22

Same Tide 同样的潮水

1965

Nineteen years old, legs longer, eyes larger and seemingly blacker, Kya sat on Point Beach, watching sand crabs bury themselves backward into the swash. Suddenly, from the south, she heard voices and jumped to her feet. The group of kids—now young adults—she'd watched occasionally through the years ambled toward her, tossing a football, running and kicking the surf. Anxious they would see her, she loped to the trees, sand tearing from her heels, and hid behind the broad trunk of an oak tree. Knowing how odd this made her.

基娅十九岁了，腿更长，眼睛更大，皮肤也似乎更黑了。她坐在湾头滩上，看着沙蟹被海浪拉回去盖住。突然，南边传来声音，她立刻跳了起来。那群孩子——现在是年轻人了，这几年她时常能看见他们——正朝她慢慢走来，一边颠着足球，追逐海浪。因为害怕被他们看见，基娅大步走进树林，躲到橡树粗壮的树干后，沙子从脚踝上簌簌掉落。她知道这样做很奇怪。

Not much has changed, she thought, them laughing, me holing up like a sand crab. A wild thing ashamed of her own freakish ways.

变化不多，她想，他们笑着，而我像沙蟹一样躲起来。一个为自己的怪异感到羞耻的野生动物。

Tallskinnyblonde, Ponytailfreckleface, Alwayswearspearls, and Roundchubbycheeks romped the beach, tangled in laughs and hugs. On her rare trips to the village, she'd heard their slurs. “Yeah, the Marsh Girl gits her clothes from colored people; has to trade mussels for grits.”

瘦高金发、马尾雀斑脸、珍珠控和圆润丰满脸颊在沙滩上嬉闹，笑着抱成一团。极少数几次去镇上时，基娅听到过她们议论她：“是啊，湿地女孩从黑人那里拿衣服，用贻贝换粗玉米粉。”

Yet after all these years, they were still a group of friends. That was something. Silly-looking on the outside, yes, but as Mabel had said several times, they were a sure troop. “Ya need some girlfriends, hon, 'cause they're furever. Without a vow. A clutch of women's the most tender, most tough place on Earth.”

不过，这么多年过去了，她们还是朋友。这很耐人寻味。虽然看上去很傻，是的，但正如玛贝尔反复说的那样，她们是一支真正的队伍。“亲爱的，你需要一些女性朋友，因为这是永远的。无须誓言。女友团是这世界上最温柔也最坚硬的地方。”

Kya found herself laughing softly with them as they kicked salt water on one another. Then, shrieking, they rushed as one into the deeper surf. Kya's smile faded when they pulled themselves out of the water and into their traditional group hug.

基娅发现自己在跟着他们一起轻笑，看他们互踢海水，尖叫着冲进更深的浪里，从水里出来后抱作一团。基娅的笑容消失了。

Their squeals made Kya's silence even louder. Their togetherness tugged at her loneliness, but she knew being labeled as marsh trash kept her behind the oak tree.

他们的大叫凸显了她的沉默。他们的团结拽出了她的孤独。但她知道，被贴了湿地垃圾的标签意味着她只能待在橡树后面。

Her eyes shifted to the tallest guy. Wearing khaki shorts and no shirt, he threw the football. Kya watched the cords of muscles bunching on his back. His tan shoulders. She knew he was Chase Andrews, and over the years, ever since he nearly ran her over on his bicycle, she'd seen him with these friends on the beach, walking into the diner for milk shakes, or at Jumpin's buying gas.

她的眼睛瞟向最高的那个男人。他穿着卡其短裤，赤着上身扔球。她看到他背部肌肉隆起，肩膀晒得黝黑。她知道他是蔡斯·安德鲁斯。过去这些年，自从他骑自行车差点撞倒她，她见过他和这群朋友一起在沙滩上玩，进小饭馆喝奶昔，或者在老跳那里加油。

Now, as the group came closer, she watched only him. When another tossed the ball, he ran to catch it and came close to her tree, his bare feet digging in the hot sand. As he raised his arm to throw, he happened to glance back and caught Kya's eyes. After passing the ball, without giving any sign to the others, he turned and held her gaze. His hair was black, like hers, but his eyes were pale blue, his face strong, striking. A shadow-smile formed on his lips. Then he walked back to the others, shoulders relaxed, sure.

那群人离得更近了，但她只看着他一个。另一个人踢出球，他跑过去接，到了基娅藏身的橡树近旁，光着的脚踩进滚烫的沙子里。他抬起手臂扔球，恰巧回头看了一眼，捕捉到了基娅的眼睛。传完球，没和任何人打招呼，他转身和她对视。他一头黑发，和她一样，不过眼睛是浅蓝色的，脸长得棱角分明，引人注目。他唇角露出一个浅笑，随后走回朋友那里，肩膀放松而笃定。

But he had noticed her. Had held her eyes. Her breath froze as a heat flowed through her.

但他注意到她了。他们对视了。她屏住呼吸，一股热意席卷全身。

She tracked them, mostly him, down the shore. Her mind looking one way, her desire the other. Her body watched Chase Andrews, not her heart.

她跟着他们，主要是他，走在岸边。她的心和欲望背道而驰。身体在看着蔡斯·安德鲁斯，而心没有。

The next day she returned—same tide, different time, but no one was there, just noisy sandpipers and wave-riding sand crabs.

第二天，她回到沙滩——同样的潮水，不同的时间，那里没人，只有喧闹的鹬鸟和踏浪的沙蟹。

She tried to force herself to avoid that beach and stick to the marsh, searching for bird nests and feathers. Stay safe, feeding grits to gulls. Life had made her an expert at mashing feelings into a storable size.

她努力让自己避开那片沙滩，把注意力投向湿地，搜寻鸟巢和羽毛。保持安全。她给海鸥喂粗玉米粉。生活已经把她变成一个粉碎专家，擅长把情绪捣碎成可贮存的尺寸。

But loneliness has a compass of its own. And she went back to the beach to look for him the next day. And the next.

但孤独自带指南针。隔天她就返回沙滩找他。然后又一天。

LATE ONE AFTERNOON, after watching for Chase Andrews, Kya walks from her shack and lies back on a sliver of beach, slick from the last wave. She stretches her arms over her head, brushing them against the wet sand, and extends her legs, toes pointed. Eyes closed, she rolls slowly toward the sea. Her hips and arms leave slight indentions in the glistening sand, brightening and then dimming as she moves. Rolling nearer the waves, she senses the ocean's roar through the length of her body and feels the question: When will the sea touch me? Where will it touch me first?

某个下午，去找了蔡斯·安德鲁斯后，基娅从棚屋走出来，躺在银色沙滩上，感受最后的潮水。她将胳膊伸过头顶，在潮湿的沙子上摩擦，两腿伸直，脚尖绷紧。她闭上眼睛，慢慢向大海滚去。臀部和手臂在发光的沙子上留下轻微的压痕，随着身体的移动先是发亮然后变暗。离海浪越来越近，她的身体感受到了大海的咆哮。她问自己：大海什么时候碰到我？会先碰到哪里？

The foamy surge rushes the shore, reaching toward her. Tingling with expectancy, she breathes deep. Turns more and more slowly. With each revolution, just before her face sweeps the sand, she lifts her head gently and takes in the sun-salt smell. I am close, very close. It is coming. When will I feel it?

泛起白沫的海浪冲击着海岸，朝她蔓延。她的呼吸加重了，满怀期待。她转得越来越慢。每次转动，在脸扫过沙子前，她会微微抬头，吸入带着咸味的太阳的气息。近了，很近了。来了。什么时候能感受到？

A fever builds. The sand wetter beneath her, the rumble of surf louder. Even slower, by inches she moves, waiting for the touch. Soon, soon. Almost feeling it before it comes.

热起来了。她身下的沙子更湿了，海浪声更大了。她转得更慢了，一寸一寸，等待着海的触碰。快了，快了。虽未发生，却几乎已经能感受到。

She wants to open her eyes to peek, to see how much longer. But she resists, squinting her lids even tighter, the sky bright behind them, giving no hints.

她想睁眼偷看，看看还有多远，但忍住了，眼睛甚至闭得更紧了。眼帘外只有明亮的天空，没有其他讯息。

Suddenly she shrieks as the power rushes beneath her, fondles her thighs, between her legs, flows along her back, swirling under her head, pulling her hair in inky strands. She rolls faster into the deepening wave, against streaming shells and ocean bits, the water embracing her. Pushing against the sea's strong body, she is grasped, held. Not alone.

突然，她发出一声尖叫，感受到了身下汹涌的力量。这力量抚弄着她大腿内侧，沿背部流淌，在脑后盘旋，把头发拉成一股股黑色绳索。她加快翻滚，伴着随波逐流的贝壳和海洋中的碎片，进入逐渐加深的浪中。海水裹住了她。紧靠着大海强壮的躯体，她被抓住了，抱住了。不再孤单。

Kya sits up and opens her eyes to the ocean foaming around her in soft white patterns, always changing.

基娅坐起来，睁眼看向四周，海水生出不断变换的白色泡沫，温柔缱绻。

SINCE CHASE HAD GLANCED at her on the beach, she'd already gone to Jumpin's wharf twice in one week. Not admitting to herself that she hoped to see Chase there. Being noticed by someone had lit a social cord. And now, she asked Jumpin', “How's Mabel doing, anyway? Are any of your grandkids home?” like the old days. Jumpin' noticed the change, knew better than to comment. “Yessiree, got fou' wif us right now. House full up wif giggles and I don't know whut all.”

自从蔡斯在沙滩上看了她一眼后，基娅一周内已经去过老跳那儿两次了。她不承认自己是为了在那里见到蔡斯。来自别人的关注点燃了她的社交欲望。一如既往，她问老跳：“玛贝尔怎么样？你的孙子孙女有在家的吗？”老跳注意到了她的变化，不过也知道最好不要妄加评论。“是的，现在有四个和我们一起住。家里充满了欢声笑语，我都不知道他们在乐什么。”

But a few mornings later when Kya motored to the wharf, Jumpin' was nowhere to be seen. Brown pelicans, hunched up on posts, eyed her as though they were minding shop. Kya smiled at them.

但几天后的早上，基娅再去的时候，老跳不在那儿。棕色的鹈鹕蹲在自己的位置上看着她，仿佛在看店。基娅对着它们笑了。

A touch on her shoulder made her jump.

有人碰了碰她的肩，她差点跳了起来。

“Hi.” She turned to see Chase standing behind her. She dropped her smile.

“嘿。”她转身看见蔡斯正站在她身后。她的笑容消失了。

“I'm Chase Andrews.” His eyes, ice-pack blue, pierced her own. He seemed completely comfortable to stare into her.

“我是蔡斯·安德鲁斯。”他的眼睛，冰蓝色的眼睛，攫住了她。他似乎可以十分自然地和她对视。

She said nothing, but shifted her weight.

她什么也没说，但身体换了重心。

“I've seen ya around some. Ya know, over the years, in the marsh. What's yo' name?” For a moment he thought she wasn't going to speak; maybe she was dumb or spoke a primal language, like some said. A less self-assured man might have walked away.

“我在附近见过你几次。你知道，这些年来，在湿地里。你叫什么？”有那么一会儿，他以为她不打算开口了。可能她聋了，又或者她说的是一种原始语言，有些人这么说。换一个不那么自信的男人，可能已经走开了。

“Kya.” Obviously, he didn't remember their sidewalk-bicycle encounter or know her in any way except as the Marsh Girl.

“基娅。”显然，他不记得那次自行车事故，或者说只知道她是湿地女孩。

“Kya—that's different. But nice. You wanta go for a picnic? In my boat, this Sunday.”

“基娅——与众不同，但很好听。你想去野餐吗？这周日，坐我的船。”

She looked past him, taking time to evaluate his words, but couldn't see them to an end. Here was a chance to be with someone.

她看向别处，花时间咀嚼他的话，却看不透。这是个和别人在一起的机会。

Finally she said, “Okay.” He told her to meet him at the oak peninsula north of Point Beach at noon. Then he stepped into his blue-and-white ski boat, metal bits gleaming from every possible surface, and accelerated away.

最后她说：“好。”他告诉她中午在湾头滩北边的橡树半岛碰面。然后，他走上自己的蓝白色游艇——表面布满闪闪发光的金属部件，加大油门开走了。

She turned at the sound of more footsteps. Jumpin' scurried up the dock. “Hi, Miss Kya. Sorry, I been totin' empty crates over yonder. Fill 'er up?”

听到了脚步声，她转过身去。老跳快步走上甲板。“嘿，基娅小姐，对不起。我刚才在那边搬空箱子。加满油吗？”

Kya nodded.

基娅点点头。

On the way home, she cut the motor and drifted, the shore in sight. Leaning against the old knapsack, watching the sky, she recited poetry by heart, as she did sometimes. One of her favorites was John Masefield's “Sea Fever”:

回家的路上，她关了发动机，让船漂着，而海岸就在看得见的地方。她靠着旧背包，望向天空，在心里背诵诗歌。她有时候爱这么做。她的最爱是约翰·梅斯菲尔德的《海之恋》：

. . . all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

我渴求飓风裹着白云驰骋飞翔，

怒涛冲天，泡沫喷涌，

海鸥喧嚷。

Kya recalled a poem written by a lesser-known poet, Amanda Hamilton, published recently in the local newspaper she'd bought at the Piggly Wiggly:

基娅想起一首诗，是阿曼达·汉密尔顿写的。她是一位不太知名的诗人。这首诗最近被刊登在当地的报纸上，她从小猪扭扭杂货店买的：

Trapped inside,

Love is a caged beast,

Eating its own flesh.

Love must be free to wander,

To land upon its chosen shore

And breathe.

受困于内，

爱成了被囚的野兽，

咀嚼自己的血肉。

爱须自由徜徉，

停靠在自己所选的海岸，

方可呼吸。

The words made her think of Tate, and her breathing stopped. All he'd needed was to find something better and he was gone. Didn't even come to say good-bye.

这些文字让她想起泰特。她的呼吸停止了。他要的是更美好的未来。他离开了。甚至没有回来说再见。

KYA DIDN'T KNOW, but Tate had come back to see her.

基娅不知道的是，泰特曾回来看过她。

The day before he was to bus home that Fourth of July, Dr. Blum, the professor who'd hired him, walked into the protozoology lab and asked Tate if he'd like to join a group of renowned ecologists for a birding expedition over the weekend.

七月四日的前一天，也就是他打算坐大巴回去的前一天，布卢姆博士，那个聘用了他的教授，走进原生动物学实验室，问他周末是否想和一群有声望的生态学家一起探索鸟群。

“I've noticed your interest in ornithology and wondered if you'd like to come. I only have room for one student, and I thought of you.”

“我注意到你对鸟类学很感兴趣，想着你可能愿意参加。我只有一个名额，就想到了你。”

“Yes, absolutely. I'll be there.” After Dr. Blum left, Tate stood there, alone, amid lab tables, microscopes, and the hum of the autoclave, wondering how he'd folded so fast. How quickly he'd jumped to impress his professor. The pride of being singled out, the only student invited.

“是的，当然。我要参加。”布卢姆博士离开后，泰特独自站在那里，在实验桌、显微镜和高压灭菌器的嗡嗡声中，想着他为何答应得这么快。他是如此急切地想给教授留下深刻印象。被选中的骄傲，他是唯一被邀请的学生。

His next chance to go home—and only for one night—had been fifteen days later. He was frantic to apologize to Kya, who would understand after she learned of Dr. Blum's invitation.

他第二个回家的机会——只有一个晚上——是十五天之后。他疯狂地想跟基娅道歉，她知道布卢姆教授的邀请后肯定能理解他。

He'd cut throttle as he left the sea and turned into the channel, where logs were lined with the glistening backs of sunbathing turtles. Almost halfway, he spotted her boat carefully hidden in tall cord grass. Instantly, he slowed and saw her up ahead, kneeling on a wide sandbar, apparently fascinated by some small crustacean.

离开大海，进入水道时，他关掉了发动机。水道中树桩林立，乌龟趴在上面晒太阳，后背闪闪发光。差不多走到一半时，他发现了基娅的船，被小心地掩藏在高高的草丛里。他立刻慢下来，看到她就在前面，正跪坐在一片宽阔的沙洲上，显然是被什么小甲壳动物吸引了注意力。

Her head low to the ground, she hadn't seen him or heard his slow-moving boat. He quietly turned his skiff into reeds, out of view. He'd known for years that she sometimes spied on him, peeping through needle brush. On impulse, he would do the same.

她低头盯着地面，没有看到他，也没有听到正慢慢移动的船。他悄悄把船开进芦苇荡，隐蔽起来。好几年了，他知道她有时候会暗中观察他，躲在灌木丛后面偷看。他心血来潮，也想这么干。

Barefoot, dressed in cutoff jeans and a white T-shirt, she stood up, stretching her arms high. Showcasing her wasp-thin waist. She knelt again and scooped sand in her hands, sifting it through her fingers, examining organisms left squiggling in her palm. He smiled at the young biologist, absorbed, oblivious. He imagined her standing at the back of the birding group, trying not to be noticed but being the first to spot and identify every bird. Shyly and softly, she would have listed the precise species of grasses woven into each nest, or the age in days of a female fledgling based on the emerging colors of her wingtips. Exquisite minutiae beyond any guidebook or knowledge of the esteemed ecology group. The smallest specifics on which a species spins. The essence.

她赤着脚，穿着剪短的牛仔裤和白色T恤，起身时舒展胳膊，露出了不盈一握的腰。然后她又跪坐下去，用手掬起沙子，再任其从指缝间筛落，检视留在手掌中蠕动的生物。他微笑着，看着这位年轻的生物学家全神贯注，忘了周围的一切。他想象她站在鸟类观察团的后面，尽量不引起关注，但总是第一个发现并辨认出每一种鸟。她会害羞而温柔地列出筑每一个鸟巢所用的草的准确种类，或者根据翅尖渐渐显现的颜色判断一只雌性幼鸟的大小，可以精确到天数。她知晓的细节远超任何指南，或者受人敬仰的生态组织的知识储备。一个物种赖以生存的最微小的特征。本质。

Suddenly Tate startled as Kya sprang to her feet, sand spilling from her fingers, and looked upstream, away from Tate. He could barely hear the low churn of an outboard motor coming their way, probably a fisherman or marsh dweller headed to town. A purring sound, common and calm as doves. But Kya grabbed the knapsack, sprinted across the sandbar, and scrambled into tall grass. Squatting low to the ground and snatching glances to see if the boat had come into view, she duck-walked toward her boat. Knees lifting nearly to her chin. She was closer to Tate now, and he saw her eyes, dark and crazed. When she reached her boat, she hunkered beside its girth, head low.

突然，泰特惊了一下，他看到基娅跳了起来，沙子从她手指间滑落，她看着上游，但不是泰特的方向。他几乎听不见有船过来，大概是有渔民或湿地居民去镇上。这呜呜声，普通、安静得和鸽子叫一样。但是基娅抓起背包，全速跑过沙洲，躲进高高的草丛里。她俯身蹲下，像鸭子一样慢慢走回自己的船，不时瞥一眼四周有没有其他船出现，膝盖几乎碰到了脸颊。她现在离泰特很近了。他看见了她的眼睛，阴沉而疯狂。她到了自己的船附近，在船舷边蹲下，低着头。

The fisherman—a merry-faced, hatted old man—puttered into view, saw neither Kya nor Tate, and disappeared beyond the bend. But she remained frozen, listening until the motor whined away, then stood, dabbing her brow. Continued to look in the direction of the boat as a deer eyes the empty brush of a departed panther.

那个渔民，一个欢乐的、戴帽子的老人，进入了视野，没看见基娅，也没看见泰特，然后消失在拐弯处。但她仍然纹丝不动，支起耳朵听着，直到再听不见发动机声。随后她站起来，掸了掸眉毛，继续看向那艘船的方向，仿佛一只鹿看向猎豹离去后空荡荡的灌木丛。

On some level he knew she behaved this way, but since the feather game, had not witnessed the raw, unpeeled core. How tormented, isolated, and strange.

他在某种程度上知道她是这样，但自从羽毛游戏以来，还不曾亲见这赤裸裸的真相。多么痛苦、孤独，以及怪异。

He'd been at college less than two months but had already stepped directly into the world he wanted, analyzing the stunning symmetry of the DNA molecule as if he'd crawled inside a glistening cathedral of coiling atoms and climbed the winding, acidic rungs of the helix. Seeing that all life depends on this precise and intricate code transcribed on fragile, organic slivers, which would perish instantly in a slightly warmer or colder world. At last, surrounded by enormous questions and people as curious as he to find the answers, drawing him toward his goal of research biologist in his own lab, interacting with other scientists.

他去学校还不到两个月，但已经直接踏入了那个他想要的世界。分析DNA分子令人惊叹的对称性，就像是进入了一个原子盘旋而上构造的闪亮的大教堂，攀爬着双螺旋蜿蜒的酸性阶梯。鉴于所有生物都依赖这转录在脆弱的有机片段上的精确而复杂的密码，地球稍微变冷或变热，这些片段就会立刻消亡。最终，带着无数疑问，和跟他一样具有好奇心，想要找到答案的人一起，他渐渐决定成为拥有自己实验室的研究型生物学家，与其他科学家互动。

Kya's mind could easily live there, but she could not. Breathing hard, he stared at his decision hiding there in cord grass: Kya or everything else.

基娅的心灵可以很好地融入那里，但她本人不行。他呼吸困难，看着躲在草丛里的自己下决心：基娅，或者其他所有。

“Kya, Kya, I just can't do this,” he whispered. “I'm sorry.”

“基娅，基娅，我没法这么做。”他呢喃着，“对不起。”

After she moved away, he got into his boat and motored back toward the ocean. Swearing at the coward inside who would not tell her good-bye.

她离开后，他也上了船，回到大海，咒骂着内心的懦夫，那个连再见都说不出口的懦夫。