He knew, of course, that he would work again: he had to believe it. Every actor did. Acting was a form of grifting, and once you stopped believing you could, so did everyone else. But he still liked having Jude reassure him; he liked knowing he had somewhere to go just in case it really did end. Once in a while, when he was feeling particularly, uncharacteristically self-pitying, he would think of what he would do if it ended: he thought he might work with disabled children. He would be good at it, and he would enjoy it. He could see himself walking home from an elementary school he imagined might be on the Lower East Side, west to SoHo, toward Greene Street. His apartment would be gone, of course, sold to pay for his master’s program in education (in this dream, all the millions he’d earned, all the millions he had never spent, had somehow vanished), and he would be living in Jude’s apartment, as if the past two decades had never happened at all.
当然，他知道自己还是接得到工作，他一定得相信这点。每个演员都相信。表演是一种诈骗的形式，一旦你无法相信自己做得到，其他人也不会相信了。但他还是希望裘德向他保证，他希望万一真的没办法演戏时，还有个地方可以去。每隔一阵子，当他觉得异常且变得格外自怜自艾时，就会想着以后如果演不了戏，那要做什么，他觉得自己或许可以去教残障儿童。他会做得很好，而且乐在其中。他可以预见自己从一所小学走路回家，从他想象中位于下东区的学校，往西走回苏荷区的格林街。当然，到时候他会卖掉自己的公寓，去读教育硕士（在这个梦里，他以前赚来的几百万，从来不敢花掉的那几百万，全都神奇地消失了），而他会住在裘德的公寓里，仿佛过去二十年都被彻底抹去。
But after The Sycamore Court, these mopey fantasies had diminished in frequency, and he spent the latter half of his thirty-seventh year feeling closer to confidence than he ever had before. Something had shifted; something had cemented; somewhere his name had been tapped into stone. He would always have work; he could rest for a bit if he wanted to.
但是《梧桐法院》之后，这些丧气的幻想出现得比较少了。在37岁这一年的下半年，他比以往更有自信了。有些情况起了根本的改变，变得更巩固了，他的名字仿佛被刻在石头上。他永远都会有工作；如果他想要的话，可以休息一下了。
It was September, and he was coming back from a shoot and about to embark upon a European publicity tour; he had one day in the city, just one, and Jude told him he’d take him anywhere he wanted. They’d see each other, they’d have lunch, and then he’d get back into the car and go straight to the airport for the flight to London. It had been so long since he had been in New York, and he really wanted to go somewhere cheap and downtown and homey, like the Vietnamese noodle place they had gone to when they were in their twenties, but he instead picked a French restaurant known for its seafood in midtown so Jude wouldn’t have to travel far.
那是九月，他刚结束一部片子的拍摄工作，立刻又要出发去欧洲宣传新片；他只能回纽约待一天，裘德跟他说他想去哪里他都配合，他们会见面，吃个午餐，然后他就要上车直接到机场赶飞机到伦敦。他好久没回纽约了，真的很想在下城找家有家庭气氛的便宜小馆子，就像他们二十几岁那几年常去的越乡餐馆，但他最后挑了中城一家以海鲜闻名的法国餐厅，这样裘德就不必跑太远了。
The restaurant was filled with businessmen, the kinds of people who telegraphed their wealth and power with the cut of their suits and the subtlety of their watches: you had to be wealthy and powerful yourself in order to understand what was being communicated. To everyone else, they were men in gray suits, indistinguishable from one another. The hostess brought him to Jude, who was there already, waiting, and when Jude stood, he reached over and hugged him very close, which he knew Jude didn’t like but which he had recently decided he would start doing anyway. They stood there, holding each other, surrounded on either side by gray-suited men, until he released Jude and they sat.
那家餐厅里坐满了企业家，就是会以西装剪裁和手表的精巧无声地传达富有和权力的那种人，你必须很有钱、很有权力，才能了解他们传达的内容。对其他人来说，他们只是一些穿灰色西装的男人，看起来都一样。带位的女侍带着他就座，裘德已经先到了，正在等他。看到裘德站起来，他上前紧紧拥住他，虽然知道裘德不喜欢这样，但他最近决定反正迟早要这样做。他们站在那里，彼此相拥，左右环绕着灰西装男子，然后他放开裘德，两人坐下。
“Did I embarrass you enough?” he asked him, and Jude smiled and shook his head.
“我让你够尴尬了吗？”他问裘德，裘德笑着摇摇头。
There were so many things to discuss in so little time that Jude had actually written an agenda on the back of a receipt, which he had laughed at when he had seen it but which they ended up following fairly closely. Between Topic Five (Malcolm’s wedding: What were they going to say in their toasts?) and Topic Six (the progression of the Greene Street apartment, which was being gutted), he had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and as he walked back to the table, he had the unsettling feeling that he was being watched. He was of course used to being appraised and inspected, but there was something different about the quality of this attention, its intensity and hush, and for the first time in a long time, he was self-conscious, aware of the fact that he was wearing jeans and not a suit, and that he clearly didn’t belong. He became aware, in fact, that everyone was wearing a suit, and he was the only one not.
他们要谈的事情很多，时间又那么短，裘德还在一张收据背面写了一份讨论顺序列表，他看了大笑，不过他们大致上就照着谈。就在讨论完第五项（马尔科姆的婚礼：他们祝酒时要说什么？）、正要讨论第六项（格林街公寓的整修进度，当时里头正在拆）时，他起身去洗手间，走回来时，有种被人注视的不安。他当然很习惯被人盯着看，但这回感觉有点不太一样，那种打量眼光的强度和沉默，让他好久以来头一次难为情，他意识到自己穿着牛仔裤而非西装，显然跟这里格格不入。事实上，他忽然发现每个人都穿着西装，他是唯一没穿的人。
“I think I’m wearing the wrong thing,” he said quietly to Jude as he sat back down. “Everyone’s staring.”
“我想我穿错衣服了。”他回座后低声跟裘德说，“大家都瞪着我看。”
“They’re not staring at you because of what you’re wearing,” Jude said. “They’re staring at you because you’re famous.”
“他们瞪着你看，不是因为你穿的衣服，”裘德说，“而是你很有名。”
He shook his head. “To you and literally dozens of other people, maybe.”
他摇头：“对你和几十个人来说，或许吧。”
“No, Willem,” Jude had said. “You are.” He smiled at him. “Why do you think they didn’t make you wear a jacket? They don’t let just anyone waltz in here who’s not in corporate mufti. And why do you think they keep bringing over all these appetizers? It’s not because of me, I guarantee you.” Now he laughed. “Why did you choose this place anyway? I thought you were going to pick somewhere downtown.”
“不，威廉，”裘德说，“你真的很有名。”他对他微笑，“不然你以为他们为什么没拿西装外套借你穿？他们可不会随便让没穿正装的人走进来的。而且你以为他们为什么一直送这些开胃小菜上来？我跟你保证，可不是因为我。”说到这里，裘德大笑起来，“不过你干吗挑这里呢？我以为你会挑个下城的小店。”
He groaned. “I heard the crudo was good. And what do you mean: Is there a dress code here?”
他咕哝着抱怨：“我听说这里的腌渍生鱼不错。还有你刚刚说那个是什么意思，这里有服装规定吗？”
Jude smiled again and was about to answer when one of the discreet gray-suited men came over to them and, vividly embarrassed, apologized for interrupting them. “I just wanted to say that I loved The Sycamore Court,” he said. “I’m a big fan.” Willem thanked him, and the man, who was older, in his fifties, was about to say something else when he saw Jude and blinked, clearly recognizing him, and stared at him for a bit, obviously recategorizing Jude in his head, refiling what he knew about him. He opened his mouth and shut it and then apologized again as he left, Jude smiling serenely at him the entire time.
裘德再度微笑，正要回答，那些举止合宜的灰西装男子之一走向他们，显然很抱歉打断他们。“我只是想跟你说，我很喜欢《梧桐法院》，”他说，“我是大粉丝。”威廉谢谢他。那位五十来岁的男子正要再说些什么，此时看到了裘德，眨眨眼，明显认出他是谁，又瞪着他一会儿，显然在脑袋里将裘德重新归类，把对他的认识重新归档。那男子张开嘴巴，然后又闭上，离开前再度道歉，从头到尾，裘德只是平静地看着他微笑。
“Well, well,” said Jude, after the man had hurried away. “That was the head of the litigation department of one of the biggest firms in the city. And, apparently, an admirer of yours.” He grinned at Willem. “Now are you convinced you’re famous?”
“哎呀呀，”裘德说，看到那男人匆匆离开，“那是全纽约最大事务所之一的诉讼部门主管，而且显然是你的仰慕者。”他对威廉咧嘴笑了，“现在你相信你很有名了吧？”
“If the benchmark for fame is being recognized by twentysomething female RISD graduates and aging closet cases, then yes,” he said, and the two of them started snickering, childishly, until they were both able to compose themselves again.
“如果名气的基准是被二十几岁的罗得岛艺术学院女研究生或没出柜的老先生认出来，那么没错。”他说。两个人开始偷笑，像小孩子似的，笑了半天才有办法平静下来。
Jude looked at him. “Only you could be on magazine covers and not think you’re famous,” he said, fondly. But Willem wasn’t anywhere real when those magazine covers came out; he was on set. On set, everyone acted like they were famous.
裘德看着他，“只有你才会上了杂志封面，还不认为自己有名。”他充满关爱地说。但那些杂志封面上架时，威廉并不在真实世界，而是在拍片现场。在拍片现场，每个人的举止都一副自己很有名的样子。
“It’s different,” he told Jude. “I can’t explain it.” But later, in the car to the airport, he realized what the difference was. Yes, he was used to being looked at. But he was only really used to being looked at by certain kinds of people in certain kinds of rooms—people who wanted to sleep with him, or who wanted to talk to him because it might help their own careers, or people for whom the simple fact that he was recognizable was enough to trigger something hungry and frantic in them, to crave being in his presence. He wasn’t, however, accustomed to being looked at by people who had other things to do, who had bigger and more important matters to worry about than an actor in New York. Actors in New York: they were everywhere. The only time men with power ever looked at him was at premieres, when he was being presented to the studio head and they were shaking his hand and making small talk even as he could see them examining him, calculating how well he’d tested and how much they’d paid for him and how much the film would have to earn in order for them to look at him more closely.
“不一样的，”他告诉裘德，“我没办法解释。”但稍后，在前往机场的车上，他明白是哪里不一样了。没错，他习惯被注视。但他真正习惯的，是被某种类型的人在某种特定的地方注视，比方想跟他上床的人，或者想跟他谈话、因其有助于自己事业的人，或是对某些人来说，光是认得出他这个简单的事实，就足以触发他们心中某种饥渴和狂乱，让他们渴望来跟他打招呼。然而，他不习惯被其他有事可做、有比和一个纽约演员打招呼更重大的事要操心的人盯着看。纽约到处都是演员。有权力的人会盯着他看的唯一时刻，就是他在电影首映会上被介绍给片厂主管时，他们会握手寒暄，而他看得出那些片厂主管在打量他，计算他的得分、他们付了多少钱给他，还有这部电影因为请他来演必须赚多少钱。
Perversely, though, as this began happening more and more—he would enter a room, a restaurant, a building, and would feel, just for a second, a slight collective pause—he also began realizing that he could turn his own visibility on and off. If he walked into a restaurant expecting to be recognized, he always was. And if he walked in expecting not to be, he rarely was. He was never able to determine what, exactly, beyond his simply willing it, made the difference. But it worked; it was why, six years after that lunch, he was able to walk through much of SoHo in plain sight, more or less, after he moved in with Jude.
很违反常理的是，当这种情况越来越常发生（他走进一个房间、一家餐厅、一栋建筑物时，就会感觉到大家同时暂停，虽然只有一秒钟），他也开始明白，他可以把自己的能见度打开或关上。如果他走进餐厅时期待被认出来，通常就会。如果他走路时不想有人打扰，的确很少被认出来。他始终无法判定，除了自己的意愿之外，到底是什么让这种能见度改变。但反正有用，这就是为什么，在那顿午餐过后六年，他搬去跟裘德住，多多少少可以在苏荷区大部分地方走来走去。
He had been at Greene Street since Jude got home from his suicide attempt, and as the months passed, he found that he was migrating more and more of his things—first his clothes, then his laptop, then his boxes of books and his favorite woolen blanket that he liked to wrap about himself and shuffle around in as he made his morning coffee: his life was so itinerant that there really wasn’t much else he needed or owned—to his old bedroom. A year later, he was living there still. He’d woken late one morning and made himself some coffee (he’d had to bring his coffeemaker as well, because Jude didn’t have one), and had meandered sleepily about the apartment, noticing as if for the first time that somehow his books were now on Jude’s shelves, and the pieces of art he’d brought over were hanging on Jude’s walls. When had this happened? He couldn’t quite remember, but it felt right; it felt right that he should be back here.
自从裘德自杀未遂回家后，他一直住在格林街。几个月过去，他发现他把越来越多的东西搬到他以前的卧室——一开始是他的衣服，然后是笔记本电脑，然后是几箱书和他最喜欢的羊毛毯，早上起床去冲咖啡时，他喜欢把那毯子裹在身上晃来晃去。他总是东奔西跑，所以他其实不需要或拥有太多东西。一年后，他还住在那里。某天早上他很晚才醒来，给自己冲了咖啡（他也得把咖啡机带过来，因为裘德没有咖啡机），犹有睡意地在公寓里面闲逛，好像第一次注意到他的书不知怎地出现在裘德的书架上，他以前买下的艺术品现在挂在裘德家的墙上。这是什么时候发生的？他不太记得了，但感觉很对劲，他觉得自己就该搬回这里。
Even Mr. Irvine agreed. Willem had seen him at Malcolm’s house the previous spring for Malcolm’s birthday and Mr. Irvine had said, “I hear you’ve moved back in with Jude,” and he said he had, preparing himself for a lecture on their eternal adolescence: he was going to be forty-four, after all; Jude was nearly forty-two. But “You’re a good friend, Willem,” Mr. Irvine had said. “I’m glad you boys are taking care of each other.” He had been deeply rattled by Jude’s attempt; they all had, of course, but Mr. Irvine had always liked Jude the best of all of them, and they all knew it.
就连马尔科姆的父亲欧文先生都赞成。今年春天马尔科姆生日时，他在马尔科姆家遇到欧文先生，当时欧文先生说：“我听说你搬去跟裘德住了。”他说没错，准备好听一番说教，说他们总是长不大，毕竟他就要满44岁了，而裘德也快42了。但“你是个很好的朋友，”欧文先生说，“我很高兴你们彼此照顾。”当初裘德企图自杀让欧文先生很惊慌；当然了，他们全都很惊慌，但他们知道，在这些朋友里头，欧文先生一直最喜欢裘德。
“Well, thanks, Mr. Irvine,” he’d said, surprised. “I’m glad, too.”
“唔，谢谢你，欧文先生，”他说，很惊讶，“我也很高兴。”
