What Really Happened

Inside, the Second Chance was half packed and very cold. Books were stacked in boxes along one wall; the little table had been pushed against the stove. Michael lit the stove with a match and some newspaper, and for a few minutes neither of them said anything while the fire caught and the boat slowly began to warm up. Ana noticed that his hands shook while he did it.

在“Second Chance”号里面，东西收拾了一半，屋里很冷。墙边放着一箱箱的书，小桌子被推到了炉子旁边。Michael用一根火柴和一些报纸点燃了炉子。火生起来了，船里慢慢温和起来，这几分钟里他们谁也没有说话。Ana注意到他在生火的时候手在发抖。

He made two mugs of tea and sat down opposite her. He did not look at her. He looked at the small window, where the curtain still did not quite close, and at the dark canal beyond it. When he began to speak, his voice was flat and careful, as if he had practised the words many times but never said them aloud.

他泡了两大杯茶，在她对面坐了下来。他没有看她。他看着那扇小窗户，窗帘还是拉不严实，他也看着窗外漆黑的运河。他开口说话时，语调平淡而小心，好像把这些话练习过很多次，却从没大声说出来过一样。

“You have to understand what he was like after my mother died,” he said. “People think grief is crying. It isn’t, not with men like my father. He just went quiet. He stopped singing in the kitchen. He stopped going to the pub on Fridays. He worked, and he slept, and in between he sat at that old table and stared at the wall.”

“你得明白，我母亲死后他是什么样子的，”他说，“人们以为悲伤就是哭泣。但像我父亲这样的男人不是那样。他只是变得很沉默。他不再在厨房里唱歌了。他周五也不去酒吧了。他工作，睡觉，在这两件事之间，他就坐在那张旧桌子旁，盯着墙壁看。”