雙語故事:芭蕉 Plantains
Gravel crunched under Simon’s worn-out Sketchers as he took the walk of shame up his neighbor’s driveway. The street was deserted and quiet.
西蒙困窘地走上鄰居家的車道，腳上那雙早已磨破了的斯凱奇鞋踩過碎石，發出嘎吱嘎吱的聲音。街道上空無一人，寂靜無聲。Simon wanted to be mad at his friends, but he would’ve bolted, too, if one of them had thrown the football into Mr. Martinez’s yard. Unfortunately, he had made the unlucky pass. Simon paused next to one of Mr. Martinez’s ornate, handmade mirrors that he sold from his front yard. Glittering shards of broken glass reflected the warm springtime Colorado sun.
西蒙本來想對他的朋友們發怒，可是轉念一想，如果換做是他們中的某個人把足球踢到馬丁內斯先生家的院子裏，自己也會跑掉的。不幸的是，那倒黴的一腳恰恰是他自己踢的。馬丁內斯先生那些手工打造、裝飾華麗的鏡子放在前院出售，西蒙停在一面鏡子旁，破碎的鏡片反射着科羅拉多州閃耀的春日暖陽。Even Simon’s best friend Sawyer had refused to stick around.
連西蒙最好的朋友索耶也拒絕留下。
“There’s no way I’m going with you. Mr. Martinez loves those mirrors! Besides, what if he’s still mad about the other day?” Then Sawyer had vanished.
“我是絕對不會和你一起去的。馬丁內斯先生多愛他的那些鏡子啊！再說，要是他還在爲前幾天的事生氣怎麼辦？”說完索耶就消失無蹤了。Simon froze on Mr. Martinez’s stoop, remembering “the other day”. He was sorry about the broken mirror today, but he was more ashamed of what had happened last weekend.
西蒙想起“前幾天的事”，停在馬丁內斯先生的門廊前呆住了。他爲今天打破鏡子而自責，但更爲上個週末發生的事感到羞愧。He and Sawyer had been in Simon’s front yard “studying” Spanish.
那天，他和索耶在自家的前院學習西班牙語。“Donde esta el mercado?” Sawyer had begun to quiz him.
“Donde esta el mercado? (西班牙語：市場在哪裏？)”索耶開始出題考他。Simon stretched. “Um, let’s see. El mercado esta en mi casa.”
西蒙伸了個懶腰說：“嗯，讓我想一想。El mercado esta en mi casa. (西班牙語：市場在我家。)”“Get serious!” laughed Sawyer. “I asked you where the market is, and you said it’s in your house. Last time I checked, your mom wasn’t running a Piggly Wiggly outta here. You’ve never been all that great with the Español.”
“嚴肅點兒！”索耶樂了，“我問你市場在哪裏，你回答在你家裏。上次我檢查你西班牙語的時候，你媽媽並沒有在家裏開Piggly Wiggly大型超市。你的西班牙語還沒好到那個地步吧，真會吹牛！”Simon groaned. “I don’t get it. We live in A-ME-RI-CA! Why does Ms. Perez think we need to know how to speak Spanish? I’m not going to Mexico! Are you?” Sawyer shook his head. “If people want to speak Spanish, they should just go back to Mexico. Spanish is totally stupid!” Simon was so wrapped up in his rant that he hadn’t noticed the color drain from Sawyer’s face. His friend cleared his throat loudly. “What?” Simon turned around.
西蒙抱怨說：“我就不明白了，我們住在美——國！爲什麼佩雷斯女士認爲我們需要會說西班牙語呢？我又不去墨西哥！你去嗎？”索耶搖了搖頭。“如果人們想說西班牙語，他們應該回墨西哥去。西班牙語簡直太愚蠢了！”西蒙說得激昂憤慨，沒注意到索耶的臉色變得煞白。他的朋友大聲地清了清嗓子。“怎麼了？”西蒙轉身看去。Mr. Martinez stood there looking surprised and angry. Simon’s stomach flip-flopped.
馬丁內斯先生站在那兒，看起來既吃驚又生氣。西蒙的胃緊張得痙攣。“Oh, hi, Mr. Martinez.” Mr. Martinez was Latino, spoke Spanish, and had lived next door to Simon his whole life. Simon’s foot was crammed so far into his mouth that he could taste his ankle.
“哦，嗨，馬丁內斯先生。”馬丁內斯先生是拉丁美洲人，說西班牙語，在西蒙家隔壁住了一輩子。西蒙使勁低着頭，恨不得找個地縫鑽進去。“Hello boys. Simon, where is your mother, please?” Mr. Martinez asked politely, even though he still looked angry.
“小夥子們，你們好啊。西蒙，請問你媽媽在哪裏？”馬丁內斯先生禮貌地問他，雖然他看起來還是很生氣。“She’s around back,” Sawyer piped up. Simon opened his mouth to apologize, but Mr. Martinez was off, a new mirror under his arm.
“她在後院。”索耶尖聲回答道。西蒙張開嘴想道歉，但是馬丁內斯先生胳膊下夾着一面新鏡子已經走了。Sawyer shook his head. “Dude, you are toast.”
索耶搖搖頭：“哥們兒，你死定了。”Now Simon stood on Mr. Martinez’s stoop with a sense of dread. Mr. Martinez had always been nice to him, and Simon had basically told him to get lost. Nervously, Simon rang the bell. Mr. Martinez’s normally cheery face darkened when he saw Simon. “Yes, Simon?” he asked civilly.
現在，西蒙站在馬丁內斯先生的門廊前，心裏直打鼓。馬丁內斯先生一直都對他很好，而西蒙關於西班牙語的一通言論的主要意思卻是讓他滾蛋。西蒙緊張地按響了門鈴。馬丁內斯先生一貫和顏悅色的臉在見到西蒙的瞬間就陰沉了下來。“有事嗎，西蒙？”他客氣地問。Simon started apologizing to his shoes. “I’m sorry, but I broke your mirror.”
“對不起，是我打碎了你的鏡子。”西蒙盯着自己的腳尖開始道歉。The old man looked thoughtful. “Football?” Simon could barely nod.
這位老人若有所思：“足球？”西蒙艱難地點點頭。“Come.” Mr. Martinez headed down the hall. Curious, Simon followed. A sweet, warm smell filled the air. Mr. Martinez went to the stove and flipped something in an iron skillet.
“進來吧。”馬丁內斯先生走進屋裏。西蒙好奇地跟了進去。屋裏瀰漫着一股溫暖香甜的味道。馬丁內斯先生走到竈前，把鍋裏的東西翻攪了一下。“Platanos maduros, sweet plantains,” he said when he noticed Simon staring. “Sit.”
“Platanos maduros (西班牙語：甜芭蕉)，香甜的芭蕉，”他注意到西蒙盯着鍋看，對他說，“坐吧。”Simon’s hunger battled with his guilt as Mr. Martinez produced a plate piled high with what looked like banana chunks fried a deep golden brown. Simon sampled the first bite hesitantly, but wolfed down the next two. He swallowed his shame with his last bite and said, “I’m really sorry about your mirror and about, you know, the other day. I’m glad you’re not in Mexico.”
當馬丁內斯先生端出一盤摞得高高的像油炸香蕉一樣金黃色的東西時，西蒙的饞蟲開始與負罪感鬥爭。他猶豫着嚐了第一口，接着就開始狼吞虎嚥了。吃完最後一口，西蒙的負罪感也跟着嚥下肚裏了，然後他說：“鏡子的事我真的很抱歉，還有，你知道，前幾天……我真高興你不是在墨西哥。”“Me too, since I am from Cuba!” Across the table, his neighbor’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he ate a platano. “You know, where I’m from it is believed that anyone who breaks a mirror will have seven years bad luck.”
“我也是，因爲我其實是古巴人！”桌子那邊，他的鄰居一邊吃着芭蕉一邊惡作劇般地衝他眨眼，“你知道嗎，在我的家鄉，人們認爲誰打碎鏡子就會有七年的黴運。”“Oh great,” Simon groaned. “Just what I need!”
“哦，那太好了，”西蒙咕噥着，“正是我應得的。”Mr. Martinez laughed. “No te preocupes, don’t worry my friend. I actually think you are a very lucky boy!”
馬丁內斯先生哈哈一笑：“No te preocupes (西班牙語：別擔心)，別擔心，我的朋友。我倒覺得你是個幸運的孩子。”“How am I lucky? I can’t speak Spanish or throw a decent pass!” Simon eyed his empty plate, wishing he could ask for more.
“我怎麼會幸運？我不會說西班牙語，也沒踢得一腳好球！”西蒙看着他吃空了的盤子，希望能再要點兒。Mr. Martinez carried the plate into the kitchen. “Ah, but if you had not broken my mirror and come to apologize, you would not have found the perfect Spanish tutor. And,” Mr. Martinez returned the refilled plate to the table, “You would never have tried my platanos! How do you like them?”
馬丁內斯先生把盤子拿回廚房，邊走邊說：“啊，但是如果你沒打碎我的鏡子又來道歉的話，你就不會找到我這個完美的西班牙語家教。”說着他又盛了一盤芭蕉出來：“還有，你就吃不到我做的芭蕉了！覺得味道怎麼樣？”Simon’s mouth was so full he could barely smile. “Excelente!”
西蒙嘴裏塞得太滿都沒法笑了：“Excelente! (西班牙語：太棒了！)”
