One Hundred and Sixty-Eight Dots

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For forty years Ernesto and Pablo played dominoes every day, sometimes in the afternoon and sometimes in the evening. They always sat at the same table, in front of Ernesto’s house in a small street in Havana.

埃内斯托和巴勃罗每天都玩多米诺骨牌，玩了四十年。有时在下午，有时在晚上。他们总是坐在同一张桌子旁，就在哈瓦那一条小街上埃内斯托的家门前。

The tiles were old. Ernesto’s father made them out of black wood seventy years ago. The dots were small, shallow holes with white paint. Now the paint was grey and thin. The tiles lay in a small wooden box, and Ernesto loved them. He was a carpenter, like his father.

骨牌很旧了。埃内斯托的父亲七十年前用黑木做好了它们。上面的点是一些浅浅的小孔，里面涂了白漆。现在漆变薄了，颜色发灰。骨牌装在一个小木盒里，埃内斯托很喜欢它们。他和父亲一样，是个木匠。

Next to the box there was always a notebook. In it the two of them wrote down every game: the day, the time and the name of the winner. Every year they had a new notebook. Whoever was ahead at the end of the year won the year.

小盒子旁边总放着一个本子。他们俩把每局都记在里面：日期、时间和赢的人的名字。每年他们都有一个新本子。年底领先的人，就是那一年的赢家。

For thirty-nine years Pablo always won. Never by many games, but always. He thought faster and counted better, and he liked to say so.

三十九年来，总是巴勃罗赢。他赢的局数从来不多，但每年都是他赢。他想得更快，数得更好，而且他喜欢这么说。

But this year everything was different. Since the spring Ernesto had won a lot of games, more than before. At the end of October he was ahead for the first time: one game ahead of Pablo. Ernesto opened the notebook every day and looked at the number. He was very proud.

但是今年完全不同了。从春天开始，埃内斯托赢了很多局，比以前更多。十月底，他第一次领先了：比巴勃罗多赢一局。埃内斯托每天都打开本子看那个数字。他非常自豪。

One Monday Pablo drank his coffee and said nothing for a long time. Then he said, “On Saturday I’m flying to Valencia, to my daughter Marisol. I’m moving in with her.”

一个星期一，巴勃罗喝着咖啡，很久没说话。然后他说：“星期六我要坐飞机去巴伦西亚，去我女儿玛丽索尔那里。我要搬去和她一起住。”

“For good?” Ernesto asked.

“永远吗？”埃内斯托问。

“For good. She says that an old man shouldn’t live alone. On Friday we play for the last time.”

“永远。她说老人不该一个人住。星期五是我们最后一次玩了。”

Ernesto looked at the notebook for a long time. Then he laughed, but it was not a good laugh. “Then I win this year,” he said. “After thirty-nine years.”

埃内斯托看了本子很久。然后他笑了，但笑得并不开心。“那么今年是我赢了，”他说，“在三十九年之后。”

“It isn’t Friday yet,” Pablo said.

“还没到星期五呢。”巴勃罗说。