But “Yes,” Andy says. “I’ll do what I can, and then you need to go to the hospital. Lie back.” He does, and lets Andy irrigate the wound and clean and dress it, lets Andy apologize to him when he cries out.

“可以，”安迪说，“我会尽量，不过你得去住院。躺下来。”他躺下，让安迪帮他冲洗伤口、清洁并包扎。他疼得大叫，安迪跟他道歉。

　 He is there for an hour, and when he is finally able to sit—Andy has given him a shot to numb the area—the two of them are silent.

他在那里待了一个小时，等他终于有办法坐起身来（安迪给他打了局部麻醉针），两个人都没说话。

　 “Are you going to tell me how you got a third-degree burn in such a perfect circle?” Andy asks him at last, and he ignores Andy’s chilly sarcasm, and instead recites to him his prepared story: the plantains, the grease fire.

“你打算告诉我，你是怎么烧出一个这么圆的三度烧伤的吗？”最后安迪问他，他没理会安迪冰冷的嘲讽，只是背出他准备好的故事：炸芭蕉，炉油引起了小火灾。

　 Then there is another silence, this one different in a way he cannot explain but does not like. And then Andy says, very quietly, “You’re lying, Jude.”

安迪又沉默了一会儿。这回的沉默不一样，他无法解释，但是不喜欢。然后安迪很轻地说：“裘德，你在撒谎。”

　 “What do you mean?” he asks, his throat suddenly dry despite the orange juice he has been drinking.

“你什么意思？”他问，忽然觉得喉咙发干，尽管刚刚一直在喝柳橙汁。

　 “You’re lying,” Andy repeats, still in that same quiet voice, and he slides off the examining table, the bottle of juice slipping from his grasp and shattering on the floor, and moves for the door.

“你在撒谎。”安迪又说了一次，声音一样轻。于是他滑下诊疗台，果汁瓶从他手里滑落，掉在地板上，摔碎了。他朝门走去。

　 “Stop,” Andy says, and he is cold, and furious. “Jude, you fucking tell me now. What did you do?”

“站住。”安迪说，冷酷且怒不可遏，“裘德，你他妈的现在就告诉我。你做了什么？”

　 “I told you,” he says, “I told you.”

“我告诉你了，”他说，“我告诉你了。”

　 “No,” Andy says. “You tell me what you did, Jude. You say the words. Say them. I want to hear you say them.”

“不，”安迪说，“你告诉我你做了什么，裘德。把那些话说出来。说啊。我想听你说出来。”

　 “I told you,” he shouts, and he feels so terrible, his brain thumping against his skull, his feet thrust full of smoldering iron ingots, his arm with its simmering cauldron burned into it. “Let me go, Andy. Let me go.”

“我告诉你了。”他大吼，感觉很糟糕，脑子抵着脑壳怦怦跳，双腿周围像塞满了冒烟的铁块，手臂有如贴着沸腾的大锅烧炙。“让我走，安迪。让我走。”

　 “No,” Andy says, and he too is shouting. “Jude, you—you—” He stops, and he stops as well, and they both wait to hear what Andy will say. “You’re sick, Jude,” he says, in a low, frantic voice. “You’re crazy. This is crazy behavior. This is behavior that could and should get you locked away for years. You’re sick, you’re sick and you’re crazy and you need help.”

“不，”安迪也吼了起来，“裘德，你……你……”安迪停下，于是他也停下，两人都等着听安迪接下来会说什么。“你有病，裘德，”他说，用一种低沉、狂乱的声音说，“你疯了。这是疯狂的行为。这种行为可以、也应该让你去精神病院住个几年。你有病，你有病，而且你疯了，你需要专业治疗。”

　 “Don’t you dare call me crazy,” he yells, “don’t you dare. I’m not, I’m not.”

“你居然敢说我疯了，”他大喊，“你居然敢！我没疯，我才没有。”

　 But Andy ignores him. “Willem gets back on Friday, right?” he asks, although he knows the answer already. “You have one week from tonight to tell him, Jude. One week. And after that, I’m telling him myself.”

但安迪不理他。“威廉星期五要回来，对吧？”他问，他明明知道答案，“从今天晚上开始，你有一星期的时间告诉他，裘德。一星期。之后，我会自己告诉他。”

　 “You can’t legally do that, Andy,” he shouts, and everything spins before him. “I’ll sue you for so much that you won’t even—”

“安迪，你这样做是犯法的，”他大喊，觉得眼前一切都在旋转，“我会告你，让你赔钱赔到你根本……”

　 “Better check your recent case law, counselor,” Andy hisses back at him. “Rodriguez versus Mehta. Two years ago. If a patient who’s been involuntarily committed attempts serious self-injury again, the patient’s doctor has the right—no, the obligation—to inform the patient’s partner or next of kin, whether that patient has fucking given consent or not.”

“你最好去查一下最近的判例，大律师。”安迪也气呼呼地反击，“两年前，‘罗德里格斯控告梅塔案’。如果病患因为企图严重自残再度被强制住院，病患的医生有权利——不，有义务——通知病患的伴侣或近亲，他妈的不管病人同意与否。”

　 He is struck silent then, reeling from pain and fear and the shock of what Andy has just told him. The two of them are still standing in the examining room, that room he has visited so many, so many times, but he can feel his legs pleating beneath him, can feel the misery overtake him, can feel his anger ebb. “Andy,” he says, and he can hear the beg in his voice, “please don’t tell him. Please don’t. If you tell him, he’ll leave me.” As he says it, he knows it is true. He doesn’t know why Willem will leave him—whether it will be because of what he has done or because he has lied about it—but he knows he is correct. Willem will leave him, even though he has done what he has done so he can keep having sex, because if he stops having sex, he knows Willem will leave him anyway.

他顿时哑口无言，觉得天旋地转，因为疼痛和害怕，也因为安迪刚刚那番话造成的震惊。他们两个还站在检查室里，这个房间他来过那么多次，太多次了，但他可以感觉到自己双腿发软，悲惨降临，同时自己的怒气消退。“安迪，”他说，听得出自己声音中的乞求，“拜托不要告诉他。拜托不要。如果你告诉他，他会离开我的。”他说的时候，很确定这是真的。他不清楚威廉为什么会离开他（不管是因为他做的事，还是因为他撒谎），但他知道自己的判断不会有错。威廉会离开他。尽管他做这些事，是为了让自己有办法继续做爱；要是他不肯做爱，他知道威廉无论如何都会离开他。

　 “Not this time, Jude,” says Andy, and although he isn’t yelling any longer, his voice is grim and determined. “I’m not covering for you this time. You have one week.”

“这回不行，裘德，”安迪说，没再吼了，但声音严厉而坚定，“这回我不会帮你隐瞒了。给你一个星期。”

　 “It’s not his business, though,” he says, desperately. “It’s my own.”

“可是这不关他的事。”他绝望地说，“这是我的事啊。”

　 “That’s the thing, though, Jude,” Andy says. “It is his business. That’s what being in a goddamned relationship is—don’t you understand that yet? Don’t you get that you just can’t do what you want? Don’t you get that when you hurt yourself, you’re hurting him as well?”

“但这才是重点，裘德，”安迪说，“这就是他的事。因为他妈的伴侣关系就是这样——你还不明白吗？你还不明白你现在就是不能任性乱来？你还不明白当你伤害自己的时候，你也是在伤害他？”

　 “No,” he says, shaking his head, gripping the side of the examining table with his right hand to try to remain upright. “No. I do this to myself so I won’t hurt him. I’m doing it to spare him.”

“不，”他说，摇着头，右手抓着诊疗台边缘，试图站直，“不。我对自己这样做，就不会伤害他了。我这么做是为了放过他。”