【赫临译笔】别了，我的生命过客 - 心云驛站

当他说他要离开时，我的感觉就像一只花瓶刚刚碎裂。整洁的棕褐色地板上到处都是自己的碎片。他还在说着，告诉我他要离开，解释说这样最好，这不是我的错，全是他的错。这些话我以前听过好多遍了，可依然没有免疫力，也许一个人永远也不会对这种罪过免疫的。

他离开了，我努力回归自己的生活。我在壶里装上水，把它烧开，取出自己红色的旧瓷缸，放入咖啡，看着每一个咖啡粒沉到骨灰瓷（一种用瓷土和骨灰混合烧制而成的瓷器）缸底部。那是我过去生活的缩影，缺失了无数颗咖啡粒，无论怎么努力就是冲不成那杯咖啡。

不知为什么，当壶水开了报警器响起时，我假装没有听到。这正如迈克的离开，突然而不可挽回。我宁愿沉湎在不确定中，也不愿意让一切结束。我开始嘲笑自己，对着一杯咖啡泰然处之，多愁善感。我一定是老了。

镜子里凝视着我的是一个年轻女人，一个大有前途充满希望的女人，一个明眸皓齿准备接纳整个世界的女人。反正我从没爱过迈克。此外，还有更重要的事。比爱更重要的是，我要坚持做好自己。盖子回到了咖啡杯上，正如我把有关迈克的经历暂时封闭一样。

那天晚上并不像我惧怕的那样，他没有入我的梦。我梦到自己飞过田野，飞过森林，飞到很远的地方，俯视着下面的一切。突然我坠落下来，直到清醒我才意识到我被一个猎人射中，击我下沉的不是子弹，而是发射子弹的那个人的灵魂。后来我才带着某种程度理解地意识到迈克正是那个击落我的猎人，我正是那只渴望高飞的小鸟。第二天的梦境和第一天相似，但是没有了猎人。我自由地飞翔，直到遇到另一只与我琴瑟和鸣的鸟。我欣慰地意识到冥冥中有一只鸟属于我。有一个人，不一定是恋人，可能只是个朋友，但确实有一个人是我的灵魂伴侣。我又想到那只碎裂的花瓶，意识到我已经把它粘合起来。迈克所占有的只是我生命中很少的一段时光，他对我的肉体灵魂只有点滴了解。他拥有的只是我的一个小小碎片而已。

When he told me hewas leaving I felt like a vase which has just smashed. There were pieces of meall over the tidy, tan tiles. He kept talking, telling me why he was leaving,explaining it was for the best, I could do better, it was his fault and notmine. I had heard it before many times and yet somehow was still not immune;perhaps one did not become immune to such felony.

He left and I triedto get on with my life. I filled the kettle and put it on to boil, I took outmy old red mug and filled it with coffee watching as each coffee granule slippedin to the bone china. That was what my life had been like, endless omissions ofcoffee granules, somehow never managing to make that cup of coffee.

Somehow when thekettle piped its finishing warning I pretended not to hear it. That's whatMike's leaving had been like, sudden and with an awful finality. I would ratherjust wallow in uncertainty than have things finished. I laughed at myself.Imagine getting all philosophical and sentimental about a mug of coffee. I mustbe getting old.

And yet it was ayoung woman who stared back at me from the mirror. A young woman full ofpromise and hope, a young woman with bright eyes and full lips just waiting totake on the world. I never loved Mike anyway. Besides there are more importantthings. More important than love, I insist to myself firmly. The lid goes backon the coffee just like closure on the whole Mike experience.

He doesn't haunt mydreams as I feared that night. Instead I am flying far across fields and woods,looking down on those below me. Suddenly I fall to the ground and it is onlywhen I wake up that I realize I was shot by a hunter, brought down by theburden of not the bullet but the soul of the man who shot it. I realize later,with some degree of understanding, that Mike was the hunter holding me down andI am the bird that longs to fly. The next night my dream is similar to theprevious nights, but without the hunter. I fly free until I meet another birdwho flies with me in perfect harmony. I realize with some relief that there isa bird out there for me, there is another person, not necessarily a loverperhaps just a friend, but there is someone out there who is my soul mate. Ithink about being a broken vase again and realize that I have glued myself backtogether, what Mike has is merely a little part of my time in earth, a littleunderstanding of my physical being. He has only, a little piece of me.