非關日夜
是座標
移了兩個象限
我注定腦袋朝下
在機票上
我的身體已經劃位
我的行李順利托運
通過X光和山海關
我的護照終於起飛
這空中大巴士就是拒絕裝載
我茫然若失的靈魂
我在廻轉履帶上認了行李
擕帶自己出關入境
而我未歸的靈魂
尚在緲緲雲鄉
或是何處太平洋飛行啊
舉一大杯調配的咖啡因
招向烏何我的魂
宣示更新的晨昏規則
不容以時差的藉口
出走
奈何致命的時刻一到
我無法不能
戴上失魂的眼罩
沈睡他鄉
2010年3月23日 星期二
遺傳 [筆隨]
父親過世快六年，我的生活中卻還是隨處可見他的遺物，早先幾年的睹物悲情已漸淡薄，如今只是善加利用的心意。
生前的最後十幾年，父親在無一事緊要的退休並獨居狀態中，不知道有心或是無意，他開始收集中、日幾份報章、雜誌，閱讀重要新聞之後，分類剪貼、逐條摘錄，有時加上中、日文翻譯，整整齊齊地書寫在一張一張自己劃了橫線的紙上，依年度、月份放入一個一個牛皮紙袋；當我整理他的遺物時，搞清楚他的收集脈絡，依序裝入七、八個大紙箱。後來，在我自己幾次搬遷的過程，我逐漸放棄父親的這些新聞剪貼，以及手抄文字，只保留一箱父親使用過的什物，諸如指甲剪、針線盒、溫度計、陳年藥膏、整疊的信封信紙、皮夾、燈泡、印章、銅板、民國幾年幾年的行事曆，弟弟結婚的禮金簿、等等。另外一箱則滿滿全是另一面留白的父親手寫紙張，一年前，我開始利用這一面空白書寫我創作的草稿，每抽取一張使用之前，我總會快速瀏覽父親摘錄寫下的民國幾年如何如何的新聞事件。一旦我草稿完成，key進電腦存檔後，我便將這雙面都有字跡的紙張撕成小小碎片，丟進垃圾桶。父親的字體端正而秀美，每個字大小一致，標點正確分明，看似準備收藏；而我的手筆卻是潦草不堪，預期了拋棄的下場；遺憾的是，我也同時決定了父親這些筆跡的去處。
父親有一個omega的機械式手錶，每天都得為它上緊發條，它才不會越走越慢，甚至走不動；父親一向強調準時，每天早上起來，對時、上發條的動作不曾有誤，即使在他病入膏肓的最後階段，只要意識尚在，從不馬虎這件差事。父親走了以後，我保留了這個手錶，每天幫它上發條，戴在手腕上長達兩年，眼見它皮製的錶帶逐漸磨損，我決定讓它只是擺放在我的書桌上，每次看到，我就扭轉幾下發條，讓它一直準確地、一天一天安靜地走。有時我會回想父親很久很久以前曾經對我交待的事：講話不可以粗聲、嘴巴不可以張大、走路不可以拖泥帶水。父親的外表基本上就是這樣的特質，而我生來嘴巴小、聲音細，加上酷愛輕功，總是提腳走路，父親的上述家規對我從來就不是困擾。只是，除此之外，印象中父親似乎沒有更多的話說，長久以來，我聽到的就只有母親對一個家庭背叛者無盡的控訴。
在我保留的父親遺物箱中，當我看到他「在外面生下的」另外兩個孩子的證明文件時，我想到另一個家庭的缺憾，另一個女人的辛酸，不知道想來已經走遠的父親，是否可以放心。
Heritage
[Translated by Mu-Xuan Lin 林慕萱]
Almost six years after father passed away, still, I am surrounded by his belongings. The earlier grievous reminiscence caused by the sight of these articles had already ebbed. Now, out of my frugal nature, I collect and give them a second life.
After retirement, father lived by himself. Perhaps simply to put into use the leisurely days or perhaps for other reasons, father dedicated his last years to create an archive. He laboriously collected the important news from several Taiwanese and Japanese newspapers and magazines, meticulously wrote down the summary with translations on his own hand-printed ruled papers, and then filed them by date and year. When I took over his belongings, I carefully went through the archive and stored the papers accordingly in seven or eight large boxes. However, throughout several of my relocations, I let go bit by bit father’s newspaper archive and some of his pen calligraphy. The only surviving articles were in two boxes. One box consists of father’s mundane gadgets – nail clipper, sewing case, thermometer, aged medicine paste, stacks of stationary, wallet, light bulbs, stamps, coins, Min-Guo calendars, brother’s wedding album, and so on. Another box is full of father’s sketch papers. Since a year ago, I started to reuse these sketch papers each of which had father’s writing on one side. Every time I took a sheet of these second-hand sketch papers, I would quickly skim over father’s written record of the news past before I dipped my pen onto the blank side of the page. Once I finished writing and keyed in the contents to my computer, I then shredded and discarded into a trash bin the sketch papers which were by then scrawled over on both sides. Father’s penmanship was collectible, its symmetrical and graceful figures poising neatly on the page; mine, on the other hand, was scattering, straying, and fraying, and was meant for perpetual abandonment. Regrettably, while condemning my writing to the trash bin, I indubitably decided the fate for father’s beautiful ink traces.
Father owned a mechanical Omega watch. He had to wind the watch every single day to ensure its stable, ticking steps. Father treasured the time like gold, and he never neglected to wind the watch every morning in his life time. Even during his last days bedridden in the hospital, he would not forget to do this in his gradually reduced hours of conscious moments. After he left, I inherited the watch. I had wound and worn it every day for as long as two years, and finally stationed it on my desk when the leather belt wore out. Every time when I glanced over my work and saw it, I would repeat the ritual to make certain the watch continue ticking, precisely, light-footedly, day after day. Sometimes the ticking reminds me what father taught me a very long time ago, an old-fashioned mannerism that teaches one to speak softly, to open one’s mouth discreetly, and to walk lightly. Father bore just such deportment, and I was born with small mouth, tiny voice, and was fond of the delightful elfish walk resembling the practice of Qi-Kung, so I never had trouble obeying father’s preaching words. However, besides his words of mannerism, I seem not able to recall anything else father had said. Throughout the years, the only thing I have remembered and heard has been mother’s endless, publicly silenced, heart-wrenching accusation of a man who betrayed his family.
Among father’s belongings, I accidentally stumbled over the birth certificates of the two children he sired “by the other woman.” I couldn’t help but imagine the pain another woman endured, and the loss another family suffered. I wonder if my father, now far gone, can have peace of mind.
生前的最後十幾年，父親在無一事緊要的退休並獨居狀態中，不知道有心或是無意，他開始收集中、日幾份報章、雜誌，閱讀重要新聞之後，分類剪貼、逐條摘錄，有時加上中、日文翻譯，整整齊齊地書寫在一張一張自己劃了橫線的紙上，依年度、月份放入一個一個牛皮紙袋；當我整理他的遺物時，搞清楚他的收集脈絡，依序裝入七、八個大紙箱。後來，在我自己幾次搬遷的過程，我逐漸放棄父親的這些新聞剪貼，以及手抄文字，只保留一箱父親使用過的什物，諸如指甲剪、針線盒、溫度計、陳年藥膏、整疊的信封信紙、皮夾、燈泡、印章、銅板、民國幾年幾年的行事曆，弟弟結婚的禮金簿、等等。另外一箱則滿滿全是另一面留白的父親手寫紙張，一年前，我開始利用這一面空白書寫我創作的草稿，每抽取一張使用之前，我總會快速瀏覽父親摘錄寫下的民國幾年如何如何的新聞事件。一旦我草稿完成，key進電腦存檔後，我便將這雙面都有字跡的紙張撕成小小碎片，丟進垃圾桶。父親的字體端正而秀美，每個字大小一致，標點正確分明，看似準備收藏；而我的手筆卻是潦草不堪，預期了拋棄的下場；遺憾的是，我也同時決定了父親這些筆跡的去處。
父親有一個omega的機械式手錶，每天都得為它上緊發條，它才不會越走越慢，甚至走不動；父親一向強調準時，每天早上起來，對時、上發條的動作不曾有誤，即使在他病入膏肓的最後階段，只要意識尚在，從不馬虎這件差事。父親走了以後，我保留了這個手錶，每天幫它上發條，戴在手腕上長達兩年，眼見它皮製的錶帶逐漸磨損，我決定讓它只是擺放在我的書桌上，每次看到，我就扭轉幾下發條，讓它一直準確地、一天一天安靜地走。有時我會回想父親很久很久以前曾經對我交待的事：講話不可以粗聲、嘴巴不可以張大、走路不可以拖泥帶水。父親的外表基本上就是這樣的特質，而我生來嘴巴小、聲音細，加上酷愛輕功，總是提腳走路，父親的上述家規對我從來就不是困擾。只是，除此之外，印象中父親似乎沒有更多的話說，長久以來，我聽到的就只有母親對一個家庭背叛者無盡的控訴。
在我保留的父親遺物箱中，當我看到他「在外面生下的」另外兩個孩子的證明文件時，我想到另一個家庭的缺憾，另一個女人的辛酸，不知道想來已經走遠的父親，是否可以放心。
Heritage
[Translated by Mu-Xuan Lin 林慕萱]
Almost six years after father passed away, still, I am surrounded by his belongings. The earlier grievous reminiscence caused by the sight of these articles had already ebbed. Now, out of my frugal nature, I collect and give them a second life.
After retirement, father lived by himself. Perhaps simply to put into use the leisurely days or perhaps for other reasons, father dedicated his last years to create an archive. He laboriously collected the important news from several Taiwanese and Japanese newspapers and magazines, meticulously wrote down the summary with translations on his own hand-printed ruled papers, and then filed them by date and year. When I took over his belongings, I carefully went through the archive and stored the papers accordingly in seven or eight large boxes. However, throughout several of my relocations, I let go bit by bit father’s newspaper archive and some of his pen calligraphy. The only surviving articles were in two boxes. One box consists of father’s mundane gadgets – nail clipper, sewing case, thermometer, aged medicine paste, stacks of stationary, wallet, light bulbs, stamps, coins, Min-Guo calendars, brother’s wedding album, and so on. Another box is full of father’s sketch papers. Since a year ago, I started to reuse these sketch papers each of which had father’s writing on one side. Every time I took a sheet of these second-hand sketch papers, I would quickly skim over father’s written record of the news past before I dipped my pen onto the blank side of the page. Once I finished writing and keyed in the contents to my computer, I then shredded and discarded into a trash bin the sketch papers which were by then scrawled over on both sides. Father’s penmanship was collectible, its symmetrical and graceful figures poising neatly on the page; mine, on the other hand, was scattering, straying, and fraying, and was meant for perpetual abandonment. Regrettably, while condemning my writing to the trash bin, I indubitably decided the fate for father’s beautiful ink traces.
Father owned a mechanical Omega watch. He had to wind the watch every single day to ensure its stable, ticking steps. Father treasured the time like gold, and he never neglected to wind the watch every morning in his life time. Even during his last days bedridden in the hospital, he would not forget to do this in his gradually reduced hours of conscious moments. After he left, I inherited the watch. I had wound and worn it every day for as long as two years, and finally stationed it on my desk when the leather belt wore out. Every time when I glanced over my work and saw it, I would repeat the ritual to make certain the watch continue ticking, precisely, light-footedly, day after day. Sometimes the ticking reminds me what father taught me a very long time ago, an old-fashioned mannerism that teaches one to speak softly, to open one’s mouth discreetly, and to walk lightly. Father bore just such deportment, and I was born with small mouth, tiny voice, and was fond of the delightful elfish walk resembling the practice of Qi-Kung, so I never had trouble obeying father’s preaching words. However, besides his words of mannerism, I seem not able to recall anything else father had said. Throughout the years, the only thing I have remembered and heard has been mother’s endless, publicly silenced, heart-wrenching accusation of a man who betrayed his family.
Among father’s belongings, I accidentally stumbled over the birth certificates of the two children he sired “by the other woman.” I couldn’t help but imagine the pain another woman endured, and the loss another family suffered. I wonder if my father, now far gone, can have peace of mind.
母語 [遇見]
最近一趟訪美的旅程，在來回的飛行途中，我各遇見一位女士，等待轉機時，我和她們都有長時間的交談。這兩位女士有極多相似點：大學畢業後從台灣赴美深造；嫁給一位以英語為母語的男人；結婚後定居美國已經超過二十年；此時家中都有十幾歲的小大人；面對青少年的孩子，除了一般家庭的教養問題外，也同時為下一代的華文母語學習感到無助和沮喪。
由一個母親傳遞一種母語，似乎天經地義，捨我其誰？這似乎是這兩位母親在母語的教育上不可避免的承擔。而由於她們配偶的母語直接就是生活環境中使用的英語，註定他們很難設身處地，站在同一陣線，分擔孩子華文學習的責任與壓力。家庭中既然條件不足，氣氛不夠，所幸美國的華文學校到處都有，既有祖國政府的補助，海外有識之士又大力支持，很多華僑父母便利用假日送孩子到華語學校耳濡目染一天半日，希望可以啟動孩子對母語，甚至於母文化的臍帶意識。事實永遠難盡人意。語言的學習肯定是一門不進則退的功課，平日不能派上用場的語言又如何精進？一個假日好不容易醞釀的語感很快就消失殆盡，剩下身為母親很不實際的堅持，企圖把一個越來越大越自主的孩子帶進一種始終搞不懂、用不上的語言中，一個母親獨扛母語的大纛實在力有未逮。
我們可否退一步面對我們真正的處境。有一次，跟一位來自義大利的美國大學教授談到離開故國的話題，他以濃厚的家鄉口音卻相當流暢自在的英文說：我的妻子、孩子全在這裡，我們在這裡生活，一切完美極了。事實上，他每年幾乎定期地回去歐洲，做研究、拜訪親友，他的義大利話也許開始夾帶英文的種種慣用語。如同這兩位女士，總會抽空回台灣參加同學會，看望親人，回味土產，而在我們的交談之間，她們不能避免地常常脫口而出連串的英文，縱然鄉音可辨。遙想當年負笈他鄉，共能擕帶多少原生的土壤和養料？如今還剩餘多少記憶中的情味？也許長輩殷殷期待，叮嚀再三，千萬不能忘本，而母語的傳承成了最直接的交待。問題是「一齊人傅之，眾楚人咻之，雖日撻而求其齊也，不可得矣。」孟子都說了，找一個人教講齊語，卻有一堆人在身邊使用楚語，如此要學會齊國話是不可能的事。我也說，人往海中撈捕山珍，或到山裡尋找海味，都是緣木求魚，自苦自惱罷了。
在機場先後與這兩位母親互道珍重之際，我向她們提出我的一個想法：不妨把中文母語視作孩子的一種外國語言，大量收集華文電影、歌曲、暢銷書，所有流行文化的媒材，就像我們此地的孩子看多了好萊塢電影、聽慣了西洋流行音樂、熟悉很多西方的種種，長期以來，你看，我們全民瘋狂地學習英文。不過是環境到位，條件俱足罷了！
由一個母親傳遞一種母語，似乎天經地義，捨我其誰？這似乎是這兩位母親在母語的教育上不可避免的承擔。而由於她們配偶的母語直接就是生活環境中使用的英語，註定他們很難設身處地，站在同一陣線，分擔孩子華文學習的責任與壓力。家庭中既然條件不足，氣氛不夠，所幸美國的華文學校到處都有，既有祖國政府的補助，海外有識之士又大力支持，很多華僑父母便利用假日送孩子到華語學校耳濡目染一天半日，希望可以啟動孩子對母語，甚至於母文化的臍帶意識。事實永遠難盡人意。語言的學習肯定是一門不進則退的功課，平日不能派上用場的語言又如何精進？一個假日好不容易醞釀的語感很快就消失殆盡，剩下身為母親很不實際的堅持，企圖把一個越來越大越自主的孩子帶進一種始終搞不懂、用不上的語言中，一個母親獨扛母語的大纛實在力有未逮。
我們可否退一步面對我們真正的處境。有一次，跟一位來自義大利的美國大學教授談到離開故國的話題，他以濃厚的家鄉口音卻相當流暢自在的英文說：我的妻子、孩子全在這裡，我們在這裡生活，一切完美極了。事實上，他每年幾乎定期地回去歐洲，做研究、拜訪親友，他的義大利話也許開始夾帶英文的種種慣用語。如同這兩位女士，總會抽空回台灣參加同學會，看望親人，回味土產，而在我們的交談之間，她們不能避免地常常脫口而出連串的英文，縱然鄉音可辨。遙想當年負笈他鄉，共能擕帶多少原生的土壤和養料？如今還剩餘多少記憶中的情味？也許長輩殷殷期待，叮嚀再三，千萬不能忘本，而母語的傳承成了最直接的交待。問題是「一齊人傅之，眾楚人咻之，雖日撻而求其齊也，不可得矣。」孟子都說了，找一個人教講齊語，卻有一堆人在身邊使用楚語，如此要學會齊國話是不可能的事。我也說，人往海中撈捕山珍，或到山裡尋找海味，都是緣木求魚，自苦自惱罷了。
在機場先後與這兩位母親互道珍重之際，我向她們提出我的一個想法：不妨把中文母語視作孩子的一種外國語言，大量收集華文電影、歌曲、暢銷書，所有流行文化的媒材，就像我們此地的孩子看多了好萊塢電影、聽慣了西洋流行音樂、熟悉很多西方的種種，長期以來，你看，我們全民瘋狂地學習英文。不過是環境到位，條件俱足罷了！
2010年3月16日 星期二
在孩子的所在 [筆隨]
早春的芽苞
台北深冬的一個早晨我離開家門，懷抱著一件龐大的雪衣，手上緊捏著我的護照和機票，開始一個白日加上一個黑夜的距離的旅程。我的車子在高速公路上奔馳，我進到了機場裡排隊，我搭上了飛機在雲間飛行；然後，我抵達下一個機場，又是等待，又是飛行；緊接著，我又在另一個機場排隊等待，在另一個機艙中飛行。終於，我在波士頓的Logan機場看到等待中的我的孩子，他們以熱情而穩健的臂膀擁抱我，扶持著裹著一團冬衣的我走進一場冰雪剛過，已經入夜的城市。於是，我在這個城市孩子的所在和他們一起生活。他們帶我去購買食物，問我想吃什麼，然後他們俐落地付了帳；他們帶我出席各種社交場合，介紹他們的媽媽給所有的朋友和工作伙伴，讓我跟很多不同的人握手、交談；他們帶我拜訪這個城市，指點我如何在這個陌生而寒冷的地方，方便而順暢地移動，並找到安靜自在的溫暖角落；他們預先買好了票，帶我參觀美術館，欣賞各種藝術表演，並解釋這些畫作和表演的來歷；他們不僅在我身體欠安的時候，替我做了如何治療的決定，把我的身體照顧妥當，還懇切地鼓勵我及時自我完成。我在孩子的所在，享受一種像孩子一般的幸福。
如今，我行將歸去，波士頓下雪的季節似乎也到了尾聲，到處可以看到樹上早春的芽苞愉快地綻放。我決定在回家的旅程中把這件龐大的冬衣打包進托運的行李箱，當我和孩子在機場擁別後，我將可以輕爽地離開我的孩子的所在。
乖舛 [遇見]
如果人間有所謂乖舛的命運，黃雲的遭遇正是我最難忘的一個故事。黃雲是我大學時代交往最深的一個同學，頂著一頭焦黃而蓬鬆的亂髮，睜著大而微凹的眼睛，個子適中，皮膚略暗，似乎終年穿著深色長褲和低跟涼鞋，走路專注而輕快，特別習慣轉身就走人的動作。每當她笑開的時候，大大的臉上帶有幾分細膩的味道，似乎畏怯中依然可以理直氣壯。約在大二那一年，基於一個我不曾探究的原因，一向在校園中神出鬼沒的黃雲前來表示對我這號獨來獨往的同學欣賞之意，如此坦率的開場模式使我們的交往跨過社交試探與身家了解，直接以本身的想法和感覺真實互動。在那個一切都正開展的無畏青春裡，多少放任的思緒，時時浮動的心情，使我們的談話從校園的漫步延伸到回家的途中，從一個冬天到另一個寒冷的季節。再多的對話都不曾使我們彼此厭倦，尤其是互相吐露，甚至剖析我們各自的第一場戀愛事件。
如今我早已糢糊我那一段有點莫名其妙，不確定是否真的發生過的故事，但我絕對忘不了屬於黃雲的一場早熟的愛情。三十多年前，一個高中女生的戀愛事件該是多麼騷動人心，何況發生在校園內，師生之間，這樣的遭遇註定是難以言說、不被祝福；但是黃雲心中寄盼有一天不再是師生關係時，愛情可以就是愛情。於是當她卸下制服，面對新鮮的歲月，心中真是一片美麗的憧憬。並不意外但頗為戲劇性的是，這個年長而多心的男人，或者出於真愛，也或者基於酸性的浪漫，他乃提議兩人在一年中不要見面，讓年輕的黃雲擁有其他交往的機會；可憐的是，對年輕而純篤的黃雲來說，這不啻是一場考驗。為了表白，她保持獨行，為了等待，甚至比獨行更隔絕。一年過去，沒有雲散天開的重逢，沒有愛情彌堅的相許，黃雲沒有等到任何堅持之後的歡喜，卻開始在夜歸的巷口恍見伊人的身影，在接起的電話中感覺到他雖然沈默卻強烈的聲息，這些不時出現在她左右的觸動，持續躲藏在黃雲漸漸熟悉的角落，以一段不知如何縮減的距離，牽連她每一縷心思。黃雲甚至開始在每一個轉彎處看見模糊，期待每次電話鈴響後的無聲。我和黃雲說不完的話中，很大部分是在分享、解析所有黃雲描述的細節，並為一個曲折、複雜的愛情而迷惑。漸漸地，我開始因不解而生出疑問，甚至不耐。當年我也許不懂愛情，但我絕對知道什麼叫折磨。黃雲不自覺的苦笑，亂髮時時遮掩的淚頰，對一個越來越模糊的影子的期待與描繪，甚至開始無端自責。我告訴自己該為她去釐清那個我不能理解，也不曾見識的愛情。
我終究什麼都沒有做，好像是因為害怕。黃雲常常提及的另一個話題其實更令我沉重。她告訴我她的母親幾年前車禍死亡，而不幸肇因於她母親的神志不清，無能照顧自己；姐姐則在高中女校未及畢業時，精神陷入錯亂，生活必須特別關照的情況下，她的兄長做了決定，把尚在青春卻無能自主的姐姐嫁給一個上了年紀的退役軍人，以此了事。當黃雲有時幾天不到校，竟然也是出於她的兄長的主意時，我半出於不平，半由於年輕，不容自己坐視。於是，有一天下午，我循著黃雲的指示，找到台北一處老社區的一間公寓，我是如何步上午後陰暗的樓梯，究竟哪個樓層，又是如何進到一間除了暗紅色大沙發之外我全無印象的屋子，所有這一次行動的過程，在過去的幾十年中，我的腦海始終一片模糊、恍惚，甚至不能確定是否曾有過這一趟探訪。可我卻分明記得黃雲的兄長，一個身體僵直，中等高度，表情簡單到沒有的男人，當他似乎微笑向我致意，說了幾句好像明白我的來意的話，之後，我只記得那是一個忘了是冷是熱的下午，我在一條很不熟悉的馬路邊尋找回家的公車。
大三那一年，我在自己的學問上用心較多，看到黃雲的機會減少，幾次在課堂上遇到，直覺得她有意避我，我百般不解，感到沮喪。有一天，黃雲毅然決然似地走到我面前，滿頭蓬鬆的髮掩住她低垂的大半臉頰，說了一句我至今不解但總是自責的話：我和你在一起會受你影響，所以我要離開你。當她旋即轉身離去時，我揣想她已經準備好邁向她遲來的生命中的新鮮歲月。我有些失落，但有些歡喜。豈料再聽到黃雲的消息時，竟全是一些令人納悶的事，諸如她在宿舍收取別人家的衣服，她連連缺課，她在某處遊蕩，她行徑怪異等等。我的心直直往下沈，我不能容許自己晾在一旁，可是黃雲的事件已經轉到校方，黃雲很快就從學校消失了，同學間謠傳著黃雲的精神如何錯亂種種。我想到那張暗紅色大沙發之外的那個屋子，似乎聽到不斷鈴響的無聲來電，在我不明所以的世界裡無助地?盪。我告訴自己，我必須再找到黃雲，在她的兄長決定一切之前。
呵！我懦弱的青春啊！我終究不曾再走上那道陰暗的樓階。直到大學畢業後半年，我從執教的異地回到台北，在一種我已成年的勇氣趨使下，我撥了黃雲的電話，聽到她的兄長回應的聲音，沈默片刻後，黃雲接了話筒，當她知道我要請她吃她最愛的牛肉麵時，她高興地笑了出來。一個小時後我在冬天的台北火車站前見到我熟悉的黃雲，同樣的深色長褲和低跟涼鞋。當她低著頭，全心全意吃著麵時，透過她披散的焦黃的亂髮，我看到她面頰上的巴掌痕跡，脖頸間刮破的傷疤，我的喉頭實實哽住。當一碗牛肉麵吃得滴汁不剩後，黃雲抬頭看著我面前碗中剩餘的食物，用請求的眼光問我，我微微示意，她旋即愉快地端過這碗，很快地吃得乾乾淨淨。最後，黃雲看著我片刻，既無感傷，也無期待，撩了一下亂髮，她轉身匆匆離開。
三十年來，我一直等待有一天，我是不是能有足夠的勇氣再去探訪這個命運乖舛的女孩。
如今我早已糢糊我那一段有點莫名其妙，不確定是否真的發生過的故事，但我絕對忘不了屬於黃雲的一場早熟的愛情。三十多年前，一個高中女生的戀愛事件該是多麼騷動人心，何況發生在校園內，師生之間，這樣的遭遇註定是難以言說、不被祝福；但是黃雲心中寄盼有一天不再是師生關係時，愛情可以就是愛情。於是當她卸下制服，面對新鮮的歲月，心中真是一片美麗的憧憬。並不意外但頗為戲劇性的是，這個年長而多心的男人，或者出於真愛，也或者基於酸性的浪漫，他乃提議兩人在一年中不要見面，讓年輕的黃雲擁有其他交往的機會；可憐的是，對年輕而純篤的黃雲來說，這不啻是一場考驗。為了表白，她保持獨行，為了等待，甚至比獨行更隔絕。一年過去，沒有雲散天開的重逢，沒有愛情彌堅的相許，黃雲沒有等到任何堅持之後的歡喜，卻開始在夜歸的巷口恍見伊人的身影，在接起的電話中感覺到他雖然沈默卻強烈的聲息，這些不時出現在她左右的觸動，持續躲藏在黃雲漸漸熟悉的角落，以一段不知如何縮減的距離，牽連她每一縷心思。黃雲甚至開始在每一個轉彎處看見模糊，期待每次電話鈴響後的無聲。我和黃雲說不完的話中，很大部分是在分享、解析所有黃雲描述的細節，並為一個曲折、複雜的愛情而迷惑。漸漸地，我開始因不解而生出疑問，甚至不耐。當年我也許不懂愛情，但我絕對知道什麼叫折磨。黃雲不自覺的苦笑，亂髮時時遮掩的淚頰，對一個越來越模糊的影子的期待與描繪，甚至開始無端自責。我告訴自己該為她去釐清那個我不能理解，也不曾見識的愛情。
我終究什麼都沒有做，好像是因為害怕。黃雲常常提及的另一個話題其實更令我沉重。她告訴我她的母親幾年前車禍死亡，而不幸肇因於她母親的神志不清，無能照顧自己；姐姐則在高中女校未及畢業時，精神陷入錯亂，生活必須特別關照的情況下，她的兄長做了決定，把尚在青春卻無能自主的姐姐嫁給一個上了年紀的退役軍人，以此了事。當黃雲有時幾天不到校，竟然也是出於她的兄長的主意時，我半出於不平，半由於年輕，不容自己坐視。於是，有一天下午，我循著黃雲的指示，找到台北一處老社區的一間公寓，我是如何步上午後陰暗的樓梯，究竟哪個樓層，又是如何進到一間除了暗紅色大沙發之外我全無印象的屋子，所有這一次行動的過程，在過去的幾十年中，我的腦海始終一片模糊、恍惚，甚至不能確定是否曾有過這一趟探訪。可我卻分明記得黃雲的兄長，一個身體僵直，中等高度，表情簡單到沒有的男人，當他似乎微笑向我致意，說了幾句好像明白我的來意的話，之後，我只記得那是一個忘了是冷是熱的下午，我在一條很不熟悉的馬路邊尋找回家的公車。
大三那一年，我在自己的學問上用心較多，看到黃雲的機會減少，幾次在課堂上遇到，直覺得她有意避我，我百般不解，感到沮喪。有一天，黃雲毅然決然似地走到我面前，滿頭蓬鬆的髮掩住她低垂的大半臉頰，說了一句我至今不解但總是自責的話：我和你在一起會受你影響，所以我要離開你。當她旋即轉身離去時，我揣想她已經準備好邁向她遲來的生命中的新鮮歲月。我有些失落，但有些歡喜。豈料再聽到黃雲的消息時，竟全是一些令人納悶的事，諸如她在宿舍收取別人家的衣服，她連連缺課，她在某處遊蕩，她行徑怪異等等。我的心直直往下沈，我不能容許自己晾在一旁，可是黃雲的事件已經轉到校方，黃雲很快就從學校消失了，同學間謠傳著黃雲的精神如何錯亂種種。我想到那張暗紅色大沙發之外的那個屋子，似乎聽到不斷鈴響的無聲來電，在我不明所以的世界裡無助地?盪。我告訴自己，我必須再找到黃雲，在她的兄長決定一切之前。
呵！我懦弱的青春啊！我終究不曾再走上那道陰暗的樓階。直到大學畢業後半年，我從執教的異地回到台北，在一種我已成年的勇氣趨使下，我撥了黃雲的電話，聽到她的兄長回應的聲音，沈默片刻後，黃雲接了話筒，當她知道我要請她吃她最愛的牛肉麵時，她高興地笑了出來。一個小時後我在冬天的台北火車站前見到我熟悉的黃雲，同樣的深色長褲和低跟涼鞋。當她低著頭，全心全意吃著麵時，透過她披散的焦黃的亂髮，我看到她面頰上的巴掌痕跡，脖頸間刮破的傷疤，我的喉頭實實哽住。當一碗牛肉麵吃得滴汁不剩後，黃雲抬頭看著我面前碗中剩餘的食物，用請求的眼光問我，我微微示意，她旋即愉快地端過這碗，很快地吃得乾乾淨淨。最後，黃雲看著我片刻，既無感傷，也無期待，撩了一下亂髮，她轉身匆匆離開。
三十年來，我一直等待有一天，我是不是能有足夠的勇氣再去探訪這個命運乖舛的女孩。
2010年3月11日 星期四
我在波士頓星巴克 [遇見]
因為一場午約，我在波士頓地鐵綠線的 Boylston 站下車，走出地鐵，走進位於 Tremont 和 Boylston 兩條路交叉轉角的星巴克，買了一杯咖啡，在一張小圓桌旁，我把厚重的大衣置放在另一把椅子上，於是坐著等著，看著玻璃門外近午的人潮。
不久，厚重的玻璃門被使力地打開，一個被厚重衣物包裹得密密實實，顯得臃腫的老人勉強塞了進來，直接走到放置糖包、奶精等等的櫃台前，抓起一疊紙巾，轉身走到我的桌旁，撥掉我擺放椅背的大衣，一屁股坐到清空的椅子上。虧我眼明手快，趕緊撿起我滑落的大衣，準備用我憤怒的眼神抗議一番，但一看這張包在帽巾中的臉，只露出一雙凍滯的眼眸，和一個紅腫的鼻子，猛吸、猛擦。我不覺收回了視線，用兩眼餘光注意著，這老人只是坐著擦著鼻子。約莫幾分鐘後，握著那疊紙巾，她起身走到門邊，奮力推開厚重的玻璃門，走進零下的波士頓，煦來人往的街道。我目送她被吹起的衣裾，感到一種寒意。
星巴克熱氣氤氳的櫃台，一杯一杯的熱飲被帶走。玻璃門打開後，總會自動沈沈關上。突然，一股不斷襲入的寒風引起了我的注意，我從我閱讀的書頁中抬起頭來，目睹一個骨架龐大，衣衫短絀而零亂的黑人，一手拖曳著兩根柺杖，另一隻手拎著一包塑膠袋，歪歪斜斜地用瘦削的身軀擠開玻璃門，一跛一晃地走到點餐的櫃台，而櫃台人員若無其事，眼見他熟練地從一疊倒放的空杯子中拿了一個，轉身又一晃一跛地走到門邊，企圖再用他顯得單薄的身體推開玻璃門，他先用臂膀試一試，不行，再用背部頂一頂，眼見無效，只好用他整個身體推擠，而門依然紋風不動，這個男人決定先把柺杖靠在門邊，把塑膠袋挾在腋下，將兩隻手連同手肘放在門上，加上額頭貼著，猛一使力，整扇玻璃門頓時洞開，他急忙抓起他的柺杖，連同身體，踉蹌而出。我很想知道，那個他帶走的空杯子是否會裝入一些溫暖的東西，讓他力足以打開下一扇門。
午約時候已近，我不自覺地把兩眼盯在門上，注意每一個出現在門口的人，看到一個中年左右的亞洲人瑟縮著身子，一進門來便直接走到我的身旁，先用英語問我會不會講廣東話，或普通話，我帶著防衛性的世故用英文回答他：我不會講廣東話。他隨即以廣東腔的普通話，夾雜幾個英文字彙，急促而含糊地說了一番類似訪友不遇的話，總之，他身無分文，希望我給他一些錢，也許拿去吃頓飯之類。可憐我們生在一個欺騙當道的世界，身處異鄉，面對一個全然陌生而唐突的傢伙，我如何可能掏出我那不濟的腰包？但是他因寒冷抖顫的兩手，因低溫凍紫的雙唇，實在叫我好生為難，於是把這幾天購物的找零通通掏出來放到他的手上，他顯然很失望，但還是握住這些銅板，馬上轉身出去。我當下低頭回到我的書頁，不希望看到他往何處去。
午後的星巴克，玻璃門被俐落地打開、關上，修長的大衣、帥氣的皮靴走進、走出，波士頓的街上到處飄著巧克力和咖啡的熱香，好像這世界從來就是這樣。
Encounters in a Boston StarBucks
[Translated by Huai-Ti Lin 林懷玓]
For a meet-up, I walked out of the Boylston subway station and into the StarBucks at the intersection of Tremont St. and Boylston St. After getting a cup of regular coffee with milk (tall) I sat down at a round coffee table and dropped my winter coat in the other chair. I waited, watching the lunch break movements of all those business people beyond the glass door.
Soon, the heavy glass door swung open. In squeezed a heavily wrapped old woman who seemed to have trouble just fitting herself and her multiple layers of cheap clothing through the door. She went directly to the counter with sugar/cream, and grabbed a handful of paper napkins. Then, she came straight to my table and shuffled my coat off the chair to take the chair. I was quick to catch my coat. As a revenge, I prepared to gave her a furious look. However, as I met her frozen face with a blank look and a red nose, I unconsciously aborted my protest. I lowered my head and used my peripheral vision to observe her. She kept blowing her nose for a few minutes. Then she walked up to the door with that stack of StarBucks paper napkins, trying through the door with much effort into the frozen Boston. I stared at her fluttering hem until it disappeared into the crowd. Such chills inside.
At the steamy StarBucks counter, hot drinks were taken away cups after cups. The glass door always knew how to shut itself with a heavy thump. Suddenly such routine was interrupted by a tall elderly black man who didn’t realize how much cold air he had let in. His clothes were ragged and messy. He hobbled in with a pair of crutches and a plastic bag, leaning on the door in the mean time. Slowly and wobbly, he walked up to the counter. Then I saw him take a paper cup as if he has done that a thousand times. Nobody seemed to take notice, even the people behind the counter, as he headed back to the door. This time, against the February wind on the other side, he attempted to push the glass door open to no avail. Try the shoulder… no, it didn’t work. Now try the whole back… still not moving. So he decided to put down his crutches by the door and the plastic bag in his armpit. This old man placed both of his elbows and his forehead on the glass door. Push!! The door suddenly swung wide open, but within a blink it’s already on its way back to the closing state. With a little panic this poor man picked up both of his crutches and scrambled back into the cold. I couldn’t help but wonder: whether that StarBucks cup he laboriously obtained would hold anything hot later on to allow him open the next door he encountered.
My appointment approached, so my eyes began to linger around this very door even more, noticing every person appearing at the door. I saw an Asian in his middle age creeping into the shop. Unexpectedly, he came up to me directly and asked me if I spoke Cantonese or Mandarin. I responded with some caution in English that I didn’t speak Cantonese. The man lapsed into Mandarin with a very heavy Cantonese accent, using some English vocabulary once so often. Urgently yet vaguely, he expressed something like missing his friends and contacts in Boston. In any case, he had no money and wished that I could give him some, perhaps for a meal. Unfortunately, while there are so many frauds, how could I pull out my thin purse? However, his frozen hands and purple lips really made me feel bad. Therefore I took out all the changes I got from shopping these few days and put them into his hands. Evidently, he was quite disappointed, but he still held on to the coins and turned around for the door. I dropped my head back down to my books, hoping not to see where he was heading…
StarBucks in the afternoon, the glass door opened and shut promptly with energy and excitement. The long peacoats and leather boots flushed in and out. On the streets of Boston, there is aroma of hot cocoa and coffee, as if the world has always been like this.
不久，厚重的玻璃門被使力地打開，一個被厚重衣物包裹得密密實實，顯得臃腫的老人勉強塞了進來，直接走到放置糖包、奶精等等的櫃台前，抓起一疊紙巾，轉身走到我的桌旁，撥掉我擺放椅背的大衣，一屁股坐到清空的椅子上。虧我眼明手快，趕緊撿起我滑落的大衣，準備用我憤怒的眼神抗議一番，但一看這張包在帽巾中的臉，只露出一雙凍滯的眼眸，和一個紅腫的鼻子，猛吸、猛擦。我不覺收回了視線，用兩眼餘光注意著，這老人只是坐著擦著鼻子。約莫幾分鐘後，握著那疊紙巾，她起身走到門邊，奮力推開厚重的玻璃門，走進零下的波士頓，煦來人往的街道。我目送她被吹起的衣裾，感到一種寒意。
星巴克熱氣氤氳的櫃台，一杯一杯的熱飲被帶走。玻璃門打開後，總會自動沈沈關上。突然，一股不斷襲入的寒風引起了我的注意，我從我閱讀的書頁中抬起頭來，目睹一個骨架龐大，衣衫短絀而零亂的黑人，一手拖曳著兩根柺杖，另一隻手拎著一包塑膠袋，歪歪斜斜地用瘦削的身軀擠開玻璃門，一跛一晃地走到點餐的櫃台，而櫃台人員若無其事，眼見他熟練地從一疊倒放的空杯子中拿了一個，轉身又一晃一跛地走到門邊，企圖再用他顯得單薄的身體推開玻璃門，他先用臂膀試一試，不行，再用背部頂一頂，眼見無效，只好用他整個身體推擠，而門依然紋風不動，這個男人決定先把柺杖靠在門邊，把塑膠袋挾在腋下，將兩隻手連同手肘放在門上，加上額頭貼著，猛一使力，整扇玻璃門頓時洞開，他急忙抓起他的柺杖，連同身體，踉蹌而出。我很想知道，那個他帶走的空杯子是否會裝入一些溫暖的東西，讓他力足以打開下一扇門。
午約時候已近，我不自覺地把兩眼盯在門上，注意每一個出現在門口的人，看到一個中年左右的亞洲人瑟縮著身子，一進門來便直接走到我的身旁，先用英語問我會不會講廣東話，或普通話，我帶著防衛性的世故用英文回答他：我不會講廣東話。他隨即以廣東腔的普通話，夾雜幾個英文字彙，急促而含糊地說了一番類似訪友不遇的話，總之，他身無分文，希望我給他一些錢，也許拿去吃頓飯之類。可憐我們生在一個欺騙當道的世界，身處異鄉，面對一個全然陌生而唐突的傢伙，我如何可能掏出我那不濟的腰包？但是他因寒冷抖顫的兩手，因低溫凍紫的雙唇，實在叫我好生為難，於是把這幾天購物的找零通通掏出來放到他的手上，他顯然很失望，但還是握住這些銅板，馬上轉身出去。我當下低頭回到我的書頁，不希望看到他往何處去。
午後的星巴克，玻璃門被俐落地打開、關上，修長的大衣、帥氣的皮靴走進、走出，波士頓的街上到處飄著巧克力和咖啡的熱香，好像這世界從來就是這樣。
Encounters in a Boston StarBucks
[Translated by Huai-Ti Lin 林懷玓]
For a meet-up, I walked out of the Boylston subway station and into the StarBucks at the intersection of Tremont St. and Boylston St. After getting a cup of regular coffee with milk (tall) I sat down at a round coffee table and dropped my winter coat in the other chair. I waited, watching the lunch break movements of all those business people beyond the glass door.
Soon, the heavy glass door swung open. In squeezed a heavily wrapped old woman who seemed to have trouble just fitting herself and her multiple layers of cheap clothing through the door. She went directly to the counter with sugar/cream, and grabbed a handful of paper napkins. Then, she came straight to my table and shuffled my coat off the chair to take the chair. I was quick to catch my coat. As a revenge, I prepared to gave her a furious look. However, as I met her frozen face with a blank look and a red nose, I unconsciously aborted my protest. I lowered my head and used my peripheral vision to observe her. She kept blowing her nose for a few minutes. Then she walked up to the door with that stack of StarBucks paper napkins, trying through the door with much effort into the frozen Boston. I stared at her fluttering hem until it disappeared into the crowd. Such chills inside.
At the steamy StarBucks counter, hot drinks were taken away cups after cups. The glass door always knew how to shut itself with a heavy thump. Suddenly such routine was interrupted by a tall elderly black man who didn’t realize how much cold air he had let in. His clothes were ragged and messy. He hobbled in with a pair of crutches and a plastic bag, leaning on the door in the mean time. Slowly and wobbly, he walked up to the counter. Then I saw him take a paper cup as if he has done that a thousand times. Nobody seemed to take notice, even the people behind the counter, as he headed back to the door. This time, against the February wind on the other side, he attempted to push the glass door open to no avail. Try the shoulder… no, it didn’t work. Now try the whole back… still not moving. So he decided to put down his crutches by the door and the plastic bag in his armpit. This old man placed both of his elbows and his forehead on the glass door. Push!! The door suddenly swung wide open, but within a blink it’s already on its way back to the closing state. With a little panic this poor man picked up both of his crutches and scrambled back into the cold. I couldn’t help but wonder: whether that StarBucks cup he laboriously obtained would hold anything hot later on to allow him open the next door he encountered.
My appointment approached, so my eyes began to linger around this very door even more, noticing every person appearing at the door. I saw an Asian in his middle age creeping into the shop. Unexpectedly, he came up to me directly and asked me if I spoke Cantonese or Mandarin. I responded with some caution in English that I didn’t speak Cantonese. The man lapsed into Mandarin with a very heavy Cantonese accent, using some English vocabulary once so often. Urgently yet vaguely, he expressed something like missing his friends and contacts in Boston. In any case, he had no money and wished that I could give him some, perhaps for a meal. Unfortunately, while there are so many frauds, how could I pull out my thin purse? However, his frozen hands and purple lips really made me feel bad. Therefore I took out all the changes I got from shopping these few days and put them into his hands. Evidently, he was quite disappointed, but he still held on to the coins and turned around for the door. I dropped my head back down to my books, hoping not to see where he was heading…
StarBucks in the afternoon, the glass door opened and shut promptly with energy and excitement. The long peacoats and leather boots flushed in and out. On the streets of Boston, there is aroma of hot cocoa and coffee, as if the world has always been like this.
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