T HE NEXT night I fell in love with her. I could barely sleep, I was yearning1 for her, I dreamed of her, thought I could feel her until I realized that I was clutching the pillow or the blanket. My mouth hurt from kissing. I kept getting erections, but I didn’t want to masturbate. I wanted to be with her.
Did I fall in love with her as the price for her having gone to bed with me? To this day, after spending the night with a woman, I feel I’ve been indulged and I must make it up somehow—to her by trying at least to love her, and to the world by facing up to it.
One of my few vivid recollections of early childhood has to do with a winter morning when I was four years old. The room I slept in at that time was unheated, and at night and first thing in the morning it was often very cold. I remember the warm kitchen and the hot stove, a heavy piece of iron equipment in which you could see the fire when you lifted out the plates and rings with a hook, and which always held a basin of hot water ready. My mother had pushed a chair up close to the stove for me to stand on while she washed and dressed me. I remember the wonderful feeling of warmth, and how good it felt to be washed and dressed in this warmth. I also remember that whenever I thought back to this afterwards, I always wondered why my mother had been spoiling me like this. Was I ill? Had my brothers and sisters been given something I hadn’t? Was there something coming later in the day that was nasty or difficult that I had to get through?
Because the woman who didn’t yet have a name in my mind had so spoiled me that afternoon, I went back to school the next day. It was also true that I wanted to show off my new manliness2. Not that I would ever have talked about it. But I felt strong and superior, and I wanted to show off these feelings to the other kids and the teachers. Besides, I hadn’t talked to her about it but I assumed that being a streetcar conductor she often had to work evenings and nights. How would I see her every day if I had to stay home and wasn’t allowed to do anything except my convalescent walks?
When I came home from her, my parents and brother and sisters were already eating dinner. “Why are you so late? Your mother was worried about you.” My father sounded more annoyed than concerned.
I said that I’d lost my way, that I’d wanted to walk through the memorial garden in the cemetery3 to Molkenkur, but wandered around who knows where for a long time and ended up in Nussloch. “I had no money, so I had to walk home from Nussloch.”
“You could have hitched4 a ride.” My younger sister sometimes did this, but my parents disapproved5.
My older brother snorted contemptuously. “Molkenkur and Nussloch are in completely opposite directions.”
My older sister gave me a hard look.
“I’m going back to school tomorrow.”
“So pay attention in Geography. There’s north and there’s south, and the sun rises . . .”
My mother interrupted my brother. “The doctor said another three weeks.”
“If he can get all the way across the cemetery to Nussloch and back, he can also go to school. It’s not his strength he’s lacking, it’s his brains.” As small boys, my brother and I beat up on each other constantly, and later we fought with words. He was three years older than me, and better at both. At a certain point I stopped fighting back and let his attacks dissipate into thin air. Since then he had confined himself to grousing6 at me.
“What do you think?” My mother turned to my father. He set his knife and fork down on his plate, leaned back, and folded his hands in his lap. He said nothing and looked thoughtful, the way he always did when my mother talked to him about the children or the household. As usual, I wondered whether he was really turning over my mother’s question in his mind, or whether he was thinking about work. Maybe he did try to think about my mother’s question, but once his mind started going, he could only think about work. He was a professor of philosophy, and thinking was his life—thinking and reading and writing and teaching.
Sometimes I had the feeling that all of us in his family were like pets to him. The dog you take for a walk, the cat you play with and that curls up in your lap, purring, to be stroked—you can be fond of them, you can even need them to a certain extent, and nonetheless the whole thing—buying pet food, cleaning up the cat box, and trips to the vet—is really too much. Your life is elsewhere. I wish that we, his family, had been his life. Sometimes I also wished that my grousing brother and my cheeky little sister were different. But that evening I suddenly loved them all. My little sister. It probably wasn’t easy being the youngest of four, and she needed to be cheeky just to hold her own. My older brother. We shared a bedroom, which must be even harder for him than it was for me, and on top of that, since I’d been ill he’d had to let me have the room to myself and sleep on the sofa in the living room. How could he not nag7 me? My father. Why should we children be his whole life? We were growing up and soon we’d be adults and out of the house.
I felt as if we were sitting all together for the last time around the round table under the five-armed, five-candled brass8 chandelier, as if we were eating our last meal off the old plates with the green vine-leaf border, as if we would never talk to each other so intimately again. I felt as if I were saying goodbye. I was still there and already gone. I was homesick for my mother and father and my brother and sisters, and I longed to be with the woman.
My father looked over at me. “ ‘I’m going back to school tomorrow’—that’s what you said, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” So he had noticed that it was him I’d asked and not my mother, and also that I had not said I was wondering whether I should go back to school or not.
He nodded. “Let’s have you go back to school. If it gets to be too much for you, you’ll just stay home again.”
I was pleased. And at the same time I felt I’d just said my final goodbyes.
在第二天夜里，我发现我爱上了她。我睡不实，想她，梦见她。我感觉我在抱着她，后来才发现我抱的是枕头或者被子。昨天把嘴都吻疼了。我想和她在一起。
她跟我睡觉是她对我爱她的回报吗？迄今为止，每与一个女人睡过一夜之后，我都会产生一种感觉：我被宠爱了，为此我必须要报答，以爱的方式报答她，报答我所处的世界。
儿童时代的事情我能记起的不多，但是，四岁时的一个冬日早晨仍让我记忆犹新。当时，我睡觉的房间没有暖气，夜里和早晨通常都很冷。我还记得暖烘烘的厨房里面生着一个笨重的铁炉子，上面总烧着一盆热水，如果把上面的圆形炉盖用钩子挪掉的话，就能看到红彤彤的火苗。在炉子前，我妈妈放了一把椅子，当她给我擦洗和穿衣服的时候，我站在上面。我还记得那种温暖舒服的感觉，记得在洗澡和穿衣时得到的温暖享受。我还记得，每当这种情形在记忆中出现时，我就会想，为什么我妈妈那样宠爱我，我生病了吗？我的兄弟姐妹得到了一些我所没有得到的东西吗？是否今天还有我必须要承受的不愉快和难办的事情在等着我？
也正是因为那个我不知道她叫什么名字的女人头一天下午对我如此宠爱，第二天我才又去上学了。此外，我想要显示一下我已具备的男子汉气。我自觉强健有力，比别人都强。我想把我的这种强健有力和优越感展示给学校的同学和老师们看。再有，尽管我和她没有谈到过，但我想象得出，一个有轨电车的售票员会经常工作到晚上和夜里。如果只允许我呆在家里，为了康复而散散步的话，那么我怎么能够每天都见到她呢？
当我从她那儿回到家的时候，我的父母和兄弟姐妹已经在吃晚饭了。"你为什么这么晚才回来？你妈妈都为你担心了。"我爸爸的口气听上去与其说是担忧，倒不如说是生气。
我说，我迷路了。我本打算从荣誉陵园散步到慕垦库尔，但走来走去，最终却走到了挪施涝赫，我身上没带钱，只好从挪施涝赫走回来。
"你可以搭车吗！"我妹妹偶尔搭车，但我父母不允许她这样做。
我哥哥对我的话嗤之以鼻："慕垦库尔和挪施涝赫根本就不在同一个方向。"
我姐姐也审视地看着我。
"我明天想去上学。"
"那么好好学学地理，分清东南西北，而且，太阳在…·"
我母亲打断了我哥哥的话："医生说还要三周。"
"如果他能从荣誉陵园走到挪施涝赫，并从那儿又走回来，那他也能去上学。他缺的不是体力，而是聪明才智。"我和我哥哥小的时候就经常打架，后来大了就斗嘴。他比我大三岁，在各方面都比我占优势，不知从什么时候起，我停止了反击，让他的好斗行为找不到对手。从此，他也只能发发牢骚而已。
"你看呢？"我妈妈转向了我爸爸。他把刀叉放到了盘子上，身子靠在椅背上，两手放在大腿上。他没有说话，看上去在沉思。就像妈妈每次问他关于孩子们的情况或家务事时一样，就像每次一样，我心里都在想，他是否真的在想妈妈的问题还是在思考他的工作。也许，他也想去思考妈妈的问题，可他一旦陷入沉思，那么他所思考的无非就是他的工作了。他是哲学教授，思考是他的生命，他的生命就是思考、阅读、写作和教学。
有时候，我有一种感觉，我们——也就是他的家庭成员——对他来说就像家庭宠物一样，就像可以和人一道散步的狗、跟人玩耍的猫——蜷缩在人的怀里、一边发着呼噜声一边让人轻轻抚摸的猫。家庭宠物可能对人挺有好处，人们在一定程度上甚至需要它们，但是，买食料，打扫粪便，看兽医，这又未免太多了，因为，生活本身不在这儿。我非常希望，我们——也就是他的家庭，应当是他的生命。有时，我也真希望我那爱抱怨的哥哥和调皮的妹妹不是这样子。但是，那天晚上，我突然觉得他们都非常可爱。我妹妹：她是四个孩子中最小的一个，大概最小的也不太好当，她不调皮捣蛋就不行。我哥哥：我们住在一个房间，他一定比我觉得更不方便。此外，自从我生病后，他必须把房间彻底让给我，而在客厅的沙发上睡觉，他怎能不抱怨呢？我父亲：为什么我们这些孩子该成为他的生活呢？我们很快就会长大成人，离开这个家。
我感觉，这好像是我们最后一次一起围坐在上面吊着麦芯产的五蕊灯的圆桌旁，好像是我们最后一次用带有绿边的老盘子吃饭，好像是我们最后一次相互信任地交谈。我感觉，我们好像是在告别。我人虽在，但心已飞了。我一方面渴望与父母和兄弟姐妹在一起，另一方面，我也渴望和那个女人在一起。
我爸爸看着我说："'我明天要上学。'你是这样说的，对吗？"
"是的。"他注意到，我问的是他，而不是妈妈，而且这之前也没有提到过。我在想，我明天是否该上学。
他点头说："我们让你去上学，如果你觉得受不了的话，那就再呆在家里。"
我很高兴，同时也感到，现在和他们告别过了。
收听单词发音 |
1
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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manliness
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| 刚毅 | |
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cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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4
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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grousing
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| v.抱怨，发牢骚( grouse的现在分词 ) | |
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nag
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| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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