我愛媽媽，這是一個秘密

Mary+HK+Choi+辛獻云

小時候，我們叛逆，不懂事，不聽媽媽的話，絞盡腦汁傷她的心，千方百計和她對著干。漸漸長大，有一天我們猛然發現，自己是如此依賴她，心底是如此愛她。但這份愛，我們卻悄悄藏在心里，羞于開口向她表達……

My mom is small—5 ft—and clocks in at just over 100 lbs. Shes always been sporty but since she stopped dyeing her hair she looks her age. I love my mother a not-normal amount. My mom is an excellent mom.

When I was small I thought I was just cooler than my mom because of how foreign she was. She grew up in Korea filled with Koreans， married a Korean and then moved to Hong Kong， China in her mid-30s. I was 11 months and my brother was two years old. In any case， I speak four languages and am a ruthless assimilation1） ninja2）. My mother， on the other hand， speaks English poorly with a screwy Korean British accent. Shes also ridiculously formal， deeply private and not a joiner. She transitions poorly. The move to Hong Kong with two wee3） kids and an absentee partner was rough. My father had elected to set up a shipping company. He was out of Hong Kong for eight months of the year.

When I was five， I compound-fractured4） my arm， pulverising5） my elbow. I was on a play date at my moms friends house and so naturally blamed my mother. I actually remember lying on the floor， howling accusations of neglect at her while she frantically summoned an ambulance that arrived with a squad car and a firetruck in tow. I was already having a tough time adjusting at school， and it looked like I would miss weeks of class.

School was awful. I had to leave during the middle of the day for physical therapy that involved swimming and return to class with inexplicably wet hair. Lunch sucked. My mom would pack the dumbest garbage. She once smeared bits of raw garlic leftover from making kimchi6） onto white sandwich bread. I waited until she got off work that night and yelled at her with rank7） breath.

One lunch， I was dragging myself around the playground when I saw my mom standing by the fence， waving big and calling my name. I wanted so badly to ignore her. She was supposed to be at work and I didnt have physical therapy that day so I was immediately suspicious. As confusing as her presence was， my curiosity did not outweigh my desire to be left alone. Especially by her. I began to back away so she started shouting loud enough to be heard over the playground din. I shuffled8） towards her with every intention to roundhouse9）-bludgeon her with my plastered10） arm. She held out a paper box. It was a McDonalds happy meal： a cheeseburger one， which was my favorite. The offering was so out of character11） that I considered it a bribe. I asked her what was going on. She mentioned something about how she wanted me to have a lunch that I liked.

I then did what any normal kid would do and yelled and yelled about how embarrassing it was to have her at school with me during lunch of all times. She presented me with a sack of cheeseburgers that I could give out to my friends. I refused the damp bag. I made her take the burgers back with her. If I were an actress and had to think of something sad to make me cry in a scene， I would think about this moment. This and the time I was 13 when I kicked my mom across a room and ran away for two days because she tried to ground me. For the record12）： I dont know why people have kids.

The summer before I turned 14， my mom， brother and I moved to Texas， US. While our Green Cards were being approved， my father bought a house in suburban San Antonio despite our extended family living 1，400 miles away in LA. My father split his time between running a business in Asia and visiting us. When I arrived in Texas， it was mid-June and 104 degrees in the shade. I was fresh off a forced breakup with my Hong Kong boyfriend. Between the heat and the heartbreak， the move was not my favorite. Trapped in the suburbs， I began to notice that the mother Id largely ignored was interesting—so long as she was talking about me.

My mom was the only one of us with a drivers licence. Some time in mid-July， I started speaking to her again on car rides and we became friends. She told me stories about how when I was two I would dangle out of my parents window on the 18th floor to play in the tiled13） flower box. She said that when I was four， I stole hundreds of dollars from her and bribed my bus driver to drop me off at the deli14） on my way home so I could buy candy there. Id stuffed the change in my shallow pinafore15） pockets and when my mother frantically berated16） me for stealing the money， I told her I loved money more than I loved her. I found all of this fascinating.

This is going to sound absurd but my first year in Texas was the year that I first cared about being smart. There was something in the complete reboot17） of Texas， the comparative stillness of heavy skies and quiet nights that made me read a lot. I read a new book every other day and aced18） exams.

School was easy for me but those years were tough on my mom. In Hong Kong shed had tons of friends. In Texas she didnt have anyone but me and my brother. Every morning when the bus would come to pick us up while it was still dark out， I could see her slight backlit19） frame outlined in our blinds20） as she watched us drive away. A senior on the bus once asked if my mom knew that we could all totally see her. I told that kid to go fuck himself and to quit looking at my mom. To this day， I still cant watch her watch us leave.

Its a blessing that life is riddled21） with diversions. I work a lot. Ive never had the week between Christmas and New Years off， but these days I dont love money how I used to. My mom though， Im crazy about. I think about her all the time and cant stand it. I have no idea when my perception of my mother became the crush of my life but it has. I dont go home for birthdays or holidays， and on the occasions I do visit， I express my affection in strange ways. I wait for her to fall asleep and peer over her body and imagine what itd be like if she died. I just stand there， hot silent tears coursing down my face. Were not a demonstrative22） family， and such maudlin23）， psycho behavior is fair grounds for riotous24） derision25）. I love my mom and its a secret. I love her so much it kills me， and you bet Id sooner die than tell her. I kinda want her to know though. Maybe someone could tell her for me. Someone who isnt my dad. Because that would be weird.

我的媽媽身材瘦小，身高5英尺，體重剛超過100磅。她一直喜愛體育運動，但自從停止染發，她看起來就和真實年齡差不多了。我愛媽媽，愛得非同一般。我媽媽是個非常優秀的媽媽。

小時候我認為自己比媽媽酷多了，因為媽媽太像個老外了。她在韓國長大，周圍都是韓國人，并且嫁給了韓國人，然后在35歲左右時搬到了中國香港。那時我只有11個月大，哥哥才兩歲。不管怎么說吧，我會說四種語言，跟一個冷酷的忍者一樣，擁有非凡的接受和適應能力。而我媽媽呢，說一口蹩腳的英語，還帶著古怪的韓式英國腔。而且，她舉止過于拘謹，拘謹到令人發笑的地步，還特別孤僻，不喜歡與人交往。她很難適應新的環境。對于她來說，帶著兩個年幼的孩子來到香港，丈夫又不在身邊，日子真的很難。父親當時選擇去創辦航運公司，一年要有八個月不在香港。

五歲的時候，我的胳膊摔成了復合性骨折，肘關節都摔碎了。我當時正在媽媽的朋友家里跟小伙伴玩，因此很自然地把摔傷怪罪到媽媽頭上。我還清楚地記得自己當時躺在地板上，嚎叫著責怪她沒有照顧好我，她驚慌失措地叫了一輛救護車，隨之而來的還有一輛警車，警車后面還跟著一輛消防車。本來我在學校就已經很難跟上課程了，這下看來我要落下好幾周的課了。

學校的日子很難熬。我不得不在每天中午離開去做理療，理療中有一項是游泳，結果我常常頭發濕漉漉地回到教室，叫人覺得莫名其妙。午餐很難吃。媽媽喜歡把一些亂七八糟的垃圾食品拼湊在一起。有一次，她竟然把做泡菜剩下的生蒜涂在了白面包三明治上。那天晚上，我等到她下了班，就帶著滿嘴的蒜臭沖著她大吼大叫。

有一次午飯時間，我正在操場上拖著不便的身體活動著，突然看到媽媽站在柵欄邊，一邊大幅度揮著手，一邊喊著我的名字。我真想裝著看不見她。她本來應該是在上班的，而我那天也沒有理療，所以對她的到來我立刻起了疑心。雖然我很想知道她為什么會來，但我的好奇始終沒有戰勝我想要安靜的愿望，尤其是不想被她打擾的愿望。于是我開始往回走，她便大聲喊我，聲音大得足以蓋過操場上的喧鬧聲。我拖著腳步向她走去，心里真想掄圓了我那打著石膏的手臂痛打她一頓。她卻遞過來一個紙盒。紙盒里是麥當勞的快樂兒童餐：里面有一個芝士漢堡，那是我的最愛。這份慷慨太出人意料了，我認定這是對我的賄賂。我問她到底怎么回事。她說了一些類似于她想讓我吃一頓我喜歡的午餐之類的話。

接下來，我做了任何一個正常孩子都會做的事：沖著她大喊大叫，說她非要在午飯時來學校找我，令我多么難堪！她遞給我一袋芝士漢堡，說是可以送給我的朋友們吃。我拒絕接過那個濕乎乎的袋子。我讓她把那些漢堡都拿走。如果我是個演員，要想一件可以讓我哭出來的傷心事，我一定會想到這件事。除了這件事，還有另外一件，那就是我13歲時在房間里一腳把她踢翻在地，然后跑出去躲了兩天，因為她當時想要對我禁足。我鄭重地說一下：我真不知道人們為什么要孩子。

我14歲前的那個夏天，媽媽帶著哥哥和我搬到了美國得克薩斯州。在等待綠卡批準的日子里，父親在得州南部圣安東尼奧市的郊區買了一所房子，但我們的大家庭都住在1400英里之外的洛杉磯市。父親的時間一半用來經營亞洲的生意，一半用來看望我們。我剛到得州時，正值六月中旬，陰涼之處也有104華氏度。我剛剛被迫和香港的男朋友分了手。酷暑加上心碎，這次搬遷并不合我心意。在困在郊區的那些日子里，我開始注意到，很大程度上被我忽視的媽媽其實還是很有趣的——只要在她談起我的時候。

在我們幾個人中，媽媽是唯一一個有駕照的。在七月中旬，我們開車兜風時我開始跟她聊天，我們成了朋友。她給我講了以前的故事，說我兩歲時會將身子懸蕩在我們家位于18樓的窗外，在用磚片圍住的花箱里玩；說我四歲時偷了她幾百美元，用來賄賂校車司機，以便在回家路上他能讓我在熟食店下車，這樣我就可以在那兒買糖果吃了。我把零錢放在無袖罩衫的淺淺的口袋里。每當媽媽怒不可遏地斥責我偷錢，我就告訴她我愛錢勝過我愛她。我覺得這些故事真是很有意思。

也許這聽起來有點荒唐，但我在得州的第一年是我第一次在乎自己是不是聰明的一年。得州的生活可謂是一個全新的開始，這的確不同尋常，陰沉的天空、安靜的夜晚，都有一種相對的寧靜，使我有機會閱讀了大量的書籍。我每隔一天就讀一本新書，結果考試大獲全勝。

上學對于我來說不難，但那些年對于媽媽來說特別困難。要是在香港，她會有數不清的朋友。但是在得州，她除了我和哥哥以外一個朋友都沒有。每天早上，天還沒亮的時候，校車就過來接我們，我總能看到她目送我們乘車遠去時投映在家里百葉窗上的瘦小身影。有一次，車上一位高年級學生問我，我媽媽是否知道我們都能完全看到她。我告訴那家伙有多遠滾多遠，別再看我媽媽。直到今天，我仍然受不了看到她目送我們離開。

生活充滿了種種樂趣，這真是一件幸事。我工作很忙。圣誕節和新年之間的那段時間我從來都沒有休息過，但現在我已經不再像以前那樣愛錢了。不過對于媽媽，我卻想得發瘋。我不停地思念她，已到無法忍受的地步。我不知道我對媽媽的感覺什么時候變成了生命中的癡迷，但事實就是如此。我并不回家過生日或休假，但在我回家的日子里，我會以一些奇怪的方式表達我的情感。我會等著媽媽入睡，看著她的身體，想象著如果她死去會是什么樣子。我就站在那里，熱淚無聲地從臉上流下。我們不是一個感情外露的家庭，這種情感脆弱的心理行為只會淪為人們哄然嘲笑的對象。我愛我媽媽，這是一個秘密。我是那么深深地愛著她，簡直無可救藥，但你要知道，我寧愿死也不愿告訴她。當然我還是有點想要她知道的。或許有人可以替我告訴她吧。但那人一定不是我爸爸，因為那樣就太古怪了。