第一任丈夫

安東尼婭·納爾遜（Antonya Nelson），美國著名作家，生于1961年，主要創作小說及短篇故事，代表作有《Talking in Bed》（1996）、《Nobody’s Girl》（1998）及《Living to Tell》（2000）三部小說，另外還著有五部短篇故事集。曾榮獲《芝加哥論壇報》的Heartland Award、歐康納文學獎、歐·亨利小說獎以及美國最佳短篇小說獎等獎項。

從本期推薦的短篇故事《第一任丈夫》的節選中，我們可以領略到納爾遜強烈的個人風格：她不愛直面現實，她所書寫的一切都不涉及歷史或者政治，外界評價她為“無趣”的女匠人，但她擅長雕琢人物自身最微妙細小的感受，以此來反應美國家庭生活的失序。

這則短篇故事講述了一個因女主人公拉維前夫的小女兒伯納黛特在一個深夜拖家帶口來造訪而發生的故事。拉維在照顧伯納黛特的孩子們（也就是她的孫輩們）時，回想起自己與前夫（即拉維的第一任丈夫）的點點滴滴。曾經有學者說過：“人真正由心底深處發出感情來戀愛的經歷只有一次，那便是初戀。”不錯，單一個“初”字便占盡了世間多半的美好，所有關于第一次的美好記憶都被我們深深地藏在心底，那是令人最難以舍棄的“甜”。如今的拉維早已再婚，但最終卻發現自己對前夫的那股愛意依舊深深地存在著……

“Lovey，” her husband said gently， which was his way. “It’s for you.” The velvet blackness of 2 a.m.， of nearly death-deep sleep： the ringing telephone had been a fire alarm in her dream； 1）reluctantly， she’d exited an unfamiliar building but not awakened， hovering in some liminal space. The building was filled with naked bodies， and she wished to return to them and their 2）naughty party. “Lovey，” her husband said again， and she was 3）livid with him， with his dull insistence， forcing her to attend to him when what she wanted to do was run back inside the burning building. “Lovey，” he said a third time， and then the light snapped on.

On the phone was Bernadette， her former stepdaughter. Her ex-husband’s youngest and most difficult girl， who was busy apologizing， as usual.

“I’m so sorry， but he’s been drinking，”Bernadette was saying of her 4）delinquent husband. “I need to find him before something happens. I mean， he can’t afford to get arrested again.”

“I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Actually？ I’m sorry， but could I bring the kids to you？ If he comes home， I don’t want them to see him. You know， it’s just so hard to have a conversation with kids around. Or a fight， for that matter， which is probably what’s going to happen. God， I’m really so sorry， Lovey...”

“Bring them， please， it’s fine—you should never worry about that.” Sleep and dreams had fallen away， along with， she suddenly realized， her first husband， whose hand she’d been holding in the burning building. Had he been 5）nude， too？ That wouldn’t have been like him， naked in public.

“I’m already in the car with them，”Bernadette said. “I was thinking I could start on Central Station and just see if he’s parked on some barstool or other. Please don’t tell Dad， O.K.？ I mean， he already thinks I’m a total fuckup and he hates Aaron enough. Plus， he’ll tell my sisters.”And then she was crying. Poor Bernadette. Had the girl ever not been miserable？ Even as a child， she had cultivated hurtful friendships， had forever been suffering 6）slights or neglect or 7）flat-out cruelty， this girl like a loyal beaten dog.

“Honey， I would never tell your dad. We’re not exactly on speaking terms. Bring the kids. I’m up. Don’t worry.”

“Actually？” Bernadette said. “I’m in your driveway. God， Lovey， I’m really， really sorry！”

The seven-year-old carried the 8）diaper bag and a 9）backpack， tilted sideways under the load， while his mother brought in the two car seats holding his sleeping sisters. “God， it smells like snow out there！ How often does that happen at this time of year？ I pumped，”Bernadette explained in a whisper. “Give Lovey the breast milk，” she told Caleb. The boy produced a pair of tepid yellowish 10）Baggies. There was always something a little 11）unsavory about dealing with breast milk. Maybe if Lovey had had her own babies she wouldn’t have felt this way.

The girls were left in their car seats on the living-room rug， which seemed wrong， somehow， people lashed into chairs， especially the three-year-old， whose big head looked unnaturally perpendicular in a way that would lead to a terrible neck ache. On the other hand， the girls were sure to scream if wakened.

Bernadette was 12）squinting at her cell phone， lips moving as she read something there.“Shit， he’s with Lance—that can’t end well. So I think she’ll be good till maybe， like， four？ And Caleb—I don’t think he’ll sleep， but he could watch 13）Looney Tunes， maybe？ With no sound？ Will you watch Looney Tunes on mute so Lovey can go back to bed， Caleb？”

“Don’t worry about us，” Lovey said. “We’ll play 14）Monopoly.” Lovey was the only person who would indulge Caleb’s fondness for Monopoly. The boy had been her first grandchild， born the year she divorced his grandfather， when she was a mere thirty-seven—far too young to be called Grandma！ In public she was often mistaken for his mother， and it was for Caleb that she’d come up with an acceptable nickname， Lovey， to take the place of Evelyn. He was a serious boy， a boy who hadn’t spoken until he could do so in complete sentences， who’d said， quite frankly， after the birth of each of his sisters， that he did not like them. “How’s your new sister？” somebody would ask.“Terrible，” he’d reply. His feelings were so 15）readily hurt. He was like his mother that way， a child too tender， who bruised. Nor did he laugh easily.

“Please don’t think I’m a fuckup，” Bernadette pleaded as she whirled her way toward the door. “And tell William I’m sorry I woke him. Be good， Caleb. I love you.”

Caleb was already laying out the game board， counting money， and stacking up the Chance cards. He looked like his grandfather， Lovey’s first husband—the same thick copper-colored hair， the large brown eyes and plush lips. Her first husband had been fortyfive， at the tail end of his fruitful handsomeness， when she married him but still moving through the world with confidence， he was a serial seducer. Lovey had been his third wife； perhaps she could have predicted that she would not succeed where two others had failed， but that was the nature of love， and of youth，and the combination， youthful love—they made you arrogant， or stubborn， 16）impervious to the lessons of others.

If you paid attention to all the lessons of others， you might never do anything.

Caleb handed Lovey the 17）dog. He was always the 18）hat. “I want to be the banker，” he said.

“Fine，” she said， though this would make it more difficult for her to guarantee that he won. But that was the challenge in raising children， wasn’t it？ Insuring that your ability to deceive kept pace with their ability to see through you. At what point were you able to come completely clean？ Could you ever， for example， reveal to children that parents did not， actually， love their offspring equally？

Her ex-husband had preferred his eldest， the prettiest， the strongest. And Lovey？ She’d always been 19）partial to needy Bernadette. Bernadette’s sisters had found their stepmother lacking. She was so young. For a while， it had been fun to play the 20）hip young mother， the one who shared clothing with them， who liked their music， the four of them ganging up on her husband， their father， who was old， so old！ So old-fashioned！ So out of date！ So shockable！

But he wasn’t， not really， and at some point his indulgence began to 21）falter， his paternal tolerance turned tense， at least as it regarded Lovey， because eventually she was no longer his pretty young wife； she was， instead， too familiar， too known and knowing， too something he could not even put his finger on. Did she， he asked earnestly， want him to fake what he could not naturally feel？ Was that the kind of love she wanted？

Yes， she confessed， though only to herself. Yes， that was what she would take， if it was all he could offer.

“You told me to be honest，” he said. “This is me being honest.”

The first stage of the game was always the best—all that acquisition and possibility， the tidy array of money， the fairness. Caleb 22）knelt in his chair， poised over the colorful board like a 23）gargoyle， rolling for Lovey when she went to check on his sisters， moving her Scottie dog forward， providing her with two hundred dollars whenever Go came around. In order not to land on Boardwalk first， Lovey allowed one of the dice to fall to the floor， claiming a number that put her on Luxury Tax， whatever that was， instead. At last， Caleb acquired his beloved cobalt-blue plot. Later， once it was expensively developed， Lovey would land there an 24）inordinate number of times so that he could 25）fleece her.

Why was it so satisfying to see him win？

“拉維，”她的丈夫以其慣有的方式輕聲說道，“找你的。”凌晨兩點鐘，天鵝絨般綿密的黑暗，她睡得死沉沉的：電話鈴聲在她的夢里變成了火警警報；夢中的她不情愿地走出一棟陌生的大樓，但還是沒有清醒過來，飄蕩在某個閾限的空間。大樓里全都是光著身子的人，她還想回到他們身邊，參加他們的放蕩派對。