21

Coop 库珀鹰

1961

Hot wind rattled the palmetto fronds like small dry bones. For three days after giving up on Tate, Kya didn't get out of bed. Drugged by despair and heat, she tossed in clothes and sheets damp from sweat, her skin sticky. She sent her toes on missions to scout for cool spots between the sheets, but they found none.

炙热的风吹得蒲葵叶子嘎嘎作响，仿佛它们是又小又干的骨头。放弃等泰特后的三天，基娅没有起床。在绝望和高温的麻醉下，她穿着衣服在床上翻来覆去，衣服和床单被汗水浸湿了，皮肤也黏糊糊的。她试图用脚趾在床单之间寻找凉爽，但没找到。

She didn't note the time of moonrise or when a great horned owl took a diurnal dive at a blue jay. From bed, she heard the marsh beyond in the lifting of blackbird wings, but didn't go to it. She hurt from the crying songs of the gulls above the beach, calling to her. But for the first time in her life, did not go to them. She hoped the pain from ignoring them would displace the tear in her heart. It did not.

她没有注意月亮何时升起，或者大角鸮每日何时俯冲猎捕冠蓝鸦。躺在床上，她听到远处湿地里传来乌鸫振翅的声音，但没有起身。海鸥们在沙滩上空如泣如诉的歌声令她难过，它们呼唤着她，但人生中第一次，她没有去看它们。她希望不理会海鸥所带来的痛苦可以掩盖心里撕开的洞。然而并没有。

Listless, she wondered what she had done to send everyone away. Her own ma. Her sisters. Her whole family. Jodie. And now Tate. Her most poignant memories were unknown dates of family members disappearing down the lane. The last of a white scarf trailing through the leaves. A pile of socks left on a floor mattress.

在倦怠中，她想知道自己做了什么让所有人都离她而去。妈妈。姐妹。全家人。乔迪。现在是泰特。她最痛苦的回忆是，在那些她弄不清日期的日子里，家人一个个消失在小径上。叶子间飘扬的最后一抹白色围巾。地毯上留下的一堆袜子。

Tate and life and love had been the same thing. Now there was no Tate.

泰特意味着生命和爱。现在泰特不在了。

“Why, Tate, why?” She mumbled into the sheets, “You were supposed to be different. To stay. You said you loved me, but there is no such thing. There is no one on Earth you can count on.” From somewhere very deep, she made herself a promise never to trust or love anyone again.

“为什么，泰特，为什么？”她对着床单喃喃自语，“你应该是不同的。应该留下。你说你爱我，但没有这样的事。这世上没人可以依靠。”从心灵深处的某个地方，她对自己发誓，再也不会信任或爱上什么人。

She'd always found the muscle and heart to pull herself from the mire, to take the next step, no matter how shaky. But where had all that grit brought her? She drifted in and out of thin sleep.

她总是能找到爬出泥潭的力量和勇气，继续前进，无论脚步多么不稳。但她的勇气和决心又带给了她什么？她在浅眠和清醒之间徘徊。

Suddenly, the sun—full, bright, and glaring—struck her face. Never in her life had she slept until midday. She heard a soft rustling sound and, raising herself onto her elbows, saw a raven-sized Cooper's hawk standing on the other side of the screen door, peering in. For the first time in days, an interest stirred in her. She roused herself as the hawk took wing.

突然，太阳——圆满、明亮、耀眼的太阳——照到了她脸上。她从来没有一觉睡到中午过。她听到了一阵柔和的窸窣声，支肘抬起身子，看到一只乌鸦大小的库珀鹰站在纱门外，朝屋里看。几天以来，她第一次起了兴致。鹰起飞时她坐了起来。

Finally, she made a mush of hot water and grits and headed to the beach to feed the gulls. When she broke onto the beach, all of them swirled and dived in flurries, and she dropped to her knees and tossed the food on the sand. As they crowded around her, she felt their feathers brushing her arms and thighs, and threw her head back, smiling with them. Even as tears streamed her cheeks.

终于，她用热水拌了些粗玉米粉，到沙滩上喂海鸥。她走到沙滩，它们兴奋地盘旋，俯冲。她跪坐下来，把食物撒在沙子上。海鸥围挤在她身边，羽毛蹭着她的胳膊和大腿。她头向后仰，在它们中间微笑着，眼泪滚过脸颊。

FOR A MONTH AFTER JULY 4, Kya did not leave her place, did not go into the marsh or to Jumpin's for gas or supplies. She lived on dried fish, mussels, oysters. Grits and greens.

七月四日之后的一个月，基娅没有离开棚屋，没有进湿地，也没有去老跳那儿加油买补给品。她靠鱼干、贻贝、牡蛎活着。还有粗玉米粉和菜叶子。

When all her shelves were empty, she finally motored to Jumpin's for supplies but didn't chat with him as usual. Did her business and left him standing, staring after her. Needing people ended in hurt.

当架子全空了，她终于开船去老跳店里买补给，但没有像往常那样和他交谈，做完自己的事就离开了，留老跳站在那里，从后面看着她。需要别人最后会让自己受伤。

A few mornings later, the Cooper's hawk was back on her steps, peering at her through the screen. How odd, she thought, cocking her head at him. “Hey, Coop.”

几天后的一个早晨，库珀鹰又来到她的台阶上，透过纱门看她。多么古怪啊，她想，冲它点点头。“嘿，库珀。”

With a little hop, he lifted, made a flyby, then soared high into the clouds. Watching him, at last, Kya said to herself, “I have to get back into the marsh,” and she took the boat out, easing along the channels and slipstreams, searching for bird nests, feathers, or shells for the first time since Tate abandoned her. Even so, she couldn't avoid thoughts of him. The intellectual fascinations or the pretty girls of Chapel Hill had drawn him in. She couldn't imagine college women, but whatever form they took would be better than a tangled-haired, barefoot mussel-monger who lived in a shack.

它轻轻一跳，飞了起来，近地滑翔了一番后，陡然冲入云层。看着它，基娅告诉自己：“我必须回到湿地里。”她把船拖出来，沿着水道和滑流慢慢开，寻找鸟巢、羽毛和贝壳。自从泰特抛弃她，这是她第一次出来。尽管如此，她还是不可抑制地想到他。教堂山的知识殿堂或者漂亮女孩吸引了他。她无法想象大学里的女孩，但不论她们长得怎么样，都比一个乱发、赤脚、住在棚屋里的贻贝贩子要好。

By the end of August, her life once more found its footing: boat, collect, paint. Months passed. She only went to Jumpin's when low supplies demanded, but spoke very little to him.

八月末，她的生活再次找到了支点：船，收藏，画画。几个月过去了，她只在补给品不足的时候去老跳那儿，但很少和他说话。

Her collections matured, categorized methodically by order, genus, and species; by age according to bone wear; by size in millimeters of feathers; or by the most fragile hues of greens. The science and art entwined in each other's strengths: the colors, the light, the species, the life; weaving a masterpiece of knowledge and beauty that filled every corner of her shack. Her world. She grew with them—the trunk of the vine—alone, but holding all the wonders together.

她的藏品成熟了，分类很有条理：按次序或属种，按根据骨骼磨损程度判断的年龄，按羽毛毫米级别的差异，或者按最细致的绿色色调差异。科学与艺术凭借彼此的优势相互纠缠：颜色、光线、物种、生命，编织出了知识与美的杰作，布满了棚屋的每一个角落。她的世界。她与它们共生——犹如藤与枝干——独自成长，却聚集了所有奇迹。

But just as her collection grew, so did her loneliness. A pain as large as her heart lived in her chest. Nothing eased it. Not the gulls, not a splendid sunset, not the rarest of shells.

随着藏品的增加，她的孤独感也增加了。和心一样大的悲伤住在她的胸膛里。无药可解。海鸥不行，辉煌的落日不行，最稀有的贝壳也不行。

Months turned into a year.

一个月又一个月，一年过去了。

The lonely became larger than she could hold. She wished for someone's voice, presence, touch, but wished more to protect her heart.

孤独大得令她难以承受。她渴望一个人的声音、陪伴、触摸，但更希望守住自己的心。

Months passed into another year. Then another.

又一年过去了。然后是另一年。