諾貝爾文學經典:《寵兒》第3章Part 14

"Did you speak to him? Didn't you say anything to him? Something!"
"I couldn't, Sethe. I just.., couldn't."
"Why!"
"I had a bit in my mouth."
Sethe opened the front door and sat down on the porch steps. The day had gone blue without itssun, but she could still make out the black silhouettes of trees in the meadow beyond. She shookher head from side to side, resigned to her rebellious brain. Why was there nothing it reused? Nomisery, no regret, no hateful picture too rotten to accept? Like a greedy child it snatched upeverything. Just once, could it say, No thank you? I just ate and can't hold another bite? I am fullGod damn it of two boys with mossy teeth, one sucking on my breast the other holding me down,their book-reading teacher watching and writing it up. I am still full of that, God damn it, I can't goback and add more. Add my husband to it, watching, above me in the loft — hiding close by — theone place he thought no one would look for him, looking down on what I couldn't look at at all.
And not stopping them — looking and letting it happen. But my greedy brain says, Oh thanks, I'dlove more — so I add more. And no sooner than I do, there is no stopping. There is also myhusband squatting by the churn smearing the butter as well as its clabber all over his face becausethe milk they took is on his mind. And as far as he is concerned, the world may as well know it.
And if he was that broken then, then he is also and certainly dead now. And if Paul D saw him andcould not save or comfort him because the iron bit was in his mouth, then there is still more thatPaul D could tell me and my brain would go right ahead and take it and never say, No thank you. Idon't want to know or have to remember that. I have other things to do: worry, for example, abouttomorrow, about Denver, about Beloved, about age and sickness not to speak of love.
But her brain was not interested in the future. Loaded with the past and hungry for more, it left herno room to imagine, let alone plan for, the next day. Exactly like that afternoon in the wild onions— when one more step was the most she could see of the future. Other people went crazy, whycouldn't she? Other people's brains stopped, turned around and went on to something new, which iswhat must have happened to Halle. And how sweet that would have been: the two of them back bythe milk shed, squatting by the churn, smashing cold, lumpy butter into their faces with not a carein the world. Feeling it slippery, sticky — rubbing it in their hair, watching it squeeze through theirfingers. What a relief to stop it right there. Close. Shut. Squeeze the butter. But her three childrenwere chewing sugar teat under a blanket on their way to Ohio and no butter play would changethat.
Paul D stepped through the door and touched her shoulder.

“你對他說話了嗎？你什麼也沒對他說？總得有句話！”
“我不能，塞絲。我就是……不能。”
“爲什麼？！”
“我嘴上戴着個馬嚼子。”
塞絲打開前門，坐在門廊臺階上。沒有太陽的天空變爲藍色，可她依然能辨認出遠處草地上黝黑的樹影。她來回搖着頭，聽憑她那不聽話的大腦擺佈。它爲什麼來者不拒、照單全收呢？不拒絕苦難，不拒絕悔恨，不拒絕腐爛不堪的可憎的畫面？像個貪婪的孩子，它什麼都搶。哪怕就一次，它能不能說一聲：不要了謝謝？我剛吃完，多一口也塞不下了？我塞滿了他媽的兩個長着青苔般牙齒的傢伙，一個吮着我的乳房，另一個摁着我，他們那知書達禮的老師一邊看着一邊作記錄。到現在我還滿腦子都是那事呢，見鬼!我可不能回頭再往裏添了。再添上我的丈夫，他在我頭頂上的廄樓裏觀看———藏在近旁———藏在一個他自以爲沒人來找他的地方，朝下俯看着我根本不能看的事情。
而且不制止他們———眼睜睜地讓它發生。然而我那貪婪的大腦說，噢謝謝，我太想再要些了———於是我又添了些。可我一這麼做，就再也停不住了。又添上了這個：我的丈夫蹲在攪乳機旁抹牛油，抹得滿臉盡是牛油疙瘩，因爲他們搶走的奶水佔據了他的腦子。對他來說，乾脆讓全世界都知道算了。
當時他要是真的徹底崩潰，那他現在也肯定死了。要是保羅·D因爲咬着鐵嚼子，看見他卻不能救他或安慰他，那麼保羅·D肯定還有更多的事能告訴我，而我的大腦還會立即接受，永遠不說：不要了謝謝。我可不想知道，也沒必要記住那些。我還有別的事情要做呢：比如操心，操心明天，操心丹芙，操心寵兒，操心衰老和生病，更不用說愛了。
可是她的大腦對未來不感興趣。它滿載着過去，而且渴望着更多的過去，但不給她留下一點空間，讓她去想象，甚至去計劃下一天。渾似那個野蔥地裏的午後———那時她能看見的最遠的未來僅僅是一步之遙。別的人都發瘋了，她爲什麼不能？別人的大腦都停了下來，掉轉身去找新的東西，黑爾肯定就是這樣。那該有多麼甜蜜啊：他們兩個，背靠牛奶棚，蹲在攪乳機旁，心不在焉地往臉上猛扔冰涼的、疙疙瘩瘩的牛油。感覺牛油的滑膩和黏稠———揉進頭髮，看着它從手指縫中擠出。就停在那裏，會是怎樣的解脫啊。關上。鎖住。擠牛油。可她的三個孩子正在去俄亥俄的路上，躺在毯子下面嚼着糖水奶嘴，那是什麼牛油遊戲都無法改變的。
保羅·D邁出門檻，撫摸着她的肩膀。