Passing the time was excruciating without painting. There was the hour-long morning walk, in the late afternoon there was twenty minutes of working out with his light weights and a half hour of doing easy laps at the pool — the daily regime his cardiologist encouraged — but that was it, those were the events of his day. How much time could you spend staring out at the ocean, even if it was the ocean you'd loved since you were a boy? How long could he watch the tides flood in and flow out without his remembering, as anyone might in a sea-gazing reverie, that life had been given to him, as to all, randomly1, fortuitously, and but once, and for no known or knowable reason? On the evenings he drove over to eat broiled2 bluefish on the back deck of the fish store that perched at the edge of the inlet where the boats sailed out to the ocean under the old drawbridge, he sometimes stopped first at the town where his family had vacationed in the summertime. He got out of the car on the ocean road and went up onto the boardwalk and sat on one of the benches that looked out to the beach and the sea, the stupendous sea that had been changing continuously without ever changing since he'd been a bony sea-battling boy. This was the very bench where his parents and grandparents used to sit in the evenings to catch the breeze and enjoy the boardwalk promenade3 of neighbors and friends, and this was the very beach where his family had picnicked and sunned themselves and where he and Howie and their pals4 went swimming, though it was now easily twice as wide as it had been then because of a reclamation5 project recently engineered by the army. Yet wide as it was, it was still his beach and at the center of the circles in which his mind revolved6 when he remembered the best of boyhood. But how much time could a man spend remembering the best of boyhood? What about enjoying the best of old age? Or was the best of old age just that — the longing7 for the best of boyhood, for the tubular sprout8 that was then his body and that rode the waves from way out where they began to build, rode them with his arms pointed9 like an arrowhead and the skinny rest of him following behind like the arrow's shaft10, rode them all the way in to where his rib11 cage scraped against the tiny sharp pebbles12 and jagged clamshells and pulverized13 sea-shells at the edge of the shore and he hustled14 to his feet and hurriedly turned and went lurching through the low surf until it was knee high and deep enough for him to plunge15 in and begin swimming madly out to the rising breakers — into the advancing, green Atlantic, rolling unstoppably toward him like the obstinate16 fact of the future — and, if he was lucky, make it there in time to catch the next big wave and then the next and the next and the next until from the low slant17 of inland sunlight glittering across the water he knew it was time to go. He ran home barefoot and wet and salty, remembering the mightiness18 of that immense sea boiling in his own two ears and licking his forearm to taste his skin fresh from the ocean and baked by the sun. Along with the ecstasy19 of a whole day of being battered20 silly by the sea, the taste and the smell intoxicated21 him so that he was driven to the brink22 of biting down with his teeth to tear out a chunk23 of himself and savor24 his fleshly existence.
Quickly as he could on his heels he crossed the concrete sidewalks still hot from the day and when he reached their rooming house headed around back to the outdoor shower with the soggy plywood walls, where wet sand plopped out of his suit when he kicked it off over his feet and held it up to the cold water beating down on his head. The level force of the surging tide, the ordeal25 of the burning pavement, the bristling26 shock of the ice-cold shower, the blessing27 of the taut28 new muscles and the slender limbs and the darkly suntanned flesh marked by just a single pale scar from the hernia surgery hidden down by his groin — there was nothing about those August days, after the German submarines had been destroyed and there were no more drowned sailors to worry about, that wasn't wonderfully clear. And nothing about his physical perfection that he had any reason not to take for granted.
1 randomly | |
adv.随便地,未加计划地 | |
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2 broiled | |
a.烤过的 | |
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3 promenade | |
n./v.散步 | |
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4 pals | |
n.朋友( pal的名词复数 );老兄;小子;(对男子的不友好的称呼)家伙 | |
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5 reclamation | |
n.开垦;改造;(废料等的)回收 | |
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6 revolved | |
v.(使)旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 );细想 | |
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7 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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8 sprout | |
n.芽,萌芽;vt.使发芽,摘去芽;vi.长芽,抽条 | |
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9 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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10 shaft | |
n.(工具的)柄,杆状物 | |
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11 rib | |
n.肋骨,肋状物 | |
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12 pebbles | |
[复数]鹅卵石; 沙砾; 卵石,小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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13 pulverized | |
adj.[医]雾化的,粉末状的v.将…弄碎( pulverize的过去式和过去分词 );将…弄成粉末或尘埃;摧毁;粉碎 | |
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14 hustled | |
催促(hustle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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15 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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16 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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17 slant | |
v.倾斜,倾向性地编写或报道;n.斜面,倾向 | |
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18 mightiness | |
n.强大 | |
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19 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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20 battered | |
adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
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21 intoxicated | |
喝醉的,极其兴奋的 | |
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22 brink | |
n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘,边沿 | |
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23 chunk | |
n.厚片,大块,相当大的部分(数量) | |
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24 savor | |
vt.品尝,欣赏;n.味道,风味;情趣,趣味 | |
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25 ordeal | |
n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
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26 bristling | |
a.竖立的 | |
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27 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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28 taut | |
adj.拉紧的,绷紧的,紧张的 | |
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