3. Chai-iáⁿ che, thê-ko góa ê seng-oa̍h
Tem piàⁿ-miā boeh bē-kì i thiaⁿ tio̍h ê, m̄-koh ta̍k-kái nā boeh kàu sì-goe̍h 17 ê sî, góa kám-kak ē-chhut i ū ì-sek tio̍h, khòaⁿ góa ê hong-sek ū sió-khóa koh-iūⁿ, iā un-jiû, iā khì-náu, kap-kap chò chi̍t-hóe. "Oh," góa ji̍p-mn̂g ê sî, i tōa-la̍t khòaⁿ chúi-sian hoe (hoe koáiⁿ í-keng lo̍h-nńg), i ē án-ne kóng. "He..."
Góa ē ūi goán tī ko-kip chhan-thiaⁿ tēng-ūi; góa ē an-pâi chi̍t-ê chiu-boat chhut-gōa. Tī kui-nî ê ki-thaⁿ sî-kan, goán sió-sim pī-bián chit-chióng chhia-hoa. Tông-sî, góa chhit-goe̍h ê seⁿ-ji̍t mā tī sit chù-ì tang-tiong chhìn-chhái kòe.
Tem tō thò͘ chi̍t-kháu khùi, khai-sí khoán kòe-mê ê hêng-lí. Tī chho͘ chhun ê hân-léng nih, goán chē tī soaⁿ-lūn téng chi̍t-keng bîn-sok gîm-chîⁿ ê iô-í lim kapi. Tem tùi góa chin khóng-khài; che sī kui-nî lāi i siōng bô kah-ì ê chi̍t-kang, m̄-koh i chin gâu ké-sian; goán sàn-pō͘. Goán chia̍h ais-krím. He sī gōng tòng-tòng ê sió-sió oke-páng ah.
Chāi gōa-lâng lâi khòaⁿ, góa ê seng-oa̍h chèng-siông -- pêng-sūn bô khí-lo̍h, chin ê -- m̄-koh, góa kā lí kóng, he chin hong-hù, chi̍t-iân koh chi̍t-iân, lóng chin ū liāu. Góa lí-kái, che put-kò khòaⁿ tio̍h ná 2.2 ê gín-á hiah-nī sù-siông, chia̍h chi̍t-hūn kong-ka thâu-lō͘, hun-in seng-oa̍h kú-kú tn̂g-tn̂g, phó͘-phó͘ thong-thong ê chiok-hok kap kàn-kiāu, m̄-koh ū chē-chē sî-chūn, ē-sái kóng sī sǹg bē-liáu ê sî-chūn -- gín-á iáu sè-hàn ê sî, kā in boah sap-bûn sé thâu-mo͘, chi̍t-ê chiáu-á chhi-chhi chhā-chhā ê pài-gō͘ chá-khí, ùi thêng-chhia-tiûⁿ kiâⁿ khì pān-kong-sek, pòaⁿ-mê phīⁿ tio̍h Tem ām-kún āu-bīn ê hiàn. Góa ē-sái kóng siáⁿ ah. Góa bô siūⁿ boeh siuⁿ tiōng kám-chêng, m̄-koh chiah-ê lóng m̄-sī sió tāi-chì. Kóng chi̍t-kù lán chit-ê sî-tāi ê chhàu-sng ōe: pi-siong koah lú chhim, té ē-lo̍h ê khoài-lo̍k tō lú chē. Tī chia, góa bô boeh kóng hiah-ê khí-khí lo̍h-lo̍h, làu-the, chhia-hō, so͘-oán, kap hoat-seng tī goán sió-tī ê tāi-chì, m̄-koh góa boeh kóng, téng-bīn hit-kù ōe kóng liáu chin tio̍h.
Sì-goe̍h 17. Tī góa chai-iáⁿ 2043-nî sì-goe̍h 17 chìn-chêng, góa í-keng bat 31-pái kòe chit-ê ji̍t-chí ah. Chai-iáⁿ lán í-keng keng-kòe lán ê sí-bông ji̍t-chí chē-chē kái, tòe ji̍t-chí ê sóa-se̍h koh ta̍k-nî teh keng-kòe i, án-ne kám m̄-sī chin khó-phà? Nā the̍h tiāu chit-ê sîn-pì, hō͘ lán chin-chiàⁿ chai-iáⁿ, mài hō͘ ta̍k-kang lóng sêng-tam tōa-tōa ū khó-lêng sī chi̍t-ê lâng ê sí-bông ji̍t-chí, án-ne kám m̄-sī hoān-sè ē-tàng sió-khóa kiám-khin chit-chióng khióng-pò͘?
Góa m̄-chai chit-ê būn-tê ê tap-àn.
2043-nî sì-goe̍h 17. Chai-iáⁿ che, thê-ko góa ê seng-oa̍h. Chai-iáⁿ che, mā hō͘ góa ê seng-oa̍h ū hū-tam. Góa hiō-hóe góa chai-iáⁿ. Góa mā kám-siā góa chai-iáⁿ.
Góa m̄-sī thiàu chhiū-leng-soh (bungee) a̍h thiàu-sòaⁿ hit-lūi ê lâng, m̄-koh, tī chi̍t-kóa sió só͘-chāi, góa ê seng-oa̍h pí pa̍t-lâng khah ióng-kám. Pí-lūn kóng, pí Tem khah chāi-táⁿ. Góa chai-iáⁿ, tang-sî kiaⁿ-sí, tio̍h, m̄-koh án-ne mā tāi-piáu, góa chai-iáⁿ tang-sî m̄-bián kiaⁿ he. Góa bat tī keh-lī kî-kan khì kám-á tiàm bé mi̍h-kiāⁿ. Góa bat tī pēⁿ-īⁿ chò gī-kang, tī hong-seh tang-tiong sái-chhia, chē ē tò-thâu-chai ê hui-thian-chhia, he Tem m̄-khéng hō͘ gín-á chē.
M̄-koh, góa tio̍h sêng-jīn, 2042-nî 12 goe̍h 31 tùi góa sī ke̍k khióng-pò͘ ê ji̍t-chí.
"Lí oke bô?" gín-á lóng tńg-khì liáu, Tem mn̄g góa. Goán tú chiau-thāi ta̍k-ê chia̍h nî-bóe pn̄g, pau-hâm gín-á hām in ê phòe-ngó͘, iáu ū goán kiáⁿ la̍k kò-goe̍h tōa ê eⁿ-á, iā tō sī goán tōa-hàn sun, sin kah ná kim sih-sih ê sin gîn-kak-á. Tī chia̍h-pn̄g toh, goán hit-ê khai-lóng ê chă-kiáⁿ hām yin pì-sù ê ang soan-pò͘, kóng in ê kî-thāi sī peh-goe̍h. Tī chhá-nāu kap chàn-thàn tang-tiong, bô lâng chù-ì tio̍h, góa bô hoah-hiu a̍h chàn-thàn. Hit-ê gín-á bān sì kò-goe̍h, góa tú bē-tio̍h. Hit-chióng thiàⁿ chin tōa, chiok tōa. Góa kóng bē chhut chhùi. Góa khòaⁿ in -- sio-lám, tah chhiú-sim -- ná-chhiūⁿ ùi po-lê piah āu-bīn khòaⁿ.
"Oh thiⁿ ah, Ellie," Tem kóng kah sim kan-khó͘, phiaⁿ hiòng àm-àm kheh-thiaⁿ nih ê phòng-í. "Oh thiⁿ ah."
"Bô siáⁿ," góa kā phiàn, tòe i chē lo̍h phòng-í. "Kin-nî bô siáⁿ."
Tem un-un jiû-jiû kā góa lám, sim-chêng khin-sang, góa kám-kak chin chân-jím. Góa bô hoat-tō͘ jím-siū ka-tī. Góa khiā khí-lâi, kiaⁿ-hiâⁿ kah khiā bē chāi, pái-leh pái-leh kiâⁿ hiòng e̍k-sek.
"Ellie?" i kóng. "Lí ná ē pái-kha?"
"Góa ê kha bâ khì," góa koh kā phiàn, sûi kā sin āu ê mn̂g hut-leh koaiⁿ khí-lâi.
- -
3. 知影這, 提高我 ê 生活
Tem 拚命欲袂記伊聽著 ê, 毋過逐改若欲到四月 17 ê 時, 我感覺會出伊有意識著, 看我 ê 方式有小可各樣, 也溫柔, 也氣惱, 敆㪉做一伙. "Oh," 我入門 ê 時, 伊大力看水仙花 (花稈已經落軟), 伊會 án-ne 講. "彼..."
我會為阮 tī 高級餐廳訂位; 我會安排一个週末出外. Tī 規年 ê 其他時間, 阮小心避免這種奢華. 同時, 我七月 ê 生日 mā tī 失注意當中凊彩過.
Tem tō 吐一口氣, 開始款過暝 ê 行李. Tī 初春 ê 寒冷 nih, 阮坐 tī 山崙頂一間民宿砛簷 ê 搖椅啉 kapi. Tem 對我真慷慨; 這是規年內伊上無佮意 ê 一工, 毋過伊真 gâu 假仙; 阮散步. 阮食 ais-krím. 彼是戇 tòng-tòng ê 小小 oke-páng ah.
在外人來看, 我 ê 生活正常 -- 平順無起落, 真 ê -- 毋過, 我 kā 你講, 彼真豐富, 一沿 koh 一沿, 攏真有料. 我理解, 這不過看著 ná 2.2 个囡仔 hiah-nī 四常, 食一份公家頭路, 婚姻生活久久長長, 普普通通 ê 祝福 kap 姦撟, 毋過有濟濟時陣, 會使講是算袂了 ê 時陣 -- 囡仔猶細漢 ê sî, kā in 抹雪文洗頭毛, 一个鳥仔 chhi-chhi chhā-chhā ê 拜五早起, ùi 停車場行去辦公室, 半暝鼻著 Tem 頷頸後面 ê 羶. 我會使講啥 ah. 我無想欲 siuⁿ 重感情, 毋過 chiah-ê 攏毋是小代誌. 講一句咱這个時代 ê 臭酸話: 悲傷割 lú 深, 貯會落 ê 快樂 tō lú 濟. Tī 遮, 我無欲講 hiah-ê 起起落落, 落胎, 車禍, 疏遠, kap 發生 tī 阮小弟 ê 代誌, 毋過我欲講, 頂面彼句話講了真著.
四月 17. Tī 我知影 2043 年四月 17 進前, 我已經捌 31 擺過這个日子 ah. 知影咱已經經過咱 ê 死亡日子濟濟改, 綴日子 ê 徙踅 koh 逐年 teh 經過伊, án-ne 敢毋是真可怕? 若提掉這个神祕, 予咱真正知影, 莫予逐工攏承擔大大有可能是一个人 ê 死亡日子, án-ne 敢毋是凡勢會當小可減輕這種恐怖?
我毋知這个問題 ê 答案.
2043 年四月 17. 知影這, 提高我 ê 生活. 知影這, mā 予我 ê 生活有負擔. 我後悔我知影. 我 mā 感謝我知影.
我毋是跳樹奶索 (bungee) a̍h 跳傘彼類 ê 人, 毋過, tī 一寡小所在, 我 ê 生活比別人較勇敢. 比論講, 比 Tem 較在膽. 我知影, 當時驚死, 著, 毋過 án-ne mā 代表, 我知影當時毋免驚彼. 我捌 tī 隔離期間去 kám 仔店買物件. 我捌 tī 病院做義工, tī 風雪當中駛車, 坐會倒頭栽 ê 飛天車, 彼 Tem 毋肯予囡仔坐.
毋過, 我著承認, 2042 年 12 月 31 對我是極恐怖 ê 日子.
"你 oke 無?" 囡仔攏轉去了, Tem 問我. 阮拄招待逐个食年尾飯, 包含囡仔和 in ê 配偶, 猶有阮囝六個月大 ê 嬰仔, 也就是阮大漢孫, 新甲 ná 金爍爍 ê 新銀角仔. Tī 食飯桌, 阮彼个開朗 ê chă 囝和姻閉思 ê 翁宣布, 講 in ê 期待是八月. Tī 吵鬧 kap 讚嘆當中, 無人注意著, 我無喝咻 a̍h 讚嘆. 彼个囡仔慢四個月, 我拄袂著. 彼種疼真大, 足大. 我講袂出喙. 我看 in -- 相攬, 搭手心 -- 若像 ùi 玻璃壁後面看.
"Oh 天 ah, Ellie," Tem 講甲心艱苦, 抨向暗暗客廳 nih ê 膨椅. "Oh 天 ah."
"無啥," 我 kā 騙, 綴伊坐落膨椅. "今年無啥."
Tem 溫溫柔柔 kā 我攬, 心情輕鬆, 我感覺真殘忍. 我無法度忍受家己. 我徛起來, 驚惶甲徛袂在, 跛 leh 跛 leh 行向浴室.
"Ellie?" 伊講. "你那會跛跤?"
"我 ê 跤麻去," 我 koh kā 騙, 隨 kā 身後 ê 門 hut-leh 關起來.
- -
3.
Tem tried hard to forget what he’d heard, but every time April 17 came around again, I could feel his awareness of it, a slight buzz in the way he looked at me, tenderness and fury rolled up in one. “Oh,” he’d say, staring hard at the daffodils (their stems already weakening) as I stepped through the door. “That.”
I’d make a reservation for us at a fancy restaurant; I’d schedule a weekend getaway. Luxuries we spent the whole rest of the year carefully avoiding. Meanwhile, my birthday languished unnoticed in July.
Tem would sigh and pack his overnight case. We sat drinking coffee in rocking chairs on the front porch of a bed-and-breakfast on a hill in the chill of early spring. Tem was generous to me; it was his least favorite day of the year, but he managed to pretend; we’d stroll. We’d eat ice cream. The silly little band-aids.
My life would seem normal — bland, really — to an outside observer, but I tell you that for me it has been rich, layered and rich. I realize that it just looks like 2.2 children, a bureaucratic job and a long marriage, an average number of blessings and curses, but there have been so many moments, almost an infinity of moments — soaping up the kids’ hair when they were tiny, walking from the parking lot to the office on a bird-studded Friday morning, smelling the back of Tem’s neck in the middle of the night. What can I say. I don’t mean to be sentimental, but these are not small things. As the cliché of our time goes, the deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. This is no time to go into the ups and downs, the stillbirths and the car accident and the estrangement and what happened to my brother, but I will say that I believe the above statement to be true.
April 17. I’d lived that date thirty-one times already before I learned about April 17, 2043. Isn’t it macabre to know that we’ve lived the date of our death many times, passing by it each year as the calendar turns? And doesn’t it perhaps deflate that horror just a bit to take the mystery out of it, to actually know, to not have every date bear the heavy possibility of someday being the date of one’s death?
I do not know the answer to this question.
April 17, 2043. The knowledge heightened my life. The knowledge burdened my life. I regretted knowing. I was grateful to know.
I’ve never been the type to bungee jump or skydive, yet in many small ways I lived more courageously than others. More courageously than Tem, for instance. I knew when to fear death, yes, but that also meant I knew when not to fear it. I’d gone to the grocery store during times of quarantine. I’d volunteered at the hospital, driven in blizzards, ridden roller coasters so rickety Tem wouldn’t let the kids on them.
But I have to admit that December 31, 2042, was a fearful day for me.
“Are you okay?” Tem said after the kids had gone home. We’d hosted everyone for a last supper of the year, both children and their spouses, and our son’s six-month-old, our first grandchild, bright as a brand-new penny. At the dinner table, our radiant daughter and her bashful husband announced that they were expecting in August. Amid the raucous cheers and exclamations, no one noticed that I wasn’t cheering or exclaiming. The child I’d miss by four months. The ache was vast, vast. I couldn’t speak. I watched them, their hugs and high-fives, as though from behind a glass wall.
“Oh god, Ellie,” Tem said painfully, sinking onto the couch in the dark living room. “Oh god.”
“No,” I lied, joining him on the couch. “Not this year.”
Tem embraced me so warmly, with such relief, that I felt cruel. I couldn’t bear myself. I stood up and, unsteady with dread, limped toward the bathroom.
“Ellie?” he said. “You’re limping?”
“My foot fell asleep,” I lied again, yanking the door shut behind me.
- -
No comments:
Post a Comment