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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
"Maybe you should just get it over with and get married."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, you guys probably think living together like this is the best of both worlds, but —" Zoe tried to sound like an older sister; an older sister was supposed to be the parent you could never have, the hip1, cool mom. "But I've always found that as soon as you think you've got the best of both worlds" — she thought now of herself, alone in her house, of the toad-faced cicadas that flew around like little men at night and landed on her screens, staring; of the size-fourteen shoes she placed at the doorstep, to scare off intruders; of the ridiculous, inflatable blowup doll someone had told her to keep propped2 up at the breakfast table — "it can suddenly twist and become the worst of both worlds."
"Really?" Evan was beaming. "Oh, Zoe. I have something to tell you.
Charlie and I are getting married."
"Really." Zoe felt confused.
"I didn't know how to tell you."
"Yeah, I guess the part about fuzzy football misled me a little."
"I was hoping you'd be my maid of honor," said Evan, waiting. "Aren't you happy for me?"
"Yes," said Zoe, and she began to tell Evan a story about an award-winning violinist at Hilldale-Versailles — how the violinist had come home from a competition in Europe and taken up with a local man who made her go to all his summer Softball games, made her cheer for him from the stands, with the wives, until she later killed herself. But when Zoe got halfway4 through, to the part about cheering at the Softball games, she stopped.
"What?" said Evan. "So what happened?"
"Actually, nothing," said Zoe lightly. "She just really got into Softball. You should have seen her."
Zoe decided5 to go to a late afternoon movie, leaving Evan to chores she needed to do before the party — "I have to do them alone, really," she'd said, a little tense after the violinist story.
Zoe thought about going to an art museum, but women alone in art museums had to look good. They always did. Chic6 and serious, moving languidly, with a great handbag. Instead, she walked down through Kips Bay, past an earring7 boutique called Stick It in Your Ear, past a hair salon8 called Dorian Gray. That was the funny thing about "beauty," thought Zoe.
Look it up in the yellow pages and you found a hundred entries, hostile with wit, cutesy with warning. But look up "truth" — Ha! There was nothing at all.
Zoe thought about Evan getting married. Would Evan turn into Peter Pumpkin9 Eater's wife? Mrs. Eater? At the wedding, would she make Zoe wear some flouncy lavender dress, identical with the other maids'? Zoe hated uniforms, had even in the first grade refused to join Elf Girls because she didn't want to wear the same dress as everyone else. Now she might have to. But maybe she could distinguish it. Hitch10 it up on one side with a clothespin. Wear surgical11 gauze at the waist. Clip to her bodice one of those pins that say in loud letters "Shit Happens."
At the movie — Death by Number— she bought strands12 of red licorice to tug13 and chew. She took a seat off to one side in the theater. She felt strangely self-conscious sitting alone, and hoped for the place to darken fast. When it did, and the coming attractions came on, she reached inside her purse for her glasses. They were in a Baggie. Her Kleenex was also in a Baggie. So were her pen and her aspirin14 and her mints. Everything was in Baggies. This was what she'd become: a woman alone at the movies with everything in a Baggie.
At the Halloween party, there were about two dozen people. There were people with ape heads and large hairy hands. There was someone dressed as a leprechaun. There was someone dressed as a frozen dinner.
Some man had brought his two small daughters: a ballerina and a ballerina's sister, also dressed as a ballerina. There was a gaggle of sexy witches — women dressed entirely15 in black, beautifully made up and jeweled. "I hate those sexy witches. It's not in the spirit of Halloween,"
said Evan. Evan had abandoned the moon mask and dolled herself up as hausfrau, in curlers and an apron16, a decision she now regretted. Charlie, because he liked fish, because he owned fish and collected fish, had decided to go as a fish. He had fins17, and eyes on the sides of his head.
"Zoe! How are you! I'm sorry I wasn't here when you first arrived!" He spent the rest of his time chatting up the sexy witches.
"Isn't there something I can help you with here?" Zoe asked her sister.
"You've been running yourself ragged18." She rubbed her sister's arm, gently, as if she wished they were alone.
"Oh, God, not at all," said Evan, arranging stuffed mushrooms on a plate. The timer went off, and she pulled another sheetful out of the oven. "Actually, you know what you can do?"
"What?" Zoe put on her bonehead.
"Meet Earl. He's the guy I had in mind for you. When he gets here, just talk to him a little. He's nice. He's fun. He's going through a divorce."
When Earl arrived, he was dressed as a naked woman, steel wool glued strategically to a body stocking, and large rubber breasts protruding20 like hams.
"Zoe, this is Earl," said Evan.
"Good to meet you," said Earl, circling Evan to shake Zoe's hand. He stared at the top of Zoe's head. "Great bone."
Zoe nodded. "Great tits," she said. She looked past him, out the window at the city thrown glittering up against the sky; people were saying the usual things: how it looked like jewels, like bracelets22 and necklaces unstrung. You could see the clock of the Con3 Ed building, the orange-and-gold-capped Empire State, the Chrysler like a rocket ship dreamed up in a depression. Far west you could glimpse Astor Plaza23, with its flying white roof like a nun's habit. "There's beer out on the balcony, Earl. Can I get you one?" Zoe asked.
"Sure, uh, I'll come along. Hey, Charlie, how's it going?"
Charlie grinned and whistled. People turned to look. "Hey, Earl," someone called from across the room. "Va-va-va-voom."
They squeezed their way past the other guests, past the apes and the sexy witches. The suction of the sliding door gave way in a whoosh24, and Zoe and Earl stepped out onto the balcony, a bonehead and a naked woman, the night air roaring and smoky cool. Another couple were out there, too, murmuring privately25. They were not wearing costumes. They smiled at Zoe and Earl. "Hi," said Zoe. She found the plastic-foam cooler, dug in and retrieved26 two beers.
"Thanks," said Earl. His rubber breasts folded inward, dimpled and dented27, as he twisted open the bottle.
"Well," sighed Zoe anxiously. She had to learn not to be afraid of a man, the way, in your childhood, you learned not to be afraid of an earthworm or a bug28. Often, when she spoke29 to men at parties, she rushed things in her mind. As the man politely blathered on, she would fall in love, marry, then find herself in a bitter custody30 battle with him for the kids and hoping for a reconciliation31, so that despite all his betrayals she might no longer despise him, and, in the few minutes remaining, learn, perhaps, what his last name was and what he did for a living, though probably there was already too much history between them. She would nod, blush, turn away.
"Evan tells me you're a history professor. Where do you teach?"
"Just over the Indiana border into Illinois."
He looked a little shocked. "I guess Evan didn't tell me that part."
"She didn't?"
"No."
"Well, that's Evan for you. When we were kids we both had speech impediments."
"That can be tough," said Earl. One of his breasts was hidden behind his drinking arm, but the other shone low and pink, full as a strawberry moon.
"Yes, well, it wasn't a total loss. We used to go to what we called peach pearapy. For about ten years of my life, I had to map out every sentence in my mind, way ahead, before I said it. That was the only way I could get a coherent sentence out."
Earl drank from his beer. "How did you do that? I mean, how did you get through?"
"I told a lot of jokes. Jokes you know the lines to already. You can just say them. I love jokes. Jokes and songs."
Earl smiled. He had on lipstick32, a deep shade of red, but it was wearing off from the beer. "What's your favorite joke?"
"Uh, my favorite joke is probably — O.K., all right. This guy goes into a doctor's office, and — "
"I think I know this one," interrupted Earl, eagerly. He wanted to tell it himself. "A guy goes into a doctor's office, and the doctor tells him he's got some good news and some bad news — that one, right?"
"I'm not sure," said Zoe. "This might be a different version."
"So the guy says, 'Give me the bad news first,' and the doctor says,
'O.K. You've got three weeks to live.' And the guy cries, 'Three weeks to live! Doctor, what is the good news?' And the doctor says, 'Did you see that secretary out front? I finally fucked her.'"
Zoe frowned.
"That's not the one you were thinking of?"
"No." There was accusation33 in her voice. "Mine was different."
"Oh," said Earl. He looked away and then back again. "What kind of history do you teach?"
"I teach American, mostly — eighteenth- and nineteenth-century."
"Occasionally, I teach a special theme course," she added. "Say, 'Humor and Personality in the White House.' That's what my book's on."
She thought of something someone once told her about bowerbirds, how they build elaborate structures before mating.
"Your book's on humor?"
"Yeah, and, well, when I teach a theme course like that I do all the centuries." So what's your century?
"All three of them."
"Three. There's only three."
"Well, four, really." She was thinking of Jamestown, and of the Pilgrims coming here with buckles39 and witch hats to say their prayers.
"I'm a photographer," said Earl. His face was starting to gleam, his rouge40 smearing41 in a sunset beneath his eyes.
"Do you like that?"
"Well, actually, I'm starting to feel it's a little dangerous."
"Really?"
"Spending all your time in a dark room with that red light and all those chemicals. There's links with Parkinson's, you know."
"No, I didn't."
"I suppose I should wear rubber gloves, but I don't like to. Unless I'm touching42 it directly, I don't think of it as real."
"Hmm," said Zoe. Alarm buzzed mildly through her.
"Sometimes, when I have a cut or something, I feel the sting and think, Shit. I wash constantly and just hope. I don't like rubber over the skin like that."
"Really."
"I mean, the physical contact. That's what you want, or why bother?"
"I guess," said Zoe. She wished she could think of a joke, something slow and deliberate with the end in sight. She thought of gorillas43, how when they had been kept too long alone in cages they would smack44 each other in the head instead of mating.
"Now? As we speak?"
"Well, I mean, I'm sure you have a relationship to your work." A smile, a little one, nestled in his mouth like an egg. She thought of zoos in parks, how when cities were under siege, during world wars, people ate the animals. "But I mean, with a man."
"No, I'm not in a relationship with a man." She rubbed her chin with her hand and could feel the one bristly hair there. "But my last relationship was with a very sweet man," she said. She made something up.
"From Switzerland. He was a botanist46 — a weed expert. His name was Jerry. I called him Jare. He was so funny. You'd go to the movies with him and all he would notice was the plants. He would never pay attention to the plot. Once, in a jungle movie, he started rattling47 off all these Latin names, out loud. It was very exciting for him." She paused, caught her breath. "Eventually, he went back to Europe to, uh, study the edelweiss." She looked at Earl. "Are you involved in a relationship? With a woman?"
Earl shifted his weight and the creases48 in his body stocking changed, splintering outward like something broken. His pubic hair slid over to one hip, like a corsage on a saloon girl. "No," he said, clearing his throat.
The steel wool in his underarms was inching down toward his biceps.
"I've just gotten out of a marriage that was full of bad dialogue like 'You want more space? I'll give you more space!' Clonk. Your basic Three Stooges."
Zoe looked at him sympathetically. "I suppose it's hard for love to recover after that."
His eyes lit up. He wanted to talk about love. "But I keep thinking love should be like a tree. You look at trees and they've got bumps and scars from tumors, infestations49, what have you, but they're still growing.
"Yeah, well," said Zoe, "where I'm from they're all married or gay. Did you see that movie Death by Number?'
Earl looked at her, a little lost. She was getting away from him. "No," he said.
One of his breasts had slipped under his arm, tucked there like a baguette. She kept thinking of trees, of parks, of people in wartime eating the zebras. She felt a stabbing pain in her abdomen51.
"Want some hors d'oeuvres?" Evan came pushing through the sliding door. She was smiling, though her curlers were coming out, hanging bedraggled at the ends of her hair like Christmas decorations, like food put out for the birds. She thrust forward a plate of stuffed mushrooms.
He liked Evan, and he put his arm around her.
"You know, I'll be right back," said Zoe.
"Oh," said Evan, looking concerned.
"Right back. I promise."
Zoe hurried inside, across the living room into the bedroom, to the adjoining bath. It was empty; most of the guests were using the half-bath near the kitchen. She flicked53 on the light and closed the door. The pain had stopped, and she didn't really have to go to the bathroom, but she stayed there anyway, resting. In the mirror above the sink, she looked haggard beneath her bonehead, violet-grays showing under the skin like a plucked and pocky bird's. She leaned closer, raising her chin a little to find the bristly hair. It was there, at the end of the jaw54, sharp and dark as a wire. She opened the medicine cabinet, pawed through it until she found some tweezers55. She lifted her head again and poked56 at her face with the metal tips, grasping and pinching and missing. Outside the door, she could hear two people talking low. They had come into the bedroom and were discussing something. They were sitting on the bed. One of them giggled57 in a false way. Zoe stabbed again at her chin, and it started to bleed a little. She pulled the skin tight along the jawbone, gripped the tweezers hard around what she hoped was the hair, and tugged58. A tiny square of skin came away, but the hair remained, blood bright at the root of it. Zoe clenched59 her teeth. "Come on," she whispered. The couple outside in the bedroom were now telling stories, softly, and laughing. There was a bounce and squeak60 of mattress61, and the sound of a chair being moved out of the way. Zoe aimed the tweezers carefully, pinched, then pulled gently, and this time the hair came, too, with a slight twinge of pain, and then a great flood of relief. "Yeah!" breathed Zoe. She grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed62 at her chin. It came away spotted63 with blood, and so she tore off some more and pressed hard until it stopped. Then she turned off the light, opened the door, and rejoined the party. "Excuse me," she said to the couple in the bedroom. They were the couple from the balcony, and they looked at her, a bit surprised. They had their arms around each other, and they were eating candy bars.
Earl was still out on the balcony, alone, and Zoe rejoined him there.
"Hi," she said.
He turned around and smiled. He had straightened his costume out a bit, though all the secondary sex characteristics seemed slightly doomed64, destined65 to shift and flip66 and zip around again any moment. "Are you O.K.?" he asked. He had opened another beer and was chugging.
"Oh, yeah. I just had to go to the bathroom." She paused. "Actually, I have been going to a lot of doctors recently."
"What's wrong?" asked Earl.
"Oh, probably nothing. But they're putting me through tests." She sighed. "I've had sonograms. I've had mammograms. Next week I'm going in for a candygram." He looked at her, concerned. "I've had too many gram words," she said.
"Here, I saved you these." He held out a napkin with two stuffed mushroom caps. They were cold and leaving oil marks on the napkin.
"Thanks," said Zoe, and pushed them both in her mouth. "Watch," she said with her mouth full. "With my luck it'll be a gallbladder operation."
Earl made a face. "So your sister's getting married," he said, changing the subject. "Tell me, really, what you think about love."
"Love? Hadn't they done this already? "I don't know." She chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "All right. I'll tell you what I think about love. Here is a love story. This friend of mine — "
"You've got something on your chin," said Earl, and he reached over to touch it.
"What?" said Zoe, stepping back. She turned her face away and grabbed at her chin. A piece of toilet paper peeled off it, like tape. "It's nothing," she said. "It's just — it's nothing."
Earl stared at her.
"At any rate," she continued, "this friend of mine was this award-winning violinist. She traveled all over Europe and won competitions; she made records, she gave concerts, she got famous. But she had no social life. So one day she threw herself at the feet of this conductor she had a terrible crush on. He picked her up, scolded her gently, and sent her back to her hotel room. After that, she came home from Europe. She went back to her old hometown, stopped playing the violin, and took up with a local boy. This was in Illinois. He took her to some Big Ten bar every night to drink with his buddies67 from the team. He used to say things like 'Katrina here likes to play the violin,' and then he'd pinch her cheek. When she once suggested that they go home, he said, 'What, you think you're too famous for a place like this? Well, let me tell you something. You may think you're famous, but you're not famous famous.' Two famouses. 'No one here's ever heard of you.' Then he went up and bought a round of drinks for everyone but her. She got her coat, went home, and shot a bullet through her head."
Earl was silent.
"That's the end of my love story," said Zoe.
"You're not at all like your sister," said Earl.
"No." He didn't want to talk about love anymore. "You know, you should wear a lot of blue — blue and white — around your face. It would bring out your coloring." He reached an arm out to show her how the blue bracelet21 he was wearing might look against her skin, but she swatted it away.
"Tell me, Earl. Does the word 'fag' mean anything to you?"
He stepped back, away from her. He shook his head in disbelief. "You know, I just shouldn't try to go out with career women. You're all stricken. A guy can really tell what life has done to you. I do better with women who have part-time jobs."
"Oh, yes?" said Zoe. She had once read an article entitled "Professional Women and the Demographics of Grief." Or, no, it was a poem. If there were a lake, the moonlight would dance across it in conniptions. She remembered that line. But perhaps the title was "The Empty House: Aesthetics70 of Barrenness." Or maybe "Space Gypsies: Girls in Academe."
She had forgotten.
Earl turned and leaned on the railing of the balcony. It was getting late. Inside, the party guests were beginning to leave. The sexy witches were already gone. "Live and learn," Earl murmured.
"Live and get dumb," replied Zoe. Beneath them on Lexington there were no cars, just the gold rush of an occasional cab. He leaned hard on his elbows, brooding.
You know how bugs are kept under control? They're sprayed with bug hormones73 — female bug hormones. The male bugs get so crazy in the presence of this hormone72 they're screwing everything in sight — trees, rocks, everything but female bugs. Population control. That's what's happening in this country," he said drunkenly. "Hormones sprayed around, and now men are screwing rocks. Rocks!"
In the back, the Magic Marker line on his buttocks spread wide, a sketchy74 black on pink, like a funnies page. Zoe came up, slow, from behind, and gave him a shove. His arms slipped forward, off the railing, out over the street. Beer spilled out of his bottle, raining twenty stories down to the street.
"Hey, what are you doing!" he said, whipping around. He stood straight and readied, and moved away from the railing, sidestepping Zoe. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Just kidding," she said. "I was just kidding." But he gazed at her, appalled75 and frightened, his Magic Marker buttocks turned away now toward all of downtown, a naked pseudo-woman with a blue bracelet at the wrist, trapped out on a balcony with — with what? "Really, I was just kidding!" Zoe shouted. The wind lifted the hair up off her head, skyward in spines76 behind the bone. If there were a lake, the moonlight would dance across it in conniptions. She smiled at him and wondered how she looked.
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收听单词发音
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1
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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chic
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| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
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earring
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| n.耳环，耳饰 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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pumpkin
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| n.南瓜 | |
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hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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aspirin
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| n.阿司匹林 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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fins
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| [医]散热片；鱼鳍；飞边；鸭掌 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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whoosh
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| v.飞快地移动，呼 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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dented
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| v.使产生凹痕( dent的过去式和过去分词 )；损害；伤害；挫伤（信心、名誉等） | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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lipstick
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| n.口红，唇膏 | |
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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pickup
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| n.拾起，获得 | |
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glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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revved
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| v.（使）加速( rev的过去式和过去分词 )；（数量、活动等）激增；（使发动机）快速旋转；（使）活跃起来 | |
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puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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spurned
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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41
smearing
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| 污点，拖尾效应 | |
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42
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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43
gorillas
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| n.大猩猩( gorilla的名词复数 )；暴徒，打手 | |
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44
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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45
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
botanist
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| n.植物学家 | |
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47
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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48
creases
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹 | |
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49
infestations
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| n.（害虫、盗贼等）群袭，出没，横行( infestation的名词复数 ) | |
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50
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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51
abdomen
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| n.腹，下腹(胸部到腿部的部分) | |
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52
wittily
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| 机智地，机敏地 | |
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53
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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54
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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55
tweezers
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| n.镊子 | |
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56
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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57
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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61
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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62
dabbed
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| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
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63
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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64
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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65
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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66
flip
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| vt.快速翻动；轻抛；轻拍；n.轻抛；adj.轻浮的 | |
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67
buddies
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| n.密友( buddy的名词复数 )；同伴；弟兄；（用于称呼男子，常带怒气）家伙v.（如密友、战友、伙伴、弟兄般）交往( buddy的第三人称单数 )；做朋友；亲近（…）；伴护艾滋病人 | |
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68
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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69
dirge
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| n.哀乐，挽歌，庄重悲哀的乐曲 | |
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70
aesthetics
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| n.(尤指艺术方面之)美学，审美学 | |
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71
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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72
hormone
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| n.荷尔蒙，激素，内分泌 | |
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73
hormones
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| n. 荷尔蒙，激素 名词hormone的复数形式 | |
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74
sketchy
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| adj.写生的，写生风格的，概略的 | |
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75
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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76
spines
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| n.脊柱( spine的名词复数 )；脊椎；（动植物的）刺；书脊 | |
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