirt are sticky with tears. Nath and Jack hear it too. They both stare, Nath’s fist still cocked, Jack’s face and that tender look now turned on her. “Stop,” she screams again, stomach churning, and she rushes between them, trying to shield Jack, battering her brother with her palms, shoving him away.
“别打了。”汉娜尖叫道。当她听到自己的声音，才发觉自己已经哭了，脸上，脖子上，连T恤的领子上都沾满黏糊糊的眼泪。内斯和杰克也听到她的哭喊，他们一齐扭过头，内斯的拳头停在半空，杰克现在温柔地看着她。“别打了。”她又叫道，胃部翻腾不已。她冲到两人中间，想保护杰克，用手掌猛拍她的哥哥，把他推到一边。
And Nath doesn’t resist. He lets her push him, feels himself teetering, feet slipping on the worn-smooth wood, lets himself fall off the dock and into the water.
内斯没有反抗，任由她推着自己，他不由自主地脚步踉跄，瘫倒在磨得光滑的木板上，身体滑下码头，沉进水中。
So this is what it’s like, he thinks as the water closes over his head. He doesn’t fight it. He holds his breath, stills his arms and legs, keeps his eyes open as he plummets. This is what it looks like. He imagines Lydia sinking, the sunlight above the water growing dimmer as he sinks farther, too. Soon he’ll be at the bottom, legs and arms and the small of his back pressed to the sandy lake floor. He’ll stay there until he can’t hold his breath any longer, until the water rushes in to snuff out his mind like a candle. His eyes sting, but he forces them open. This is what it’s like, he tells himself. Notice this. Notice everything. Remember it.
那么，就是这种感觉了，水面在他头顶闭合的时候，他想。他没有挣扎。他屏住呼吸，稳住四肢，睁着眼睛垂直下沉。看上去是这样的。他想象着莉迪亚下沉的那一刻。水面以上的阳光变得越来越暗，他很快就会抵达湖底，腿、胳膊和脊背贴着沙质的湖床。他会待在那里，直到再也无法屏住呼吸，直到水钻进来，像扑灭蜡烛一样浇灭他的思想。虽然眼睛刺痛，但他强迫自己睁着。就是这种感觉，他告诉自己。注意着，注意周围的一切，并且记住。
But he’s too familiar with the water. His body already knows what to do, the way it knows to duck at the corner of the staircase at home, where the ceiling is low. His muscles stretch and flail. On its own, his body rights itself, his arms claw at the water. His legs kick until his head breaks the surface and he coughs out a mouthful of silt, breathes cool air into his lungs. It’s too late. He’s already learned how not to drown.
然而，他实在是太熟悉水性。他的身体已经知道该如何反应，就像家里天花板压下来的时候，人会本能地知道要钻进楼梯间的角落一样。他的肌肉伸展收缩，身体自动调整平衡，胳膊划着水，腿不停地踢，直到他的头破开水面。他咳出一嘴泥沙，吸进凉爽的空气。太晚了。他已经学会了怎样不被淹死。
“Nath?” Hannah calls, and then she’s peering over the side of the dock, her face small and pale. Then another head appears — Jack’s — and a hand stretches down toward him. He knows it’s Jack’s, and that when he gets there, he’ll take it anyway.
“内斯？”汉娜叫道。她站在码头上向下看，小脸煞白。接着，另一个脑袋出现了——杰克的——一只手向他伸过来。他知道那是杰克的手，当他游过去的时候，他会抓住它。
He floats faceup, eyes closed, letting the water hold his weary limbs. He can’t know what it was like, not the first time, not the last. He can guess, but he won’t ever know, not really. What it was like, what she was thinking, everything she’d never told him. Whether she thought he’d failed her, or whether she wanted him to let her go. This, more than anything, makes him feel that she is gone.
他仰躺在水上，闭着眼睛，让水流托起疲倦的四肢。他无法知道那是什么感觉，任何时候都不可能，他只能猜，但永远不知道猜得对不对。他渴望了解那是什么感觉，她在想什么，以及她没有告诉他的所有事。她是否觉得他辜负了她，是否希望他让她走。现在，他真切地感觉到，她已经离开了。
And after he takes it, what will happen? He’ll struggle home, dripping wet, muddy, knuckles raw from Jack’s teeth. Beside him, Jack will be bruised and swollen, the front of his shirt a Rorschach of dark brown. Hannah will obviously have been crying; it will show in the streaks under her eyes, in the damp thwack of lashes against her cheek. Despite this, they will be strangely aglow, all of them, as if they’ve been scoured. It will take a long time to sort things out. Today they will have to deal with their parents, Jack’s mother, too, all the questions: Why were you fighting? What happened? It will take a long time, because they won’t be able to explain, and parents, they know, need explanations. They will change into dry clothing, Jack wearing one of Nath’s old T-shirts. They will dab mercurochrome on Jack’s cheek, on Nath’s knuckles, making them look bloodier, like their wounds are reopened, even though in reality they are beginning to close.
抓住之后呢？他会摇摇晃晃地往家里走，全身湿透，遍布泥浆，指关节被杰克的牙齿磕得生疼。一旁的杰克鼻青脸肿，衬衫前面沾着一块棕色污迹。汉娜显然哭过，眼睛下方和脸颊上湿乎乎的。尽管如此，他们还是不可思议地精神焕发，三个人都是如此，仿佛被水冲刷一新。处理好各种问题需要很长时间。今天，他们要应付各自的父母，包括杰克的母亲。他们会问：“你们为什么打架了？怎么回事？”这需要很长时间，因为他们无法解释，而父母们总是需要解释。他们会换上干衣服，杰克会穿上内斯的一件旧T恤，他们会给杰克的脸和内斯的手指涂上红药水，这看起来更加血腥，伤口仿佛被重新撕开，而实际上，它们已经开始愈合了。
For now, when he opens his eyes at last, he focuses on the dock, on Jack’s hand, on Hannah. From where he floats, her upside-down face is right-side up, and he dog-paddles toward her. He doesn’t want to dive underwater and lose sight of her face.
现在，他终于睁开了眼睛。他看到码头，看到杰克的手，看到汉娜。发现他浮了上来，汉娜抬起头来望着他。他手脚并用地拍打水面，仰起头朝她游过去，他不想再潜入水下，不想再把视线从她脸上挪开。
And tomorrow, next month, next year? It will take a long time. Years from now, they will still be arranging the pieces they know, puzzling over her features, redrawing her outlines in their minds. Sure that they’ve got her right this time, positive in this moment that they understand her completely, at last. They will think of her often: when Marilyn opens the curtains in Lydia’s room, opens the closet, and begins to take the clothing from the shelves. When their father, one day, enters a party and for the first time does not glance, quickly, at all the blond heads in the room. When Hannah begins to stand a little straighter, when she begins to speak a bit clearer, when one day she flicks her hair behind her ear in a familiar gesture and wonders, for a moment, where she got it. And Nath. When at school people ask if he has siblings: two sisters, but one died; when, one day, he looks at the small bump that will always mar the bridge of Jack’s nose and wants to trace it, gently, with his finger. When, a long, long time later, he stares down at the silent blue marble of the earth and thinks of his sister, as he will at every important moment of his life. He doesn’t know this yet, but he senses it deep down in his core. So much will happen, he thinks, that I would want to tell you.
那么，明天、下个月、明年呢？需要很长时间。从现在往后的许多年，他们仍然会梳理各种细节，回忆她的面容，在心中描摹她的轮廓。当然，现在，他们已经完全理解了她，明白她是什么样的人。他们会常常想起她。比如，在玛丽琳拉开莉迪亚房间的窗帘、敞开橱柜、拿下架子上的衣服时，会想起她；某一天，他们的父亲来到一个派对上，他头一次没有先迅速扫一眼房间里的那些金发脑袋，这时，他想起了她。当汉娜站得更直、口齿变得更清晰时，会想起莉迪亚；某一天，当她用一个自己熟悉的动作把头发拂到耳朵后面时，会突然意识到，这个动作是从莉迪亚那里学来的。还有内斯，当学校里的人问他有没有兄弟姐妹，他说“有两个妹妹，其中一个不在了”的时候，他会想到她；某一天，当他看到那个永远留在杰克鼻梁上的小凸起，想要轻轻地用手指抚摸它的时候，他会想到莉迪亚。很久很久以后，在寂静的太空中俯瞰蓝色的地球时，他会再次想起他的妹妹，在人生中的重要时刻，他总是想起她。尽管他还没有意识到，但这个习惯一直在内心深处召唤着他。将来发生的每一件事，他想，我都愿意告诉你。
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