莫琳·戴利 譯/聶雅真 郭慶怡

You see， it was funny how I met him. It was a winter night like any other winter night. And I didn’t have my Latin done either. But the way the moon tinseled the twigs and silver-plated the snow drifts， I just couldn’t stay inside. The skating rink isn’t far from my house—you can make it in five minutes if the sidewalks aren’t slippery， so I went skating. I remember it took me a long time to get ready that night because I had to darn my skating socks first. I don’t know why they always wear out so fast—just in the toes， too. Maybe it’s because I have metal protectors on the toes of my skates. That properly is why. And then I brushed my hair—hard， so hard it clung to my hand and stood up around my head in a hazy halo.

My skates were hanging by the back door all nice and shiny， for I’d just gotten them for Christmas and they smelled so queer—just like fresh-smoked ham. My dog walked with me as far as the corner. She’s a red chow， very polite and well-mannered， and she kept pretending it was me she liked when all the time I knew it was the ham smell. She panted along beside me and her hot breath made a frosty little balloon balancing on the end of her nose. My skates thumped me good-naturedly on the back as I walked and the night was breathlessly quiet and the stars winked down like a million flirting eyes. It was all so lovely.

It was all so lovely I ran most of the way and it was lucky the sidewalks had ashes on them or I’d have slipped surely. The ashes crunched like crackerjack and I could feel their cindery shape through the thinness of my shoes. I always wear old shoes when I go skating.

I had to cut across someone’s back garden to get to the rink and last summer’s grass stuck through the thin ice， brown and discouraged. Not many people came through this way and the crusted snow broke through the little hollows between corn stubbles frozen hard in the ground. I was out of breath when I got to the shanty—out of breath with running and with the loveliness of the night. Shanties are always such friendly places. The floor all hacked to wet splinters from skate runners and the wooden wall frescoed with symbols of dead romance. There was a smell of singed wool as someone got too near the glowing isinglass grid of the iron stove. Girls burst through the door laughing with snow on their hair and tripped over shoes scattered on the floor. A pimply-faced boy grabbed the hat from the frizzled head of an eighth-grade blonde and stuffed it into an empty galosh to prove his love and then hastily bent to examine his skate strap with innocent unconcern.

It didn’t take me long to get my own skates on and I stuck my shoes under the bench—far back where they wouldn’t get knocked around and would be easy to find when I wanted to go home. I walked out on my toes and the shiny runners of my new skates dug deep into the sodden floor.

It was snowing a little outside—quick， but melted as soon as they touched your hand. I don’t know where the snow came from for there were stars out. Or maybe the stars were in my eyes and I just kept seeing them every time I looked up into the darkness. I waited a moment. You know， to start to skate at a crowded rink is like jumping on a moving merry-go-round. Once in， I went all right. At least， after I found out exactly where the rough ice was. It was “round， round， jump the rut， round， round， round， jump the rut， round， round—”

And then he came. All of a sudden his arm was around my waist so warm and tight and he said very casually， “Mind if I skate with you？” and then he took my other hand. That’s all there was to it. Just that and then we were skating. It wasn’t that I’d never skated with a boy before. Don’t be silly. I told you before I get around. But this was different. He was a smoothie！ He was a big shot up at school and he went to all the big dances and he was the best dancer in town except Harold Wright who didn’t count because he’d been to college in New York for two years！ Don’t you see？ This was different.

At first I can’t remember what we talked about， I can’t even remember if we talked at all. We just skated and skated and laughed every time we came to that rough spot and pretty soon we were laughing all the time at nothing at all. It was all so lovely.

Then we sat on the big snow bank at the edge of the rink and just watched. It was cold at first even with my skating pants on， sitting on that hard heap of snow， but pretty soon I got warm all over. He threw a handful of snow at me and it fell in a little white shower on my hair and he leaned over to brush it off. I held my breath. The night stood still.

The moon hung just over the warming shanty like a big quarterslice of muskmelon and the smoke from the pipe chimney floated up in a sooty fog. One by one the houses around the rink twinked out their lights and somebody’s hound wailed a mournful apology to a star as he curled up for the night. It was all so lovely.

Then he sat up straight and said， “We’d better start home.” Not “Shall I take you home？” or “Do you live far？” but “We’d better start home.” See， that’s how I know he wanted to take me home. Not because he had to but because he wanted to. He went to the shanty to get my shoes. “Black ones，” I told him. “Same size as Garbo’s.” And laughed again. He was still smiling when he came back and took off my skates and tied the wet skate strings in a soggy knot and put them over his shoulder. Then he held out his hand and I slid off the snow bank and brushed off the seat of my pants and we were ready.

It was snowing harder now. Big， quiet flakes that clung to twiggy bushes and snuggled in little drifts against the tree trunks. The night was an etching in black and white. It was all so lovely I was sorry I lived only a few blocks away. He talked softly as we walked as if every little word were a secret. “Did I like Wayne King， and did I plan to go to college next year and had I a cousin who lived in Appleton and knew his brother？” A very respectable Emily Post sort of conversation， and then finally—“how nice I looked with snow in my hair and had I ever seen the moon so—close？” For the moon was following us as we walked and ducking playfully behind a chimney every time I turned to looked at it. And then we were home.

The porch light was on. My mother always puts the porch light on when I go away at night. And we stood there a moment by the front steps and the snow turned pinkish in the glow of the colored light and a few feathery flakes settled on his hair. Then he took my skates and put them over my shoulder and said， “Good night now. I’ll call you，” he said.

I went inside then and in a moment he was gone. I watched him from my window as he went down the street. He was whistling softly and I waited until the sound faded away so I couldn’t tell if it was he or my heart whistling out there in the night. And then he was gone， completely gone.

I shivered. Somehow the darkness seemed changed. The stars were little hard chips of light far up in the sky and the moon stared down with a sullen yellow glare. The air was tense with sudden cold and a gust of wind swirled his footprints into white oblivion. Everything was quiet.

But he’d said， “I’ll call you.” That’s what he said， “I’ll call you.” I couldn’t sleep all night.

And that was last Thursday. Tonight is Tuesday. Tonight is Tuesday and my homework’s done， and I darned some stockings that didn’t really need it， and I worked a cross-word puzzle， and I listened to the radio and now I’m just sitting. I’m just sitting because I can’t think of anything else to do. I can’t think of anything， anything but snowflakes and ice skates and yellow moons and Thursday night. The telephone is sitting on the corner table with its old black face turned to the wall so I can’t see its leer. I don’t even jump when it rings any more. My heart still prays but my mind just laughs. Outside the night is still， so still I think I’ll go crazy and the white snow’s all dirtied and smoked into grayness and the wind is blowing the arc light so it throws weird， waving shadows from the trees onto the lawn—like thin， starved arms begging for I don’t know what. And so I’m just sitting here and I’m not feeling anything. I’m not even sad because all of a sudden I know. I can’t sit here now forever and laugh and laugh while the tears run salty in the corners of my mouth. For all of a sudden I know， I know what the stars knew all the time—he’ll never， never call—never.

你們不知道，我與他的相遇還挺有意思的。那是一個(gè)冬夜，與其他冬夜毫無(wú)二致。而我還沒(méi)有完成我的拉丁文作業(yè)。但是，看見(jiàn)月亮為樹(shù)枝鍍上金箔，為雪堆鍍上銀箔，我在屋里說(shuō)什么也待不住了?；鶊?chǎng)離家也不遠(yuǎn)——如果人行道不太滑，走過(guò)去也就五六分鐘，所以我決定，去滑冰。記得那天晚上準(zhǔn)備了好久，因?yàn)槲业孟妊a(bǔ)好滑冰襪。我不懂這襪子為什么總這么不經(jīng)穿——還總是腳趾的地方磨破?？赡苁且?yàn)槲以诒_趾部位襯了個(gè)金屬護(hù)趾。一準(zhǔn)兒就是這護(hù)趾鬧的。然后，我梳了梳頭——使了大勁兒梳，大得頭發(fā)都貼在手上再豎在頭上，形成了一圈朦朧暈輪。

我的冰鞋就掛在后門(mén)，錚光锃亮，那是我剛得的圣誕禮物，還帶著股新鞋的怪味兒——就像新鮮熏制的火腿。我的狗一直跟著我到了街角。她是一條紅毛松獅犬，很守規(guī)矩，也很溫順。她一直像是親近我，但我始終知道她其實(shí)是喜歡那股火腿味兒。她氣喘吁吁跟著我，呼出的熱氣凝成一個(gè)小霜球在鼻尖上晃來(lái)晃去。我走路時(shí)冰鞋在我背上輕輕跳動(dòng)著。夜，沉靜得令人窒息;星星，像無(wú)數(shù)眨動(dòng)著的眼睛。太美了，這一切！

太美了，這一切！我?guī)缀跻宦繁剂诉^(guò)去，還算運(yùn)氣好，人行道鋪上了煤渣，要不我肯定早滑倒了。煤渣踩上去嘎吱嘎吱響，像爆米花，隔著薄薄的鞋底，我能感覺(jué)到煤渣不太平整。我去溜冰時(shí)總是穿雙舊鞋。

去冰場(chǎng)必須穿過(guò)人家的后花園，而今年夏天的草鉆出了薄冰，黃黃的，蔫蔫的。這條路很少有人走，地里的玉米殘莖凍得硬硬的，凍結(jié)的雪殼從殘莖之間的小小凹陷處凸起。我終于到了冰場(chǎng)的小屋，有點(diǎn)上氣不接下氣——一是因?yàn)楸寂?，二是因?yàn)檫@可愛(ài)的夜色。冰場(chǎng)小屋都是比較溫馨的地方。小屋地上到處都是滑冰鞋冰刀留下的濕濕的劃痕，木墻上刻滿(mǎn)了已逝戀情的表白圖案。屋里會(huì)聞到羊毛燃燒的味道，那是有人靠鐵皮火爐太近了，火爐的云母格柵被爐光烤得紅紅的。女孩們笑著沖進(jìn)門(mén)，頭上粘著雪，被散落地上的鞋子絆得跌跌撞撞。一個(gè)臉上長(zhǎng)著粉刺的男孩從一個(gè)金色鬈發(fā)的八年級(jí)女生頭上搶過(guò)帽子，塞到一只空套鞋里表示他的愛(ài)意，然后急忙彎下腰假裝檢查鞋帶，一臉沒(méi)事人的樣子。

很快我就穿好了自己的冰鞋，把剛脫下的鞋藏在長(zhǎng)凳下——盡量往里塞，讓別人踢不著，我想回家時(shí)一伸手就能拿到。我踮著腳尖走了出去，新冰鞋閃亮的冰刀在濕漉漉的地板上刻出了很深的劃痕。

外面正下著小雪——很密，但落在手上就化了。我真不知道這雪是打哪兒來(lái)的，明明天上還掛著星星。沒(méi)準(zhǔn)兒星星就在我眼睛里，每次抬頭望向漆黑的夜空，我都能看到它們。我等了會(huì)兒。你知道，冰場(chǎng)里人擠人時(shí)，踏入冰場(chǎng)就像騎上不斷轉(zhuǎn)動(dòng)的旋轉(zhuǎn)木馬。不過(guò)，一旦上了場(chǎng)，我都能對(duì)付。至少，在我發(fā)現(xiàn)哪片冰面不平后就不會(huì)有問(wèn)題了。要做的就是“滑，滑，跳過(guò)去，滑，滑，滑，跳過(guò)去，滑，滑——”。

然后，他就來(lái)了。突然間，他摟上我的腰，暖暖的、緊緊的，他很隨意地問(wèn)道：“我可以和你一塊兒滑嗎？”之后就握住了我另一只手。就是這樣。沒(méi)說(shuō)別的什么，我們就一塊兒滑起來(lái)。我并不是沒(méi)和男生一塊兒滑過(guò)冰。別犯傻。我告訴過(guò)你，我什么事都能應(yīng)付。但這次不一樣。他是個(gè)八面玲瓏的人！他在學(xué)?？墒莻€(gè)大明星，參加過(guò)所有的大型舞會(huì)，是全鎮(zhèn)跳舞最好的，不過(guò)哈羅德·賴(lài)特沒(méi)算在里面，因?yàn)楣_德已經(jīng)到紐約上了兩年大學(xué)了！知道了吧？這就沒(méi)法比了。

一開(kāi)始我不記得我們都聊了什么，我甚至不記得到底聊了沒(méi)有。我們就一直滑、一直滑，每次滑到那片不平的冰面就大笑，沒(méi)過(guò)多久我們就無(wú)緣無(wú)故笑個(gè)不停。太美了，這一切！

后來(lái)，我們坐在冰場(chǎng)邊緣很大的雪堤上，就這么坐著看。一開(kāi)始感覺(jué)很冷，雖然我還穿著溜冰褲，可畢竟是坐在那一大片凍硬的雪堆上，但不一會(huì)兒我全身都感到暖了起來(lái)。他向我扔了一把雪，雪屑紛紛揚(yáng)揚(yáng)落在我頭發(fā)上，他靠過(guò)來(lái)?yè)鄣袅宋翌^上的雪。我屏住了呼吸。夜依然那樣沉寂。

月亮高懸在溫暖小屋的上空，像大瓣的甜瓜;而煙囪里飄升的煙形成了一團(tuán)黑霧。冰場(chǎng)周邊的住家一一熄滅了燈。哪家的獵犬向星星哀號(hào)了一聲，表達(dá)了歉意，就蜷起身準(zhǔn)備睡覺(jué)了。太美了，這一切！

這時(shí)，他坐直身體說(shuō)：“我們?cè)摶丶伊恕！彼麤](méi)說(shuō)“我送你回家吧！”或者“你住得遠(yuǎn)嗎？”，只說(shuō)“我們?cè)摶丶伊??！薄Ｄ憧?，他就是這樣表示他要送我回家的。不是因?yàn)樗坏貌凰?，而是他想送我回家。他去小屋替我拿鞋?！昂谏?，”我告訴他，“尺寸和嘉寶的一樣?！蔽覀冇执笮ζ饋?lái)。他回來(lái)時(shí)還帶著笑。他幫我脫下了冰鞋，把濕鞋帶打了個(gè)潮乎乎的結(jié)，掛在自己肩上。他伸出手，我從雪堤上滑下來(lái)，拍掉因?yàn)樽谀莾赫吃谘澴由系难瑴?zhǔn)備回家。

這會(huì)兒雪下大了。大片的雪花靜悄悄地掛在灌木枝杈上，結(jié)成小砣砣貼在樹(shù)干上。夜，像一幅黑白蝕刻畫(huà)。一切都是那么美好，真遺憾我就住在幾個(gè)街區(qū)外。我和他一邊走，一邊聽(tīng)他低聲說(shuō)著話(huà)，就好像每個(gè)詞都是個(gè)秘密?！跋矚g韋恩·金嗎，計(jì)劃明年進(jìn)大學(xué)嗎，有沒(méi)有一個(gè)住在阿普爾頓的表哥認(rèn)識(shí)他弟弟？” 這是一次禮儀專(zhuān)家埃米莉·波斯特式的彬彬有禮的交談，最后——“頭發(fā)上落點(diǎn)雪花有多漂亮，有沒(méi)有看到過(guò)月亮像今晩離得這樣——近？”我們一路走來(lái)，月亮一直跟著我們，而每次我一轉(zhuǎn)身看它，它就頑皮地躲到煙囪的后面。就這樣，我們到家了。

門(mén)廊燈亮著。如果我晚上出去，媽媽總會(huì)把門(mén)廊燈開(kāi)著。我們?cè)诖箝T(mén)外的臺(tái)階上站了會(huì)兒，彩燈照耀下，雪花變成了粉紅色，有幾片大如羽毛的雪花落在他頭發(fā)上。之后，他把我的冰鞋掛在我肩上說(shuō)：“晩安啦。我會(huì)給你打電話(huà)。”

于是我進(jìn)了屋，過(guò)了一會(huì)兒，他走了。他向街那頭走了，我在窗口看著他。他輕輕地吹著口哨，我一直等到口哨聲完全聽(tīng)不到了，所以我也說(shuō)不清楚是他還是我的心在深夜的街上吹著口哨。他終于沒(méi)影了，完全看不見(jiàn)了。

我激靈了一下。黑夜似乎和剛才不一樣了。星星好像是高掛空中發(fā)光的小片，月亮散發(fā)著憂(yōu)郁的黃光凝視世間。突然襲來(lái)的寒氣令人感到喘不過(guò)氣，一陣風(fēng)把他的腳印抹成了一片空白。一切歸于沉寂。

但他說(shuō)了：“我會(huì)給你打電話(huà)?！彼褪悄敲凑f(shuō)的：“我會(huì)給你打電話(huà)?！蹦且煌砦覐匾闺y眠。

那是上周四的事情了，今天是星期二。今天晚上，我的家庭作業(yè)已經(jīng)完成，襪子也補(bǔ)好了，其實(shí)不用補(bǔ)，我還做了一個(gè)填字游戲，聽(tīng)了會(huì)兒收音機(jī)，現(xiàn)在就只是呆坐著。我就那么坐著，因?yàn)槲蚁氩怀鲞€該做些什么。除了雪花、冰鞋、黃色的月亮和星期四的夜晚，我什么都想不起來(lái)。老舊的電話(huà)就擱在角桌上，黑色的面盤(pán)對(duì)著墻，所以我看不見(jiàn)它不懷好意的表情。電話(huà)鈴再響起時(shí)，我甚至都不會(huì)跳起來(lái)了。我的心仍在祈禱，而腦子卻在笑。外面的夜晚很靜，我覺(jué)得靜得讓我發(fā)瘋。白雪都被弄臟了，被煙熏得灰蒙蒙的;風(fēng)在吹打著弧光燈，把怪異、晃動(dòng)的樹(shù)影映到草坪上——好像伸著瘦瘦的、營(yíng)養(yǎng)不良的手臂在乞討，我也不知道在乞討什么。所以我就這么坐在這兒，什么感覺(jué)都沒(méi)有。我甚至不感到悲傷，因?yàn)槲彝蝗幻靼琢恕Ｎ也豢赡苡肋h(yuǎn)坐在這兒，我放聲大笑，不停地笑，眼淚流進(jìn)嘴角，咸咸的。我突然明白了，明白了星星們一直都清楚的事——他永遠(yuǎn)、永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)打電話(huà)——永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)。