On that day I even urged myself to let down my inhibitions and show my grief the way everyone else was showing theirs. But I also did it so none might suspect I nursed sorrows of a far more secret and more desperate kind—until I realized, almost to my shame, that part of me didn’t mind his dying, that there was even something almost exciting in the thought of his bloated, eyeless body finally showing up on our shores.
那天我甚至劝自己卸下压抑的伪装，像其他人一样表现出自己的悲痛。但这也是为了不让任何人揣测到我心里抱着一种远远更为私密、更为沉痛的哀伤，直到我几乎感到可耻地意识到，有一部分的我其实并不那么在乎他的死活，想到他可能肿胀不堪的、残缺不全的遗体终于冲回岸边，我甚至有种近乎兴奋的感觉。
But I wasn’t fooling myself. I was convinced that no one in the world wanted him as physically as I did; nor was anyone willing to go the distance I was prepared to travel for him. No one had studied every bone in his body, ankles, knees, wrists, fingers, and toes, no one lusted after every ripple of muscle, no one took him to bed every night and on spotting him in the morning lying in his heaven by the pool, smiled at him, watched a smile come to his lips, and thought, Did you know I came in your mouth last night?
但我骗不了自己。我相信世界上没有人比我更想要他的肉体，也没人像我一样准备为他奉献那么多。没人研究过他身上每根骨头、脚踝、膝盖、手腕、手指、脚趾：没人痴心妄想抚摸他每寸肌肤，夜夜在床上想他，早晨看他躺在泳池畔他的那处天堂，朝他微笑，看笑意浮现在他唇上，心思荡漾地想着：你知道我昨晚在你嘴里达到高潮了吗？
Perhaps even the others nursed an extra something for him, which each concealed and displayed in his or her own way. Unlike the others, though, I was the first to spot him when he came into the garden from the beach or when the flimsy silhouette of his bicycle, blurred in the midafternoon mist, would appear out of the alley of pines leading to our house. I was the first to recognize his steps when he arrived late at the movie theater one night and stood there looking for the rest of us, not uttering a sound until I turned around knowing he’d be overjoyed I’d spotted him. I recognized him by the inflection of his footfalls up the stairway to our balcony or on the landing outside my bedroom door. I knew when he stopped outside my French windows, as if debating whether to knock and then thinking twice, and continued walking. I knew it was he riding a bicycle by the way the bike skidded ever so mischievously on the deep gravel path and still kept going when it was obvious there couldn’t be any traction left, only to come to a sudden, bold, determined stop, with something of a declarative voilà in the way he jumped off.
或许也有其他人对他暗怀心思，并以各自的方式掩饰或表现。然而，与其他人不同，是我第一个看他从海边走进花园，看着他骑脚踏车的单薄剪影在午后的轻雾中若隐若现，从松树小径那头儿一路往家里来。我是第一个听出他脚步声的人；有一晚他去电影院迟到了，不发一语地站着搜寻其他人的身影，直到我转身，知道他非常高兴我在人群中找到了他。我认出他，凭的是他爬楼梯上阳台时的脚步声变化，还有他落在我卧房门外的脚步声；我认得他在我落地窗外踟蹰止步的声音，仿佛挣扎着要不要敲门，考虑再三后接着往他房间走。我知道骑脚踏车的人是他，因为脚踏车是如此淘气地在砾石道上滑行。明显没有多余的摩擦力，一路继续前进，最后突兀、大胆、果断地戛然而止，他跳下车的方式有点宣告“你瞧瞧”的意味。
那天我甚至劝自己卸下压抑的伪装，像其他人一样表现出自己的悲痛。但这也是为了不让任何人揣测到我心里抱着一种远远更为私密、更为沉痛的哀伤，直到我几乎感到可耻地意识到，有一部分的我其实并不那么在乎他的死活，想到他可能肿胀不堪的、残缺不全的遗体终于冲回岸边，我甚至有种近乎兴奋的感觉。
But I wasn’t fooling myself. I was convinced that no one in the world wanted him as physically as I did; nor was anyone willing to go the distance I was prepared to travel for him. No one had studied every bone in his body, ankles, knees, wrists, fingers, and toes, no one lusted after every ripple of muscle, no one took him to bed every night and on spotting him in the morning lying in his heaven by the pool, smiled at him, watched a smile come to his lips, and thought, Did you know I came in your mouth last night?
但我骗不了自己。我相信世界上没有人比我更想要他的肉体，也没人像我一样准备为他奉献那么多。没人研究过他身上每根骨头、脚踝、膝盖、手腕、手指、脚趾：没人痴心妄想抚摸他每寸肌肤，夜夜在床上想他，早晨看他躺在泳池畔他的那处天堂，朝他微笑，看笑意浮现在他唇上，心思荡漾地想着：你知道我昨晚在你嘴里达到高潮了吗？
Perhaps even the others nursed an extra something for him, which each concealed and displayed in his or her own way. Unlike the others, though, I was the first to spot him when he came into the garden from the beach or when the flimsy silhouette of his bicycle, blurred in the midafternoon mist, would appear out of the alley of pines leading to our house. I was the first to recognize his steps when he arrived late at the movie theater one night and stood there looking for the rest of us, not uttering a sound until I turned around knowing he’d be overjoyed I’d spotted him. I recognized him by the inflection of his footfalls up the stairway to our balcony or on the landing outside my bedroom door. I knew when he stopped outside my French windows, as if debating whether to knock and then thinking twice, and continued walking. I knew it was he riding a bicycle by the way the bike skidded ever so mischievously on the deep gravel path and still kept going when it was obvious there couldn’t be any traction left, only to come to a sudden, bold, determined stop, with something of a declarative voilà in the way he jumped off.
或许也有其他人对他暗怀心思，并以各自的方式掩饰或表现。然而，与其他人不同，是我第一个看他从海边走进花园，看着他骑脚踏车的单薄剪影在午后的轻雾中若隐若现，从松树小径那头儿一路往家里来。我是第一个听出他脚步声的人；有一晚他去电影院迟到了，不发一语地站着搜寻其他人的身影，直到我转身，知道他非常高兴我在人群中找到了他。我认出他，凭的是他爬楼梯上阳台时的脚步声变化，还有他落在我卧房门外的脚步声；我认得他在我落地窗外踟蹰止步的声音，仿佛挣扎着要不要敲门，考虑再三后接着往他房间走。我知道骑脚踏车的人是他，因为脚踏车是如此淘气地在砾石道上滑行。明显没有多余的摩擦力，一路继续前进，最后突兀、大胆、果断地戛然而止，他跳下车的方式有点宣告“你瞧瞧”的意味。
