双城记 | 碗碎了

Daniel Hickey，高海奇

记者，作家，爱尔兰人，

现为诺里奇《东方日报》记者。

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You witness things happen - a bowl breaks, a boy cries - and you think you can tell which is the effect and which is the cause. The more you probe, though, the less certain you are. Does the effect have one cause or many causes? What about those causes which I cannot see and which I will never know? And what about the effects I cannot predict?

I behave a certain way in the present, hoping it will have a particular effect, but how will I ever know whether what I am doing now will have a positive or negative impact in the future?

The incident in question happened last Wednesday. I was working from home in the living room on a conference call on my laptop while in the dining room my wife was getting our son ready for school. It was a bright, warm morning, the doors were open and our neighbour’s daughter, who is the same age as our son, was perched on her shed roof, which has a view into our garden.

When my son saw her - they are inseparable these days - he grabbed his bowl of porridge, rushed outside and sat on the step.

This whole time, I was on a conference call, only vaguely aware of these developments until…

Waaaaaaa!!!!!

A cry cut through the house. My son was suddenly wailing. I muted my microphone and rushed into the dining room.

Bowl! My son was howling. Bowl!

The bowl - his favourite bowl - had fallen from his hands and smashed on the path.

Bowl! Tears streamed from his eyes. Bowl! He roared. Bowl!

Don’t be sad, my wife was saying, we can get you a new one.

I don’t WANT a new one! That was my favourite bowl! That was the only bowl I want and now it’s gone! Bowl! Bowl!

I tried to hold him but he kicked and struggled and ran away.

Bowl!

It’s only a bowl, I said.

Bowl!

You need to stop crying now, I said.

He wouldn’t stop crying.

You need to stop.

But that wasn’t the right thing to say. Most of the time it’s hard to know what to say. In my mind a voice said: if you tell him to stop crying he will end up emotionally stunted, unable to express himself.

Bowl!

Our morning had turned into an absurdist play where effects either exceed their cause or seem to have no cause at all.

But what if he wasn’t only crying about the bowl? What if his pain had more than one cause? If that was the case, what were those other causes? Was it something I had or had not done? Did I not give him enough attention? Had I done something wrong?

It’s only a bowl, I said, c’mon, you need to get ready for school.

He buried his face in his mother’s shoulder.

I want my bowl back!

My wife looked at me. That special expression which means: follow my lead.

You must have lost something like that when you were five-years-old, she said.

I tried to remember when I was five-years-old. The only memory that came to mind was looking out the front window of our house and seeing our neighbour’s father waving a flag. Other than that, there was nothing, no memories of broken bowls.

No, I said, I didn’t.

Surely you did, you just can’t remember now. See, she said to our son, daddy can’t even remember this kind of thing happening to him.

She tried to make me see the situation from our son’s point of view. It was the first time he had lost something that was special to him. Yes it was a bowl and that made the situation kind of funny but no less devastating for him.

But this is good for him, she said, it’s a learning experience, it shows him that nothing lasts forever.

That day my son was late for school. At first he didn’t want to go in at all. He was too sad, he said. Then he wanted another hug from mama. He did finally go to school. When we picked him up that evening, he said he didn’t play with anyone that day, he didn’t want to. Instead he sat by himself all day.

That evening, my wife took him into the city to go shopping.

They bought two new bowls.

One of them - a turquoise coloured one - is my son’s new favourite bowl.

Nothing lasts forever, said my wife, and change is always possible.

上周三。我在客厅里视频会议，妻子在餐厅里为儿子上学做准备。那是一个明亮温暖的早晨，门开着，邻居的女儿和儿子同龄，她坐在棚屋屋顶上，看着我们的花园。

当儿子看到她时——这些天他们形影不离——立即抓起盛满粥的碗，冲到外面，坐在门前台阶上。

这段时间里，我一直在开会，直到“哇啊啊！！！！！”的一声呼喊响彻了整个房子，儿子突然哭了起来。我把麦克风静音，冲了出去。

“碗！”儿子嚎叫着，“碗！”

他最喜欢的碗，从手中掉了下来，砸在了路上。

“碗！”他哭着咆哮，“碗！”

“别难过，”妻子安慰，“我们可以给你买个新的。”

“我不想要新的！那是我最喜欢的碗！那是我唯一想要的碗，现在它碎了！碗！碗！”

我试图抓住他，但他踢了一脚，挣扎着跑了。

“这只是一个碗。”我说。

“碗！”他哭个不停。

“你现在需要停止哭泣。”

但这不是正确的说法，大多数时候很难知道该说什么。我的脑海中，有一个声音说：如果你让他停止哭泣，他最终会情绪发育不良，最终无法表达自己。

我们的早晨变成了一场荒诞的戏剧，其中的结果要么超出了原本的起因，要么似乎根本没有原因。

但如果他不只是为碗哭泣呢？如果他的疼痛不止一个原因呢？是我没有给予他足够的关注吗？我做错什么了吗？ 

“这只是一个碗，”我说，“来吧，你需要做好准备去上学了。”

他把脸埋在母亲的肩膀上。

“我要我的碗！”

妻子看着我，这个特殊的表情意味着：跟着我的话头走。

她说：“你五岁的时候也一定失去了这样一件东西。”

我试着回忆我五岁的时候，脑海中浮现的唯一记忆是从家的前窗望出去，看到邻居的父亲挥舞着国旗。除此之外，什么都没有，也没有摔坏碗的记忆。

“不，”我说，“我没有。”

“你肯定记得，只是现在记不起来了。”她对儿子说，“看，爸爸甚至不记得发生在他身上的这种事了。”

她试图让我从儿子的角度来看待，这是他第一次失去对他来说特别的东西。

“是的，这只是一个碗，但对他来说同样是毁灭性的。”她说，“但这对他有好处，这是一次学习经历，让他明白，没有什么是永恒的。”

那天儿子上学迟到了。一开始他根本不想进去，他说他太伤心了，妈妈再次拥抱他后才最终走进了学校。晚上接他时，他说他没有和任何人玩，一整天都独自坐着。

晚上，妻子带他进城去购物，他们买了两个新碗。

其中一个是绿松石色的，是儿子最喜欢的新碗。

“没有什么是永恒的，”妻子说，“改变总是有可能的。”

END

2023年/第180期∣2023/6月刊

排 | 阎家珲

审 | 周春伦

翻译 | 金   鑫

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