Come Along with Me 6

Well, I don't want you to think that Mrs. Faun and I came right out and quarreled all the time. We kind of sharpened our nails on each other, that was all, and most of the time we finished off our arguments laughing together over a cup of tea, although I must say I was surprised when I began getting a weekly bill from Mrs. Faun, in addition to the rent for the room, for “tea, cookies, etc.”

“I thought you invited me,” I said to her the first week.

“It won't hurt you,” she said. “I get what I can.”

I started following people after a day or so in the city; one thing is certain, you can't find your way around a strange city without someone to show you where to go, and when all you know is a Mrs. Faun who won't step out of her front parlor for a bomb explosion on the street outside, you pretty well have to get the way from strangers. The first person I followed was an old fellow I picked up outside a restaurant; he had been eating caviar, and I like to follow someone who is good and full of caviar, although I don't care for it myself; it seemed that he might lead me to a far more interesting place than any I might find by myself, and, in a sense, he did; “Why are you following me?” he asked, turning suddenly on me at a street corner; I was not as good at following people then as I became later.

“Because you were eating caviar,” I said. Sometimes the truth doesn't hurt.

“I like caviar.”

“I don't.”

“Where did you plan to follow me?” He was still bewildered, but I thought amused; I am not very terrifying to look at, I believe. In any case, he was clearly a man without a guilty conscience, or at least no kind of conscience that being followed by me might bother. Perhaps being followed by a lovely young nineteen-year-old boy might have bothered him some.

“Come and have tea with me,” he said. I swear, he took out a cardcase and handed me a card; I don't think I have ever known anyone to do that before. “I'd like to,” I told him, “it will save me money with Mrs. Faun.”

There was the day I tried my hand at shoplifting; it was particularly important because of the weather; it was one of those winter days which suddenly dreams of spring, when the sky is blue and soft and clear, and the wind has dropped its voice and whispers instead of screaming, and the sun is out and the trees look surprised, and over everything there is the faintest, palest tint of green; weather entertains me.

“I'm trying my hand at shoplifting,” I told the salesgirl, and we both laughed.

I went to the biggest department store; I had not been there before, but one big department store is much like another. This one was one I might have been in a hundred times before; I knew where things were, and recognized the heavily scented air, so rich after the clean air outside. Sometimes I like big stores, with softness underfoot and pressing against the sides of your head; I like long counters with soft highlights and seductively tumbled scarves and vacant mannequins and the dirty gloves of shoppers; I like everything about big department stores except shopping in them. I do not like salesgirls and their manners, and having to buy my dresses in a special behemoths department, and I do not like the stupid mockery of people who enjoy keeping you waiting; I do not like credit offices, but I enjoy quarreling over a bill. Hughie used to be all lost, really frightened, when I got into a fight with a department store because I never really felt I was fighting with people, and so it was not necessary to observe any of the small delicate graces you use automatically when you are fighting with people; even with the electric company I always knew I was fighting with people, but never with department stores, and of course not with the telephone company. We paid our bills—I don't mean to sound as if I fought with any of them because I wanted to save money—but I could always enjoy a good fight over something. I loved being in a department store, and I am only surprised that I had not thought of shoplifting long before. “Shoplifting,” I explained to the salesgirl, and touched the little box gently with one finger, and we both laughed.

I had really no good idea how you went about stealing something from a department store, but I thought I could make it up as I went along; that is, you will observe, my way with almost everything. I have always been quite successful at making things up as I went along, and very often surprised at where I led myself. I never thought along the way that I might end up in jail, or hurt, or even embarrassed, because that is simply not the kind of thing that happens to the kind of person I am; I am not above the law, but somehow I make the law, which so many other people do not. This is not arrogance; I first became aware of this when I was a child and always got everything I wanted. Before God, I thought I wanted Hughie. But this is not shoplifting.

For reasons which amused me considerably, and which I do not care to discuss here, I had decided that what I most wanted to steal was an ornamental candle. I knew that there would probably be a department which sold candles and candlesticks and elaborate boxes of matches, and I thought to steal a candle and take it back to Mrs. Faun to put in the center of her appalling mantelpiece. Moreover, a candle is not too valuable, although perhaps not always easy to hide. Poor Hughie, and he was such a lousy painter.

In any case, I stepped onto the escalator—such a sense of power, such a sense of being carried, of permitting this small service underfoot—and, looking down at the store, let myself be taken to the second floor, where I paused briefly at lingerie; I do like lace; and then on to the third floor and the fourth, where I found a gift shop and, just beyond, the candles I was looking for. Perhaps a black candle for Mrs. Faun's next black mass, perhaps a candle that told time—although I do think that's too much of a good thing; the nicest part of a candle is its inaccuracy—or perhaps a candle topped with flowers, or a candle looking like a cabbage, or a house, or a poodle. I like things made to look like something else, although I draw the line at food. I once had a recipe for imitation potato pancakes made out of ground cauliflower, and they were just as vile as they sound. But an ordinary everyday plain camouflage is quite all right with me.

I saw a candle made of a thousand different colors, and it was very lovely; I quite wanted it. But wanting it and stealing it were two different things; if I started stealing just because I wanted a colored candle the whole point would be lost, and I had already decided that I could not buy it. So, reluctantly, I passed by the lovely candle and found quite a hideous one; it looked rather like Mrs. Faun, I thought, and I put it in my pocket. Then I turned and saw the salesgirl looking at me with an air of complete joy; she had seen me, of course, and she took a step forward and said, “Can I help you?” and waited to see what I would do.

Naturally, I took the candle out of my pocket and said, “No, just trying my hand at shoplifting,” and we both laughed. I set the candle back on the counter and turned away, my candle-stealing days over forever. She could have cried, that salesgirl; perhaps she had been waiting all her working life to catch a shoplifter in action; perhaps her big moment tonight at dinner was now hopelessly ruined. After all, “I caught a shoplifter today,” is a much more sensational beginning to a story than just a “I had the craziest old lady in my department today.” She must have waited on a good many crazy old ladies, and, understand, I'm not saying I'm old. She just looked like she'd tell it that way. So I had to shoplift something else. I won't go into the number of things I took and had to put back; I don't seem really cut out for the most efficient stealing; but I did manage to pick up a box of birth announcements (“I'm a girl, I'm a girl, I'm a girl”) which I though might suit Mrs. Faun. No one seemed to care about those. One of the things I had to put back was a bottle of perfume called Svelte, which was fair anyway since I really wanted that.

Well, I'm not boasting. Some of the things that come to me work out well, and some do not. The seance was pretty good, but I will be the very first to admit that I am not light-fingered.

跟我来 6

好吧，我不想让你们觉得弗恩太太和我都是直来直去的人，总是在吵架。我们属于平时唇枪舌剑，各不相让，可大多数情况下，我们一吵完，就会一起喝着咖啡有说有笑了。可是，我必须说当我开始拿到弗恩太太给我的每周账单时，我还是有些惊讶，因为账单上除了房间的租金外，还有“茶、点心等等”的账目明细。

“我原以为是你请我呢。”第一周时，我对她说道。

“我不想伤害你，”她说道，“我得到的是我应得的。”

在以后的日子里，我开始跟随着人们在城里逛了。有一件事可以肯定：在一个陌生的城市里，如果没人给你带路，你是没有办法找到路的。而弗恩太太，正如你所了解的，即使街上发生了炸弹爆炸，她也绝不会踏出前厅一步。你从陌生人那儿知道路怎么走完全没有问题，我跟着的第一个人是我在一家饭店外偶然碰上的一位老家伙。他一直吃着鱼子酱，我喜欢跟着一个看上去不错，而且满嘴鱼子酱的人，虽然我自己对这不在乎，但是似乎他会把我领向一个比我自己去找要更加有趣的地方。从某种意义上看，也确实如此。“你干吗老跟着我？”他问道，在一个街角他突然转身看着我，我当时还没有像后来那样擅长尾随。

“因为你正在吃鱼子酱。”我说道。有时真相并不伤人。

“我喜欢鱼子酱。”

“我不喜欢。”

“你打算跟我到哪儿？”他仍然有些手足无措，但是我觉得挺好玩。我相信我看上去并不十分可怕。不管怎样，他是个大男人，显然不会有什么内疚，或者至少不会因为被我尾随而困扰。或许被一个年轻可爱的十九岁小伙子跟着他才会多少有些困扰吧。

“来吧，跟我一起喝杯茶。”他说道，掏出一个名片夹，递给了我一张名片。我发誓，我觉得以前从没有人有过这样的举动。“我很乐意，”我告诉他，“这会省下我付给弗恩太太的钱。”

这一天，我试着去商店行窃。因为天气的原因，这种尝试变得尤其重要。在冬日里，有人会突然梦想春天的到来，天空是湛蓝、柔和、清澈的，风也降低了调门，用轻声低语代替了狂野呼啸，太阳也出来了，树木看上去也有些神奇，因为它上面好像蒙着一层淡淡的、浅浅的绿色。这样的天气让我蠢蠢欲动。

“我想尝试在店里偷点儿东西。”我告诉售货员小姐，我们俩都笑了。

我去了最大的百货商店，我以前从来没去过那儿，但是每家大百货商店看上去都差不多。这一家和我以前去过多次的百货商店也没什么两样，我知道货物摆放的位置，辨识出了浓重的香水味道，外面的空气清新，就更显出里面的气味丰富。有时我喜欢大的商店，脚底下踩着软软的地毯，四周商品让人目不暇接。我喜欢长长的柜台，有着柔和的射灯，还有迷人的折叠围巾，未穿衣服的塑料人体模特，甚至是顾客的脏手套。我喜欢大百货商店中的一切，除了不喜欢在里面购物。我不喜欢售货员小姐和她们的态度，不喜欢在某个特殊的大柜台买我的衣服。我还不喜欢那些喜欢让你等待的人眼中愚蠢的讥讽之色。我不喜欢信用社，但是我喜欢因为一张账单而跟人吵架。当我跟一家百货商店的人打架时，休伊常常会不知所措，真的感到害怕，可我根本没感觉到自己在和别人干仗。所以当你跟人干仗时，没有必要注意你不知不觉展现的任何优雅风度。即使是供电公司，我都知道我总跟他们的人干仗，但是我从不和百货商店的人干仗，当然也从不和电话公司的人干仗。我付我们的账单——我并不打算听上去好像我和他们干仗是因为我想省钱——但是我总是很享受为某件事好好打上一架。我喜欢逛百货商店，只是我很吃惊自己长久以来竟然没有想到过要在百货商店里偷点儿东西。“商店偷窃。”我对售货员小姐解释道，还用一只手指轻轻地碰了碰小盒子，我们俩都哈哈大笑起来。

关于怎么去一家百货商店偷东西，我真的不太清楚，但是我想我可以边干边学。那就是说，你可以观察，这是我处理几乎一切事情的方式。我边干边学差不多屡试不爽，甚至经常惊讶于自己的自学能力那么强。我从未想过因为这种方式，我可能会在监狱里度过余生，或者受伤，或者遇到尴尬的事，因为很简单，这类事情从来不会发生在我这样的人身上。我没有凌驾于法律之上，但是我用某种方式制定法律，这是其他那么多人从未做到的。这不是狂妄。当我还是个孩子的时候，我第一次知道了这点，我总能得到我想要的一切。在上帝面前，我想我想要休伊。但是，这不是在商店里偷东西。

有很多原因让我觉得这特别有意思，在此我就不再讨论了，我已经决定我最想做的事情就是去偷一个装饰用的蜡烛。我知道可能会有一家百货商店卖蜡烛、烛台还有精美的火柴盒。我想去偷一个蜡烛，把它送给弗恩太太，摆在令人吃惊的壁炉台的中央。而且，虽然也许不太好藏，但一个蜡烛也不是太值钱。可怜的休伊，他是那么蹩脚的画家。

不管怎样，我走进了一部电梯——脚下的这个小装置，给人一种力量感，一种被抬起来的感觉——而且，可以俯视整个商店。我坐着电梯来到了二层，在女式内衣柜台前逗留了一小会儿，我确实喜欢蕾丝边的内衣。接着又到了百货商店的第三层和第四层，在第四层我发现了一个礼品柜台，就在远处一点儿的地方，我发现了正在苦苦寻觅的蜡烛。也许一支黑色的蜡烛适合弗恩太太下一次的追思弥撒。也许一支可以显示时间的蜡烛——即使我真的觉得有点儿画蛇添足，一支蜡烛最好的部分就是它的不准确性——或者，也许一支顶端是多个花朵的蜡烛，或者一支看上去像洋白菜的蜡烛，或者像房子的蜡烛，或者像一条卷毛狗的蜡烛。我喜欢东西做得看上去像别的什么东西，当然对于食物必须严格除外。我曾经有一个菜谱，教人们把磨碎的菜花做成土豆饼的模样，它们就像听上去的那么恶心。但是在日常生活中，一个简单的伪装对我来说也是可以接受的。

我看见了一支用一千种不同颜色制成的蜡烛，非常可爱。我特别想拥有它。但是要它和偷它是两码事。如果我开始偷它仅仅是因为我想要一支彩色的蜡烛，整个事情就失去了意义，但我已经决定我不买它。所以，我很不情愿地走过这支可爱的蜡烛，找到了另一支丑极了的蜡烛。它看上去很像弗恩太太，我这样想，然后把它装进了口袋里。当我转过身，看见售货员小姐正开心地看着我。当然，她已经看见了我的一举一动，她向前走了一步，说道：“我能帮您吗？”然后等着看我下一步的举动。

很自然地，我把蜡烛从口袋里掏出来并说道：“不，我只是想试着从商店里偷点儿东西。”我们俩都笑了。我把蜡烛又放回了柜台，然后转身走开了，我偷蜡烛的计划就永远泡汤了。那个售货员小姐本来是可以喊人的，也许在她的整个职业生涯中她都一直都在等着有机会能当场抓到一个商店偷窃者；也许今晚在晚餐时，她最值得炫耀的机会，现在就这样毫无希望地毁掉了。毕竟，“我今天亲手抓到了一个在商店偷窃的人”是一个很具有爆炸性效果的故事开头，而“我今天在店里遇见了一个最疯癫的老妇人”则逊色得多。她一定已经接待过数不清的疯癫的老妇人了，对了，要知道，我不是说我真的老了。她讲述这件事时，看起来一定会这样说。所以，我得想法在店里再偷点儿别的什么东西。我不想透露我拿起了多少东西，又不得不放回原处。我似乎真的不太擅长偷窃。不过，我成功地拾起了一盒新生儿告知卡（上面写着“我是个女孩，我是个女孩，我是个女孩”），我想它也适合送给弗恩太太。似乎没人注意到我拿了一盒卡片。但是我刚才硬着头皮放回原处的一件东西是一瓶称为“苗条”的香水，无论从哪方面看它都很漂亮，我真的想要它。

好了，我不是在吹牛，有些事情我办得很漂亮，而有些事情则不灵光。降神会就很成功，但是首先我得承认，我不是个手指灵巧的惯偷。

* * *

(1) 茶舞（Tea-dancing）：起源于十九世纪夏秋季节英国乡村的花园派对。其间供应咖啡、茶点、香槟、红葡萄酒，舞蹈一般以华尔兹、探戈为主。如今恰恰、桑巴之类的拉丁舞也穿插在内，以小乐队轻音乐伴奏。

(2) 缪丽尔来源于凯尔特语，含义是“海+白的”（sea+white）。

(3) 弥涅尔瓦（Minerva）：古罗马神话中的智慧女神，传说是她把纺织、缝纫、制陶、园艺等技艺传给了人类，希腊名为雅典娜（Athena），为三大处女神之一。在西方诞生于朱庇特头颅的自由神弥涅尔瓦由于拥有过人的智慧和超人的武力而成为年轻众神中最强大的一位，也是唯一一个凌驾于朱庇特管辖之外的神祇。在西方，弥涅尔瓦是勇气和谋略的双重象征，同时她也代表着绝对的自由。人们相信通过祭拜自由神弥涅尔瓦可以令自己获得超然的安宁，并借由脱离尘世达到超凡脱俗的心境。

(4) 摩妥尔曼（Motorman）是“司机”的音译，因为上文“我”提到自己的丈夫是个司机。