药店楼上

药店楼上

The Flat Above the Chemist’s

前一天晚上,我答应过邮递员,这件事我不再管了。可是十二月十二日星期六早上五点四十五分,我站在药店对面一个黑暗的门口,没有守住这个诺言。

I had promised the postman, the night before, that I would leave it alone. On Saturday the twelfth of December, at a quarter to six in the morning, I was standing in a dark doorway across the street from the chemist’s, breaking that promise.

药店里黑着灯。橱窗旁边有一扇窄窄的绿门,门上有一个铜做的门牌号,门上面有两扇窗。窗帘是拉着的,可是后面有灯光。楼上有人醒着。

The chemist’s was dark. Next to its window there was a narrow green door with a brass number on it, and above the door, two windows. The curtains were closed, but there was a light behind them. Somebody was awake up there.

我等着。天很冷。市场这天开张,广场中间的小木屋都准备好了,木窗关着,屋顶上有雪。几个小时以后,广场上会到处都是人和音乐。现在它又空又静,我能听到自己的心跳。

I waited. It was very cold. The market opened that day, and the huts in the middle of the square were ready, with their wooden shutters closed and snow on their roofs. In a few hours the square would be full of people and music. Now it was empty and silent, and I could hear my own heart.

六点零五分,绿门开了。

At five past six, the green door opened.

Ben 走了出来,正好准时。这是他的习惯,我已经学会了。他穿着红夹克,邮包斜挂在胸前,两只手里拿着一样东西:一叠奶白色的信封,有十几封,用一根红绳子绑着。他轻轻地关上身后的门,转身要把这叠信放进包里。

Ben came out, right on time. It was his routine, and I had learned it. He was in his red jacket, with his postbag across his chest, and he was holding something in both hands: a bundle of cream envelopes, a dozen or more, tied with a piece of red string. He closed the door quietly behind him and turned to put the bundle in his bag.

然后他抬起头,看见了我。

Then he looked up and saw me.

他没有动。我也没有动。我们站在窄街的两边,在蓝色的雪光里,那叠信封在他的手里,在我们中间,不管我们说什么,都不能让它变成不是真的。

He didn’t move. Neither did I. We stood on the two sides of the narrow street in the blue snow, and the bundle of envelopes was in his hands between us, and there was nothing either of us could say that would make it not true.

“Leila,”他终于说。他的声音很轻。”你说过的。”

“Leila,” he said at last. His voice was very quiet. “You said.”

“我知道我说过什么。”

“I know what I said.”

“你说你不再管这件事。昨天。你看着我说的。”

“You said you’d leave it alone. Yesterday. You looked at me and you said it.”

“我知道。”

“I know.”

他低头看那些信封。他看了看绿门。他看了看手表。我看见他很快地把一切都想了一遍,我也看见他做决定的那一刻。那是我第一次明白,他是什么样的人。

He looked down at the envelopes. He looked at the green door. He looked at his watch. I saw him think it all through, very fast, and I saw the moment he decided. It was the first time I understood what kind of man he was.

“八点以前,我有十四个孩子的信要送,”他说,”十四个。他们从六号就在等了。我不会因为你,让他们再等。”他把信封放进包里。”你不要让她难过。她八十二岁了。”

“I have fourteen children to deliver to before eight,” he said. “Fourteen. They’ve been waiting since the sixth. I’m not going to make them wait because of you.” He put the envelopes in his bag. “Don’t you dare upset her. She’s eighty-two.”