by T. Coraghessan Boyle

T·克拉格森·博伊爾（T. Coraghessan Boyle），出生于1948年，在位于紐約東南部的皮克斯基爾市長大；1968年，獲得紐約州立大學(xué)波茨坦分校的歷史學(xué)士學(xué)位；1974年和1977年，獲得艾奧瓦大學(xué)作家工坊的藝術(shù)學(xué)碩士及博士學(xué)位。自20世紀70年代以來，他出版了14部長篇小說和100多部短篇小說。博伊爾一生攬獲眾多獎項，其中最值得一提的便是1988年憑借長篇小說《世界的盡頭》斬獲?？思{獎，小說回顧了紐約市近300年來的歷史。博伊爾有大半的作品都在探究嬰兒潮時代的美國，當(dāng)時的美國社會風(fēng)氣偏向于個人價值的體現(xiàn)和個人幸福的實現(xiàn)，因此他們身上有著不同程度的不負責(zé)任、冷漠和物質(zhì)主義等特點。于是，博伊爾的作品中往往都會有一個努力而徒勞的男主人公和一個被贊揚的反英雄式人物，文風(fēng)夾雜著犀利的諷刺、幽默和現(xiàn)實主義。

本篇《衛(wèi)星上的夜》，故事借由公路上的一個偶發(fā)事件展開，從而引出了每個人物的性格特點：多一事不如少一事的男主人公，感性善良又強勢的女主人公，公路上求助的公主病小姐，極其吊兒郎當(dāng)?shù)氖录甲髻刚摺髡咴谂c讀者的交流中說，這部短篇小說其實是在講述建立和維持一段和諧戀愛關(guān)系的艱難，其實小說開頭公路上的偶發(fā)事件就是對男女主人公之間關(guān)系危機的影射。幸福的背后本就是一個血池?zé)挭z，此話當(dāng)真不假，不然已經(jīng)步入“夕陽紅”之列的博伊爾也不會仍覺得維系之道不易。有何不易？大家一起來文章中感受吧……

What we were arguing about that night—and it was late， very late， 3：10 A.M. by my watch—was something that had happened nearly twelve hours earlier. A small thing， really， but by this time it had grown out of all proportion and poisoned everything we said， as if we didnt have enough problems already. Mallory was relentless. And I was feeling defensive and maybe more than a little 1）paranoid. We were both drunk. I could smell the nighttime stink of the river. I looked up and watched the sky expand overhead and then shrink down to fit me like a safety helmet. A truck went blatting by on the interstate， and then it was silent， but for the mosquitoes singing their blood song， while the rest of the insect world screeched either in protest or accord. I couldnt tell which， thrumming and thrumming， until the night felt as if it were going to burst open and leave us shattered in the grass. “You asshole，” she snarled. “Youre the asshole，” I said. “I hate you.” “2）Ditto，” I said. “Ditto and square it.”

The new day had begun peaceably enough， a Saturday， the two of us curled up and 3）sleeping late， the shades drawn and the air-conditioner doing its job. If it hadnt been for the dog， we might have slept right on into the afternoon， because wed been up late the night before， at a club called Gabes， where wed danced， with the assistance of well rum and two little white pills Mallorys friend Mona had given her， until we sweated through our clothes， and the muscles of our 4）calves—my calves， anyway—felt as if theyd been surgically removed， and sewn back in place. But the dog， Nome—a husky， one blue eye， one brown—kept laying the wedge of his head on my side of the bed and emitting a series of insistent whines， because his 5）bladder was bursting and it was high time for his morning run. My eyes flashed open， and， despite the dogs needs and the first stirrings of a headache， I got up with a feeling that the world was a hospitable place. After using the toilet and splashing some water on my face， I found my shorts on the floor where Id left them， unfurled the dogs leash， and took him out the door. The sun was high. After the dog evacuated， I led him down to the corner store， picked up a copy of the newspaper and two coffees to go. Mallory was sitting up waiting for me， still in her nightgown but with her glasses on. She stretched and smiled when I came through the door and murmured something that might have been “Good morning”. I handed her a coffee and the Life section of the newspaper. Time slowed. For the next hour there were no sounds but for a rustle of newsprint and the gentle soughing suck of hot liquid through a small plastic 6）aperture.

The plan was to drive out to the farmhouse our friends Chris and Anneliese Wright were renting from the farmer himself and laze away the hours sipping wine. After that， wed 7）play it by ear. If Chris and Anneliese didnt have anything else in mind， I was thinking of persuading them to join us at the vegetarian place in town for the falafel plate， and then maybe hit a movie or head back over to Gabes until the night melted away. Fine. Perfect. Exactly what you wanted most from a midsummers day in the Midwest， after the summer session had ended and youd put away your books for the three-week 8）respite before the fall semester started up. We didnt have jobs， not in any real sense—jobs were a myth， a rumor—so we held on in grad school， semester after semester， for lack of anything better to do. We got financial aid， of course， and 9）accrued debt on our student loans. Our car， a hand-me-down from Mallorys mother， needed tires and probably everything else into the bargain. Sometimes we felt as if we were actually getting somewhere， but the truth was， like most people， we were just marking time.

At any rate， we made some sandwiches， put the dog in the car， and drove through the leafy streets of town， Nome was in the back seat， hanging his head out the window. All was well. But then we turned onto the unmarked blacktop road that led out to Chris and Annelieses and saw the car there， a silver 10）Toyota， engine running， stopped in our lane. As we got closer we saw a woman—girl—coming toward us down the center of the road， her face flushed and her eyes wet with what might have been the effects of overwrought emotion or maybe 11）hay fever， which was 12）endemic here， and we saw a man—boy—perched on the hood of the car， shouting abuse at her retreating back. The term “l(fā)overs quarrel” came into my head at the very moment the girl lifted her face and Mallory yelled， “Stop！” “Its a lovers quarrel，” I said， ever so slightly depressing the accelerator.“Stop！” Mallory repeated， more insistently this time. The guy was watching us， something like an angry smirk on his face. The girl—she was no more than a hundred feet away now—raised her hand as if to flag us down， and I eased up on the gas， thinking that maybe they were in trouble after all， something wrong with the car， the engine overheating， the fuel gauge on empty. It was hot. Grasshoppers flung themselves at the windshield like yellow hail. All you could smell was tar.

The car slowed to a halt and the girl bent to my window.

“You need help？” I asked.

“Hes such a jerk，” she said， sucking in her breath. “Hes， hes”—another breath—“I hate him.”

Mallory leaned over me so the girl could see her face. “Is he your—”

“Hes a jerk，” the girl repeated. She was younger than us， late teens， early twenties. She wore her blond hair in braids and she was dressed in a black tank top， cut-off jeans， and pink 13）Crocs. She threw a look at the guy， who was still perched on the hood of the car， then wiped her nose with the back of her hand and began to cry again.

“Thats right，” he shouted. “Cry. Go ahead. And then you can run back to your mommy and daddy like the little retard you are！” He was blond， too， more of a rusty blond， and he had the makings of a reddish beard creeping up into his sideburns. He was wearing a 14）Banksy T-shirt， the one with the rat in sunglasses on it， and it clung to him as if it had been painted on. You could see that he spent time at the gym. A lot of time.

“Get in the car，” Mallory said. “You can come with us—itll be all right.”

“Its between them，” I said， “Its none of our business.”

“None of our business？” she shot back at me. “She could be abused or， I dont know， abducted， you ever think of that？” She strained to look around me， as if the girl should be fixed on the blacktop. “Did he hit you， is that it？”

Another sob， sucked back as quickly as it was released. “No. Hes just a jerk， thats all.”

“Yeah，” he crowed， sliding down off the hood， “you tell them all about it， because youre Little Miss Perfect， arent you？ You want to see something？ You， Im talking to you， you in the car.” He raised one arm to show the long red striations there， evidence of what had passed between them. “You want her？ You can have her.”

“Get in，” Mallory said.

The girl shook her head.

“Go ahead， bitch，” the guy called.

“You dont have to put up with that，” Mallory said， and her voice was honed and hard， the voice she used on me when she was in a mood， when I was talking too much or hadnt 15）got around to washing the dishes when it was my turn. “Come on， get in.”

“No，” the girl said， stepping back from the car， so that we got a full view of her. Her arms shone with sweat. There were beads of moisture dotting her upper lip. She was pretty， very pretty.

I eased off the brake pedal and the car inched forward even as Mallory said， “Stop， Paul， what are you doing？” and I said， “She doesnt want to. Its a lovers quarrel， cant you see that？”

那晚我們一直在爭論的——當(dāng)時很晚了，非常非常晚，我的手表顯示凌晨3點10分——是大約12小時前發(fā)生的事兒。一件雞毛蒜皮的事兒，真的，但當(dāng)下卻顯得無限擴大，詆毀了我們之前所說的一切，好像我們還煩不夠一樣?，斅妍愂抢淇釤o情的。而我則想自我保護，或許還帶著一丁點兒妄想偏執(zhí)。我們都喝高了。我能聞到夜間河水散出的惡臭。我仰起頭，望著天空在頭頂上膨脹，之后收縮，像頂安全帽似的扣在我頭上。一輛卡車在州際公路上呼嘯著駛過，之后四周一片寂靜，只有蚊子吟唱著它們的“紅”歌，其它的昆蟲也或抗議、或附和地鳴叫著。我說不清是什么在一直敲打著，直到這夜仿佛將要炸開，剩我們散落在草地上?！澳慊斓埃彼鸬??！澳悴攀腔斓?，”我說?！拔液弈恪！薄拔乙彩?，”我說道?！昂湍阋粯樱绞?。”

新的一天開始了，夠?qū)庫o平和的，一個周六，我們倆蜷縮著睡懶覺，窗簾拉上了，空調(diào)一直開著。要不是那只狗，我們能一覺睡到下午，因為前一晚我們熬夜到很晚，在一間叫作加布斯的俱樂部，我們跳舞了，伴著優(yōu)質(zhì)朗姆酒和瑪洛麗的朋友莫娜給她的兩顆白色小藥丸的助力，我們一直跳到汗水浸透衣服，我們小腿的肌肉——我的小腿，總之——感覺好像被手術(shù)移除了，然后又縫回到適當(dāng)?shù)奈恢?。但那只狗，諾姆——一只哈士奇，眼睛是一只藍色，一只棕色的——老是把它那小腦袋靠在我的床邊并發(fā)出一系列持續(xù)不斷的嗚嗚聲，因為它的膀胱就要爆炸了，晨跑的時間到了。我的眼睛瞬間睜開，且先不提狗狗的需求和第一波涌起的頭痛，我起床了，感覺這世界是個好客之地。上完廁所，往臉上濕了點兒水之后，我找到自己脫在地板上的短褲，松開狗鏈，帶著小狗出門了。日頭正毒。狗狗排完便之后，我?guī)еチ俗≌瑓^(qū)附近的商店，拿了一份報紙和兩杯咖啡回去。瑪洛麗正坐著等我，還穿著她的睡衣，不過帶上了眼鏡。當(dāng)我嘴里嘟囔著可能是“早上好”之類的話走進門的時候，她伸了伸懶腰笑了。我遞給她一杯咖啡和報紙的生活版。時間放慢了。接下來的一個小時里除了翻報紙的沙沙聲和透過一個小小塑料孔吮吸熱飲的輕輕的嗖嗖聲之外，再無其它聲響。

我們原計劃是駕車去往我們的朋友克里斯和安麗斯·賴特自己從農(nóng)夫那兒租來的農(nóng)舍，消磨上幾個小時喝喝小酒。在那之后，我們就視情況再定了。如果克里斯和安麗斯并沒什么打算，我倒是在想說服他們跟我們一起去鎮(zhèn)上吃素食的地方吃個油炸素丸子，之后也許看場電影或者調(diào)頭去加布斯俱樂部，直到這晚結(jié)束。很好。棒極了。這正是你最想從美國中西部仲夏的一天中得到的，夏季學(xué)期結(jié)束之后，你收好書本，享受秋季學(xué)期開學(xué)前為時三周的短暫休息。我們沒有工作，沒有真正意義上的工作——工作是個迷思，一個謠傳——所以我們又進了研究生院，一個學(xué)期接著一個學(xué)期，因為沒有好點的事兒可以做。我們拿到了助學(xué)金，當(dāng)然，還有越積越高的助學(xué)貸款。我們的車，一輛瑪洛麗母親開過的車，需要換輪胎，可能還需要換掉除輪胎外的其它一切東西。有時我們覺得自己好像真的小有成就，但事實上，和大多數(shù)人一樣，我們只是在原地踏步。

不管怎樣，我們會做些三明治，把狗狗放在車里，然后駛過小鎮(zhèn)上綠樹成蔭的街道，諾姆坐在后座上，把腦袋垂靠窗外。一切都很正常。但是之后我們轉(zhuǎn)到了駛向克里斯和安麗斯家的無標(biāo)柏油馬路上，看到一輛銀色的豐田汽車開著發(fā)動機停在那兒，擋住了我們的路。當(dāng)我們離得近點兒的時候，我們看到一個女人——女孩兒——沿著路中心向我們走來，她滿臉通紅，雙眼濕潤，可能是情緒失控的表現(xiàn)，也可能是因為這里的風(fēng)土病枯草熱，然后我們看到一個男人——男孩兒——坐在車的引擎蓋上，沖著她離開的背影嚷嚷著罵人的話。恰恰在女孩揚起臉龐的時候，瑪洛麗吼道：“停車！”那一刻，“情侶吵架”那詞兒浮現(xiàn)在我的腦海?！斑@是情侶在吵架，”我說，些微地踩低了油門。“停車！”瑪洛麗這次更堅決地重復(fù)道。那家伙望著我們，臉上露出一個仿佛生氣的假笑。那女孩兒——現(xiàn)在離我們還不到一百英尺——揚起手，貌似示意我們停下來，我松了油門，想著或許他們遇到麻煩了，車出了毛病，引擎過熱或者燃油耗盡。天氣很熱。蚱蜢像黃色的冰雹一樣撞在擋風(fēng)玻璃上。你只能聞到柏油的味道。

車子慢慢停了下來，女孩兒俯身到我那邊的車窗前。

“需要幫忙嗎？”我問道。

“他真是個混蛋，”她喘著說道?！八牵恰薄治丝跉狻拔液匏！?/p>

瑪洛麗把身子傾到我這邊，讓女孩兒能看到她的臉?！八悄愕摹?/p>

“他是個混蛋，”那女孩兒重復(fù)道。她比我們小，小青年，二十出頭的樣子。她扎著金黃色的辮子，穿了件黑色背心，一條褲腿兒剪短的牛仔褲和一雙粉紅色的卡洛馳鞋子。她瞟了眼仍在車子引擎蓋兒上坐著的家伙，然后用手背擦了擦鼻子，又開始哭了。

“行，”他喊道?！翱薨?。繼續(xù)。然后跑回去找你的爸爸媽媽，像傻瓜一樣。”他也是金發(fā)，偏金棕色，還留著連到鬢角的泛紅胡子。他穿了件班克斯T恤，上面有只戴墨鏡的老鼠的那款，T恤貼著身，好像畫在了他身上。能看得出，他有花時間健身。大把的時間。

“上車，”瑪洛麗說?！澳憧梢院臀覀円黄稹獩]事兒的。”

“這是他們之間的事兒，”我說，“跟我們沒關(guān)系?！?/p>

“跟我們沒關(guān)系？”她反擊道。“她也許被虐待或者，我不知道，被誘拐，你想過那些嗎？”她探頭繞過我往外瞧，好像那女孩竟被釘住在柏油路上一般?！八蚰懔?，是不是？”

又是一陣啜泣，抽氣短促?！皼]有。他就是個混蛋，僅此而已。”

“是的，”他邊喊邊從引擎蓋上滑下來，“你把什么都告訴他們了，因為你是‘完美小姐，不是么？你想看些什么嗎？你，我在和你說話，車里的那個。”他抬起一條手臂給我們看那里又長又紅的痕跡，那證明了他們兩個之間發(fā)生過什么?！澳阆胍?？你可以帶她走。”

“上車，”瑪洛麗說道。

女孩兒搖了搖頭。

“上去啊，賤人，”那家伙叫著。

“你不需要忍受那些，” 瑪洛麗說，她的聲音沙啞又無情，當(dāng)她心情不好，當(dāng)我說話太多或者輪到我洗碗而我沒有抽空去做的時候，她就會用這種聲音跟我說話?！翱禳c，上車?！?/p>

“不，”女孩兒邊說邊從車旁向后倒退，我們得以覽其全貌。她的雙臂因汗水晶瑩透亮。她上唇冒著小汗珠。她很美，相當(dāng)好看。

我松開剎車，車子緩緩地前行，盡管瑪洛麗說著：“停下，保羅，你在干什么？”而我答道：“她并不想上車，這是戀人在吵架，你看不明白嗎？”