我父亲有“别的女人”，但我母亲也爱过别人
‘Humility Is What Drew Me to Him’
AYAD AKHTAR
2020年10月10日
“Can I get you two something cold to drink?” the poolside waiter said, holding a check over his brow to block the sun on that hot day. Wearing only short shorts, he couldn’t have presented a stronger contrast to the woman he was addressing; my mother was in a body-length, long-sleeved linen gown.
“两位要喝什么冷饮吗？”泳池酒吧的服务员问。炎热的天气下，他拿着点单的本子挡着额前的阳光。他身上就穿着短裤，与他面前的女士形成鲜明对比：我母亲穿着一条长袖及踝亚麻长袍。
“Virgin piña colada,” she said.
“无酒精的椰林飘香，”她说。
“Same,” I said. My mother knew I drank alcohol, but she didn’t like it when I drank in her presence.
“我也是，”我说。母亲知道我喝酒，却不喜欢我当着她的面喝。
We were in Naples, Fla., on our family’s annual spring break vacation, a tradition we had continued even as my brother and I entered midlife.
我们那时候在佛罗里达州那不勒斯过春假。这是我们家每年一度的传统。即使我和兄弟已经步入中年，这个传统依旧没有改变。
At this point, the vacation routines were well honed. My father rose early and walked to the pier, where he rented a pole and fished; my mother rose later, and, after breakfast, planted herself by the pool to read. I split my time between them, spending the earlier part of the morning with him and the few hours before lunch with her.
这么多年过去了，我们全家度假的惯例已经磨合得非常融洽了。父亲早起后会去码头，租根鱼竿钓鱼；母亲会起得稍晚一点，吃过早餐会到泳池边坐下读书。我会分开时间陪他们，清晨陪父亲，午饭之前的几个小时陪母亲。
She was reading “The Bluest Eye,” but as we sat in side-by-side chaise longues, she kept the book closed. I sensed her stewing and wondered what was bothering her.
她在读《最蓝的眼睛》。当我们并排坐在长椅上时，她一直没有把书打开。我觉得她好像有心事，在想她在为什么事感到困扰。
All at once she turned to me brightly: “Should we go for a walk along the water?”
突然，她开心地转向我：“要不去水边走走吧？”
On the beach, my mother was the only person fully covered, neck to foot. In all my years as her son, I had never seen her legs above the tops of her ankles, and certainly never seen her in anything remotely like a swimsuit — though she’d worn one as a child, having learned (and loved) to swim. Whenever we walked along the water, she would roll up her pants or gather the front of her gown so she could feel the surf wash up over her feet.
母亲是沙滩上唯一包裹着全身的人，从脖子到脚。当她儿子这么多年，除了脚踝，我从来没见过她露过腿，当然更没可能见过她穿泳装——虽然她小时候肯定穿过，因为她会游泳，并且很喜欢。我们在水边散步的时候，她总是会卷起裤腿或是拢起长袍的前摆，感受海浪冲刷着她的脚。
I had often wondered if she missed being in the water, but I’d never thought to ask. I knew the choice was her own; my father was neither a practicing nor believing Muslim, and he wouldn’t have cared if she’d wanted to show some skin.
我经常会想她是否怀念水下的感觉，但从来没想过问她。我知道那是她自己的选择。我父亲并不信奉穆斯林，不会在乎她是否想露出皮肤。
At 67, she was still beautiful, though less concerned with appearing so. My parents had met in Pakistan in the early ’60s, both ridiculously attractive, if the tales their friends told and the pictures taken of them at the time could be trusted. My mother’s parents had fielded two dozen proposals for her before she ended up surprising her family by falling in love with a fellow medical student in Lahore.
她已经67岁了，但美貌不减当年，虽然她已经没那么在乎外貌了。我父母相识于上世纪60年代初，如果他们朋友的说法和当年的照片属实，那么他们俩年轻时的容貌都极具魅力。我母亲的父母婉拒了二十多人的求娶。最后，让家人感到意外的是，她竟然在拉合尔爱上了一起念医学院的同学。
My father’s parents weren’t any happier about the match. Having already announced their decision to arrange their only son’s marriage — and selected a prospective bride — my paternal grandparents didn’t even bother to show up to the wedding.
我父亲的父母对这段关系也不满意。他们之前已经宣布决定包办独子的婚姻，而且已经物色好了一个姑娘。我父亲的父母甚至没有出席婚礼。
Though theirs had been a “love” match, my parents’ marriage was rocky from the start. My father had a wandering eye and didn’t seem to feel that being married should stop him from acting on it. By the time I was 4, I already knew my father had “other women,” as my mother used to call them. An unhealthy proximity to this — their toxic central conflict — had defined much of my childhood. It had defined the narrative of their marriage. Or so I thought.
虽然我父母是因为“爱情”结合，但从一开始就磕磕绊绊。父亲朝三暮四，而且婚姻似乎丝毫没有使他检点起来。我四岁时就知道他有“别的女人”，母亲就是这么称呼她们的。我小的时候就近距离接触了他们的核心冲突，这给我的大部分童年时光蒙上了阴影。冲突也是他们婚姻的主旋律。反正我是这么认为的。
As she and I walked along the shore, her slippers in one hand, the front of her gown bunched up in the other, she started to tell me a story. In the mid-’80s, when I was not yet in high school, she had worked for a time at the Medical College of Wisconsin. An early specialist in nuclear imaging, she was in unusually high demand then, driving all over Milwaukee to read scans at various hospitals.
她和我沿着海岸漫步，一只手拿着拖鞋，另一只手则提着袍子的前摆。她开始给我讲故事。在上世纪80年代中期，当我还没有上高中时，她在威斯康辛医学院工作过一段时间。她是早期的核成像专家，忙得很。她开车到密尔沃基各处的医院看扫描片。
Although her time covering shifts at the medical college had been short — barely two years — I had long known she was particularly fond of the place.
虽然她在医学院工作的时间不长，才短短两年，但我一直都知道她对那个地方怀有独特的情感。
I had always assumed her affection had something to with the institution’s prestige, the allure of research, a reminder of the pedagogical atmosphere of her own beloved years of medical school in Lahore. It may have been all that, too, but primarily, I would discover, it was about a man, a surgeon there.
我一直都想当然地以为她的感情是因为学院的声望、科研的吸引力，让她想起了在拉合尔的医学院求学的那几年珍贵时光，在那里感受到的教学氛围。也可能是出于这个原因，但我后来发现，她对那儿的情感主要是因为那里的一位外科医生。
Like her, he was married with two children. They met one night when he was on call and she was at the hospital late, reading a scan for a patient on whom he was to operate. Tall, with dusty blond hair and the build of an athlete, he had played football in college but didn’t carry himself with the swagger and self-regard one tended to find, she said, in surgeons, especially those who had been athletes.
他和她一样，也是已婚、有两个孩子。他们是在他值班的一个晚上相遇的。她那天在医院给他要实施手术的一位病人看扫描片，工作到很晚。他个子很高，头发是浅金色的，有着运动员身材。她说，他上大学时打美式橄榄球，身上却没有外科医生固有的狂妄自大，这种气质在那些曾当过运动员的人身上尤为明显。
My father was not a diminutive man, either, but as a star cardiologist he did carry himself with a swagger that could be off-putting.
我父亲个子也不矮，但他仗着自己是知名的心脏病专家，总是自以为是，有时候挺让人讨厌的。
“He was humble,” she said now, speaking of the surgeon, as she watched the water moisten her feet, an insinuation of a smile on her lips. “That humility is what drew me to him.”
“他很谦虚，”关于那位外科医生，我母亲现在这么说道。她看着水打湿双脚，嘴角微微有了笑意。“我就是被他的谦虚所吸引。”
I was glad she wasn’t looking at me as she spoke. I had never imagined my mother desiring my father, let alone another man. As startled as I was, I didn’t want her to stop.
我很庆幸她在说这番话时没有看着我。我连母亲对父亲怀有欲望都无法想象，更别提别的男人了。虽然很吃惊，但我还是希望听她继续说下去。
“We would meet in the canteen for dinner,” she said. “I didn’t like the food there, so I brought desi food from home: dal, bhindi. He fell in love with Pakistani food.” She looked at me. “And he didn’t fall in love with just Pakistani food. And he wasn’t the only one.”
“我们会约在食堂一起吃晚饭，”她说。“我不喜欢食堂的食物，所以会从家里带家乡风味的菜过去吃：扁豆咖喱、香辣秋葵。他爱上了巴基斯坦的食物。”她看着我。“他爱上的不只有巴基斯坦食物，而且坠入爱河的也不止他一个。”
There was something about her face I didn’t recognize, a quiet fierceness. She looked away. Up ahead, I thought I spied my father’s silhouette on the horizon. It was about that time of morning when he started to make his way back to the hotel.
我不曾见过她这副表情，安静中带着狠劲儿。她将目光移开了。我好像看到了父亲的身影就在正前方。他就是在早上那时候开始回酒店的。
My heart started to race.
我的心跳加快了。
“He wasn’t happy with his wife,” she said. “I wasn’t happy with my husband. But nothing happened. We each had two kids. We were from different cultures. What was the point of putting everyone through all that pain? Just so we could be happy? I know that’s what a lot of people in this country think it means to be free. But that’s not the kind of person I am.”
“他对自己的妻子不满意，”她说。“我也对丈夫不满意。但什么都没有发生。我们各有两个孩子，又来自不同的文化背景。要让所有人都经历那种痛苦有什么意义呢？就为了让我们开心？我知道在这个国家，很多人都以为这意味着自由。但我不是那类人。”
I knew this last idea, about freedom, was a rejoinder addressed to me about my father. I knew she felt this way about him, though I had come to wonder if it was a fair assessment. After all, he hadn’t left his family either.
我知道她最后提到的这种关于自由的观念，是当着我的面对我父亲的反驳。我知道她是这么看他的，虽然我开始质疑这评价是否公平，因为到头来他并没有抛弃自己的家庭。
The man ahead, I could see now, was indeed my father, trundling toward us with a red fish dangling from his hand. My mother still hadn’t noticed him.
我现在能看到前方的男人的确是我父亲。他提着一条红色的鱼向我们慢慢走来。母亲依然没有注意到他。
“I think that’s Dad up ahead,” I said quietly.
“爸爸好像就在前面，”我悄悄地说。
She looked up. “Speak of the devil.”
她往前看。“说到就到。”
“Caught us some lunch,” my father said as he approached, holding up the fish. “Snapper. Going to take it to the kitchen to see what they can do.”
“给我们钓到了午餐，”父亲把鱼举在手中，边说边朝我们走来。“是鲷鱼。一会儿送到厨房去，看看他们能怎么做。”
“I just had breakfast,” she replied.
“我刚刚才吃过早餐，”她回答道。
“How about you?” he said, turning to me. If her dismissal bothered him, I couldn’t tell. Their long, internecine strife — waged in withering looks and muttered replies — suddenly appeared less dramatic. Maybe it was just how they got through their decision to stay together.
“你呢？”他转向我问道。她对他不理不睬，但我看不出他有丝毫不快。他们一直都吵吵闹闹，咄咄逼人的眼神和低声的回答却突然显得不那么激烈了。也许他们就是通过这种方式做出继续相守的决定。
“Sure,” I said. “Mom and I were walking, though. We’ll see you back at the hotel.”
“好啊，”我说。“但我和妈妈要散一会儿步。回头在酒店见吧。”
Once he was gone, my mother and I continued in silence. The atmosphere of complicity was gone; her confession was over. She dropped her gown as she headed for higher ground. I followed her to the top of a large dune.
他走了之后，母亲和我继续沉默。我们俩是同谋的感觉已经消失了；她已经坦白完了。她在走向高处时放下了长袍。我跟着她走到一处大沙丘的顶端。
“Did you stay in touch with him?” I said as I joined her.
“你有跟他保持联系吗？”我走向她身边时问道。
She shook her head. “He moved away. We had a few letters. But that was it.” She looked out at the ocean. After an awkward silence, she said, “I thought you should know.”
她摇了摇头。“他搬走了。我们写过几封信，就这样而已。”她望向大海。在一阵尴尬的沉默后，她说，“我觉得应该让你知道。”
For a moment, I saw the younger, arresting woman I’d known as a child. I was finally seeing through the role she had played her whole life, that of my mother, a role I believed she had loved, and which had come to define her in so many ways, but not entirely.
有那么一瞬间，我看到了小时候认识的那位迷人的年轻女子。我终于看透了这个她扮演了一辈子的角色，也就是我母亲的角色。我相信她喜欢这个角色，它从很多方面都定义了她，但并非全部。
Our eyes met now, and her tentative, vulnerable expression surprised me. I fought the urge to look away and spare us a discomfort I assumed we were both feeling. Something new was happening between us. I didn’t want to revert to being the son who only saw a mother he loved and needed, but who he assumed, perhaps like all children, ultimately belonged to him. I held her gaze. “I’m glad you told me,” I said.
现在，我们的眼神交汇在一起。让我意外的是，她露出了犹豫、脆弱的表情。我努力遏制扭头回避的冲动，我猜我们俩都感到了不自在。这是一种全新的体验。我不想重新做回原来那个儿子，只能看到一个他爱的、需要的母亲。他可能和所有孩子一样，假设母亲最终都属于他。我注视着她的眼睛，说：“我很高兴你把这事告诉我。”
She smiled. We lingered on the dune a little longer, and then she gathered up her robe and we headed back down to the water.
她笑了。我们在沙丘上又逗留了一会儿，然后她拉起了长袍，我们重新回到水边。
