5. Koh-lâi iáu ū 6 hun-cheng
Goán ná kiâⁿ, ná khòaⁿ chia, khòaⁿ hia, tùi sū-sū hāng-hāng lóng chhiau-kip chù-ì. Thê-ko kéng-chhéⁿ. Góa kám-kak ná-chhiūⁿ sin chhut-sì ê gín-á, kiaⁿ-kiaⁿ keng-kòe chit-ê sè-kài. Che sī chi̍t-ê tùi-khòng sí-bông ê ji̍t-chí; sī hoan-âng-hoe ê ji̍t-chí. Tem it-ti̍t kóng chiah-ê hó-thiaⁿ, chong-giâm, tì-hūi ê ōe, khióng-kiaⁿ he ē sī i tùi góa kóng ê siōng-bóe kù ōe, m̄-koh góa chin-chiàⁿ ài thiaⁿ ê sī chhìn-chhái ōe (chhin-chhiūⁿ kóng, góa tī pa̍t-ê pâng-keng teh nauh siáⁿ ê sî, Tem só͘ nāi-sim, tio̍h-kip, a̍h hun-sim kóng kúi-chheng kái ê "Siáⁿ lah?"), só͘-tì, lo̍h-bóe góa kiò i mài koh kóng.
"Lí teh hō͘ góa ap-le̍k," góa kóng.
"Góa hō͘ lí ap-le̍k?" Tem án-ne khau-sé kóng. M̄-koh, i bô koh kóng chong-giâm ê tāi-chì. Goán sàn-pō͘, lim kapi, koh sàn-pō͘ chi̍t-khùn, koh chia̍h-tàu, goán chē tī chi̍t-ê kong-hn̂g, múi chi̍t-ê cheng-ka ê sî-khek lóng sī chi̍t-ê kiaⁿ-kî, goán koh chē khì lēng-gōa chi̍t-ê kong-hn̂g, koh lim khah-chē kapi, koh sàn-pō͘, chia̍h àm-tǹg. Ta̍k-pái góa khòaⁿ tio̍h goán ê sin-iáⁿ hoán-siā tī chi̍t-tè thang-á, góa lóng koh-chài khòaⁿ chi̍t-piàn -- po-lê nih hit-tùi lāu hu-chhe sī siáng ah, hit-ê thoa-pō͘ teh kiâⁿ ê thuh-thâu cha-po͘ lia̍h tiâu-tiâu hit-ê chhēng khoah gû-á-khò͘ ê a-má ah? M̄-koh, sui-jiân goán í-keng lāu ah, góa ê kám-kak iáu sī bêng-liāng, siàu-liân, tùi kapi ê kháu-bī, chháu ê sek-chúi, gín-á tī ūn-tōng-tiâⁿ sńg ê khin-siaⁿ ōe lóng iáu chin bín-kám. Góa kám-kak bô khan-kòa, tông-sî mā sī bô khan-kòa ê tò-péng, bē-su ná khòaⁿ thiⁿ téng ê hong-chhoe, góa koh ē-tàng kám-kak tio̍h só͘ chē tn̂g-í ē-bīn hoat-seng ê thó͘-tē chùn-tāng. Nā kóng chit-kang hō͘ góa siūⁿ tio̍h 38-nî chêng góa hām Tem chò-hóe ê tē-it kang, án-ne kám ē chin kî-koài?
Ē-po͘ niū-ūi hō͘ chi̍t-ê lêng-chēng ê nâ-sek àm-mê, goe̍h-niû sī chheng-chheng chhó-chhó ê pòaⁿ-pêng, goán chē tī goán-tau sió-sió ê gîm-chîⁿ, khòaⁿ chhia se̍h kòe ke-lō͘. Ū sî-chūn, khong-khì nih ū hiⁿ-siaⁿ, ná khòaⁿ bē-tio̍h ê ui-hia̍p, ū-sî iū kám-kak he put-kò sī khong-khì. M̄-koh, góa tú kám-kak he sī khong-khì, sûi-tō koh chi̍t-kái ū hiⁿ-siaⁿ, ná khòaⁿ bē-tio̍h ê ui-hia̍p.
Àm-sî 11:45, goán tī chhù nih, lù chhùi-khí, teh chhoah. Tem ê khí-bín lak-lo̍h bé-tháng nih. Góa thè i kā sa chhut-lâi. Góa kám ē kan-ta poa̍h-tó tī thô͘-kha, a̍h sī ē chhut-hiān chi̍t-ê chah bú-khì ê kiông-tō?
Nā hut m̄-tio̍h khì ē án-nóa? Siūⁿ khí hit-tâi kán-tan ê ki-tâi, hit-tiuⁿ sió chóa-phìⁿ, Khí-pôaⁿ léng-léng ê botán, góa tîm-chùi tī kúi-nî lâi m̄-káⁿ siūⁿ ê hoàn-sióng. Hut-jiân-kan, he khòaⁿ sī ū khó-lêng, góa su-ji̍p ê siā-hōe an-choân hō-má m̄-tio̍h, kiám chi̍t-ūi sò͘-jī. A̍h-sī chhut-hiān bó͘-chióng ê koaⁿ-liâu chhò-gō͘, tī ki-tâi lāi-bīn ū bó͘-chióng kò͘-chiong. A̍h-sī, hoān-sè góa kā sò͘-jī chhap m̄-tio̍h khì -- 2047-nî 4-goe̍h 13. Góa nā oa̍h chhiau-kòe 2043-nî 4-goe̍h 17, góa sèⁿ-miā ê sin kài-hān ē tī tó-ūi?
Ná teh phi̍h-phi̍h chhoah, góa ná kō͘ chúi-tō-thâu chhèng-ian ê sio-chúi sé Tem ê khí-bín-á; khì io̍h-chng tiàm se̍h hòe-kè chhōe thè-ōaⁿ ê sin khí-bín, koh kéng sin sek-chúi ê, eng-kai bē sī góa.
Goán khiā tī hia, hō͘-siong siòng e̍k-sek kiàⁿ nih ê tùi-hong. Chit-kái, góa bô hām-lo̍h tī kiàⁿ nih ê ka-tī -- Tem, góa teh siòng ê sī Tem, góa só͘ chò ê tō-sī án-ne.
Sī án-nóa góa m̄-bat siūⁿ tio̍h, hit-ê sí-bông Tem mā ū-hūn?
Chit kúi-nî lâi, chin-ê, góa chi̍t-kái to bô siūⁿ tio̍h hit-ê khó-lêng-sèng. M̄-koh, ū khó-lêng sī chi̍t-lia̍p chheⁿ-chio̍h, chi̍t-lia̍p chà-tôaⁿ, chi̍t-kái tē-tāng, chi̍t-tiûⁿ hóe-chai.
Góa kā ba̍k-chiu sóa khui kiàⁿ nih ê Tem, lia̍h-tiâu chin-si̍t ê Tem. Góa kā lia̍h tiâu-tiâu, ná-chhiūⁿ lia̍h soaⁿ-khàm kāng-khoán, i mā kā góa lia̍h tò-tńg.
Góa sǹg kín-tiuⁿ ê 10-bió. Sǹg i ām-kún hoeh-me̍h ê thiàu-tāng.
"Lán kám tio̍h...?" góa kóng.
"Siáⁿ-mi̍h?" Tem kín-kín kóng, chhiong-móa hi-bāng, bē-su góa tit-boeh thê-chhut chi̍t-ê kái-koat hong-àn.
"Góa m̄-chai," góa kóng. "Lâi khì khùn? Chá tō chhiau-kòe lán khùn ê sî-kan ah."
"Khùn ê sî-kan!" Tem kóng, ká-ná góa sī teh kek ngó͘-jîn, sui-bóng i chhiò bē chhut-lâi.
Àm-sî 11:54, 2043-nî sì-goe̍h 17. Goán siang-lâng lóng iáu oa̍h-tio̍h, bô tāi-chì. M̄-koh, góa bē-sái siuⁿ kòe-thâu. Koh-lâi iáu ū 6 hun-cheng.
[Soah]
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5. 閣來猶有 6 分鐘
阮 ná 行, ná 看遮, 看遐, 對事事項項攏超級注意. 提高警醒. 我感覺若像新出世 ê 囡仔, 驚驚經過這个世界. 這是一个對抗死亡 ê 日子; 是番紅花 ê 日子. Tem 一直講 chiah-ê 好聽, 莊嚴, 智慧 ê 話, 恐驚彼會是伊對我講 ê 上尾句話, 毋過我真正愛聽 ê 是凊彩話 (親像講, 我 tī 別个房間 teh 喃啥 ê 時, Tem 所耐心, 著急, a̍h 分心講幾千改 ê "啥 lah?"), 所致, 落尾我叫伊莫閣講.
"你 teh 予我壓力," 我講.
"我予你壓力?" Tem án-ne 剾洗講. 毋過, 伊無 koh 講莊嚴 ê 代誌. 阮散步, 啉 kapi, koh 散步一睏, koh 食晝, 阮坐 tī 一个公園, 每一个增加 ê 時刻攏是一个驚奇, 阮 koh 坐去另外一个公園, koh 啉較濟 kapi, koh 散步, 食暗頓. 逐擺我看著阮 ê 身影反射 tī 一塊窗仔, 我攏閣再看一遍 -- 玻璃 nih 彼對老夫妻是 siáng ah, 彼个拖步 teh 行 ê 禿頭查埔掠牢牢彼个穿闊牛仔褲 ê 阿媽 ah? 毋過, 雖然阮已經老 ah, 我 ê 感覺猶是明亮, 少年, 對 kapi ê 口味, 草 ê 色水, 囡仔 tī 運動埕耍 ê 輕聲話攏猶真敏感. 我感覺無牽掛, 同時 mā 是無牽掛 ê 倒反, 袂輸 ná 看天頂 ê 風吹, 我 koh 會當感覺著所坐長椅下面發生 ê 土地顫動. 若講這工予我想著 38 年前我和 Tem 做伙 ê 第一工, án-ne 敢會真奇怪?
下晡讓位予一个寧靜 ê 藍色暗暝, 月娘是清清楚楚 ê 半爿, 阮坐 tī 阮兜小小 ê 砛簷, 看車踅過街路. 有時陣, 空氣 nih 有 hiⁿ 聲, ná 看袂著 ê 威脅, 有時又感覺彼不過是空氣. 毋過, 我拄感覺彼是空氣, 隨就 koh 一改有 hiⁿ 聲, ná 看袂著 ê 威脅.
暗時 11:45, 阮 tī 厝 nih, 鑢喙齒, teh 掣. Tem ê 齒抿 lak 落馬桶 nih. 我替伊 kā 捎出來. 我敢會干焦跋倒 tī 塗跤, 抑是會出現一个扎武器 ê 強盜?
若拂毋著去會按怎? 想起彼台簡單 ê 機台, 彼張小紙片, 齒盤冷冷 ê botán, 我沉醉 tī 幾年來毋敢想 ê 幻想. 忽然間, he 看是有可能, 我輸入 ê 社會安全號碼毋著, 減一位數字. 抑是出現某種 ê 官僚錯誤, tī 機台內面有某種故障. 抑是, 凡勢我 kā 數字 chhap 毋著去 -- 2047 年 4 月 13. 我若活超過 2043 年 4 月 17, 我性命 ê 新界限會 tī 佗位?
Ná teh phi̍h-phi̍h 掣, 我 ná kō͘ 水道頭熗煙 ê 燒水洗 Tem ê 齒抿仔; 去藥妝店踅貨架揣替換 ê 新齒抿, koh 揀新色水 ê, 應該袂是我.
阮徛 tī 遐, 互相相浴室鏡 nih ê 對方. 這改, 我無陷落 tī 鏡 nih ê 家己 -- Tem, 我 teh 相 ê 是 Tem, 我所做 ê 就是 án-ne.
是按怎我毋捌想著, 彼个死亡 Tem mā 有份?
這幾年來, 真 ê, 我一改 to 無想著彼个可能性. 毋過, 有可能是一粒星石, 一粒炸彈, 一改地動, 一場火災.
我 kā 目睭徙開鏡 nih ê Tem, 掠牢真實 ê Tem. 我 kā 掠牢牢, 若像掠山崁仝款, 伊 mā kā 我掠倒轉.
我算緊張 ê 10 秒. 算伊頷頸血脈 ê 跳動.
"咱敢著...?" 我講.
"啥物?" Tem 緊緊講, 充滿希望, 袂輸我得欲提出一个解決方案.
"我毋知," 我講. "來去睏? 早 tō 超過咱睏 ê 時間 ah."
"睏 ê 時間!" Tem 講, ká-ná 我是 teh 激五仁, 雖罔伊笑袂出來.
暗時 11:54, 2043 年四月 17. 阮雙人攏猶活著, 無代誌. 毋過, 我袂使 siuⁿ 過頭. 閣來猶有 6 分鐘.
[煞]
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5.
We walked, looking this way and that as we went, hyperaware of everything. Vigilant. I felt like a newborn person, passing so alertly through the world. It was such an anti-death day; the crocuses. Tem kept saying these beautiful, solemn one-liners that would work well if they happened to be the last words he ever said to me, but what I really wanted to hear was throwaway words (all those thousands of times Tem had said “What?” patiently or irritably or absentmindedly when I’d mumbled something from the other room), so eventually I had to tell him to please stop.
“You’re stressing me out,” I said.
“I’m stressing you out?” Tem scoffed. But he did stop saying the solemn things. We strolled and got coffee, we strolled some more and got lunch, we sat in a park, each additional moment a small shock, we sat in another park, we got more coffee, we strolled and got dinner. Every time I caught a glimpse of us reflected in a window, I had to look again — who was that aging couple in the glass, the balding shuffling guy hanging onto the grandmother in the saggy jeans? Still, old though we’d become, my senses felt bright and young, supremely sensitive to the taste of the coffee, the color of the rising grass, the sound of kids whispering on the playground. I felt carefree and at the same time the opposite of carefree, as though I could sense the seismic activity taking place beneath the bench where we sat, gazing up at kites. Is it strange to say that this day reminded me of the first day I’d ever spent with Tem, thirty-eight years ago?
The afternoon gave way to a serene blue evening, the moon a sharp and perfect half, and we sat on our small front porch, watching cars glide down our street. At times the air buzzed with invisible threat, and at times it just felt like air. But the instant I noticed it just felt like air, it would begin to buzz with invisible threat once more.
Come 11:45 pm, we were inside, brushing our teeth, shaking. Tem dropped his toothbrush in the toilet. I grabbed it out for him. Would I simply collapse onto the floor, or would it be a burglar with a weapon?
What if there had been an error? Remembering back to that humble machine, that thin scrap of paper, the cold buttons of the keypad, I indulged in the fantasy I’d avoided over the years. It suddenly seemed possible that I’d punched my social in wrong, one digit off. Or that there had been some kind of bureaucratic mistake, some malfunction deep within the machine. Or perhaps I’d mixed up the digits — April 13, 2047. If I lived beyond April 17, 2043, where would the new boundaries of my life lie?
Shakily, I washed Tem’s toothbrush in steaming hot water from the faucet; it wouldn’t be me lingering in the aisle of the drugstore, considering the potential replacements, the colors.
We stood there staring at each other in the bathroom mirror. This time I didn’t fall into my own reflection — Tem, I was looking at Tem, that’s what I was doing.
Why had it never occurred to me that it might be something that would kill Tem too?
In all of these years, truly, I had never once entertained that possibility. But it could be a meteorite, a bomb, an earthquake, a fire.
I unlocked my eyes from Tem’s reflection and grabbed the real Tem. I clung to him like I was clinging to a cliff, and he clung right back.
I counted ten tense seconds. The pulse in his neck.
“Should we — ?” I said.
“What?” Tem said quickly, almost hopefully, as though I was about to propose a solution.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Go to bed? It’s way past our bedtime.”
“Bedtime!” Tem said as though I was hilarious, though he didn’t manage a laugh.
11:54pm on April 17, 2043. We are both alive and well. Yet I mustn’t get ahead of myself. There are still six minutes remaining.
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//
Copyright © 2013 by the Author.
About the Author
Helen Phillips is a 2020 Guggenheim Foundation Fellow. She is the author of five books, including the novel The Need, which was long-listed for the National Book Award. Phillips has received a Rona Jaffe Foundation Writer’s Award, the Italo Calvino Prize in Fabulist Fiction, the Iowa Review Nonfiction Award, the DIAGRAM Innovative Fiction Award, and a Ucross Foundation residency. A graduate of Yale and the Brooklyn College MFA program, Phillips is an associate professor at Brooklyn College.
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