The romance with Chiara started on the beach. Then he neglected tennis and took up bike rides with her and her friends in the late afternoons in the hill towns farther west along the coast. One day, when there was one too many of them to go biking, Oliver turned to me and asked if I minded letting Mario borrow my bike since I wasn’t using it.
It threw me back to age six.
I shrugged my shoulders, meaning, Go ahead, I couldn’t care less. But no sooner had they left than I scrambled upstairs and began sobbing into my pillow.
与奇亚拉的罗曼史从海边开始。接着他不再玩网球，开始在傍晚时分陪她和她的朋友骑单车，到沿海岸西边较远的山城去兜风。有一天，因为要去骑车的人太多，奥利弗问我，既然我不用，能不能让马里奥借我的脚踏车骑。
我因此倒退回六岁的状态。
我耸耸肩，意思是：请便，我一点也不在乎。不过他们一离开，我立刻冲上楼，埋在枕头里委屈地哭。
At night sometimes we’d meet at Le Danzing. There was never any telling when Oliver would show up. He just bounded onto the scene, and just as suddenly disappeared, sometimes alone, sometimes with others. When Chiara came to our home as she’d been in the habit of doing ever since childhood, she would sit in the garden and stare out, basically waiting for him to show up. Then, when the minutes wore on and there was nothing much to say between us, she’d finally ask, “C’è Oliver?” He went to see the translator. Or: He’s in the library with my dad. Or: He’s down somewhere at the beach. “Well, I’m leaving, then. Tell him I came by.”
It’s over, I thought.
有些晚上我们在“跃动舞厅”相遇。奥利弗什么时候出现从来就没有任何征兆，常常突然蹦出来，又同样突然消失，有时候是一个人，有时候跟其他人一起。奇亚拉来我们家的时候（这是她从小就有的习惯），总坐在花园里目不转睛盯着外面看，基本上都是在等他出现。时间一分一秒地过去，我们之间却无话可说，最后她终于问我：
“奥利弗呢？”我只能回答：他去找译者了。或者：他跟我爸爸在书房。或者：他在海边吧。“嗯，那我要走了。告诉他我来过。”
结束了，我想。
Mafalda shook her head with a look of compassionate rebuke. “She’s a baby, he’s a university professor. Couldn’t she have found someone her own age?”
“Nobody asked you anything,” snapped Chiara, who had overheard and was not about to be criticized by a cook.
“Don’t you talk to me that way or I’ll split your face in two,” said our Neapolitan cook, raising the palm of her hand in the air. “She’s not seventeen yet and she goes about having bare-breasted crushes. Thinks I haven’t seen anything?”
玛法尔达脸上带着点同情的责难摇着头说：“她年纪还小，而他是个大学教授。她就不能找个年龄相当的人吗？”
“没人问你的意见！”无意间听到的奇亚拉会厉声喊道，她可不愿意被一个厨娘批评。
“不准那样对我说话，否则我把你的脸撕成两半。”我们的那不勒斯厨娘手掌举在半空中说。“还不满十七岁就光着胸脯跟人亲热。以为我什么都没看见么？”
It threw me back to age six.
I shrugged my shoulders, meaning, Go ahead, I couldn’t care less. But no sooner had they left than I scrambled upstairs and began sobbing into my pillow.
与奇亚拉的罗曼史从海边开始。接着他不再玩网球，开始在傍晚时分陪她和她的朋友骑单车，到沿海岸西边较远的山城去兜风。有一天，因为要去骑车的人太多，奥利弗问我，既然我不用，能不能让马里奥借我的脚踏车骑。
我因此倒退回六岁的状态。
我耸耸肩，意思是：请便，我一点也不在乎。不过他们一离开，我立刻冲上楼，埋在枕头里委屈地哭。
At night sometimes we’d meet at Le Danzing. There was never any telling when Oliver would show up. He just bounded onto the scene, and just as suddenly disappeared, sometimes alone, sometimes with others. When Chiara came to our home as she’d been in the habit of doing ever since childhood, she would sit in the garden and stare out, basically waiting for him to show up. Then, when the minutes wore on and there was nothing much to say between us, she’d finally ask, “C’è Oliver?” He went to see the translator. Or: He’s in the library with my dad. Or: He’s down somewhere at the beach. “Well, I’m leaving, then. Tell him I came by.”
It’s over, I thought.
有些晚上我们在“跃动舞厅”相遇。奥利弗什么时候出现从来就没有任何征兆，常常突然蹦出来，又同样突然消失，有时候是一个人，有时候跟其他人一起。奇亚拉来我们家的时候（这是她从小就有的习惯），总坐在花园里目不转睛盯着外面看，基本上都是在等他出现。时间一分一秒地过去，我们之间却无话可说，最后她终于问我：
“奥利弗呢？”我只能回答：他去找译者了。或者：他跟我爸爸在书房。或者：他在海边吧。“嗯，那我要走了。告诉他我来过。”
结束了，我想。
Mafalda shook her head with a look of compassionate rebuke. “She’s a baby, he’s a university professor. Couldn’t she have found someone her own age?”
“Nobody asked you anything,” snapped Chiara, who had overheard and was not about to be criticized by a cook.
“Don’t you talk to me that way or I’ll split your face in two,” said our Neapolitan cook, raising the palm of her hand in the air. “She’s not seventeen yet and she goes about having bare-breasted crushes. Thinks I haven’t seen anything?”
玛法尔达脸上带着点同情的责难摇着头说：“她年纪还小，而他是个大学教授。她就不能找个年龄相当的人吗？”
“没人问你的意见！”无意间听到的奇亚拉会厉声喊道，她可不愿意被一个厨娘批评。
“不准那样对我说话，否则我把你的脸撕成两半。”我们的那不勒斯厨娘手掌举在半空中说。“还不满十七岁就光着胸脯跟人亲热。以为我什么都没看见么？”
