His parents had not meant to abuse him; they had meant to love him, and they did love him. But Oliver had come late in their little pack of offspring, at a time when the challenge of child rearing was wearing thin, and he proved susceptible to mishaps. He was born with inturned feet and learned to crawl with corrective casts up to his ankles. When they were at last removed, he cried in terror because he thought those heavy plaster boots scraping and bumping along the floor had been part of himself.
One day in his infancy, they found him on their dressing-room floor with a box of mothballs, some of which were wet with saliva; in retrospect, they wondered if there had really been a need to rush him to the hospital and have his poor little stomach pumped. His face was graygreen afterward. The following summer, when he had learned to walk, his parents had unthinkingly swum off the beach together, striving for romantic harmony in the wake of a late party and alcoholic quarrel, and were quite unaware, until they saw the lifeguard racing along the beach, that Oliver had toddled after them and had been floating on his face for what might have been, given a less alert lifeguard, a fatal couple of minutes. This time, his face was blue, and he coughed for hours.
He was the least complaining of their children. He did not blame his parents when neither they nor the school authorities detected his “sleepy” right eye in time for therapy, with the result that when he closed that eye everything looked intractably fuzzy. Just the sight of the boy holding a schoolbook at a curious angle to the light made his father want to weep impotently.
And it happened that he was just the wrong, vulnerable age when his parents went through their separation and divorce. His older brothers were off at boarding school and college, embarked on manhood, free of family. His younger sister was small enough to find the new arrangements—the meals in restaurants with her father, the friendly men who appeared to take her mother out—exciting. But Oliver, at thirteen, felt the weight of the household descend on him and made his mothers sense of abandonment his own. Again, his father impotently grieved. It was he, and not the boy, who was at fault, really, when the bad grades began to come in from day school and then from college, and Oliver broke his arm falling down the frat stairs, or leaping, by another account of the confused incident, from a girls window. Not one but several family automobiles met a ruinous end with him at the wheel, though with no more injury, as it happened, than contused knees and loosened front teeth. The teeth grew firm again, thank God, for his innocent smile, slowly spreading across his face as the full humor of his newest misadventure dawned, was one of his best features. His teeth were small and round and widely spaced—baby teeth.
Then he married, which seemed yet another mishap, to go with the late nights, abandoned jobs, and fallen-through opportunities of his life as a young adult. The girl, Alicia, was as accidentprone as he, given to substance abuse and unwanted pregnancies. Her emotional disturbances left her and others bruised. By comparison, Oliver was solid and surefooted, and she looked up to him. This was the key. What we expect of others, they try to provide. He held on to a job, and she held on to her pregnancies. You should see him now, with their two children, a fair little girl and a dark-haired boy. Oliver has grown broad and holds the two of them at once. They are birds in a nest. He is a tree, a sheltering boulder. He is a protector of the weak.
奧利弗的父母并非有意苛待他,他們本想疼愛(ài)他,并且也確實(shí)愛(ài)他。奧利弗是他們家那一小群孩子里較遲出生的,養(yǎng)育孩子已不甚艱難了,但厄運(yùn)還是降臨到了他身上。他天生雙足內(nèi)旋,在及至腳踝的石膏矯正器的輔助下才學(xué)會(huì)了爬行。當(dāng)矯正器最終被取下來(lái)時(shí),他驚恐地大哭起來(lái),因?yàn)樗詾槟请p刮擦、碰撞著地板的沉重石膏靴本是他身體的一部分。
在奧利弗還是嬰兒時(shí),有一天,他的父母發(fā)現(xiàn)他坐在衣帽間的地板上,手里拿著一盒樟腦丸,其中一些沾滿了口水。回想起來(lái),他們都有點(diǎn)后悔當(dāng)時(shí)把奧利弗立馬送到醫(yī)院洗胃去,好像也沒(méi)這個(gè)必要。洗完胃,小孩臉都變青灰色了。第二年夏天,他學(xué)會(huì)了走路。在一次深夜聚會(huì)和酒后爭(zhēng)吵之后,他的父母不經(jīng)思索就一起游出海灘,希望有一段浪漫的相處時(shí)間。直到看見(jiàn)救生員沿著海灘奔跑時(shí),他們才意識(shí)到奧利弗早已踉蹌地跟在后面,要不是救生員足夠警覺(jué),再過(guò)關(guān)鍵的幾分鐘,他們看見(jiàn)的便是奧利弗臉朝天地浮在水面上了。這次,他臉色發(fā)紫,咳嗽了好幾個(gè)小時(shí)。
在他們的孩子里,奧利弗是最少抱怨的。他的父母和學(xué)校領(lǐng)導(dǎo)都沒(méi)有及時(shí)發(fā)現(xiàn)他那只“昏昏欲睡”的右眼并給予治療,他并沒(méi)有責(zé)怪父母。其結(jié)果是,他一閉上右眼,一切都顯得模糊不清。只要一看到他手捧教科書,以奇怪的角度對(duì)著光線閱讀,他的父親便感覺(jué)無(wú)助欲哭。
當(dāng)他的父母經(jīng)歷分居直至離婚時(shí),奧利弗正處于尷尬、脆弱的年紀(jì)。……