I’d been avoiding Shawn since the night in the bathroom. He’d apologized. He’d come into my room an hour later, his eyes glassy, his voice croaking, and asked me to forgive him. I’d said that I would, that I already had. But I hadn’t.
自从那晚卫生间事件后，我就一直躲着肖恩。他已经道了歉。当晚一个小时后，他来到我的房间，眼神呆滞，声音沙哑，恳求我原谅他。我说我会原谅他，我已经原谅他了。但其实我没有。
Three days later, when she was nineteen, Audrey was married — to Benjamin, a blond-haired farm boy she’d met waitressing in town. The wedding was solemn. Dad had prayed and received a revelation: “There will be a conflict, a final struggle for the Holy Land,” he’d said. “My sons will be sent to war. Some of them will not come home.”
三天后，十九岁的奥黛丽嫁给了本杰明——一个金发的农场男孩，是她在镇上当服务员时认识的。那是一场庄严而隆重的婚礼。父亲祈祷后得到一个启示：“将有一场冲突，一场争夺圣地的最后斗争。”他说，“我的儿子会被派去打仗，有的将一去不返。”
In September the twin towers fell. I’d never heard of them until they were gone. Then I watched as planes sank into them, and I stared, bewildered, at the TV as the unimaginably tall structures swayed, then buckled. Dad stood next to me. He’d come in from the junkyard to watch. He said nothing. That evening he read aloud from the Bible, familiar passages from Isaiah, Luke, and the Book of Revelation, about wars and rumors of wars.
九月，世贸中心双子大楼倒塌了。在它们消失前，我从未听说过它们。我困惑地盯着电视，看着飞机撞向它们，那些我难以想象的高耸入云的建筑摇摇晃晃，然后轰然倒塌。爸爸站在我旁边。他刚从废料场回来。他什么也没说。那天晚上，他从《圣经》的《以赛亚书》《路加福音》和《启示录》中选取关于战争和战争传言的熟悉段落，大声朗读。
At Audrey’s wedding, seeing my brothers in their suits, those black uniforms, my rage turned to fear, of some predetermined loss, and I forgave Shawn. It was easy to forgive: after all, it was the End of the World.
在奥黛丽的婚礼上，望着身穿黑色西装的哥哥们，我的愤怒变成了恐惧，为注定失去他们而感到恐惧，于是我原谅了肖恩。原谅不难：毕竟，世界末日来了。
One Sunday afternoon, I helped Mother prepare a roast for dinner. Dad was kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie. He’d been talking since we left the church.
一个星期天的下午，我帮母亲准备晚餐的烤肉。爸爸正脱掉鞋子，解开领带。我们从教堂出来后他就一刻不停地说话。
For a month I lived as if holding my breath. Then there was no draft, no further attacks. The skies didn’t darken, the moon didn’t turn to blood. There were distant rumblings of war but life on the mountain remained unchanged. Dad said we should stay vigilant, but by winter my attention had shifted back to the trifling dramas of my own life.
整整一个月，我屏息以待。但是没有征兵，也没有再发生袭击事件。天空没有变暗，月亮没有滴血。远处有战火的隆隆声，但山上的生活一如往常。爸爸说我们应该保持警惕，但冬天来临时，我的注意力重归日常生活的琐事。
That something else thrilled and frightened me. I’d always known that I would grow differently than my brothers, but I’d never thought about what that might mean. Now it was all I thought about. I began to look for cues to understand this difference, and once I started looking, I found them everywhere.
还有一件事让我紧张又害怕。我一直知道我长大了会和哥哥们不一样，但我以前从未想过这意味着什么。现在我脑子里全是这个。为了理解这些差异，我开始寻找蛛丝马迹，而一旦开始找寻，我便发现它们无处不在。
I was fifteen and I felt it, felt the race I was running with time. My body was changing, bloating, swelling, stretching, bulging. I wished it would stop, but it seemed my body was no longer mine. It belonged to itself now, and cared not at all how I felt about these strange alterations, about whether I wanted to stop being a child, and become something else.
当时我十五岁，我感觉到自己正与时间赛跑。我的身体一直在变化，肿胀，鼓起，伸展，凸出。我希望我的身体能停止生长，但它似乎不再属于我。它现在属于它自己，根本不在乎我对这些奇异的变化作何感觉，也不在乎我是否不再想当小孩，而想成为别的。
“That hemline was three inches above Lori’s knee,” Dad said. “What’s a woman thinking when she puts on a dress like that?” Mother nodded absently while chopping a carrot. She was used to this particular lecture.
“洛丽的裙摆在膝盖以上三英寸，”爸爸说，“一个女人穿那样的裙子是想干什么？”母亲一边切胡萝卜，一边心不在焉地点了点头。她已经习惯了这种话。
“And Jeanette Barney,” Dad said. “If a woman wears a blouse that low-cut, she ought not bend over.” Mother agreed. I pictured the turquoise blouse Jeanette had worn that day. The neckline was only an inch below her collarbone, but it was loose-fitting, and I imagined that if she bent it would give a full view. As I thought this I felt anxious, because although a tighter blouse would have made Jeanette’s bending more modest, the tightness itself would have been less modest. Righteous women do not wear tight clothing. Other women do that.
“还有珍妮特·巴尼，”爸爸说，“一个女人要是穿着低胸上衣，就不该弯下腰。”母亲表示同意。我回想珍妮特那天穿的蓝绿色衬衫，领口在锁骨以下一英寸，但很宽松，我想象着如果她弯下腰，里面会一览无余。想到这一点让我感到焦虑，因为虽然紧身衬衫会让珍妮特弯腰时更端庄，但紧身衣服本身就不正派了。正派女人从不穿紧身衣服，不正经的女人才会穿成那样。
I was trying to figure out exactly how much tightness would be the right amount when Dad said, “Jeanette waited to bend for that hymnal until I was looking. She wanted me to see.” Mother made a disapproving tsk sound with her teeth, then quartered a potato.
我正想弄清楚到底什么松紧程度的衣服才算合适，这时爸爸说：“珍妮特等着拿赞美诗集时弯腰让我看。她就想让我瞧呢。”母亲用牙齿发出不满的啧啧声，然后将一个土豆切成四块。
This speech would stay with me in a way that a hundred of its precursors had not. I would remember the words very often in the years that followed, and the more I considered them, the more I worried that I might be growing into the wrong sort of woman. Sometimes I could scarcely move through a room, I was so preoccupied with not walking or bending or crouching like them. But no one had ever taught me the modest way to bend over, so I knew I was probably doing it the bad way.
与之前不同，这一席话前所未有地深深印在我的脑海。在接下来的岁月里，我常常会回想这些话，越想着它们，越担心自己会变成那种不正经的女人。有时我在家里几乎不敢动，留意着不要像那种女人一样走路、弯腰或蹲着。但从没有人教过我怎样弯腰才算端庄，所以我知道有可能我弯腰的样子也很糟糕。
“The kind that talks?”
“长着嘴会说话的女孩吗？”
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“你知道我的意思。”他说。
Shawn and I drove home together. He sat behind the wheel, glaring at the road as if it had wronged him.
我和肖恩一起开车回家。他坐在方向盘后面，怒视着路面，好像路得罪了他似的。
“I saw you talking to Charles,” he said. “You don’t want people thinking you’re that kind of girl.”
“我看见你和查尔斯说话了，”他说，“你不希望别人把你当成那种女孩吧。”
The next night, Shawn came into my room unexpectedly and found me smudging my eyelashes with Audrey’s old mascara.
第二天晚上，肖恩出乎意料地来到我房间，发现我正在用奥黛丽的旧睫毛膏刷睫毛。
“You wear makeup now?” he said.
“你现在也化妆了吗？”他说。
Shawn and i auditioned for a melodrama at Worm Creek. I saw Charles at the first rehearsal and spent half the evening working up the courage to talk to him. When I did, finally, he confided in me that he was in love with Sadie. This wasn’t ideal, but it did give us something to talk about.
我和肖恩去虫溪剧场为一出音乐剧试唱。首次排练时我见到了查尔斯，半个晚上我都在鼓足勇气试图和他说话。最终我说了，他向我吐露了一个秘密：他爱上了赛迪。这虽不是理想结果，但倒让我俩有了共同话题。
“I guess.”
“是的。”
He spun around to leave but paused in the doorframe. “I thought you were better,” he said. “But you’re just like the rest.”
他转身就要离开，但在门口停下了。“我以为你比别人强，”他说，“没想到你和其他人一样。”
He stopped calling me Siddle Lister. “Let’s go, Fish Eyes!” he shouted from across the theater one night. Charles looked around curiously. Shawn began to explain the name, so I started laughing — loud enough, I hoped, to drown him out. I laughed as if I loved the name.
他不再用玩笑话叫我“小妹”。“我们走吧，鱼眼睛！”一天晚上，他从剧场对面喊道。查尔斯诧异地环顾四周。肖恩开始解释这个称呼的由来，于是我大笑起来——声音很大，希望能将他的声音淹没。我笑着，仿佛喜欢这个称呼似的。
The first time I wore lip gloss, Shawn said I was a whore. I was in my bedroom, standing in front of my mirror, trying it out, when Shawn appeared in the doorway. He said it like a joke but I wiped the color from my lips anyway. Later that night, at the theater, when I noticed Charles staring at Sadie, I reapplied it and saw Shawn’s expression twist. The drive home that night was tense. The temperature outside had fallen well below zero. I said I was cold and Shawn moved to turn up the heat. Then he paused, laughed to himself, and rolled all the windows down. The January wind hit me like a bucket of ice. I tried to roll up my window, but he’d put on the child lock. I asked him to roll it up. “I’m cold,” I kept saying, “I’m really, really cold.” He just laughed. He drove all twelve miles like that, cackling as if it were a game, as if we were both in on it, as if my teeth weren’t clattering.
我第一次涂口红，肖恩说我像个妓女。当时我正站在自己的卧室镜子前试着涂口红，肖恩出现在门口。他开玩笑一般说了那句话，但我还是将嘴唇上的颜色都擦掉了。之后，当晚在剧场，我注意到查尔斯盯着赛迪看，又重新涂上口红，看见肖恩的表情扭曲了。那晚开车回家的路上，气氛紧张。外面的气温已经降到零度以下。我说我很冷，让肖恩把暖风调高点。他愣了一下，笑了笑，把所有窗户都放了下来。一月的寒风打在身上冰冷刺骨。我想将旁边的窗户摇上来，但他上了儿童锁。我请求他把窗户摇上。“我很冷，”我不停地说，“我真的真的很冷。”他只是大笑。整整十二英里路，他都咯咯笑着，仿佛这是一场游戏，仿佛我们都乐在其中，仿佛我没有冷得牙齿直打战。
I thought things would get better when Shawn dumped Sadie — I suppose I’d convinced myself that it was her fault, the things he did, and that without her he would be different. After Sadie, he took up with an old girlfriend, Erin. She was older, less willing to play his games, and at first it seemed I was right, that he was doing better.
我以为等肖恩甩掉赛迪，情况会有所好转。我说服自己相信，他所做的一切都归咎于她，没有了她，他就不会那样做了。赛迪之后，他又和以前的一个女友艾琳交往。她年龄大些，不太愿意玩他的游戏。起初似乎我想得没错，他的情况有所改善。
A pistol lay on the seat between us, and when he wasn’t shifting gears, Shawn picked it up and caressed it, sometimes spinning it over his index like a gunslinger before laying it back on the seat, where light from passing cars glinted off the steel barrel.
在我们俩中间的座位上放着一把手枪。肖恩不换挡时便拿起手枪抚摸，有时像个神枪手一样在食指上旋转手枪，让枪管反射着过往汽车的光亮，然后才将枪放回座位。
Then Charles asked Sadie to dinner, Sadie said yes, and Shawn heard about it. I was working late at Randy’s that night when Shawn turned up, frothing at the mouth. I left with him, thinking I could calm him, but I couldn’t. He drove around town for two hours, searching for Charles’s Jeep, cursing and swearing that when he found that bastard he was “gonna give him a new face.” I sat in the passenger seat of his truck, listening to the engine rev as it guzzled diesel, watching the yellow lines disappear beneath the hood. I thought of my brother as he had been, as I remembered him, as I wanted to remember him. I thought of Albuquerque and Los Angeles, and of the miles of lost interstate in between.
后来查尔斯邀请赛迪共进晚餐，赛迪答应了，肖恩听说了此事。那天晚上我在兰迪的店里工作到很晚，肖恩来了，嘴里骂骂咧咧。我跟他一起离开，想法子让他平静下来，但没有成功。他在城里开了两个小时的车，四处寻找查尔斯的吉普，咒骂着，发誓说等找到那个浑蛋，就会“把他的脸揍个稀巴烂”。我坐在他的卡车副驾驶座上，听着发动机加速，看着黄线在引擎盖下面消失。我想起记忆中的哥哥，想起他以前的样子，以及我希望他成为的样子。我想起阿尔伯克基和洛杉矶，想起我们在其间州际公路上的旅行。
I awoke with needles in my brain. Thousands of them, biting, blocking out everything. Then they disappeared for one dizzying moment and I got my bearings.
我醒来时脑子里有成千上万根针在扎，将一切都阻挡在外。然后它们消失了，我一时晕头转向，过了一会儿才弄清方向。
“WHORE!”
“妓女！”
Then another sound. Mother. She was crying. “Stop! You’re killing her! Stop!”
另一个声音传来。是母亲。她在哭。“住手！你会要了她的命的！给我住手！”
It was morning, early; amber sunlight poured in through my bedroom window. I was standing but not on my own strength. Two hands were gripping my throat, and they’d been shaking me. The needles, that was my brain crashing into my skull. I had only a few seconds to wonder why before the needles returned, shredding my thoughts. My eyes were open but I saw only white flashes. A few sounds made it through to me.
天色尚早，琥珀色的阳光从我卧室的窗户照进来。我站着，但不是靠自己的力量。两只手抓着我的喉咙，不停地摇晃着我。那些针是脑仁撞到头骨上产生的感觉。几秒钟之间我刚要琢磨一切的缘由，针又回来了，将我的思绪撕成碎片。我睁开眼睛，只看见道道白光。我依稀听到一些声音。
“SLUT!”
“贱人！
She must have grabbed him because I felt his body twist. I fell to the floor. When I opened my eyes, Mother and Shawn were facing each other, Mother wearing only a tattered bathrobe.
她一定抓住了他，因为我感到他的身体在挣扎。我倒在地上。我睁开眼睛时，母亲和肖恩正面对面站着，母亲身上只穿了一件破烂的浴袍。
I was yanked to my feet. Shawn grasped a fistful of my hair — using the same method as before, catching the clump near my scalp so he could maneuver me — and dragged me into the hallway. My head was pressed into his chest. All I could see were bits of carpet flying past my tripping feet. My head pounded, I had trouble breathing, but I was starting to understand what was happening. Then there were tears in my eyes.
我被猛地拽起身来。肖恩一把抓住我的头发——和以前一样的招数，揪住紧贴头皮的一撮，这样他就可以操纵我——将我拖进门厅。我的头紧压在他的胸口。我跌跌撞撞，只看见飞速掠过的地毯。我的头怦怦直跳，喘不过气来，但我开始明白发生了什么。接着我的眼里噙满了泪水。
“Now the bitch cries,” Shawn said. “Why? Because someone sees you for the slut you are?”
“现在这个婊子知道哭了，”肖恩说，“为什么哭？是因为被人看出来你是个荡妇吗？”
I tried to look at him, to search his face for my brother, but he shoved my head toward the ground and I fell. I scrambled away, then pulled myself upright. The kitchen was spinning; strange flecks of pink and yellow drifted before my eyes.
我努力看向他，寻找他脸上属于我哥哥的那一副面孔，但是他把我的头推向地面，我摔倒了。我挣扎着爬起来。厨房在旋转；我眼前飘着奇怪的粉色和黄色斑点。
“I see you for what you are,” Shawn said. His eyes were wild. “You pretend to be saintly and churchish. But I see you. I see how you prance around with Charles like a prostitute.” He turned to Mother to observe the effect of his words on her. She had collapsed at the kitchen table.
“我看透你的本质了，”肖恩说着，眼神狂乱，“你假装圣洁虔诚，但我看透了你。我看见你像个妓女似的和查尔斯鬼混。”他转向母亲，观察这些话对她有何效果。她瘫坐在厨房餐桌旁。
Mother was sobbing, clawing at her hair.
母亲抓着自己的头发在抽泣。
From the pain, I thought.
是疼痛的泪水，我对自己说。
Shawn was still turned toward her. He said she had no idea of the lies I told, how I’d fooled her, how I played the good girl at home but in town I was a lying whore. I inched toward the back door.
肖恩仍然转向她。他说她不知道我撒了多少谎，不知道我是如何愚弄她，如何在家里扮演一个好女孩，到了城里却变成说谎的妓女。我慢慢向后门退去。
“She does not,” Mother whispered.
“她没有！”母亲低声说。
Mother told me to take her car and go. Shawn turned to me. “You’ll be needing these,” he said, holding up Mother’s keys.
母亲叫我赶快开她的车离开。肖恩转向我。“你开车需要这个。”他说着，举起母亲的车钥匙。
He grabbed my wrist and my body slipped into the familiar posture, head thrust forward, arm coiled around my lower back, wrist folded absurdly onto itself. Like a dance step, my muscles remembered and raced to get ahead of the music. The air poured from my lungs as I tried to bend deeper, to give my wristbone every possible inch of relief.
他抓住我的手腕，我的身体立刻进入熟悉的姿势，头向前，手臂绕在腰后，手腕可笑地弯曲。就像舞步一般，我的肌肉记住了这些动作并迅速抢了一拍。空气从我的肺里涌出，我努力弯得更深，尽可能减轻腕关节的疼痛。
“She’s not going anywhere until she admits she’s a whore,” Shawn said.
“除非她承认自己是个妓女，否则哪儿都不能去。”肖恩说。
“Say it,” he said.
“说。”他说。
But I was somewhere else. I was in the future. In a few hours, Shawn would be kneeling by my bed, and he’d be so very sorry. I knew it even as I hunched there.
但我在想别的，想着过后的事。再过几个小时，肖恩就会跪在我床边，他将会非常难过。即便现在弓着背，我也知道会是这样。
“What’s going on?” A man’s voice floated up from the stairwell in the hall.
“发生了什么？”一个男人的声音从大厅楼梯间飘了出来。
I turned my head and saw a face hovering between two wooden railings. It was Tyler.
我转过头，看见两根木栏杆之间露出一张脸。是泰勒。
I was hallucinating. Tyler never came home. As I thought that, I laughed out loud, a high-pitched cackle. What kind of lunatic would come back here once he’d escaped? There were now so many pink and yellow specks in my vision, it was as if I were inside a snow globe. That was good. It meant I was close to passing out. I was looking forward to it.
肯定是我的幻觉。泰勒从不回家。想到这里，我放声大笑，发出尖利的咯咯声。一旦离开这个家，只有疯子才会回来。现在我的视线里出现了更多粉色和黄色的斑点，就好像我身处一个雪花水晶球。很好。这意味着我马上要昏过去了。对此我充满期待。
Shawn took a step back. He had waited until Dad and Luke were out of the house, away on a job, so his physicality could go unchallenged. Confronting his younger brother — less vicious but powerful in his own way — was more than he’d bargained for.
肖恩后退一步。他是趁爸爸和卢克离家外出干活才下的手，这样就没人能对他的体力提出挑战。碰上他的弟弟——没那么凶恶，但也自有其强大之处的弟弟——真是出乎他的意料。
Shawn dropped my wrist and again I fell. I looked up and saw that his gaze was fixed on the stairwell. Only then did it occur to me that Tyler was real.
肖恩放开我的手腕，我又摔倒了。我抬起头，看见他的目光正盯着楼梯间看。这时我才意识到那真的是泰勒。
“What’s going on?” Tyler repeated. He eyed Shawn, inching forward as if approaching a rattlesnake.
“发生什么事了？”泰勒又问。他眼睛盯住肖恩，慢慢走过来，像接近一条响尾蛇。
Mother stopped crying. She was embarrassed. Tyler was an outsider now. He’d been gone for so long, he’d been shifted to that category of people who we kept secrets from. Who we kept this from.
母亲停止了哭泣。她很尴尬。泰勒现在是局外人了。他已离家那么久了，已被归为不能分享我们秘密的一类人中。这件事我们也该向他隐瞒。
Tyler moved up the stairs, advancing on his brother. His face was taut, his breath shallow, but his expression held no hint of surprise. It seemed to me that Tyler knew exactly what he was doing, that he had done this before, when they were younger and less evenly matched. Tyler halted his forward march but he didn’t blink. He glared at Shawn as if to say, Whatever is happening here, it’s done.
泰勒走上楼梯，朝哥哥走去。他紧绷着脸，呼吸很轻，并未流露一丝惊讶。在我看来，泰勒很清楚自己在做什么，他以前也这么做过，那时他们还小，力量悬殊更大。泰勒不再向前，但目不转睛地怒视着肖恩，好像在说：不管这里发生了什么，现在结束了。
Shawn began to murmur about my clothes and what I did in town. Tyler cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t want to know,” he said. Then, turning to me: “Go, get out of here.”
肖恩开始小声说起我的衣服和我在城里做的事。泰勒挥挥手，打断了他。“我不想知道，”说完，他转身对我说，“走吧，离开这里。”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Shawn repeated, flashing the key ring.
“她哪儿也不能去。”肖恩晃动着那串钥匙，又说了一遍。
Tyler tossed me his own keys. “Just go,” he said.
泰勒将自己的车钥匙扔给我。“走吧。”他说。
That night, when I came home, Shawn was gone. Mother was in the kitchen blending oils. She said nothing about that morning, and I knew I shouldn’t mention it. I went to bed, but I was still awake hours later when I heard a pickup roar up the hill. A few minutes later, my bedroom door creaked open. I heard the click of the lamp, saw the light leaping over the walls, and felt his weight drop onto my bed. I turned over and faced him. He’d put a black velvet box next to me. When I didn’t touch it, he opened the box and withdrew a string of milky pearls.
那天晚上我回到家时，肖恩不在。母亲在厨房调配精油。早上的事她只字未提，我知道我也不该提。我上床睡觉了，但几个小时后我仍没睡着，这时我听见一辆小皮卡轰鸣着冲上山坡。几分钟后，我卧室的门嘎吱一声开了。我听见灯啪的一声亮了，看见灯光在墙上跳跃，感受到他的重量压在我床上。我转过身来面对他。他把一个黑色天鹅绒盒子放在我旁边。我没有碰，他打开盒子，取出一串乳白色的珍珠。
I ran to Tyler’s car, which was wedged between Shawn’s truck and the chicken coop. I tried to back out, but I stomped too hard on the gas and the tires spun out, sending gravel flying. On my second attempt I succeeded. The car shot backward and circled around. I shifted into drive and was ready to shoot down the hill when Tyler appeared on the porch. I lowered the window. “Don’t go to work,” he said. “He’ll find you there.”
我朝泰勒的车跑去，那辆车停在肖恩的卡车和鸡舍之间。我试图把车倒出来，但踩油门太用力，轮胎打滑了，沙砾飞溅。第二次尝试成功了。汽车迅速向后绕了一圈。泰勒出现在门廊时，我已经开上车道，准备冲下山。我摇下车窗。“别去上班，”他说，“他会到那里找你。”
He said he could see the path I was going down and it was not good. I was losing myself, becoming like other girls, frivolous, manipulative, using how I looked to get things.
他说他看清了我走的路子，那很不好。我在迷失自我，变得和其他女孩一样，轻浮，想要操纵别人，试图用外表去得到想要的东西。
I thought about my body, all the ways it had changed. I hardly knew what I felt toward it: sometimes I did want it to be noticed, to be admired, but then afterward I’d think of Jeanette Barney, and I’d feel disgusted.
我想到了我的身体，想到它发生的一切变化。我几乎不知道对它有何种感觉：有时我确实希望别人能注意它，赞美它，但我马上想起了珍妮特·巴尼，感到一阵厌恶。
“You’re special, Tara,” Shawn said.
“你很特别，塔拉。”肖恩说。
Was I? I wanted to believe I was. Tyler had said I was special once, years before. He’d read me a passage of scripture from the Book of Mormon, about a sober child, quick to observe. “This reminds me of you,” Tyler had said.
是吗？我想相信事实如此。泰勒几年前也曾说过我很特别。他给我读了《摩门经》里的一段经文，讲的是一个头脑冷静的孩子，善于察言观色。“这让我想起了你。”泰勒当时这么说道。
The passage described the great prophet Mormon, a fact I’d found confusing. A woman could never be a prophet, yet here was Tyler, telling me I reminded him of one of the greatest prophets of all. I still don’t know what he meant by it, but what I understood at the time was that I could trust myself: that there was something in me, something like what was in the prophets, and that it was not male or female, not old or young; a kind of worth that was inherent and unshakable.
这段文字描述的是伟大的先知摩门，这一事实让我感到困惑。女人永远不可能成为先知，但泰勒告诉我，我让他想起了最伟大的先知之一。现在我仍然不清楚他那么说是什么意思，但我当时的理解是，我可以相信自己：我身上有某种东西，某种先知们具有的东西，它不论男女，也不分老少，是一种内在的、不可动摇的价值。
“Okay, Fish Eyes,” he said. “I will.”
“好吧，鱼眼睛，”他说，“我会的。”
I looked at my brother. He seemed old in that moment, wise. He knew about the world. He knew about worldly women, so I asked him to keep me from becoming one.
我看着哥哥。那一刻，他似乎更成熟、更睿智了。他见过世面，领略过世俗的女人，所以我请求他，不要让我成为那样的女人。
But now, as I gazed at the shadow Shawn cast on my wall, aware of my maturing body, of its evils and of my desire to do evil with it, the meaning of that memory shifted. Suddenly that worth felt conditional, like it could be taken or squandered. It was not inherent; it was bestowed. What was of worth was not me, but the veneer of constraints and observances that obscured me.
但现在，当我凝视着肖恩在我的墙上投下的影子，意识到我日渐成熟的身体，意识到它的邪恶，以及我想用它作恶的欲望，那段记忆的意义发生了变化。突然间，这种价值有了条件，似乎可以被拿走或浪费。它并非与生俱来，而是一种赐予。真正有价值的不是我，而是让我变得身份模糊的表面上的约束和仪式。
When i awoke the next morning, my neck was bruised and my wrist swollen. I had a headache — not an ache in my brain but an actual aching of my brain, as if the organ itself was tender. I went to work but came home early and lay in a dark corner of the basement, waiting it out. I was lying on the carpet, feeling the pounding in my brain, when Tyler found me and folded himself onto the sofa near my head. I was not pleased to see him. The only thing worse than being dragged through the house by my hair was Tyler’s having seen it. Given the choice between letting it play out, and having Tyler there to stop it, I’d have chosen to let it play out. Obviously I would have chosen that. I’d been close to passing out anyway, and then I could have forgotten about it. In a day or two it wouldn’t even have been real. It would become a bad dream, and in a month, a mere echo of a bad dream. But Tyler had seen it, had made it real.
第二天早上醒来时，我脖子瘀青，手腕浮肿。我头痛——不是脑袋里面痛，而是整个脑子痛，仿佛这个器官本身柔软脆弱。我去上班了，但早早回了家，躺在地下室一个黑暗的角落里，等着疼痛结束。我躺在地毯上，感受着大脑怦怦直跳。这时泰勒发现了我，他斜靠在我脑袋附近的沙发上。见到他我并不开心。让泰勒看到我在家里被拽着头发拖着走，比这件事本身更糟糕。如果在让它继续下去和让泰勒回来阻止它之间选择，我宁愿选择让它继续。显然我会这样选择。那时反正我马上就要昏过去了，然后很可能会把它忘掉。再过一两天，可能甚至会感觉它没有真实发生过，只是一个噩梦。再过一个月，只留下噩梦的回声。但是泰勒看到了，让这件事变得真实起来。
“It’s time to go, Tara,” Tyler said. “The longer you stay, the less likely you will ever leave.”
“是时候离开了，塔拉，”泰勒说，“你待得越久，离开的可能性就越小。”
I brightened. “I’m going to enroll in high school in September,” I said. “Dad won’t like it, but I’m gonna go.” I thought Tyler would be pleased; instead, he grimaced.
我眼睛一亮。“我打算九月上高中。”我说，“爸爸不会乐意，但我想去。”我以为泰勒会感到高兴，但他一脸苦相。
“BYU takes homeschoolers,” he said.
“杨百翰大学接收家庭教育的孩子。”他说。
“Go where I went,” Tyler said. “Go to college.”
“去我去的地方，”泰勒说，“去上大学。”
“You think I need to leave?”
“你觉得我需要离开？”
“You’ve said that before.”
“你以前也这样说。”
We both knew I couldn’t.
我们都知道我做不到。
“I’m going to.”
“我会去的。”
“Where could I go?”
“我能去哪儿？”
“Is that what we are?” I said. “Homeschoolers?” I tried to remember the last time I’d read a textbook.
“我们是吗？”我说，“家庭教育的孩子？”我试着回忆最后一次看课本是什么时候。
“Maybe,” Tyler said. “But as long as you live under Dad’s roof, it’s hard to go when he asks you not to, easy to delay just one more year, until there aren’t any years left. If you start as a sophomore, can you even graduate?”
“也许吧，”泰勒说，“但只要你住在爸爸的屋檐下，他不允许，你就很难离开，很容易一年年拖下去，这辈子就去不成了。如果从高二开始，你还能毕业吗？”
“And go where?”
“去哪里？”
I snorted.
我哼了一声。
Tyler didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate. “I think this is the worst possible place for you.” He’d spoken softly, but it felt as though he’d shouted the words.
泰勒没有眨眼，也没有犹豫。“我觉得对你来说，这儿是最糟糕的地方。”他声音很轻，但他说这些话的感觉像是喊出来的。
“School,” he said.
“上学。”他说。
“Have you thought about leaving?” Tyler asked.
“你想过离开吗？”泰勒问道。
“You will,” he said. “Just pass the ACT. One lousy test.”
“你会的，”他说，“只要通过ACT[21]，一个很烂的考试。”【注：[21]ACT（American College Testing），美国大学入学考试。】
“The admissions board won’t know anything except what we tell them,” Tyler said. “If we say you were homeschooled, they’ll believe it.”
“招生委员会除了我们告诉他们的，什么都不会知道，”泰勒说，“如果我们说你在家上学，他们会相信的。”
The next day i drove to the hardware store in town and bought a slide-bolt lock for my bedroom door. I dropped it on my bed, then fetched a drill from the shop and started fitting screws. I thought Shawn was out — his truck wasn’t in the driveway — but when I turned around with the drill, he was standing in my doorframe.
第二天，我开车去城里的五金店，为卧室的门买了一把滑动螺栓锁。我将它放在床上，然后拿起从店里买的电钻，开始安装螺丝。我以为肖恩不在家——车道上没见到他的卡车——但是当我拿着电钻转过身来，他正站在我房间的门口。
Tyler stood to go. “There’s a world out there, Tara,” he said. “And it will look a lot different once Dad is no longer whispering his view of it in your ear.”
泰勒起身要走。“外面有一个世界，塔拉，”他说，“一旦爸爸不再在你耳边灌输他的观点，世界就会看起来大不一样。”
“I won’t get in.”
“我不会被录取的。”
“What are you doing?” he said.
“你在干什么？”他说。
“Doorknob’s broke,” I lied. “Door blows open. This lock was cheap but it’ll do the trick.”
“门把手断了，”我撒了谎，“风一吹门就开。这把锁便宜，但很管用。”
Shawn fingered the thick steel, which I was sure he could tell was not cheap at all. I stood silently, paralyzed by dread but also by pity. In that moment I hated him, and I wanted to scream it in his face. I imagined the way he would crumple, crushed under the weight of my words and his own self-loathing. Even then I understood the truth of it: that Shawn hated himself far more than I ever could.
肖恩摸着厚厚的钢，我敢肯定他看得出来，锁一点儿也不便宜。我静静地站着，被恐惧和怜悯麻痹。那一刻，我恨他，想当着他的面呐喊。我想象他因为我的话和他的自我厌恶而一蹶不振的样子。即便在那时，我也明白事情的真相：肖恩比我更恨他自己。
“You’re using the wrong screws,” he said. “You need long ones for the wall and grabbers for the door. Otherwise, it’ll bust right off.”
“你用的螺丝不对头，”他说，“安在墙上和门上的螺丝需要长些。否则马上就崩掉。”
We walked to the shop. Shawn shuffled around for a few minutes, then emerged with a handful of steel screws. We walked back to the house and he installed the lock, humming to himself and smiling, flashing his baby teeth.
我们来到工作间。肖恩转悠了几分钟，拿着一把钢螺丝出来了。我们走回房间，他装上了锁，自言自语哼着歌，面带微笑，咧嘴时露出了乳牙。
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