I shall never forget watching him from my table as he climbed the small ladder wearing his red bathing trunks, taking forever to pick the ripest apricots. On his way to the kitchen—wicker basket, espadrilles, billowy shirt, suntan lotion, and all—he threw me a very large one, saying, “Yours,” in just the same way he’d throw a tennis ball across the court and say, “Your serve.” Of course, he had no idea what I’d been thinking minutes earlier, but the firm, rounded cheeks of the apricot with their dimple in the middle reminded me of how his body had stretched across the boughs of the tree with his tight, rounded ass echoing the color and the shape of the fruit. Touching the apricot was like touching him. He would never know, just as the people we buy the newspaper from and then fantasize about all night have no idea that this particular inflection on their face or that tan along their exposed shoulder will give us no end of pleasure when we’re alone.
我永远无法忘记这一幕：我坐在我那张桌边看他穿着红色泳裤爬上小梯子，慢条斯理地挑出熟透了的杏。他提着柳条篮，穿着布面平底凉鞋、宽衬衫、涂着防晒乳液，在回厨房的路上捡一颗很大的丢给我，说声“给你的。”就跟他从球网对面把网球扔给我，说声“该你发球”时没什么两样。当然，他不可能知道我几分钟前在想些什么，但杏那圆润、中间一道凹弧的形状，让我想起他爬上树干伸手摘杏时，那紧实圆润的臀部与果子的颜色和形状彼此呼应。触摸那颗杏就像触摸他，他永远不会知道。就像卖报纸给我们，任我们整夜遐想的人也不知道，他们脸上某个特定的表情变化，或裸露肩膀上晒出的褐色肌肤，给予了我们独处时的无穷乐趣。
Yours, like Later!, had an off-the-cuff, unceremonious, here, catch quality that reminded me how twisted and secretive my desires were compared to the expansive spontaneity of everything about him. It would never have occurred to him that in placing the apricot in my palm he was giving me his ass to hold or that, in biting the fruit, I was also biting into that part of his body that must have been fairer than the rest because it never apricated—and near it, if I dared to bite that far, his apricock.
“给你的”和“回头再说”、“拿去”、“接着”一样，都有种即兴不拘礼节的感觉，提醒着我：比起他热情奔放、随性所至的一切，我的欲望是多么曲曲折折、遮遮掩掩。他绝对想不到他把杏放到我手心里，其实是让我抚着他的臀；咬果子的同时，我也在咬他身上那个从未晒过太阳、一定特别白皙的部位——还有他的“杏器”，如果我敢那么放肆的话。
In fact, he knew more about apricots than we did—their grafts, etymology, origins, fortunes in and around the Mediterranean. At the breakfast table that morning, my father explained that the name for the fruit came from the Arabic, since the word—in Italian, albicocca, abricot in French, aprikose in German, like the words “algebra,” “alchemy,” and “alcohol”—was derived from an Arabic noun combined with the Arabic article al- before it. The origin of albicocca was al-birquq. My father, who couldn’t resist not leaving well enough alone and needed to top his entire performance with a little fillip of more recent vintage, added that what was truly amazing was that, in Israel and in many Arab countries nowadays, the fruit is referred to by a totally different name: mishmish.
其实他比我们更了解杏，包括杏的嫁接方法、词源、起源、在地中海地区的生长情况。那天吃早餐的时候，父亲解释这种水果的名称源于阿拉伯语，因为“杏”的意大利语是 albicocca、法语是 abricot、德语是 aprikose ，跟“代数”(algebra)、“炼金术”(alchemy)、“酒精”(alcohol) 这几个词一样，皆源于阿拉伯语，并在前面加上阿拉伯语的冠词 al-。albicocca 的字源是 al-birquq。一向无法见好就收，总忍不住要再来段最新消息锦上添花的父亲又补充说，真正令人惊讶的是，目前在以色列和许多阿拉伯国家，这种水果的名称竟是毫无类似之处的 mishimish。
我永远无法忘记这一幕：我坐在我那张桌边看他穿着红色泳裤爬上小梯子，慢条斯理地挑出熟透了的杏。他提着柳条篮，穿着布面平底凉鞋、宽衬衫、涂着防晒乳液，在回厨房的路上捡一颗很大的丢给我，说声“给你的。”就跟他从球网对面把网球扔给我，说声“该你发球”时没什么两样。当然，他不可能知道我几分钟前在想些什么，但杏那圆润、中间一道凹弧的形状，让我想起他爬上树干伸手摘杏时，那紧实圆润的臀部与果子的颜色和形状彼此呼应。触摸那颗杏就像触摸他，他永远不会知道。就像卖报纸给我们，任我们整夜遐想的人也不知道，他们脸上某个特定的表情变化，或裸露肩膀上晒出的褐色肌肤，给予了我们独处时的无穷乐趣。
Yours, like Later!, had an off-the-cuff, unceremonious, here, catch quality that reminded me how twisted and secretive my desires were compared to the expansive spontaneity of everything about him. It would never have occurred to him that in placing the apricot in my palm he was giving me his ass to hold or that, in biting the fruit, I was also biting into that part of his body that must have been fairer than the rest because it never apricated—and near it, if I dared to bite that far, his apricock.
“给你的”和“回头再说”、“拿去”、“接着”一样，都有种即兴不拘礼节的感觉，提醒着我：比起他热情奔放、随性所至的一切，我的欲望是多么曲曲折折、遮遮掩掩。他绝对想不到他把杏放到我手心里，其实是让我抚着他的臀；咬果子的同时，我也在咬他身上那个从未晒过太阳、一定特别白皙的部位——还有他的“杏器”，如果我敢那么放肆的话。
In fact, he knew more about apricots than we did—their grafts, etymology, origins, fortunes in and around the Mediterranean. At the breakfast table that morning, my father explained that the name for the fruit came from the Arabic, since the word—in Italian, albicocca, abricot in French, aprikose in German, like the words “algebra,” “alchemy,” and “alcohol”—was derived from an Arabic noun combined with the Arabic article al- before it. The origin of albicocca was al-birquq. My father, who couldn’t resist not leaving well enough alone and needed to top his entire performance with a little fillip of more recent vintage, added that what was truly amazing was that, in Israel and in many Arab countries nowadays, the fruit is referred to by a totally different name: mishmish.
其实他比我们更了解杏，包括杏的嫁接方法、词源、起源、在地中海地区的生长情况。那天吃早餐的时候，父亲解释这种水果的名称源于阿拉伯语，因为“杏”的意大利语是 albicocca、法语是 abricot、德语是 aprikose ，跟“代数”(algebra)、“炼金术”(alchemy)、“酒精”(alcohol) 这几个词一样，皆源于阿拉伯语，并在前面加上阿拉伯语的冠词 al-。albicocca 的字源是 al-birquq。一向无法见好就收，总忍不住要再来段最新消息锦上添花的父亲又补充说，真正令人惊讶的是，目前在以色列和许多阿拉伯国家，这种水果的名称竟是毫无类似之处的 mishimish。
