The Step

The name went out across the dark river like something thrown. Michael stopped. Ana, standing frozen by the oven with an empty tray in her hands, saw him stop as if he had walked into a wall. For a long moment he did not turn round. His shoulders rose and fell under the long coat. Then, slowly, he turned.

段差

Father and son stood about ten metres apart. Walter was on the step, in the light from the kitchen door, big and white-haired in his apron and his old slippers. Michael was on the path at the edge of the light, tall and thin and grey-bearded, with his hands hanging empty at his sides. Ana thought they looked like two halves of the same photograph, torn apart a long time ago.

その名前は、投げられた小石のように暗い川を越えて響いた。マイケルは足を止めた。アナは空の天板を手にしたままオーブンのそばで凍りつき、彼がまるで壁にぶつかったかのように立ち止まるのを見た。長いあいだ、彼は振り向かなかった。長いコートの下で肩が上下していた。それから、ゆっくりと彼は振り返った。

Nobody said anything. The river went past. Somewhere far away, on the other side of the town, the N7 was climbing the hill to the hospital with its lights on. Ana put the tray down very quietly on the table and did not move again.

父と息子は約十メートル離れて立っていた。ウォルターは勝手口の明かりの中、エプロンと履き古したスリッパを身につけ、白髪交じりの大柄な体を段差の上に置いていた。マイケルは明かりの端の小道にいて、背が高く痩せていて灰色のあごひげをたくわえ、両手をだらりと横に垂らしていた。アナには、二人がずっと昔に引き裂かれた一枚の写真の半身同士のように見えた。