When January 1 dawned like any other morning, it broke Dad’s spirit. He never again mentioned Y2K. He slipped into despondency, dragging himself in from the junkyard each night, silent and heavy. He’d sit in front of the TV for hours, a black cloud hovering.
一月一日的早晨如往常一样来临，打垮了爸爸的精神。他再也不提千年虫。他意志消沉，每天晚上拖着身体从废料场回家，一言不发，表情凝重。他会连续几个小时坐在电视机前，头顶笼罩着一片乌云。
Mother said it was time for another trip to Arizona. Luke was serving a mission for the church, so it was just me, Richard and Audrey who piled into the old Chevy Astro van Dad had fixed up. Dad removed the seats, except the two in front, and in their place he put a queen mattress; then he heaved himself onto it and didn’t move for the rest of the drive.
母亲说是时候再去一趟亚利桑那州了。卢克为教会履行任务，所以只有我、理查德和奥黛丽挤进了爸爸修好的那辆旧雪佛兰阿斯特罗面包车。除了前排两个座位，爸爸把其余座位都拆掉，放上一张大号双人床垫，然后爬了上去，在接下来的行程中一动未动。
As it had years before, the Arizona sun revived Dad. He lay out on the porch on the hard cement, soaking it up, while the rest of us read or watched TV. After a few days he began to improve, and we braced ourselves for the nightly arguments between him and Grandma. Grandma was seeing a lot of doctors these days, because she had cancer in her bone marrow.
就像多年前一样，亚利桑那州的太阳又让爸爸复苏了。他躺在门廊外坚硬的水泥地面上，汲取着阳光，我们其他人则看书或看电视。几天后他的情况开始好转，我们便为他和奶奶晚上的争吵做好了准备。最近奶奶经常去看医生，因为她患了骨髓癌。
“Those doctors will just kill you quicker,” Dad said one evening when Grandma returned from a consultation. Grandma refused to quit chemotherapy, but she did ask Mother about herbal treatments. Mother had brought some with her, hoping Grandma would ask, and Grandma tried them — foot soaks in red clay, cups of bitter parsley tea, tinctures of horsetail and hydrangea.
“那些医生会更快地要了你的命。”一天晚上，奶奶就诊归来时爸爸说。奶奶拒绝停止化疗，但她确实也向母亲讨要过草药疗法。母亲带了一些草药来，希望奶奶向她求助，奶奶也试过——用红黏土泡脚，喝苦涩的欧芹茶，还有马尾和绣球花酊剂。
“Those herbs won’t do a damned thing,” Dad said. “Herbals operate by faith. You can’t put your trust in a doctor, then ask the Lord to heal you.”
“这些草药不会发挥作用的，”爸爸说，“草本植物信则灵。你不能既信医生，又求上帝医治。”
Grandma didn’t say a word. She just drank her parsley tea.
奶奶一言不发。她刚喝了欧芹茶。
I remember watching Grandma, searching for signs that her body was giving way. I didn’t see any. She was the same taut, undefeated woman.
我记得我看着奶奶，寻找她身体衰弱的迹象。我看不出任何迹象。她还是那个硬朗的、不屈不挠的女人。
Then I’m in a hammock on the back porch, rocking lazily in the orange light of the desert sunset, and Audrey appears and says Dad wants us to get our stuff, we’re leaving. Grandma is incredulous. “After what happened last time?” she shouts. “You’re going to drive through the night again? What about the storm?” Dad says we’ll beat the storm. While we load the van Grandma paces, cussing. She says Dad hasn’t learned a damned thing.
我在后门廊的吊床里，在沙漠落日的余晖中懒洋洋地摇晃着。奥黛丽出现了，说爸爸要我们去拿东西，我们要走了。奶奶感到难以置信。“忘了上次发生什么事了？”她喊道，“你们还要晚上开车？碰上暴风雪怎么办？”爸爸说我们会战胜暴风雪。我们把行李装到面包车上的时候，奶奶边踱步边咒骂。她说爸爸一点该死的教训都没学到。
The rest of the trip blurs in my memory, leaving me with only snapshots — of Mother muscle-testing remedies for Grandma, of Grandma listening silently to Dad, of Dad sprawled out in the dry heat.
这次旅程接下来发生了什么，我的记忆有些模糊了，只留下一些大致印象——母亲为奶奶实施肌肉测试疗法，奶奶静静地听爸爸的长篇大论，爸爸在干热的天气里摊开四肢躺着。
Richard drives the first six hours. I lie in the back on the mattress with Dad and Audrey.
理查德先开了六个小时的车。我和爸爸、奥黛丽一起躺在后面的床垫上。
It’s three in the morning, and we are making our way from southern to northern Utah, when the weather changes from the dry chill of the desert to the freezing gales of an alpine winter. Ice claims the road. Snowflakes flick against the windshield like tiny insects, a few at first, then so many the road disappears. We push forward into the heart of the storm. The van skids and jerks. The wind is furious, the view out the window pure white. Richard pulls over. He says we can’t go any further.
那是凌晨三点，我们正从南往北穿越犹他州，天气突变，沙漠的干燥寒冷变为高山的寒风刺骨。道路冰封。雪花像小虫子一样拍打着挡风玻璃，一开始只有几片，一会儿便密到道路都看不清了。我们向暴风雪中心前进。面包车打滑、颠簸。狂风乱作，窗外一片白雪茫茫。理查德靠边停车。他说我们不能再往前走了。
“Shouldn’t we drive slower?” Mother asks.
“我们不该慢一点开吗？”母亲问道。
Dad takes the wheel, Richard moves to the passenger seat, and Mother lies next to me and Audrey on the mattress. Dad pulls onto the highway and accelerates, rapidly, as if to make a point, until he has doubled Richard’s speed.
爸爸接管方向盘，理查德坐到副驾驶座，母亲爬上床垫，躺在我和奥黛丽身旁。爸爸把车开上高速公路，紧急加速，仿佛要证明什么，直到车速达到理查德开的两倍。
Dad grins. “I’m not driving faster than our angels can fly.” The van is still accelerating. To fifty, then to sixty.
爸爸笑着说：“我开得再快，也赶不上我们的天使飞得快。”面包车仍在加速。时速达到五十英里，然后是六十英里。
Richard sits tensely, his hand clutching the armrest, his knuckles bleaching each time the tires slip. Mother lies on her side, her face next to mine, taking small sips of air each time the van fishtails, then holding her breath as Dad corrects and it snakes back into the lane. She is so rigid, I think she might shatter. My body tenses with hers; together we brace a hundred times for impact.
理查德紧张地坐着，紧握扶手，每次轮胎打滑，他的指关节都白了。母亲侧身躺着，脸紧贴我的脸，每次面包车摆尾行驶都倒吸一口气，然后屏住呼吸，直到爸爸调整好车开回车道。她太紧绷了，我觉得她可能会散架。我的身体随着她紧张起来；我们一起做好了一百次撞击的准备。
I awoke to blackness. Something ice-cold was running down my back. We’re in a lake! I thought. Something heavy was on top of me. The mattress. I tried to kick it off but couldn’t, so I crawled beneath it, my hands and knees pressing into the ceiling of the van, which was upside down. I came to a broken window. It was full of snow. Then I understood: we were in a field, not a lake. I crawled through the broken glass and stood, unsteadily. I couldn’t seem to gain my balance. I looked around but saw no one. The van was empty. My family was gone.
我在黑暗中醒来。有什么冰冷的东西沿着我的背流下来。我们掉进了湖里！我心想。有什么沉重的东西压在我身上。是床垫。我想把它踢开，但没成功，于是我就在它下面爬行，双手和膝盖压在翻过来的车顶上。我来到一扇破碎的车窗前。外面是茫茫白雪。接着我明白了：我们是在一片田野中，不是在湖里面。我爬出破碎的车窗，摇摇晃晃站起来，但似乎无法保持平衡。我环顾四周，可一个人影也没有。面包车是空的。我的家人不见了。
I circled the wreck twice before I spied Dad’s hunched silhouette on a hillock in the distance. I called to him, and he called to the others, who were spread out through the field. Dad waded toward me through the snowdrifts, and as he stepped into a beam from the broken headlights I saw a six-inch gash in his forearm and blood slashing into the snow.
我绕着残骸转了两圈，才发现远处小山丘上爸爸弯腰驼背的身影。我喊他，他在喊其他人，他们都四散在田野中。爸爸穿过雪堆朝我走来，当他走进一束破碎的车头灯的光线中，我看见他前臂有一道六英寸的口子，鲜血在雪地上划出痕迹。
It is a relief when the van finally leaves the road.
面包车终于偏离道路时，大家反倒松了一口气。
I was told later that I’d been unconscious, hidden under the mattress, for several minutes. They’d shouted my name. When I didn’t answer, they thought I must have been thrown from the van, through the broken window, so they’d left to search for me.
后来我才知道，我在床垫下面昏迷了好几分钟。他们喊过我的名字。我没有反应，他们便以为我一定是从破碎的车窗甩了出去，于是分头去找我。
The police arrived, then an ambulance. I don’t know who called them. I didn’t tell them I’d blacked out — I was afraid they’d take me to a hospital. I just sat in the police car next to Richard, wrapped in a reflective blanket like the one I had in my “head for the hills” bag. We listened to the radio while the cops asked Dad why the van wasn’t insured, and why he’d removed the seats and seatbelts.
警察来了，接着又来了一辆救护车。我不知道是谁叫的他们。我没有告诉他们我昏了过去——我害怕他们将我送进医院。我紧挨理查德坐在警车里，身上裹着一条反光的毯子，和我“上山应急包”里的那条一样。我们听着收音机，而警察询问爸爸为什么面包车没上保险，为什么他把座椅和安全带都拆掉了。
We were far from Buck’s Peak, so the cops took us to the nearest police station. Dad called Tony, but Tony was trucking long-haul. He tried Shawn next. No answer. We would later learn that Shawn was in jail that night, having been in some kind of brawl.
我们离巴克峰还很远，所以警察将我们带到最近的警察局。爸爸打电话给托尼，但是托尼正在跑长途货运。然后他打给肖恩，没有人接。后来我们才知道，肖恩那天晚上因为打架之类的事，正被关在监狱里。
Everyone returned to the wreck and stood around it awkwardly, shaking, either from the cold or from shock. We didn’t look at Dad, didn’t want to accuse.
大家都回到失事地点，尴尬地站在周围，浑身哆嗦，不是出于寒冷就是出于惊吓。我们没看爸爸，不想指责他。
Unable to reach his sons, Dad called Rob and Diane Hardy, because Mother had midwifed five of their eight children. Rob arrived a few hours later, cackling. “Didn’t you folks damned near kill yerselves last time?”
由于无法与儿子们取得联系，父亲给罗伯和黛安·哈迪打电话，因为他们八个孩子中有五个是母亲接生的。罗伯几小时后赶来了，咯咯地笑着说：“你们这些家伙上一次不就差点没命了吗？”
I awoke one morning and it wouldn’t move. It didn’t hurt, not at first, but no matter how hard I concentrated on turning my head, it wouldn’t give more than an inch. The paralysis spread lower, until it felt like I had a metal rod running the length of my back and into my skull. When I couldn’t bend forward or turn my head, the soreness set in. I had a constant, crippling headache, and I couldn’t stand without holding on to something.
一天早上醒来，我发现脖子无法动弹。一开始并不疼，但不管我怎么努力扭头，都无法移动超过一英寸。瘫痪往下延伸，感觉好像有一根金属杆沿着我的背部直插进颅骨。我没法向前弯腰或转头，一这么做就会疼痛。我还有了持续而剧烈的头痛，不抓住什么东西就站不起来。
A few days after the crash, my neck froze.
车祸后过了几天，我的脖子僵住了。
Mother called an energy specialist named Rosie. I was lying on my bed, where I’d been for two weeks, when she appeared in the doorway, wavy and distorted, as if I were looking at her through a pool of water. Her voice was high in pitch, cheerful. It told me to imagine myself, whole and healthy, protected by a white bubble. Inside the bubble I was to place all the objects I loved, all the colors that made me feel at peace. I envisioned the bubble; I imagined myself at its center, able to stand, to run. Behind me was a Mormon temple, and Kamikaze, Luke’s old goat, long dead. A green glow lighted everything.
母亲打电话给一位名叫罗西的能量专家。她出现在门口时我已卧床两周了，我看着她像波浪一样扭曲，仿佛是透过一摊水看她似的。她的声音高亢而欢快，让我想象自己完整而健康，被一个白色泡泡保护着。我要将一切喜欢的事物，所有让我感到平静的颜色都放在这个泡泡里面。我想象着这个泡泡，想象自己居其中心，能够站立、奔跑。我身后是一座摩门教教堂，还有卢克那只早已死去的老山羊“神风”。一道绿光照亮了一切。
During the month I was in bed I heard another voice. I remembered it but it was no longer familiar to me. It had been six years since that impish laugh had echoed down the hall.
卧床一个月期间，我听见了另一个声音。我记起了这个声音，但这个声音对我而言不再熟悉。上次听到那顽皮的笑声在门厅里回荡已经是六年前的事了。
It belonged to my brother Shawn, who’d quarreled with my father at seventeen and run off to work odd jobs, mostly trucking and welding. He’d come home because Dad had asked for his help. From my bed, I’d heard Shawn say that he would only stay until Dad could put together a real crew. This was just a favor, he said, until Dad could get back on his feet.
那是我哥哥肖恩的声音。他十七岁时与父亲吵架，然后离家去打零工，主要是开卡车和做焊接。他回家是因为爸爸让他回来帮忙。我躺在床上听到肖恩说，等爸爸人手够了，他就走。这次只是帮忙，他说，等着爸爸重整旗鼓。
I imagined the bubble every morning, afternoon and night, but my neck remained immobile. Slowly, over the course of a month, I got used to the headaches. I learned how to stand, then how to walk. I used my eyes to stay upright; if I closed them even for a moment, the world would shift and I would fall. I went back to work — to Randy’s and occasionally to the junkyard. And every night I fell asleep imagining that green bubble.
每天早晨、下午和晚上我都在想象这个泡泡，但我的脖子仍然不能动弹。一个月的时间里，我逐渐适应了头痛。我学会了站立，接着又学会了走路。我睁大眼睛保持直立；如果闭上眼睛，哪怕只是一小会儿，便会天旋地转，我就会倒下。我又回到兰迪的商店上班，也偶尔去废料场干活。每天晚上睡觉时我都会想象那个绿色的泡泡。
“Imagine the bubble for a few hours every day,” she said, “and you will heal.” She patted my arm and I heard the door close behind her.
“每天花几个小时想象这个泡泡，”她说，“你会痊愈的。”她拍了拍我的胳膊，我听到她关上身后的门走了。
It was odd finding him in the house, this brother who was nearly a stranger to me. People in town seemed to know him better than I did. I’d heard rumors about him at Worm Creek. People said he was trouble, a bully, a bad egg, that he was always hunting or being hunted by hooligans from Utah or even further afield. People said he carried a gun, either concealed on his body or strapped to his big black motorcycle. Once someone said that Shawn wasn’t really bad, that he only got into brawls because he had a reputation for being unbeatable — for knowing all there was to know about martial arts, for fighting like a man who feels no pain — so every strung-out wannabe in the valley thought he could make a name for himself by besting him. It wasn’t Shawn’s fault, really. As I listened to these rumors, he came alive in my mind as more legend than flesh.
在家里见到这个哥哥有点儿奇怪，对我来说他几乎是陌生人。镇上的人似乎比我更了解他。我在虫溪剧院听说过关于他的传言。人们说他爱惹麻烦，是个恶霸、坏蛋，总是和犹他州或者更远的街头流氓混在一起，不是去围追别人，就是被别人堵截。人们说他有枪，要么藏在身上，要么绑在他那辆黑色的大摩托车上。有人曾说，肖恩不是真坏，他跟人打架，只因有个打遍天下无敌手的名声——他深谙天下武术，打架时感觉不到疼痛——所以山谷里每个想混出点儿名堂来的愣头小子都认为打败他便可以崭露头角。其实这不是肖恩的错。听闻这些传言，他在我脑海中的形象栩栩如生，比起一个活生生的人，更像是一个传奇。
My own memory of Shawn begins in the kitchen, perhaps two months after the second accident.
我对肖恩的记忆始于厨房，大概是在第二次车祸两个月后。
I am making corn chowder. The door squeaks and I twist at the waist to see who’s come in, then twist back to chop an onion.
我在做玉米浓汤。门吱嘎一响，我扭腰看是谁进来了，然后转过身去切洋葱。
“You gonna be a walking Popsicle stick forever?” Shawn says.
“难道你要永远当一根会走的冰棍吗？”肖恩说道。
“Nope.”
“不。”
“You need a chiropractor,” he says.
“你需要一个脊椎按摩师。”他说。
“You need a chiropractor,” he says again.
“你需要一个脊椎按摩师。”他又说。
The family eats, then disperses. I start the dishes. My hands are in the hot, soapy water when I hear a step behind me and feel thick, callused hands wrap around my skull. Before I can react, he jerks my head with a swift, savage motion. CRACK! It’s so loud, I’m sure my head has come off and he’s holding it. My body folds, I collapse. Everything is black but somehow spinning. When I open my eyes moments later, his hands are under my arms and he’s holding me upright.
一家人吃过饭就散了。我开始洗碗。我的手浸在热肥皂水里，这时听到身后传来脚步声，一双粗壮、长满老茧的手捧住了我的脑壳。没等我反应过来，他便野蛮地猛拽我的头。咔嚓！声音太响了，我敢肯定我的脑袋被他掰了下来。我身体一蜷，倒下了。周围一片黑暗，不知怎的天旋地转。过了一会儿我睁开眼睛时，他的双手正架住我的胳膊，将我扶正。
“Might be a while before you can stand,” he says. “But when you can, I need to do the other side.”
“你可能得过一段时间才能站起来。”他说，“等你站起来了，我再治另一边。”
“Mom’ll fix it.”
“母亲会治好的。”
That person was Shawn, and I was looking at him but I wasn’t seeing him. I don’t know what I saw — what creature I conjured from that violent, compassionate act — but I think it was my father, or perhaps my father as I wished he were, some longed-for defender, some fanciful champion, one who wouldn’t fling me into a storm, and who, if I was hurt, would make me whole.
身旁的那个人就是肖恩，我看着他，但看不透他。我不知道我看到了什么——在那极其暴力又富有同情心的行为背后，我到底召唤出了什么生物——但我想我看到了父亲，或者我所希望的父亲的样子，一位我渴望已久的守护者，一名想象出来的斗士，一个不会把我扔进暴风雪中的人，一个当我受了伤，能让我重新变得完整的人。
I was too dizzy, too nauseous, for the effect to be immediate. But throughout the evening I observed small changes. I could look at the ceiling. I could cock my head to tease Richard. Seated on the couch, I could turn to smile at the person next to me.
效果没有立竿见影，我头晕目眩，恶心得厉害，但整个晚上我都觉察到了细微的变化。我可以看到天花板了。我可以昂起头来戏弄理查德了。我可以坐在沙发上转过头对身旁的人微笑了。
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