T HE NEXT night I fell in love with her. I could barely sleep, I was yearning for her, I dreamed of her, thought I could feel her until I realized that I was clutching the pillow or the blanket. My mouth hurt from kissing. I kept getting erections, but I didn’t want to masturbate. I wanted to be with her.
Did I fall in love with her as the price for her having gone to bed with me? To this day, after spending the night with a woman, I feel I’ve been indulged and I must make it up somehow—to her by trying at least to love her, and to the world by facing up to it.
One of my few vivid recollections of early childhood has to do with a winter morning when I was four years old. The room I slept in at that time was unheated, and at night and first thing in the morning it was often very cold. I remember the warm kitchen and the hot stove, a heavy piece of iron equipment in which you could see the fire when you lifted out the plates and rings with a hook, and which always held a basin of hot water ready. My mother had pushed a chair up close to the stove for me to stand on while she washed and dressed me. I remember the wonderful feeling of warmth, and how good it felt to be washed and dressed in this warmth. I also remember that whenever I thought back to this afterwards, I always wondered why my mother had been spoiling me like this. Was I ill? Had my brothers and sisters been given something I hadn’t? Was there something coming later in the day that was nasty or difficult that I had to get through?
Because the woman who didn’t yet have a name in my mind had so spoiled me that afternoon, I went back to school the next day. It was also true that I wanted to show off my new manliness. Not that I would ever have talked about it. But I felt strong and superior, and I wanted to show off these feelings to the other kids and the teachers. Besides, I hadn’t talked to her about it but I assumed that being a streetcar conductor she often had to work evenings and nights. How would I see her every day if I had to stay home and wasn’t allowed to do anything except my convalescent walks?
When I came home from her, my parents and brother and sisters were already eating dinner. “Why are you so late? Your mother was worried about you.” My father sounded more annoyed than concerned.
I said that I’d lost my way, that I’d wanted to walk through the memorial garden in the cemetery to Molkenkur, but wandered around who knows where for a long time and ended up in Nussloch. “I had no money, so I had to walk home from Nussloch.”
“You could have hitched a ride.” My younger sister sometimes did this, but my parents disapproved.
My older brother snorted contemptuously. “Molkenkur and Nussloch are in completely opposite directions.”
My older sister gave me a hard look.
“I’m going back to school tomorrow.”
“So pay attention in Geography. There’s north and there’s south, and the sun rises . . .”
My mother interrupted my brother. “The doctor said another three weeks.”
“If he can get all the way across the cemetery to Nussloch and back, he can also go to school. It’s not his strength he’s lacking, it’s his brains.” As small boys, my brother and I beat up on each other constantly, and later we fought with words. He was three years older than me, and better at both. At a certain point I stopped fighting back and let his attacks dissipate into thin air. Since then he had confined himself to grousing at me.
“What do you think?” My mother turned to my father. He set his knife and fork down on his plate, leaned back, and folded his hands in his lap. He said nothing and looked thoughtful, the way he always did when my mother talked to him about the children or the household. As usual, I wondered whether he was really turning over my mother’s question in his mind, or whether he was thinking about work. Maybe he did try to think about my mother’s question, but once his mind started going, he could only think about work. He was a professor of philosophy, and thinking was his life—thinking and reading and writing and teaching.
Sometimes I had the feeling that all of us in his family were like pets to him. The dog you take for a walk, the cat you play with and that curls up in your lap, purring, to be stroked—you can be fond of them, you can even need them to a certain extent, and nonetheless the whole thing—buying pet food, cleaning up the cat box, and trips to the vet—is really too much. Your life is elsewhere. I wish that we, his family, had been his life. Sometimes I also wished that my grousing brother and my cheeky little sister were different. But that evening I suddenly loved them all. My little sister. It probably wasn’t easy being the youngest of four, and she needed to be cheeky just to hold her own. My older brother. We shared a bedroom, which must be even harder for him than it was for me, and on top of that, since I’d been ill he’d had to let me have the room to myself and sleep on the sofa in the living room. How could he not nag me? My father. Why should we children be his whole life? We were growing up and soon we’d be adults and out of the house.
I felt as if we were sitting all together for the last time around the round table under the five-armed, five-candled brass chandelier, as if we were eating our last meal off the old plates with the green vine-leaf border, as if we would never talk to each other so intimately again. I felt as if I were saying goodbye. I was still there and already gone. I was homesick for my mother and father and my brother and sisters, and I longed to be with the woman.
My father looked over at me. “ ‘I’m going back to school tomorrow’—that’s what you said, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” So he had noticed that it was him I’d asked and not my mother, and also that I had not said I was wondering whether I should go back to school or not.
He nodded. “Let’s have you go back to school. If it gets to be too much for you, you’ll just stay home again.”
I was pleased. And at the same time I felt I’d just said my final goodbyes.
在第二天夜里，我發(fā)現(xiàn)我愛上了她。我睡不實(shí)，想她，夢見她。我感覺我在抱著她，后來才發(fā)現(xiàn)我抱的是枕頭或者被子。昨天把嘴都吻疼了。我想和她在一起。
她跟我睡覺是她對(duì)我愛她的回報(bào)嗎？迄今為止，每與一個(gè)女人睡過一夜之后，我都會(huì)產(chǎn)生一種感覺：我被寵愛了，為此我必須要報(bào)答，以愛的方式報(bào)答她，報(bào)答我所處的世界。
兒童時(shí)代的事情我能記起的不多，但是，四歲時(shí)的一個(gè)冬日早晨仍讓我記憶猶新。當(dāng)時(shí)，我睡覺的房間沒有暖氣，夜里和早晨通常都很冷。我還記得暖烘烘的廚房里面生著一個(gè)笨重的鐵爐子，上面總燒著一盆熱水，如果把上面的圓形爐蓋用鉤子挪掉的話，就能看到紅彤彤的火苗。在爐子前，我媽媽放了一把椅子，當(dāng)她給我擦洗和穿衣服的時(shí)候，我站在上面。我還記得那種溫暖舒服的感覺，記得在洗澡和穿衣時(shí)得到的溫暖享受。我還記得，每當(dāng)這種情形在記憶中出現(xiàn)時(shí)，我就會(huì)想，為什么我媽媽那樣寵愛我，我生病了嗎？我的兄弟姐妹得到了一些我所沒有得到的東西嗎？是否今天還有我必須要承受的不愉快和難辦的事情在等著我？
也正是因?yàn)槟莻€(gè)我不知道她叫什么名字的女人頭一天下午對(duì)我如此寵愛，第二天我才又去上學(xué)了。此外，我想要顯示一下我已具備的男子漢氣。我自覺強(qiáng)健有力，比別人都強(qiáng)。我想把我的這種強(qiáng)健有力和優(yōu)越感展示給學(xué)校的同學(xué)和老師們看。再有，盡管我和她沒有談到過，但我想象得出，一個(gè)有軌電車的售票員會(huì)經(jīng)常工作到晚上和夜里。如果只允許我呆在家里，為了康復(fù)而散散步的話，那么我怎么能夠每天都見到她呢？
當(dāng)我從她那兒回到家的時(shí)候，我的父母和兄弟姐妹已經(jīng)在吃晚飯了。"你為什么這么晚才回來？你媽媽都為你擔(dān)心了。"我爸爸的口氣聽上去與其說是擔(dān)憂，倒不如說是生氣。
我說，我迷路了。我本打算從榮譽(yù)陵園散步到慕墾庫爾，但走來走去，最終卻走到了挪施澇赫，我身上沒帶錢，只好從挪施澇赫走回來。
"你可以搭車嗎！"我妹妹偶爾搭車，但我父母不允許她這樣做。
我哥哥對(duì)我的話嗤之以鼻："慕墾庫爾和挪施澇赫根本就不在同一個(gè)方向。"
我姐姐也審視地看著我。
"我明天想去上學(xué)。"
"那么好好學(xué)學(xué)地理，分清東南西北，而且，太陽在…·"
我母親打斷了我哥哥的話："醫(yī)生說還要三周。"
"如果他能從榮譽(yù)陵園走到挪施澇赫，并從那兒又走回來，那他也能去上學(xué)。他缺的不是體力，而是聰明才智。"我和我哥哥小的時(shí)候就經(jīng)常打架，后來大了就斗嘴。他比我大三歲，在各方面都比我占優(yōu)勢，不知從什么時(shí)候起，我停止了反擊，讓他的好斗行為找不到對(duì)手。從此，他也只能發(fā)發(fā)牢騷而已。
"你看呢？"我媽媽轉(zhuǎn)向了我爸爸。他把刀叉放到了盤子上，身子靠在椅背上，兩手放在大腿上。他沒有說話，看上去在沉思。就像媽媽每次問他關(guān)于孩子們的情況或家務(wù)事時(shí)一樣，就像每次一樣，我心里都在想，他是否真的在想媽媽的問題還是在思考他的工作。也許，他也想去思考媽媽的問題，可他一旦陷入沉思，那么他所思考的無非就是他的工作了。他是哲學(xué)教授，思考是他的生命，他的生命就是思考、閱讀、寫作和教學(xué)。
有時(shí)候，我有一種感覺，我們——也就是他的家庭成員——對(duì)他來說就像家庭寵物一樣，就像可以和人一道散步的狗、跟人玩耍的貓——蜷縮在人的懷里、一邊發(fā)著呼嚕聲一邊讓人輕輕撫摸的貓。家庭寵物可能對(duì)人挺有好處，人們?cè)谝欢ǔ潭壬仙踔列枰鼈儯?，買食料，打掃糞便，看獸醫(yī)，這又未免太多了，因?yàn)椋畋旧聿辉谶@兒。我非常希望，我們——也就是他的家庭，應(yīng)當(dāng)是他的生命。有時(shí)，我也真希望我那愛抱怨的哥哥和調(diào)皮的妹妹不是這樣子。但是，那天晚上，我突然覺得他們都非?？蓯邸Ｎ颐妹茫核撬膫€(gè)孩子中最小的一個(gè)，大概最小的也不太好當(dāng)，她不調(diào)皮搗蛋就不行。我哥哥：我們住在一個(gè)房間，他一定比我覺得更不方便。此外，自從我生病后，他必須把房間徹底讓給我，而在客廳的沙發(fā)上睡覺，他怎能不抱怨呢？我父親：為什么我們這些孩子該成為他的生活呢？我們很快就會(huì)長大成人，離開這個(gè)家。
我感覺，這好像是我們最后一次一起圍坐在上面吊著麥芯產(chǎn)的五蕊燈的圓桌旁，好像是我們最后一次用帶有綠邊的老盤子吃飯，好像是我們最后一次相互信任地交談。我感覺，我們好像是在告別。我人雖在，但心已飛了。我一方面渴望與父母和兄弟姐妹在一起，另一方面，我也渴望和那個(gè)女人在一起。
我爸爸看著我說："'我明天要上學(xué)。'你是這樣說的，對(duì)嗎？"
"是的。"他注意到，我問的是他，而不是媽媽，而且這之前也沒有提到過。我在想，我明天是否該上學(xué)。
他點(diǎn)頭說："我們讓你去上學(xué)，如果你覺得受不了的話，那就再呆在家里。"
我很高興，同時(shí)也感到，現(xiàn)在和他們告別過了。
Did I fall in love with her as the price for her having gone to bed with me? To this day, after spending the night with a woman, I feel I’ve been indulged and I must make it up somehow—to her by trying at least to love her, and to the world by facing up to it.
One of my few vivid recollections of early childhood has to do with a winter morning when I was four years old. The room I slept in at that time was unheated, and at night and first thing in the morning it was often very cold. I remember the warm kitchen and the hot stove, a heavy piece of iron equipment in which you could see the fire when you lifted out the plates and rings with a hook, and which always held a basin of hot water ready. My mother had pushed a chair up close to the stove for me to stand on while she washed and dressed me. I remember the wonderful feeling of warmth, and how good it felt to be washed and dressed in this warmth. I also remember that whenever I thought back to this afterwards, I always wondered why my mother had been spoiling me like this. Was I ill? Had my brothers and sisters been given something I hadn’t? Was there something coming later in the day that was nasty or difficult that I had to get through?
Because the woman who didn’t yet have a name in my mind had so spoiled me that afternoon, I went back to school the next day. It was also true that I wanted to show off my new manliness. Not that I would ever have talked about it. But I felt strong and superior, and I wanted to show off these feelings to the other kids and the teachers. Besides, I hadn’t talked to her about it but I assumed that being a streetcar conductor she often had to work evenings and nights. How would I see her every day if I had to stay home and wasn’t allowed to do anything except my convalescent walks?
When I came home from her, my parents and brother and sisters were already eating dinner. “Why are you so late? Your mother was worried about you.” My father sounded more annoyed than concerned.
I said that I’d lost my way, that I’d wanted to walk through the memorial garden in the cemetery to Molkenkur, but wandered around who knows where for a long time and ended up in Nussloch. “I had no money, so I had to walk home from Nussloch.”
“You could have hitched a ride.” My younger sister sometimes did this, but my parents disapproved.
My older brother snorted contemptuously. “Molkenkur and Nussloch are in completely opposite directions.”
My older sister gave me a hard look.
“I’m going back to school tomorrow.”
“So pay attention in Geography. There’s north and there’s south, and the sun rises . . .”
My mother interrupted my brother. “The doctor said another three weeks.”
“If he can get all the way across the cemetery to Nussloch and back, he can also go to school. It’s not his strength he’s lacking, it’s his brains.” As small boys, my brother and I beat up on each other constantly, and later we fought with words. He was three years older than me, and better at both. At a certain point I stopped fighting back and let his attacks dissipate into thin air. Since then he had confined himself to grousing at me.
“What do you think?” My mother turned to my father. He set his knife and fork down on his plate, leaned back, and folded his hands in his lap. He said nothing and looked thoughtful, the way he always did when my mother talked to him about the children or the household. As usual, I wondered whether he was really turning over my mother’s question in his mind, or whether he was thinking about work. Maybe he did try to think about my mother’s question, but once his mind started going, he could only think about work. He was a professor of philosophy, and thinking was his life—thinking and reading and writing and teaching.
Sometimes I had the feeling that all of us in his family were like pets to him. The dog you take for a walk, the cat you play with and that curls up in your lap, purring, to be stroked—you can be fond of them, you can even need them to a certain extent, and nonetheless the whole thing—buying pet food, cleaning up the cat box, and trips to the vet—is really too much. Your life is elsewhere. I wish that we, his family, had been his life. Sometimes I also wished that my grousing brother and my cheeky little sister were different. But that evening I suddenly loved them all. My little sister. It probably wasn’t easy being the youngest of four, and she needed to be cheeky just to hold her own. My older brother. We shared a bedroom, which must be even harder for him than it was for me, and on top of that, since I’d been ill he’d had to let me have the room to myself and sleep on the sofa in the living room. How could he not nag me? My father. Why should we children be his whole life? We were growing up and soon we’d be adults and out of the house.
I felt as if we were sitting all together for the last time around the round table under the five-armed, five-candled brass chandelier, as if we were eating our last meal off the old plates with the green vine-leaf border, as if we would never talk to each other so intimately again. I felt as if I were saying goodbye. I was still there and already gone. I was homesick for my mother and father and my brother and sisters, and I longed to be with the woman.
My father looked over at me. “ ‘I’m going back to school tomorrow’—that’s what you said, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” So he had noticed that it was him I’d asked and not my mother, and also that I had not said I was wondering whether I should go back to school or not.
He nodded. “Let’s have you go back to school. If it gets to be too much for you, you’ll just stay home again.”
I was pleased. And at the same time I felt I’d just said my final goodbyes.
在第二天夜里，我發(fā)現(xiàn)我愛上了她。我睡不實(shí)，想她，夢見她。我感覺我在抱著她，后來才發(fā)現(xiàn)我抱的是枕頭或者被子。昨天把嘴都吻疼了。我想和她在一起。
她跟我睡覺是她對(duì)我愛她的回報(bào)嗎？迄今為止，每與一個(gè)女人睡過一夜之后，我都會(huì)產(chǎn)生一種感覺：我被寵愛了，為此我必須要報(bào)答，以愛的方式報(bào)答她，報(bào)答我所處的世界。
兒童時(shí)代的事情我能記起的不多，但是，四歲時(shí)的一個(gè)冬日早晨仍讓我記憶猶新。當(dāng)時(shí)，我睡覺的房間沒有暖氣，夜里和早晨通常都很冷。我還記得暖烘烘的廚房里面生著一個(gè)笨重的鐵爐子，上面總燒著一盆熱水，如果把上面的圓形爐蓋用鉤子挪掉的話，就能看到紅彤彤的火苗。在爐子前，我媽媽放了一把椅子，當(dāng)她給我擦洗和穿衣服的時(shí)候，我站在上面。我還記得那種溫暖舒服的感覺，記得在洗澡和穿衣時(shí)得到的溫暖享受。我還記得，每當(dāng)這種情形在記憶中出現(xiàn)時(shí)，我就會(huì)想，為什么我媽媽那樣寵愛我，我生病了嗎？我的兄弟姐妹得到了一些我所沒有得到的東西嗎？是否今天還有我必須要承受的不愉快和難辦的事情在等著我？
也正是因?yàn)槟莻€(gè)我不知道她叫什么名字的女人頭一天下午對(duì)我如此寵愛，第二天我才又去上學(xué)了。此外，我想要顯示一下我已具備的男子漢氣。我自覺強(qiáng)健有力，比別人都強(qiáng)。我想把我的這種強(qiáng)健有力和優(yōu)越感展示給學(xué)校的同學(xué)和老師們看。再有，盡管我和她沒有談到過，但我想象得出，一個(gè)有軌電車的售票員會(huì)經(jīng)常工作到晚上和夜里。如果只允許我呆在家里，為了康復(fù)而散散步的話，那么我怎么能夠每天都見到她呢？
當(dāng)我從她那兒回到家的時(shí)候，我的父母和兄弟姐妹已經(jīng)在吃晚飯了。"你為什么這么晚才回來？你媽媽都為你擔(dān)心了。"我爸爸的口氣聽上去與其說是擔(dān)憂，倒不如說是生氣。
我說，我迷路了。我本打算從榮譽(yù)陵園散步到慕墾庫爾，但走來走去，最終卻走到了挪施澇赫，我身上沒帶錢，只好從挪施澇赫走回來。
"你可以搭車嗎！"我妹妹偶爾搭車，但我父母不允許她這樣做。
我哥哥對(duì)我的話嗤之以鼻："慕墾庫爾和挪施澇赫根本就不在同一個(gè)方向。"
我姐姐也審視地看著我。
"我明天想去上學(xué)。"
"那么好好學(xué)學(xué)地理，分清東南西北，而且，太陽在…·"
我母親打斷了我哥哥的話："醫(yī)生說還要三周。"
"如果他能從榮譽(yù)陵園走到挪施澇赫，并從那兒又走回來，那他也能去上學(xué)。他缺的不是體力，而是聰明才智。"我和我哥哥小的時(shí)候就經(jīng)常打架，后來大了就斗嘴。他比我大三歲，在各方面都比我占優(yōu)勢，不知從什么時(shí)候起，我停止了反擊，讓他的好斗行為找不到對(duì)手。從此，他也只能發(fā)發(fā)牢騷而已。
"你看呢？"我媽媽轉(zhuǎn)向了我爸爸。他把刀叉放到了盤子上，身子靠在椅背上，兩手放在大腿上。他沒有說話，看上去在沉思。就像媽媽每次問他關(guān)于孩子們的情況或家務(wù)事時(shí)一樣，就像每次一樣，我心里都在想，他是否真的在想媽媽的問題還是在思考他的工作。也許，他也想去思考媽媽的問題，可他一旦陷入沉思，那么他所思考的無非就是他的工作了。他是哲學(xué)教授，思考是他的生命，他的生命就是思考、閱讀、寫作和教學(xué)。
有時(shí)候，我有一種感覺，我們——也就是他的家庭成員——對(duì)他來說就像家庭寵物一樣，就像可以和人一道散步的狗、跟人玩耍的貓——蜷縮在人的懷里、一邊發(fā)著呼嚕聲一邊讓人輕輕撫摸的貓。家庭寵物可能對(duì)人挺有好處，人們?cè)谝欢ǔ潭壬仙踔列枰鼈儯?，買食料，打掃糞便，看獸醫(yī)，這又未免太多了，因?yàn)椋畋旧聿辉谶@兒。我非常希望，我們——也就是他的家庭，應(yīng)當(dāng)是他的生命。有時(shí)，我也真希望我那愛抱怨的哥哥和調(diào)皮的妹妹不是這樣子。但是，那天晚上，我突然覺得他們都非?？蓯邸Ｎ颐妹茫核撬膫€(gè)孩子中最小的一個(gè)，大概最小的也不太好當(dāng)，她不調(diào)皮搗蛋就不行。我哥哥：我們住在一個(gè)房間，他一定比我覺得更不方便。此外，自從我生病后，他必須把房間徹底讓給我，而在客廳的沙發(fā)上睡覺，他怎能不抱怨呢？我父親：為什么我們這些孩子該成為他的生活呢？我們很快就會(huì)長大成人，離開這個(gè)家。
我感覺，這好像是我們最后一次一起圍坐在上面吊著麥芯產(chǎn)的五蕊燈的圓桌旁，好像是我們最后一次用帶有綠邊的老盤子吃飯，好像是我們最后一次相互信任地交談。我感覺，我們好像是在告別。我人雖在，但心已飛了。我一方面渴望與父母和兄弟姐妹在一起，另一方面，我也渴望和那個(gè)女人在一起。
我爸爸看著我說："'我明天要上學(xué)。'你是這樣說的，對(duì)嗎？"
"是的。"他注意到，我問的是他，而不是媽媽，而且這之前也沒有提到過。我在想，我明天是否該上學(xué)。
他點(diǎn)頭說："我們讓你去上學(xué)，如果你覺得受不了的話，那就再呆在家里。"
我很高興，同時(shí)也感到，現(xiàn)在和他們告別過了。