The Step

The name went out across the dark river like something thrown. Michael stopped. Ana, standing frozen by the oven with an empty tray in her hands, saw him stop as if he had walked into a wall. For a long moment he did not turn round. His shoulders rose and fell under the long coat. Then, slowly, he turned.

那声名字穿过黑沉沉的河面，像被扔出的东西。迈克尔停下了。安娜手里拿着空烤盘，呆立在烤箱旁，看着他停下来，仿佛撞上了一堵墙。有那么好一会儿，他没有转过身来。在长外套下，他的肩膀起伏着。然后，他缓缓转过身来。

Father and son stood about ten metres apart. Walter was on the step, in the light from the kitchen door, big and white-haired in his apron and his old slippers. Michael was on the path at the edge of the light, tall and thin and grey-bearded, with his hands hanging empty at his sides. Ana thought they looked like two halves of the same photograph, torn apart a long time ago.

父子俩相隔大约十米站着。沃尔特站在台阶上，处在厨房门照出的光线中。他系着围裙，穿着旧拖鞋，身材高大，头发花白。迈克尔站在光芒边缘的小路上，身材又高又瘦，留着灰色胡须，双手空空地垂在身侧。安娜觉得他们看起来就像同一张很久以前被撕开的照片的两半。

Nobody said anything. The river went past. Somewhere far away, on the other side of the town, the N7 was climbing the hill to the hospital with its lights on. Ana put the tray down very quietly on the table and did not move again.

没有人说话。河水流淌过去。在镇子另一边很远的地方，N7路公交车开着灯，正沿着山坡开往医院。安娜非常轻地把烤盘放在桌上，再也没有动弹。