F OR THE next few days, the woman was working the early shift. She came home at noon, and I cut my last class every day so as to be waiting for her on the landing outside her apartment. We showered and made love, and just before half past one I scrambled1 into my clothes and ran out the door. Lunch was at one-thirty. On Sundays lunch was at noon, but her early shift also started and ended later.
I would have preferred to skip the shower. She was scrupulously2 clean, she showered every morning, and I liked the smell of perfume, fresh perspiration3, and streetcar that she brought with her from work. But I also liked her wet, soapy body; I liked to let her soap me and I liked to soap her, and she taught me not to do it bashfully, but with assurance and possessive thoroughness. When we made love, too, she took possession of me as a matter of course. Her mouth took mine, her tongue played with my tongue, she told me where to touch her and how, and when she rode me until she came, I was there only because she took pleasure in me and on me. I don’t mean to say that she lacked tenderness and didn’t give me pleasure. But she did it for her own playful enjoyment4, until I learned to take possession of her too.
That came later. I never completely mastered it. And for a long time I didn’t miss it. I was young, and I came quickly, and when I slowly came back alive again afterwards, I liked to have her take possession of me. I would look at her when she was on top of me, her stomach which made a deep crease5 above her navel, her breasts, the right one the tiniest bit larger than the left, her face and open mouth. She would lean both hands against my chest and throw them up at the last moment, as she gave a toneless sobbing6 cry that frightened me the first time, and that later I eagerly awaited.
Afterwards we were exhausted7. She often fell asleep on top of me. I would listen to the saws in the yard and the loud cries of the workers who operated them and had to shout to make themselves heard. When the saws fell silent, the sound of the traffic echoed faintly in the kitchen. When I heard children calling and playing, I knew that school was out and that it was past one o’clock. The neighbor who came home at lunchtime scattered8 birdseed on his balcony, and the doves came and cooed.
“What’s your name?” I asked her on the sixth or seventh day. She had fallen asleep on me and was just waking up. Until then I avoided saying anything to her that required me to choose either the formal or the familiar form of address.
She stared. “What?”
“What’s your name?”
“Why do you want to know?” She looked at me suspiciously.
“You and I . . . I know your last name, but not your first. I want to know your first name. What’s the matter with . . .”
She laughed. “Nothing, kid, there’s nothing wrong with that. My name is Hanna.” She kept on laughing, didn’t stop, and it was contagious9.
“You looked at me so oddly.”
“I was still half asleep. What’s yours?”
I thought she knew. At that time it was the in thing not to carry your schoolbooks in a bag but under your arm, and when I put them on her kitchen table, my name was on the front. But she hadn’t paid any attention to them.
“My name is Michael Berg.”
“Michael, Michael, Michael.” She tried out the name. “My kid’s called Michael, he’s in college.”
“In high school.”
“In high school, he’s what, seventeen?”
I was proud at the two extra years she’d given me, and nodded.
“He’s seventeen and when he grows up he wants to be a famous . . .” She hesitated.
“I don’t know what I want to be.”
“But you study hard.”
“Sort of.” I told her she was more important to me than school and my studies. And I wished I were with her more often. “I’ll have to repeat a class in any case.”
“What class?” It was the first real conversation we’d had with each other.
“Tenth grade. I’ve missed too much in the last months while I was ill. If I still wanted to move up next year I’d have to work like an idiot. I’d also have to be in school right now.” I told her I was cutting classes.
“Out.” She threw back the coverlet. “Get out of my bed. And if you don’t want to do your work, don’t come back. Your work is idiotic10? Idiotic? What do you think selling and punching tickets is?” She got out of bed, stood naked in the kitchen being a conductor. With her left hand she opened the little holder11 with the blocks of tickets, using her left thumb, covered with a rubber thimble, to pull off two tickets, flipped12 her right hand to get hold of the punch that hung from her wrist, and made two holes. “Two to Rohrbach.” She dropped the punch, reached out her hand for a bill, opened the purse at her waist, put the money in, snapped it shut again, and squeezed the change out of the coin holder that was attached to it. “Who still doesn’t have a ticket?” She looked at me. “Idiotic—you don’t know what idiotic is.”
I sat on the edge of the bed. I was stunned13. “I’m sorry. I’ll do my work. I don’t know if I’ll make it, school only has another six weeks to go. I’ll try. But I won’t get through it if I can’t see you anymore.” I . . .” At first I wanted to say, I love you. But then I didn’t. Maybe she was right, of course she was right. But she had no right to demand that I do more at school, and make that the condition for our seeing each other again. “I can’t not see you.”
The clock in the hall struck one-thirty. “You have to go.” She hesitated. “From tomorrow on I’m working the main shift. I’ll be home at five-thirty and you can come. Provided you work first.”
We stood facing each other naked, but she couldn’t have seemed more dismissive if she’d had on her uniform. I didn’t understand what was going on. Was she thinking of me? Or of herself? If my schoolwork is idiotic, that makes her work even more so—that’s what upset her? But I hadn’t ever said that my work or hers was idiotic. Or was it that she didn’t want a failure for a lover? But was I her lover? What was I to her? I dressed, dawdling14, and hoped she would say something. But she said nothing. Then I had all my clothes on and she was still standing15 there naked, and as I kissed her goodbye, she didn’t respond.
在随后的几天里，那个女人上早班，十二点钟回家。我一天接一天地逃掉最后一节课，为的是坐在她房门前的楼梯台阶上等她。我们淋浴，我们做爱，快到一点半的时候，我匆匆地穿上衣服，快速离开。我们家一点半吃午饭。周日十二点就吃午饭，而她的早班上得晚，结束得也晚。
我宁愿放弃淋浴，可她干净得过分，早晨起来就淋浴。我喜欢闻她身上的香水味、新鲜的汗味，还有她从工作中带回来的有轨电车味。我也喜欢她湿淋淋的、打了香皂的身子，也乐意让她给我身上打香皂，也乐意给她打香皂。她教我不要难为情，而要理所当然地、彻底地去占有她。当我们做爱时，她也理所当然地采取占有我的做法，因为她在和我做爱，在从我身上获得情欲的满足。我不是说她不温柔，也不是说我没有得到乐趣。但在我学会去占有她之前，她只是顾及她的感受和乐趣。
学会占有她，那是以后的事——但我从未做到完全学会，因为我很久都觉得没有这种必要。我年轻，很快就能达到高潮。当我的体力慢慢恢复后，我又接着和她做爱。她把两手支撑在我的胸上，在最后一刻使劲抓我，抬起头猛地发出一种轻轻的抽咽般的喊叫声。第一次，我被她的这种叫声吓坏了，后来我开始渴望地期盼听到她的这种声音。
之后，我们都精疲力尽了。她经常躺在我怀里就睡着了，我听着院子里的锯木声和淹没在锯木声中的工人们的大喊大叫声。当听不到锯木声的时候，火车站街上微弱的交通嘈杂声就传入了厨房。当我听见孩子们的喊叫声、玩耍声时，我就知道学校已放学，已过一点钟了。中午回家的邻居在阳台上给鸟儿撒上鸟食，鸽子飞来，咕咕地叫着。
"你叫什么名字？"在第六天或第七天的时候，我问她。她在我怀里刚刚睡醒。这之前我一直避免用"你"和"您"来称呼她。
她一下子跳起来说："什么？"
"你叫什么名字？"
"你为什么想知道？"她满脸不信任地看着我说。
"你和我……我知道你姓什么，但不知道你叫什么。我想知道你的名字，这有什么……"
她笑了："没什么，小家伙，这没什么不对的。我叫汉娜。"她接着笑，止不住地笑，把我都感染了。
"你刚才看我时的表情很奇怪。"
"我还没睡醒呢。你叫什么名字？"
我以为她知道我的名字。当时时兴的是把上学用的东西不放在书包里，而是夹在腋下。当我把它们放在厨房桌子上时，我的名字都是朝上的，在作业本上和用很结实的纸包的书皮的课本上都贴上了小标签，上面写着课本的名称和我的名字，但是，她却从未注意这些。
"我叫米夏尔·白格。"
"米夏尔，米夏尔，米夏尔。"她试着叫着这个名字。
"我的小家伙叫米夏尔，是个大学生……"
"中学生。"
"……是个中学生，有……多大，十七岁？"
我点点头，她把我说大两岁，我感到很自豪。
"……十七岁了，当他长大的时候，想当一个著名的……"她犹豫着。
"我不知道我要当什么。"
"但你学习很用功。"
"就那么回事吧。"我对她说，她对我来说比学习和上学还重要，我更愿意经常地到她那儿去。"反正我得留级。"
"你在哪儿留级？"她坐了起来，这是我们之间第一次真正地交谈。
"高一。在过去的几个月里，由于生病我落下的课程太多了。如果我要跟班上的话，就必须用功学。这真无聊。就是现在也应该呆在学校里。"我告诉了她我逃学的事儿。
"滚！"她掀开鸭绒被子，"从我的床上滚出去2如果你的功课做不好的话，就再也别来了。学习无聊？无聊？你以为卖票、验票是什么有趣的事吗？"她站起来，一丝不挂地在厨房里表演起售票员来。她用左手把装票本的小夹子打开，用戴着胶皮套的大拇指撕下两张票，右手一摇就把挂在右手腕上来回摇摆着的剪票钳子抓在了手里，喀喀两下说："两张若坝河。"她放下剪票钳子，伸出手来，拿了一张纸票，打开放在肚子前的钱夹把钱放了进去，再关上钱夹，从钱夹外层放硬币的地方挤出了零钱。"谁还没有票？"她看着我说："无聊，你知道什么是无聊。"
我坐在床沿上，呆若水鸡。"很抱歉，我会跟班上课的，我不知道我能不能跟上，还有六周这个学期就要结束了。我要试试。可是，如果你不允许我再见到你的话，我就做不到。我……"起初我想说"我爱你"，但是又不想说了。也许她说的有道理，有一定的道理。但是，她没有权利要求我去做更多的功课，也没有权利把我做功课的情况作为我们能否相见的条件。"我不能不见你。"
过廊里的挂钟敲响了一点半的钟声。"你必须走了，"她犹豫着，"从明天起我上白班，五点钟就上班，下了班我就回家，你也可以来，如果在这之前你把功课做好的话。"
我们一丝不挂地、面对面地站在那儿。她对我来说是不可抗拒的，如果她穿着工作制服，其不可抗拒性也不过如此。我弄不明白所发生的事情。这到底是关系到我，还是关系到她？如果说我的功课无聊话，那么她的工作才是真正的无聊，这样说是对她的一种伤害吗？不过，我并没说谁做的事情无聊。或许她不想让一个功课不好的人做她的情人？可是我是她的情人吗？我对她来说算什么呢？我磨磨蹭蹭地在穿衣服，希望她能说点什么，可她什么都没说。我穿好了衣服，她仍就一丝不挂地站在那儿。当我和她拥抱告别时，她一点反应都没有。
收听单词发音 |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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13
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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14
dawdling
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| adj.闲逛的，懒散的v.混（时间）( dawdle的现在分词 ) | |
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15
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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