一个叫米克的朋友

有那么一会儿，谁也没有说话。风沿着空荡荡的站台吹着，在山丘后面的某个地方，开往曼彻斯特的火车的轰鸣声越来越大。安娜能感到自己的心在嗓子眼跳动。她答应过了。就在一分钟前，她才刚刚答应过。“这是米克，”她听到自己说，“他是我的一个朋友。他在超市的仓库工作。”

For a moment nobody spoke. The wind blew along the empty platform, and somewhere behind the hills the Manchester train was getting louder. Ana could feel her heart beating in her throat. She had promised. Only a minute ago, she had promised. “This is Mick,” she heard herself say. “He’s a friend. He works at the supermarket warehouse.”

“噢，你好，”杰丝说。她看着他，眼神就像青少年看大多数成年人那样，带着礼貌，但没有多少兴趣。接着，她打开了薯片。“你要去曼彻斯特吗？火车快来了。”

“Oh. Hi,” Jess said. She looked at him the way teenagers look at most adults, politely and without much interest. Then she opened her crisps. “Are you going to Manchester? The train’s coming.”

迈克尔张开嘴，但什么也没说出来。他紧紧地握着钱包，手指都发白了。安娜看见他看着杰丝的红头发、绿眼睛，还有下巴上的一道小伤疤——安娜以前从没注意过那个小伤疤。他看着她，仿佛想把她脸上的每一个细节都记在心里，记一辈子。

Michael opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was holding his wallet so hard that his fingers had gone white. Ana saw him look at Jess’s red hair, at her green eyes, at the small scar on her chin that Ana had never noticed before. He looked at her as if he was trying to remember every detail of her face for the rest of his life.

“不，”他终于开口了。他的声音有些沙哑。“不，我哪儿也不去。我刚才只是在……看时刻表。”他清了清嗓子。“很高兴认识你，杰丝。”

“No,” he said at last. His voice was rough. “No, I’m not going anywhere. I was just… checking the times.” He cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you, Jess.”

杰丝微微皱起眉头。“你怎么知道我的名字？”

Jess frowned slightly. “How do you know my name?”

站台上可怕地安静了一秒钟。接着，安娜笑了起来，声音有点太大了。“因为我总是说起你呀。整天杰丝长、杰丝短的。杰丝和她的画。可怜的米克早就听遍了关于你的事。”这甚至不是一个高明的谎话，但杰丝只是耸了耸肩，吃了一片薯片。在利兹玩了一天之后，她太高兴了，根本不在意这些。

There was a terrible second of silence. Then Ana laughed, a little too loudly. “Because I never stop talking about you. Jess this, Jess that. Jess and her drawings. Poor Mick has heard everything about you.” It was not even a good lie, but Jess shrugged and ate a crisp. She was too happy after her day in Leeds to care.

火车发出漫长而疲惫的声音进站了，停在他们面前。车门打开了。一个推着婴儿车的女人走了下来，接着是一个老爷爷，然后就没人了。迈克尔背着包，静静地站在那里，看着开着的车门。安娜看着他。杰丝看着手机。过了一分钟，车门重新关上，火车缓缓驶入黑暗中。

The train came into the station with a long, tired sound and stopped in front of them. The doors opened. A woman with a pushchair got off, and an old man, and then nobody. Michael stood very still with his bag on his back and watched the open doors. Ana watched him. Jess watched her phone. After a minute, the doors closed again, and the train moved slowly away into the dark.

迈克尔长长地吐出了一口气。他看着安娜，在他疲惫的眼里，有了一种她以前从未见过的东西。那不完全是希望，但已经很接近了。“晚安，安娜，”他轻声说，“晚安，杰丝。祝你的画顺利。”然后他转身走上楼梯，穿过天桥，走出了车站。

Michael let out a long breath. He looked at Ana, and in his tired eyes there was something she had not seen there before. It was not quite hope, but it was close to it. “Goodnight, Ana,” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Jess. Good luck with the drawings.” Then he turned and walked up the stairs, over the bridge and out of the station.

他们沿着下坡路走回家。星期六晚上的霍林桥很安静，路灯在潮湿的石头地面上照出一圈圈黄色的光。杰丝不停地讲了十分钟利兹的事：那座玻璃大楼、戴紫色眼镜的老师，还有那个用意大利面搭了一座桥的模型学生。安娜应着“是吗”、“不是吧”和“真的吗”，但她几乎没在听。

They walked home down the hill. Hollin Bridge was quiet on a Saturday night, and the streetlights made yellow circles on the wet stones. Jess talked about Leeds for ten minutes without stopping: the glass building, the teacher with the purple glasses, the student who had built a model of a bridge out of spaghetti. Ana said yes and no and really, but she was hardly listening.

然后，在桥街的拐角处，杰丝突然停住了话头。“你的朋友很怪，”她说。

Then, at the corner of Bridge Street, Jess suddenly stopped talking. “Your friend was weird,” she said.

“米克吗？为什么？”安娜尽量让声音听起来轻松一些。

“Mick? Why?” Ana tried to keep her voice light.

“我不知道。他看我的眼神。就好像他认识我，或者像见到了鬼一样。”杰丝把耳机拉到耳朵上，接着又拉了下来。“也许他有个和我一样大的女儿什么的吧。遇到这种事，大人们总是怪怪的。”她耸了耸肩，他们从面包店的前门走了进去，那个瞬间就过去了。但安娜没有忘记这件事。

“I don’t know. The way he looked at me. Like he knew me, or like he had seen a ghost.” Jess pulled her headphones up over her ears, then pulled them down again. “Maybe he has a daughter my age, or something. People get strange about that.” She shrugged, and they went in through the front door of the bakery, and the moment was gone. But Ana did not forget it.

沃尔特在厨房的椅子上睡着了，收音机还开着，克拉姆趴在他的脚边。桌子上放着一个盘子，干净的布下面盖着两块蛋糕，还有一张他用颤抖的大字写的字条：给回来的旅人们。安娜给他盖了一条毯子。杰丝关掉了收音机，在上楼之前，轻轻地亲了一下他的头顶。

Walter was asleep in his chair in the kitchen, with the radio still on and Crumb on his feet. On the table there was a plate with two pieces of cake under a clean cloth and a note in his big, shaky handwriting: For the travellers. Ana covered him with a blanket. Jess turned off the radio and, very quietly, kissed the top of his head before she went upstairs.

在楼上，安娜穿着衣服躺在床上，看着天花板。她试着数自己的秘密，就像有些人数羊一样。沃尔特收到的银行信件。大衣口袋里的那些小纸方块。迈克尔的船，迈克尔的照片，迈克尔在站台上的脸。现在又对杰丝那张开心的脸撒了一个新的谎。她想，自己来霍林桥是为了做面包的，不是为了把别人的生活装进自己的口袋里。

Upstairs, Ana lay on her bed in her clothes and looked at the ceiling. She tried to count her secrets, the way some people count sheep. Walter’s letter from the bank. The paper squares in her coat pocket. Michael’s boat, Michael’s photo, Michael’s face on the platform. And now a new lie, told to Jess’s happy face. She had come to Hollin Bridge to make bread, she thought. Not to carry other people’s lives in her pockets.