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朱俊 译
I have been divorced two years this Thanksgiving.
(The irony is not altogether lost. Bear with me.)
I did not believe I would ever get out of my divorce, which couldn’t have been more painful, 2)squalid, or 3)banal. We had just had a babyÑnot to save the marriage, I might addÑbut for the usual joyous, traditional, and misguided reasons.
I did not know the marriage needed saving. This shows my general naivete, something that divorce cures one of forever.
I became a single mother overnight, which is nothing like becoming famous overnight. I believe it is the emotional equivalent of having a stroke. While my 4)estranged spouse 5)recuperated at the 6)exquisite tropical island where frothy drinks are served with miniature 7)parasols, I was left holding the diaper bag.
The timing could not have been worse, as I was left to raise our beautiful son at a time when eating or grooming seemed difficult and perhaps unnecessary. I wanted to die. Life as I knew it was over, my bills were doubled, and my fear and loneliness and sense of complete failure rose like bone dust into the night air.
In a true universe, there would be a place where love and marriages go to die, 8)rapture’s own version of the elephant’s graveyard. They should not be allowed to 9)dissipate on their own, to float away on some random moment, 10)irrevocable as seed from a 11)dandelion.
During the first weeks, my mother came to stay with me, positioned on the 12)Pottery Barn chair and a half, a kind of angelic sentinel in 13)sweat clothes. She drank 14)Diet Coke, and she listened, telling me stories from her own divorce. These stories were not terribly encouraging, seeing as how my father remarried twice and dropped dead at forty-four. But although my mother wanted to part my husband’s hair with an ax, she was happy; I noticed that. She had survived.
Of course, I did not die. Instead, I focused on my extraordinary son and drank 15)midrange 16)chardonnay every night from the couch, which had become my battle station. I ordered a barrage of mail-order items. I felt like hammered shit every day.
I asked my mother, “How long?” “ Two years,” she said. My brain did not accept this as 17)viable information. Yes, my mother had been left at thirty-six with two kids, but that was in the ‘70s. I announced I could not last that long, that even next month was pushing it. She said, “Oh, well... Everyone’s different, honey.”
I walked around my small town with a thought bubble over my head: Person Going through a Divorce. When I looked at other people, I automatically formed thought bubbles over their heads. Happy Couple with Stroller. Innocent Teenage Girl with Her Whole Life Ahead of Her. Content Grandmother and Grandfather Visiting Town Where Their Grandchildren Live with Intact Parents. Secure Housewife with Big Diamond. Undamaged Group of Young Men on Skateboards. Good Man with Baby in 18)Baby Bjorn Who Loves His Wife. Dogs Who Never Have to Worry. Young Kids Kissing Publicly. Then every so often I’d see one like me, one of the shambling, sad women without makeup, looking older than she is. Divorced Woman Wondering How the Fuck This Happened.
I remember thinking, this just can’t last. Sooner or later my life is going to have to come back from the cleaners. I waited. I was not patient, but I waited. If there’d been someone in a position of authority to upbraid for this, I would have. I would have upbraided most severely.
I asked my divorced friends, “How long?” “ Two years,” they said.
“No no no no,” I thought.
Time passed slowly, as when one is waiting for aspirin to work on one’s severed head.
I got through the first Christmas. The first Valentine’s Day. The first wedding anniversary. The first divorce anniversary. The pain slowly eased up; the psychic damage was beginning, if not to disappear, then to 19)taper. I stopped wishing him dead, and started wishing him rich so he could send us more money. This did not happen.
And then, just as my mother said it would happen, one day I walked down the street with my son and realized I felt happy. Out of the woods.
When people say it takes two years, believe them. Statistically speaking, this is the point in time when one has gotten through it. There is some truth to thisÑalso some rather 20)flamboyant falsehoods, especially when you have a child running around wearing his face and yours, entwined forever: you have done this, it cannot be undone. You will always have children together; they will almost certainly outlive the marriage in terms of years. It’s beautiful and hard all at once. It’s marriage and its 21)Siamese twin, divorce. Divorce, which apparently has become the 22)antidote to marriage, although the jury is decidedly out. In the end, it’s just life.
After a couple of years, you can appreciate your ex for who he is and realize that he is separate and distinct from you. You can feel a certain amount of warmth for him, as you do your 23)alma mater, or your car. You can love a car, but you do not attach yourself to the car. You do not buy little gifts for the car thinking you can be with the car over. You do not lose sleep over whether the car thinks you are attractive or if the car is thinking of you too, right now. You do not especially care whether someone else drives the car.
Right.
Or, you can wait two years.
到今年感恩节，我就离婚两年了。
（这具有讽刺意味的事情并不是人人都能明白的，请耐心听我说明。）
我以为自己永远也走不出离婚的阴影。离婚实在是太痛苦、太可怜，也可以说太老套了。我们刚刚有了个孩子——我得说，这并不是为了挽救婚姻，因为通常来讲，孩子能带来欢乐，虽然这个理由很传统却有其误导性。
我不知道婚姻也需要挽救。这暴露出我的天真，而离婚是可以将它彻底根治的。
我在一夜之间成了单亲妈妈，这跟一夜成名可完全不一样。我认为这就好比是感情的中风。当跟我分手的丈夫在优美的热带小岛上恢复心情享受着插着小伞的泡沫饮料时，我却被落在了这里，手里还抓着一个尿布包。
时机上的巧合没有比这更糟糕的了。在这个自己都无心吃喝梳洗——这些也许也没什么必要——的时候，我还要独自抚养我们漂亮的儿子。我真想一死了之。我以为我的生活完蛋了，账单也比以前高出一倍，恐惧、孤独和彻底的失败感像骨粉一样在夜空中扬起。
在现实世界里，应该有一个爱与婚姻的最终归宿，就如传说中年老的大象，在临终前独自走到安息之地一样。能找到爱与婚姻的最终归宿是值得欣喜若狂的。爱与婚姻，不应该由它们自行消失，不应该由它们随意飘飞，像蒲公英的种子一样无法在放飞之后将它收回。
在离婚后最初的几个星期里，母亲过来陪我。她坐在“陶瓷大谷仓”牌的搁脚椅上，就像一个穿着运动衫的好心的守卫。她一边喝着健怡可乐一边倾听，还跟我讲她自己离婚的事。我知道了父亲两次再婚，44岁就告别人世，这些事并不是那么振奋人心。不过尽管母亲想一斧子把我前夫的头发给割下来，她还是很开心的。我注意到了这一点——她挺过来了。
当然，我没有死。恰恰相反，我把注意力集中到我那非凡的儿子身上，每天晚上我都在沙发上喝中度的霞多丽白葡萄酒—沙发已经成为我的战斗基地，我在那里邮购了许多东西。我每天都感觉自己像一团烂泥。
我问母亲：“要用多长时间我才能复原？”“两年”，她说。我心里并没把这话当真。不错，母亲在她36岁的时候被抛弃了，她还带着两个孩子，但那是在1970年代。我告诉她我撑不了那么久，我甚至都撑不到下个月。她说，“哦，这个……亲爱的，每个人都不一样的。”
我在我家所在的小镇上转悠，头上顶着一个对话泡泡：“正在经历离婚痛苦的人”。我在观察其他人的时候，不由自主地给他们头上也加上一个对话泡泡。“推婴儿车的幸福夫妇”；“前途无量的天真少女”；“来镇上与儿孙全家团圆的心满意足的祖父母”；“无忧无虑、珠光宝气的家庭主妇”；“一群未经拆散的玩滑板的少年”；“胸前背着婴儿、爱妻子的好男人”；“永远没有烦恼的狗”；“大庭广众之下接吻的孩子”。然后我也偶尔会看到一个像我一样，步履蹒跚的忧伤女人，素面朝天，看上去要比实际年龄还要老。“搞不懂离婚这破事儿是怎么发生的失婚女人”。
我记得当时在想，我不会永远都是这个样子的。我的生活迟早会恢复原状。我开始等待，我并没有什么耐心，可我还是等待着。这事儿要是有人可以怪罪，我会的，我会猛烈地控诉一番。
我问离过婚的朋友：“要等上多久？”“两年”，他们说。
不会不会，不会吧，我想。
时间过得很慢，就像一个人等着阿斯匹林发生效用，以击退他剧烈的头痛一样。
我捱过了离婚后的第一个圣诞节、第一个情人节、第一个结婚纪念日和第一个离婚纪念日。痛楚慢慢地减轻，精神上的打击如果说还没有消失的话，它也已经在减弱了。我不再希望他（前夫）死掉，开始希望他富有起来，这样他就会给我们寄更多的钱来。他没有。
然后，就像母亲说过的那样，有一天我和儿子在街上走的时候，突然意识到自己很开心。我终于闯过了这一关。
如果别人说要用两年的时间才能走出离婚的阴影，相信他们。从统计上来说，这就是一个人走出痛苦的关键时间。这既有点道理——又像个相当美丽的谎言，尤其是那个长相酷似你俩的孩子在身边跑来跑去，永远缠着你的时候。事情已经发生，覆水难收。你会永远有这个孩子，当然从时间上来说，他们几乎总是比婚姻更能持久。痛苦总是伴随着美好。就像婚姻和它的孪生姐妹——离婚一样。尽管陪审团尚未做出结论，离婚却显然已经成为婚姻的解药。毕竟这就是生活。
几年过后，你会欣赏你前夫的为人，并意识到他跟你已经劳燕分飞，形同陌路。你对他会有几分温暖的感觉，就像你对你的母校，或是你的汽车一样。你可以爱上一辆车，但你对它不会有依恋。你不会给汽车买小礼物，以为自己可以跟汽车共度余生。你不会因为不知道汽车是不是认为你有魅力，或汽车此刻是不是也在想着你而失眠。别人会不会开你的车，你并不怎么介意。
没错。
或者，你可以等上两年。
I have been divorced two years this Thanksgiving.
(The irony is not altogether lost. Bear with me.)
I did not believe I would ever get out of my divorce, which couldn’t have been more painful, 2)squalid, or 3)banal. We had just had a babyÑnot to save the marriage, I might addÑbut for the usual joyous, traditional, and misguided reasons.
I did not know the marriage needed saving. This shows my general naivete, something that divorce cures one of forever.
I became a single mother overnight, which is nothing like becoming famous overnight. I believe it is the emotional equivalent of having a stroke. While my 4)estranged spouse 5)recuperated at the 6)exquisite tropical island where frothy drinks are served with miniature 7)parasols, I was left holding the diaper bag.
The timing could not have been worse, as I was left to raise our beautiful son at a time when eating or grooming seemed difficult and perhaps unnecessary. I wanted to die. Life as I knew it was over, my bills were doubled, and my fear and loneliness and sense of complete failure rose like bone dust into the night air.
In a true universe, there would be a place where love and marriages go to die, 8)rapture’s own version of the elephant’s graveyard. They should not be allowed to 9)dissipate on their own, to float away on some random moment, 10)irrevocable as seed from a 11)dandelion.
During the first weeks, my mother came to stay with me, positioned on the 12)Pottery Barn chair and a half, a kind of angelic sentinel in 13)sweat clothes. She drank 14)Diet Coke, and she listened, telling me stories from her own divorce. These stories were not terribly encouraging, seeing as how my father remarried twice and dropped dead at forty-four. But although my mother wanted to part my husband’s hair with an ax, she was happy; I noticed that. She had survived.
Of course, I did not die. Instead, I focused on my extraordinary son and drank 15)midrange 16)chardonnay every night from the couch, which had become my battle station. I ordered a barrage of mail-order items. I felt like hammered shit every day.
I asked my mother, “How long?” “ Two years,” she said. My brain did not accept this as 17)viable information. Yes, my mother had been left at thirty-six with two kids, but that was in the ‘70s. I announced I could not last that long, that even next month was pushing it. She said, “Oh, well... Everyone’s different, honey.”
I walked around my small town with a thought bubble over my head: Person Going through a Divorce. When I looked at other people, I automatically formed thought bubbles over their heads. Happy Couple with Stroller. Innocent Teenage Girl with Her Whole Life Ahead of Her. Content Grandmother and Grandfather Visiting Town Where Their Grandchildren Live with Intact Parents. Secure Housewife with Big Diamond. Undamaged Group of Young Men on Skateboards. Good Man with Baby in 18)Baby Bjorn Who Loves His Wife. Dogs Who Never Have to Worry. Young Kids Kissing Publicly. Then every so often I’d see one like me, one of the shambling, sad women without makeup, looking older than she is. Divorced Woman Wondering How the Fuck This Happened.
I remember thinking, this just can’t last. Sooner or later my life is going to have to come back from the cleaners. I waited. I was not patient, but I waited. If there’d been someone in a position of authority to upbraid for this, I would have. I would have upbraided most severely.
I asked my divorced friends, “How long?” “ Two years,” they said.
“No no no no,” I thought.
Time passed slowly, as when one is waiting for aspirin to work on one’s severed head.
I got through the first Christmas. The first Valentine’s Day. The first wedding anniversary. The first divorce anniversary. The pain slowly eased up; the psychic damage was beginning, if not to disappear, then to 19)taper. I stopped wishing him dead, and started wishing him rich so he could send us more money. This did not happen.
And then, just as my mother said it would happen, one day I walked down the street with my son and realized I felt happy. Out of the woods.
When people say it takes two years, believe them. Statistically speaking, this is the point in time when one has gotten through it. There is some truth to thisÑalso some rather 20)flamboyant falsehoods, especially when you have a child running around wearing his face and yours, entwined forever: you have done this, it cannot be undone. You will always have children together; they will almost certainly outlive the marriage in terms of years. It’s beautiful and hard all at once. It’s marriage and its 21)Siamese twin, divorce. Divorce, which apparently has become the 22)antidote to marriage, although the jury is decidedly out. In the end, it’s just life.
After a couple of years, you can appreciate your ex for who he is and realize that he is separate and distinct from you. You can feel a certain amount of warmth for him, as you do your 23)alma mater, or your car. You can love a car, but you do not attach yourself to the car. You do not buy little gifts for the car thinking you can be with the car over. You do not lose sleep over whether the car thinks you are attractive or if the car is thinking of you too, right now. You do not especially care whether someone else drives the car.
Right.
Or, you can wait two years.
到今年感恩节，我就离婚两年了。
（这具有讽刺意味的事情并不是人人都能明白的，请耐心听我说明。）
我以为自己永远也走不出离婚的阴影。离婚实在是太痛苦、太可怜，也可以说太老套了。我们刚刚有了个孩子——我得说，这并不是为了挽救婚姻，因为通常来讲，孩子能带来欢乐，虽然这个理由很传统却有其误导性。
我不知道婚姻也需要挽救。这暴露出我的天真，而离婚是可以将它彻底根治的。
我在一夜之间成了单亲妈妈，这跟一夜成名可完全不一样。我认为这就好比是感情的中风。当跟我分手的丈夫在优美的热带小岛上恢复心情享受着插着小伞的泡沫饮料时，我却被落在了这里，手里还抓着一个尿布包。
时机上的巧合没有比这更糟糕的了。在这个自己都无心吃喝梳洗——这些也许也没什么必要——的时候，我还要独自抚养我们漂亮的儿子。我真想一死了之。我以为我的生活完蛋了，账单也比以前高出一倍，恐惧、孤独和彻底的失败感像骨粉一样在夜空中扬起。
在现实世界里，应该有一个爱与婚姻的最终归宿，就如传说中年老的大象，在临终前独自走到安息之地一样。能找到爱与婚姻的最终归宿是值得欣喜若狂的。爱与婚姻，不应该由它们自行消失，不应该由它们随意飘飞，像蒲公英的种子一样无法在放飞之后将它收回。
在离婚后最初的几个星期里，母亲过来陪我。她坐在“陶瓷大谷仓”牌的搁脚椅上，就像一个穿着运动衫的好心的守卫。她一边喝着健怡可乐一边倾听，还跟我讲她自己离婚的事。我知道了父亲两次再婚，44岁就告别人世，这些事并不是那么振奋人心。不过尽管母亲想一斧子把我前夫的头发给割下来，她还是很开心的。我注意到了这一点——她挺过来了。
当然，我没有死。恰恰相反，我把注意力集中到我那非凡的儿子身上，每天晚上我都在沙发上喝中度的霞多丽白葡萄酒—沙发已经成为我的战斗基地，我在那里邮购了许多东西。我每天都感觉自己像一团烂泥。
我问母亲：“要用多长时间我才能复原？”“两年”，她说。我心里并没把这话当真。不错，母亲在她36岁的时候被抛弃了，她还带着两个孩子，但那是在1970年代。我告诉她我撑不了那么久，我甚至都撑不到下个月。她说，“哦，这个……亲爱的，每个人都不一样的。”
我在我家所在的小镇上转悠，头上顶着一个对话泡泡：“正在经历离婚痛苦的人”。我在观察其他人的时候，不由自主地给他们头上也加上一个对话泡泡。“推婴儿车的幸福夫妇”；“前途无量的天真少女”；“来镇上与儿孙全家团圆的心满意足的祖父母”；“无忧无虑、珠光宝气的家庭主妇”；“一群未经拆散的玩滑板的少年”；“胸前背着婴儿、爱妻子的好男人”；“永远没有烦恼的狗”；“大庭广众之下接吻的孩子”。然后我也偶尔会看到一个像我一样，步履蹒跚的忧伤女人，素面朝天，看上去要比实际年龄还要老。“搞不懂离婚这破事儿是怎么发生的失婚女人”。
我记得当时在想，我不会永远都是这个样子的。我的生活迟早会恢复原状。我开始等待，我并没有什么耐心，可我还是等待着。这事儿要是有人可以怪罪，我会的，我会猛烈地控诉一番。
我问离过婚的朋友：“要等上多久？”“两年”，他们说。
不会不会，不会吧，我想。
时间过得很慢，就像一个人等着阿斯匹林发生效用，以击退他剧烈的头痛一样。
我捱过了离婚后的第一个圣诞节、第一个情人节、第一个结婚纪念日和第一个离婚纪念日。痛楚慢慢地减轻，精神上的打击如果说还没有消失的话，它也已经在减弱了。我不再希望他（前夫）死掉，开始希望他富有起来，这样他就会给我们寄更多的钱来。他没有。
然后，就像母亲说过的那样，有一天我和儿子在街上走的时候，突然意识到自己很开心。我终于闯过了这一关。
如果别人说要用两年的时间才能走出离婚的阴影，相信他们。从统计上来说，这就是一个人走出痛苦的关键时间。这既有点道理——又像个相当美丽的谎言，尤其是那个长相酷似你俩的孩子在身边跑来跑去，永远缠着你的时候。事情已经发生，覆水难收。你会永远有这个孩子，当然从时间上来说，他们几乎总是比婚姻更能持久。痛苦总是伴随着美好。就像婚姻和它的孪生姐妹——离婚一样。尽管陪审团尚未做出结论，离婚却显然已经成为婚姻的解药。毕竟这就是生活。
几年过后，你会欣赏你前夫的为人，并意识到他跟你已经劳燕分飞，形同陌路。你对他会有几分温暖的感觉，就像你对你的母校，或是你的汽车一样。你可以爱上一辆车，但你对它不会有依恋。你不会给汽车买小礼物，以为自己可以跟汽车共度余生。你不会因为不知道汽车是不是认为你有魅力，或汽车此刻是不是也在想着你而失眠。别人会不会开你的车，你并不怎么介意。
没错。
或者，你可以等上两年。