白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第54章

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ok　in　on　the　smaller　children。　I　moved　quietly　through　the　rooms　on　bare　white　feet。　I　looked　for　a　blanket　to　adjust；　a　toy　to　remove　from　a　child's　warm　grasp；　feeling　I'd　wandered　into　a　TV　moment。　All　was　still　and　well。　Would　they　regard　a　parent's　death　as　just　another　form　of　divorce？
　　I　looked　in　on　Heinrich。　He　occupied　the　top　left　corner　of　the　bed；　his　body　tightly　wound　like　the　kind　of　trick　device　that　uncoils　abruptly　when　it's　touched。　I　stood　in　the　doorway　nodding。
　　I　looked　in　on　Babette。　She　was　many　levels　down；　a　girl　again；　a　figure　running　in　a　dream。　I　kissed　her　head；　smelling　the　warm　musty　air　that　carried　up　from　sleep。　I　spotted　my　copy　of　Mein　Kampf　in　a　pile　of　books　and　journals。　The　radio　came　on。　I　hurried　out　of　the　room；　fearing　that　some　call…in　voice；　some　stranger's　soul…lament；　would　be　the　last　thing　I　heard　in　this　world。
　　I　went　down　to　the　kitchen。　I　looked　through　the　window。　He　was　there　in　the　wicker　armchair　on　the　wet　grass。　I　opened　the　inner　door　and　then　the　storm　door。　I　went　outside；　the　copy　of　Mein　Kampf　clutched　to　my　stomach。　When　the　storm　door　banged　shut；　the　man's　head　jerked　and　his　legs　came　uncrossed。　He　got　to　his　feet　and　turned　in　my　direction。　The　sense　of　eerie　and　invincible　stillness　washed　off；　the　aura　of　knowingness；　the　feeling　he　conveyed　of　an　ancient　and　terrible　secret。　A　second　figure　began　to　emerge　from　the　numinous　ruins　of　the　first；　began　to　assume　effective　form；　develop　in　the　crisp　light　as　a　set　of　movements；　lines　and　features；　a　contour；　a　living　person　whose　distinctive　physical　traits　seemed　more　and　more　familiar　as　I　watched　them　e　into　existence；　a　little　amazed。
　　It　was　not　Death　that　stood　before　me　but　only　Vernon　Dickey；　my　father…in…law。
　　〃Was　I　asleep？〃　he　said。
　　〃What　are　you　doing　out　here？〃
　　〃Didn't　want　to　wake　you　folks。〃
　　〃Did　we　know　you　were　ing？〃
　　〃I　didn't　know　it　myself　till　yesterday　afternoon。　Drove　straight　through。　Fourteen　hours。〃
　　〃Babette　will　be　happy　to　see　you。〃
　　〃I　just　bet。〃
　　We　went　inside。　I　put　the　coffee　pot　on　the　stove。　Vernon　sat　at　the　table　in　his　battered　denim　jacket；　playing　with　the　lid　of　an　old　Zippo。　He　had　the　look　of　a　ladies'　man　in　the　crash…dive　of　his　career。　His　silvery　hair　had　a　wan　tinge　to　it；　a　yellowish　discolor；　and　he　bed　it　back　in　a　ducktail。　He　wore　about　four　days'　stubble。　His　chronic　cough　had　taken　on　a　jagged　edge；　an　element　of　irresponsibility。　Babette　worried　less　about　his　condition　than　about　the　fact　that　he　took　such　sardonic　pleasure　in　his　own　hackings　and　spasms；　as　if　there　were　something　fatefully　attractive　in　this　terrible　noise。　He　still　wore　a　garrison　belt　with　a　longhorn　buckle。
　　〃So　what　the　hell。　Here　I　am。　Big　deal。〃
　　〃What　are　you　doing　these　days？〃
　　〃Shingling　here；　rustproofing　there。　I　moonlight；　except　there's　nothing　I'm　moonlighting　from。　Moonlight　is　all　that's　out　there。〃
　　I　noticed　his　hands。　Scarred；　busted；　notched；　permanently　seamed　with　grease　and　mud。　He　glanced　around　the　room；　trying　to　spot　something　that　needed　replacing　or　repair。　Such　flaws　were　mainly　an　occasion　for　discourse。　It　put　Vernon　at　an　advantage　to　talk　about　gaskets　and　washers；　about　grouting；　caulking；　spackling。　There　were　times　when　he　seemed　to　attack　me　with　terms　like　ratchet　drill　and　whipsaw。　He　saw　my　shaki…ness　in　such　matters　as　a　sign　of　some　deeper　inpetence　or　stupidity。　These　were　the　things　that　built　the　world。　Not　to　know　or　care　about　them　was　a　betrayal　of　fundamental　principles；　a　betrayal　of　gender；　of　species。　What　could　be　more　useless　than　a　man　who　couldn't　fix　a　dripping　faucet—fundamentally　useless；　dead　to　history；　to　the　messages　in　his　genes？　I　wasn't　sure　I　disagreed。
　　〃I　was　saying　to　Babette　the　other　day。　'If　there's　one　thing　your　father　doesn't　resemble；　it's　a　widower。'〃
　　〃What　did　she　say　to　that？〃
　　〃She　thinks　you're　a　danger　to　yourself。　'He'll　fall　asleep　smoking。　He'll　die　in　a　burning　bed　with　a　missing　woman　at　his　side。
　　An　official　missing　person。　Some　poor　lost　unidentified　multi…divorced　woman。'〃
　　Vernon　coughed　in　appreciation　of　the　insight。　A　series　of　pulmonary　gasps。　I　could　hear　the　stringy　mucus　whipping　back　and　forth　in　his　chest。　I　poured　his　coffee　and　waited。
　　〃Just　so　you　know　where　I'm　at；　Jack；　there's　a　woman　that　wants　to　marry　my　ass。　She　goes　to　church　in　a　mobile　home。　Don't　tell　Babette。〃
　　〃That's　the　last　thing　I'd　do。〃
　　〃She'd　get　real　exercised。　Start　in　with　the　discount　calls。〃
　　〃She　thinks　you've　gotten　too　lawless　for　marriage。〃
　　〃The　thing　about　marriage　today　is　you　don't　have　to　go　outside　the　home　to　get　those　little　extras。　You　can　get　whatever　you　want　in　the　recesses　of　the　American　home。　These　are　the　times　we　live　in；　for　better　or　worse。　Wives　will　do　things。　They　want　to　do　things。　You　don't　have　to　drop　little　looks。　It　used　to　be　the　only　thing　available　in　the　American　home　was　the　basic　natural　act。　Now　you　get　the　options　too。　The　action　is　thick；　let　me　tell　you。　It's　an　amazing　ment　on　our　times　that　the　more　options　you　get　in　the　home；　the　more　prostitutes　you　see　in　the　streets。　How　do　you　figure　it；　Jack？　You're　the　professor。　What　does　it　mean？〃
　　〃I　don't　know。〃
　　〃Wives　wear　edible　panties。　They　know　the　words；　the　usages。　Meanwhile　the　prostitutes　are　standing　in　the　streets　in　all　kinds　of　weather；　day　and　night。　Who　are　they　waiting　for？　Tourists？　Businessmen？　Men　who've　been　turned　into　stalkers　of　flesh？　It's　like　the　lid's　blown　off。　Didn't　I　read　somewhere　the　Japanese　go　to　Singapore？　Whole　planeloads　of　males。　A　remarkable　people。〃
　　〃Are　you　seriously　thinking　of　getting　married？〃
　　〃I'd　have　to　be　crazy　to　marry　a　woman　that　worships　in　a　mobile　home。〃
　　There　was　an　astuteness　about　Vernon；　a　deadpan　quality　of　alert　and　searching　intelligence；　a　shrewdness　waiting　for　a　shapely　occasion。　This　made　Babette　nervous。　She'd　seen　him　sidle　up　to　women　in　public　places　to　ask　some　delving　question　in　his　blank…faced　canny　way。　She　refused　to　go　into　restaurants　with　him；　fearing　his　offhand　remarks　to　waitresses；　intimate　remarks；　technically　acplished　asides　and　observations；　delivered　in　the　late…night　voice　of　some　radio　ancient。　He'd　given　her　some　jittery　moments；　periods　of　anger　and　embarrassment；　in　a　number　of　leatherette　booths。
　　She　came　in　now；　wearing　her　sweatsuit；　ready　for　an　early　morning　dash　up　the　stadium　steps。　When　she　saw　her　father　at　the　table；　her　body　seemed　to　lose　its　motive　force。　She　stood　there　bent　at　the　knees。　Nothing　remained　but　her　ability　to　gape。　She　appeared　to　be　doing　an　imitation　of　a　gaping　person。　She　was　the　picture　of　gapingness；　the　bright　ideal；　no　less　confused　and　alarmed　than　I　had　been　when　I　saw　him　sitting　in　the　yard；　deathly　still。　I　watched　her　face　fill　to　the　brim　with　numb　wonder。
　　〃Did　we　know　you　were　ing？〃　she　said。　〃Why　didn't　you　call？　You　never　call。〃
　　〃Here　I　am。　Big　deal。　Toot　the　horn。〃
　　She　remained　bent　at　the　knees；　trying　to　absorb　his　raw　presence；　the　wiry　body　and　drawn　look。　What　an　epic　force　he　must　have　seemed　to　her；　taking　shape　in　her　kitchen　this　way；　a　parent；　a　father　with　all　the　grist　of　years　on　him；　the　whole　dense　history　of　associations　and　connections；　e　to　remind　her　who　she　was；　to　remove　her　disguise；　grab　hold　of　her　maundering　life　for　a　time；　without　warning。
　　〃I　could　have　had　things　ready。　You　look　awful。　Where　will　you　sleep？〃
　　〃Where　did　I　sleep　last　time？〃
　　They　both　looked　at　me；　trying　to　remember。
　　As　we　fixed　and　ate　breakfast；　as　the　kids　came　down　and　warily　approached　Vernon　for　kisses　and　hair…mussings；　as　the　hours　passed　and　Babette　became　accustomed　to　the　sight　of　the　ambling　figure　in　patched　jeans；　I　began　to　notice　the　pleasure　she　took　in　hovering　nearby；　doing　little　things　for　him；　being　there　to　listen。　A　delight　contained　in　routine　gestures　and　automatic　rhythms。　At　times　she　had　to　remind　Vernon　which　foods　were　his　favorites；　how　he　liked　them　cooked　and　seasoned；　which　jokes　he　told　best；　which　figures　from　the　past　were　the　plain　fools；　which　the　ic　heroes。　Gleanings　from　another