Not for Me

For a moment the only sound in the kitchen was the radio, playing quietly on the shelf. Then Jess pushed her chair back so hard that it scraped across the floor. “You can’t,” she said. “Grandad, you can’t sell it. It’s the bakery. It’s Bell’s. It’s been here for a hundred years.”

有一会儿，厨房里只有架子上的收音机在轻轻地响着。接着，Jess用力把椅子往后一推，椅子腿在地上擦出刺耳的声音。“你不能这样，”她说，“爷爷，你不能卖掉它。这是面包房。这是Bell’s。它在这里都有一百年了。”

“Ninety-two,” Walter said calmly. “My grandfather opened it. And I can sell it, Jess. It’s mine.” He put his glasses back in their case. “Sit down, please. Let me explain. Then you can shout at me as much as you like.”

“九十二年，”Walter平静地说，“是我爷爷开的。Jess，我可以卖掉它。它是我的。”他把眼镜放回盒子里。“请坐下。让我解释一下。然后你想怎么冲我喊都行。”

Jess did not sit down, but she stopped talking. Walter put both hands flat on the table. The bad one shook against the wood. He looked at it as if it belonged to someone else, and then he began.

Jess没有坐下，但她不再说话了。Walter把两只手平放在桌子上。那只生病的手在木头桌面上发抖。他看着那只手，好像它是别人的，然后他开口了。