Reckoning by Lisa Mecham
Last day of freshman year, mirror screwed crookedly into the back of my locked door.
大一的最后一天，镜子歪歪扭扭地拧进了我锁着的门后面。
I see us, or rather you.
我看到了我们，或者更确切地说是你。
Wetting my lips with your tongue.
用你的舌头润湿我的嘴唇。
Pale back sprouted with curly, black hairs.
苍白的背上长满了黑色的卷发。
My flowered sheets, stuffed animals, talismans of childhood; a homesickness I thought I’d outgrown.
我的鲜花床单、毛绒玩具、童年的护身符；我以为我已经不再想家了。
We were too young for blueprints.
我们还太年轻，无法绘制蓝图。
Then my hands slinking up, grasping, pulling you into me.
然后我的双手悄悄抬起，抓住你，把你拉进我的怀里。
A ritual.
一种仪式。
From the window, voices soaked in spring, a Frisbee tossed outside the dorm.
窗外传来春天的声音，宿舍外扔着飞盘。
Limbs, dreams, futures flailed about.
四肢、梦想、未来都在摇摆。
A few wondered where I was.
有些人想知道我在哪里。
Then you.
然后你。
Maybe one or two wondered if we were together.
也许有一两个人想知道我们是否在一起。
Truth is, we’d been doing this for most of the year.
事实上，我们这一年的大部分时间都在这样做。
Late at night, your roommate gone, or mine.
深夜，你的室友走了，或者我的室友走了。
For some reason, you wanted no one to know.
出于某种原因，你不想让任何人知道。
To be secret is to be chosen, and to be chosen is to be loved.
保守秘密就是被选择，被选择就是被爱。
A week earlier, you’d taken another girl to your fraternity dance.
一周前，你带另一个女孩去参加兄弟会舞会。
I pretended not to care.
我假装不在乎。
And so laid out the path we would follow.
因此制定了我们将遵循的道路。
Late to the hostel, grumpy, shoulders sunburned and notched from backpack straps, we were tired.
到旅馆很晚了，脾气暴躁，肩膀被晒伤，背包带被划伤，我们很累。
Our hostess spoke only Italian, so we indicated hunger with empty fingers brought to our lips.
我们的女主人只会说意大利语，所以我们用空手指放在嘴唇上表示饥饿。
The young woman, face brown, supple skin bathed in a barrel of oil and olives, motioned for us to follow.
这位年轻女子脸色呈棕色，皮肤柔软，沐浴在一桶油和橄榄中，示意我们跟上。
We did.
我们做到了。
I watched you watching her but that night, ring on your finger, you had to be mine.
我看着你看着她，但那天晚上，戒指戴在你的手指上，你必须是我的。
It was so dark.
天太黑了。
I put my hand on your arm, steadying myself as we traipsed down, down, down the dirt path until finally: a patio, twinkling lights, a long wooden table, the ripest tomatoes burst, salty sweet.
我把手放在你的手臂上，稳住自己，我们沿着土路走下去，走下去，直到最后：一个露台，闪烁的灯光，一张长木桌，成熟的西红柿爆裂，咸甜的。
A sharp intake of breath.
急促地吸气。
“Look,” you said, “out there.” But as far as I could see only an expanse of inky black.
“看，”你说，“就在那里。”但放眼望去，却只有一片漆黑。
Nothing but everything.
什么都没有，只有一切。
For tomorrow, it would be the sea.
明天，将是大海。
At times we were happy, I swear it.
有时我们很高兴，我发誓。
Although it’s hard for me to remember fully now.
虽然现在我已经很难完全记得了。
Crisp white wine, Steinbeck’s The Winter of Our Discontent with soft, earmarked pages.
清爽的白葡萄酒，斯坦贝克的《我们不满的冬天》，带有柔软的、专用的页面。
Lazy days, sleeping in, mustard-yellow light creeping across our bodies.
慵懒的日子里，睡着了，芥末黄色的光线爬过我们的身体。
I’ll make you come again .
我会让你再来一次。
Our future, a fortune we just had to crack open.
我们的未来，是我们必须打开的财富。
Like that day at the beach, standing smug in the wide-open mouth of the world, so sure of our place in it all.
就像那天在海滩上，沾沾自喜地站在世界张开的嘴里，如此确信我们在这一切中的地位。
Let’s make a baby .
我们生个孩子吧。
Even the ocean was dreaming.
连大海都在做梦。
Me, my mother, two kids, station wagon.
我、我的母亲、两个孩子、旅行车。
To see our new town, we drove I-95 from Baltimore to the golden promise of Connecticut.
为了参观我们的新城镇，我们从巴尔的摩驱车 95 号州际公路前往康涅狄格州的黄金之地。
A bleak migration.
惨淡的迁徙。
Idling at the lip of the Saugatuck River Bridge, we waited for a boat to pass, the troll to grant permission.
我们在索格塔克河大桥的边缘闲逛，等待一艘船通过，等待巨魔的许可。
American flags lined the rails, flapping, saluting like twenty-one shots, or did they mark a requiem?
美国国旗排列在铁轨上，飘扬着，像二十一响礼炮一样敬礼，或者它们标志着一首安魂曲？
For there was a death to honor, or at least one coming.
因为有一种光荣的死亡，或者至少有一种即将来临。
My mother’s bony hand on my knee, implying comfort, encouraging the wifely progression of responsibility.
母亲瘦骨嶙峋的手放在我的膝盖上，暗示着安慰，鼓励着作为妻子的责任的进展。
I thought of you at home, packing, tending the fester of your mind mood madness.
我想起了你在家里，收拾行装，照料着你精神上溃烂的疯狂情绪。
The girls craned to look as we passed over water, and seeing my tears, my mother lifted her hand.
当我们走过水面时，女孩们伸长脖子看我，看到我的泪水，我母亲举起了手。
Hovered, retreated.
盘旋，后退。
Motioned straight ahead as she said, “We all have to compromise sometime.”
她直指前方，说道：“有时我们都必须妥协。”
I’m beaming, revolving, the hotel door lands me on the street corner.
我满面笑容，旋转着，酒店门把我带到了街角。
Clouds so low I can touch myself.
云很低，我可以触摸自己。
Panties in pocket, inside of my thighs gummy sweet.
内裤在口袋里，我的大腿内侧软糖甜甜的。
I’m steeped in love or something like it.
我沉浸在爱情或类似的事物中。
Some of us wander by mistake, but that voice message I heard, emails I read: you strayed too.
我们中的一些人错误地迷失了方向，但我听到的语音消息、我读到的电子邮件：你也迷失了方向。
Fingers splayed, naked, I raise my hand as a cab pulls to the curb just as the rain breaks.
我张开手指，赤身裸体，举起手，一辆出租车停在路边，雨势正好。
Inside, scoot over to avoid the gash in the seat where once-white, now-soiled stuffing spills out.
进入车内，快速走过去，避开座椅上的伤口，曾经是白色、现在已经变脏的填充物会从那里溢出。
I think instead of my wedding ring at home, nestled in the top drawer.
我想，我的结婚戒指不是放在家里，而是放在最上面的抽屉里。
Muffled by the silky things I no longer wear for you.
被我不再为你穿的丝质衣服所掩盖。
Muted lamp, soft hiss from a white-noise machine in the waiting room.
柔和的灯光，候诊室里白噪音机器发出柔和的嘶嘶声。
The three of us seated in chairs, positioned like the sharp points of a perfect triangle.
我们三个人坐在椅子上，位置就像一个完美三角形的尖点。
The therapist asked, “Have you ever harmed your children?” I hoped I knew your answer.
治疗师问：“你曾经伤害过你的孩子吗？”我希望我知道你的答案。
I may have missed the signs of your illness (fast talking, no sleeping, moods ever shifting), but I would know about our girls.
我可能错过了你生病的迹象（语速快、不睡觉、情绪不断变化），但我会了解我们女儿的情况。
You sat back, fingers weaved in a massive fist resting on your thighs and with calm precision relayed this one time where perhaps…out back with our younger daughter.
你坐下来，手指握成拳头，搁在大腿上，冷静而精确地讲述了这一次，也许……和我们的小女儿一起在后面。
A jump rope, purple with silver sparkles, her favorite.
一根紫色带银色闪光的跳绳，是她的最爱。
One end knotted around the slim trunk of a budding tree.
一端打结在一棵发芽的树细长的树干上。
The other coiled through your thick fingers.
另一个盘绕在你粗大的手指上。
Fun at first, playing with Daddy, but then she couldn’t get it quite right, the timing of the rope, its speed (I see you now, whipping it faster faster faster).
一开始很有趣，和爸爸一起玩，但后来她不太明白，绳子的时机、速度（我现在看到你了，鞭打它更快更快）。
You’re pleased with the word you find: prostrate .
您对找到的词感到满意：匍匐。
Our daughter, tiny limbs splayed, facedown in the grass.
我们的女儿，四肢张开，脸朝下趴在草地上。
All those tears.
所有这些眼泪。
The therapist looked down, betraying nothing, as if to say, Who really knows?
治疗师低下头，没有流露出任何表情，仿佛在说，谁知道呢？
Sometimes, after I’ve tucked the girls in, after I’ve gone through the house shutting windows and turning off lights, after I’ve climbed into the bed we bought with our first apartment a decade ago, I think of you.
有时，当我给女儿们盖好被子后，当我穿过房子关上窗户、关掉灯后，当我爬上我们十年前买的第一套公寓的床后，我就会想起你。
Forty-seven point six miles away in your townhouse, your new life.
四十七点六英里外的联排别墅里，你的新生活。
What’s it like in that alternate universe?
那个平行宇宙里是什么样子？
It must be so still.
一定是这么安静。
Remember how we used to listen?
还记得我们以前是怎么听的吗？
Under the sheets, taking turns cupping ear to chest.
在床单下，轮流将耳朵拔到胸部。
The rhythmic pounding of the day, beating itself out.
一天有节奏的冲击，敲打着自己。
And then lying side by side, how we swore we could hear our girls, their heart muscles pumping in the room next to ours.
然后并排躺着，我们发誓我们能听到我们的女儿们的声音，她们的心脏肌肉在我们隔壁的房间里跳动。
Those tiny flesh miracles we’d created.
我们创造的那些微小的肉体奇迹。
And now?
现在呢？
What do you hear on the other side of forsaken?
你在被遗弃的另一边听到了什么？
I need to know.
我需要知道。
They say there is no sound in space.
他们说太空中没有声音。
From the sidewalk, I see a little girl.
从人行道上，我看到一个小女孩。
Four years old, jagged homemade haircut.
四岁了，锯齿状的自制发型。
She sits on the porch of my old house, plucked red berries pooled in her skirt.
她坐在我老房子的门廊上，裙子里藏着采摘的红色浆果。
Popping them between her finger and thumb, even though they are “off-limits.” She is sticky with poison.
将它们放在她的手指和拇指之间，即使它们是“禁区”。她身上沾满了毒药。
What the boy did.
男孩做了什么。
It lives inside her.
它住在她体内。
Makes it sting when she pees.
当她撒尿时会感到刺痛。
I start up the path, walking on slate slabs stuck in the ground like toppled gravestones.
我开始走上小路，走在像倒塌的墓碑一样插在地上的石板上。
“Can I sit?” She nods.
“我可以坐吗？”她点点头。
I do, pull her close.
我愿意，把她拉近。
She sighs, gives in easier than I expected.
她叹了口气，比我预想的更容易屈服。
Her body so soft, how are there bones in there?
她的身体这么软，里面怎么有骨头？
“You’re going to make it through this and everything else to come.” She looks up at me, blue eyes spilling.
“你会挺过这一切，以及接下来的一切。”她抬头看着我，蓝色的眼睛闪闪发光。
Across the street our two daughters stand, futzing with the camera, arguing over who gets to take the photo.
我们的两个女儿站在街对面，摆弄相机，争论谁来拍照。