諾貝爾文學經典:《寵兒》第1章Part 16

Sethe lay on her back, her head turned from him. Out of the corner of his eye, Paul D saw the floatof her breasts and disliked it, the spread-away, flat roundness of them that he could definitely livewithout, never mind that downstairs he had held them as though they were the most expensive partof himself. And the wrought-iron maze he had explored in the kitchen like a gold miner pawingthrough pay dirt was in fact a revolting clump of scars.

Not a tree, as she said. Maybe shaped likeone, but nothing like any tree he knew because trees were inviting; things you could trust and benear; talk to if you wanted to as he frequently did since way back when he took the midday meal inthe fields of Sweet Home. Always in the same place if he could, and choosing the place had beenhard because Sweet Home had more pretty trees than any farm around.

His choice he called Brother, and sat under it, alone sometimes, sometimes with Halle or the other Pauls, but moreoften with Sixo, who was gentle then and still speaking English. Indigo with a flame-red tongue,Sixo experimented with night-cooked potatoes, trying to pin down exactly when to put smoking hot rocks in a hole, potatoes on top, and cover the whole thing with twigs so that by the time theybroke for the meal, hitched the animals, left the field and got to Brother, the potatoes would be atthe peak of perfection.

He might get up in the middle of the night, go all the way out there, start theearth-over by starlight; or he would make the stones less hot and put the next day's potatoes onthem right after the meal. He never got it right, but they ate those undercooked, overcooked, dried-out or raw potatoes anyway, laughing, spitting and giving him advice.
Time never worked the way Sixo thought, so of course he never got it right. Once he plotted downto the minute a thirty-mile trip to see a woman. He left on a Saturday when the moon was in theplace he wanted it to be, arrived at her cabin before church on Sunday and had just enough time tosay good morning before he had to start back again so he'd make the field call on time Mondaymorning. He had walked for seventeen hours, sat down for one, turned around and walkedseventeen more. Halle and the Pauls spent the whole day covering Sixo's fatigue from Mr. Garner.

塞絲仰臥着，頭從他那邊扭開。保羅·D從眼角瞥見她的乳房在一起一伏，覺得不舒服。那兩個鬆弛的、又扁又圓的東西他絕對不需要，儘管在樓下他那樣捧着它們，彷彿它們是他最珍貴的部分。還有他在廚房裏好像淘金者扒拉礦砂那樣探查的鍛鐵迷宮，實際上是一堆令人作嘔的傷疤。

不像她說的，是棵什麼樹。也許形狀相似，不過可不像他認識的任何一棵樹，因爲樹都是友好的，你能信賴，也能靠近它們，願意的話還可以跟它們說話，多年前，在“甜蜜之家”的田裏吃午飯時，他就經常這樣做。可能的話，他就總在同一個地方；挑選地方是很困難的，因爲“甜蜜之家”裏漂亮的樹比周圍任何農莊都要多。

他管自己挑的那棵叫“兄弟”，坐在它下面，有時是自個兒，有時是和黑爾或其他保羅們，但更多的時候是和那時還很溫順、仍舊說英語的西克索一道。靛青色的西克索長着火紅的舌頭，他在夜裏烤土豆做試驗，試着算準恰好什麼時刻把滾燙、冒煙的石頭放進坑裏，擱上土豆，再用小樹枝全都蓋嚴實；這樣，當他們拴好牲口、離開田地，來到“兄弟”那兒歇 晌吃飯的時候，土豆就會燒得恰到好處。

有時他三更半夜爬起來，大老遠地一路走到那裏，藉着星光開始挖坑；要麼他就不把石頭燒得那麼熱，一吃完飯便將第二天的土豆擱上去。他從來都算不準，但他們一樣吃掉那些火候不夠的、烤過火的、乾乾巴巴的和生澀的土豆，大笑着，一邊吐出來，一邊給他提修改意見。
時間從來不按西克索設想的那樣走，因此他當然不可能算準。有一次，他掐算好了時間走三十英里路去看一個女人，行程精確到一分一秒。他在一個星期六等月亮升到固定位置就動身了，星期天趕到教堂前面她的小屋，只有道聲早安的時間，然後他必須開始再往回走，才能趕上星期一田裏的早點名。他走了十七個小時，坐了一個小時，掉轉身來再走十七個小時。黑爾和保羅們花了一整天的時間在加納先生面前爲他的瞌睡打馬虎眼。