He explained to Nancy, when she asked about his work, that he'd had "an irreversible aesthetic1 vasectomy."
"Something will start you again," she said, accepting the hyperbolic language with an absolving2 laugh. She had been permeated3 by the quality of her mother's kindness, by the inability to remain aloof4 from another's need, by the day-to-day earthborn soulfulness that he had disastrously5 undervalued and thrown away — thrown away without beginning to realize all he would subsequently live without.
"I don't think it will," he was saying to their daughter. "There's a reason I was never a painter. I've run smack6 up against it."
"The reason you weren't a painter," Nancy explained, "is because you've had wives and children. You had mouths to feed. You had responsibilities."
"The reason I wasn't a painter was because I'm not a painter. Not then and not now."
"Oh, Dad—"
"No, listen to me. All I've been doing is doodling away the time."
"You're just upset right now. Don't insult yourself — it's not so. I know it's not so. I have your paintings all over my apartment. I look at them every day, and I can promise you I'm not looking at doodlings. People come over — they look at them. They ask me who the artist is. They pay attention to them. They ask if the artist is living."
"What do you tell them?"
"Listen to me now: they're not responding to doodlings. They're responding to work. To work that is beautiful. And of course," she said, and now with that laugh that left him feeling washed clean and, in his seventies, infatuated with his girl-child all over again, "of course I tell them you're living. I tell them my father painted these, and I'm so proud to say that."
"Good, sweetie."
"I've got a little gallery going here."
"That's good — that makes me feel good."
"You're just frustrated7 now. It's just that simple. You're a wonderful painter. I know what I'm talking about. If there's anybody in this world equipped to know if you're a wonderful painter or not, it's me."
After all he'd put her through by betraying Phoebe, she still wanted to praise him. From the age of ten she'd been like that — a pure and sensible girl, besmirched8 only by her unstinting generosity9, harmlessly hiding from unhappiness by blotting10 out the faults of everyone dear to her and by overloving love. Baling forgiveness as though it were so much hay. The harm inevitably11 came when she concealed12 from herself just a little too much that was wanting in the makeup13 of the ostentatiously brilliant young crybaby she had fallen for and married.
"And it's not just me, Dad. It's everybody who comes. I was interviewing babysitters the other day, because Molly can't do it anymore. I was interviewing for a new babysitter and this wonderful girl I ended up hiring, Tanya — she's a student looking to earn some extra money, she's at the Art Students League just like you were — she couldn't take her eyes off the one I have in the dining room, over the sideboard, the yellow one — you know the one I mean?"
"Yes."
"She couldn't take her eyes off it. The yellow and black one. It was really quite something. I was asking her these questions and she was focused over the sideboard. She asked when it was painted and where I had bought it. There's something very compelling about your work."
"You're very sweet to me, darling."
"No. I'm candid14 with you, that's all."
"Thank you."
"You'll get back to it. It'll happen again. Painting isn't through with you yet. Just enjoy yourself in the meantime. It's so beautiful where you are. Just be patient. Just take your time. Nothing's vanished. Enjoy the weather, enjoy your walks, enjoy the beach and the ocean. Nothing's vanished and nothing's altered."
Strange — all the comfort he was taking from her words and yet he wasn't convinced for a second that she knew what she was talking about. But the wish to take comfort, he realized, is no small thing, particularly from the one who miraculously15 still loves you.
"I don't go in the surf anymore," he told her.
"You don't?"
It was only Nancy, but he felt humiliated16 nonetheless by the confession17. "I've lost the confidence for the surf."
"You can swim in the pool, can't you?"
"I can."
"Okay, so swim in the pool."
He asked her then about the twins, thinking if only he were still with Phoebe, if only Phoebe were with him now, if only Nancy hadn't to work so hard to shore him up in the absence of a devoted18 wife, if only he hadn't wounded Phoebe the way that he had, if only he hadn't wronged her, if only he hadn't lied! If only she hadn't said, "I can never trust you to be truthful19 again."
收听单词发音 |
1
aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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2
absolving
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| 宣告…无罪，赦免…的罪行，宽恕…的罪行( absolve的现在分词 )； 不受责难，免除责任 [义务] ,开脱（罪责） | |
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permeated
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| 弥漫( permeate的过去式和过去分词 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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disastrously
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| ad.灾难性地 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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7
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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8
besmirched
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| v.弄脏( besmirch的过去式和过去分词 )；玷污；丑化；糟蹋（名誉等） | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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blotting
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| 吸墨水纸 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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16
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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18
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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