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“Life has its moments of truth.”生命中总有必须直面的时刻。亲人的离开固然让人痛彻心扉，但为了活着的人，即使自己再悲痛，生活再艰难，也要继续下去。稚嫩的孩子也许还无法体会父亲的艰辛，但所有的悲痛、付出、牺牲只需要一句简单的“I love you”就足矣。爱可以含蓄，但有时爱更需要说出来。
学习小提示：这篇文章难度很高，前面部分用了大量篇幅描写潜水捕鱼，语言非常生动。潜水和海洋相关生词较多，大家可以先看单词注释，熟悉单词后再听录音，多听几遍，最后慢慢品读文笔之美。
Women weren’t supposed to die in childbirth, not anymore. It had taken 12 months, 1)mesmerised by a helpless baby and 2)numbed by her mother’s death, but finally he’d allowed himself to grieve properly. Sometimes though, it came back. Warm tears misted his cold dive mask. Lifting its seal he let seawater in, bathing his face, 3)erasing the sadness. He took a long breath, jack-knifed注1 and finned downward.
Ocean was up. 4)Coarse sand patched 5)tawny reef beneath. Strong 6)ground-swell sucked, sent the grains swirling. “Like 7)snorkelling through a snowstorm,”
he thought and grimly admitted he oughtn’t be out there, skirting the drop-off where 8)dumpers curled then crunched. But he and little Lizzie had to eat and he’d refused the 9)dole. Every other 10)deckhand signed on after the local lobster grounds got re-zoned “11)marine park.” Not him. 12)Scrutinised like some criminal 13)malingerer? Bugger that! No, he and his small daughter could survive on his dive skills. Fresh fish, if not directly consumed, were straight cash-in-hand exchange or top
14)barter—if he could find them. Today, surrounded by sandy soup, that wouldn’t be easy.
Simple but effective, his Hawaiian sling注2. Pacific Islanders had used similar 15)hand-spears for millennia. Firing rubber, looped 16)twixt thumb and forefinger, got stretched along 17)shaft, held, spear was aimed, released quick: 18)Whack!
Pinching nose, he kicked deeper. A large sweep’s white-tipped tail showed, then vanished in the sand stir. He finned upwards, heart thumping double-time. 19)Cramp 20)crimped one thigh. Two 21)strenuous hours gone—no result. Hitting 22)choppy surface, he spouted, sucked air and shivered. Wetsuit was old, 23)perforated, retained 24)scant body heat, but Lizzie had priority over a new suit. Right now her principal need was nutrition. He must get a table fish.
How his precious little blondie loved her 25)fillets. Right now, spoilt rotten by Faye, the 26)trawlerman’s
widow, Lizzie was curled beside a fire, sucking thumb, twirling her salt-blonde silk locks and watching Disney videos. What did you call a child no longer a 27)toddler but still needing 28)cuddlesome reassurance? Bloody gorgeous. Sometimes he thought only his love of, and the love from this child, kept him sane.
He dived again, into a gap in the reef. Here the sea surged inshore like a flooding 29)irrigation channel.
Swept over 30)writhing 31)bull kelp, he glided into pond-like 32)environs. Reef now formed a barrier to the outside breakers. At last he had fair visibility. Far below lay a sponge-and-weed-matted overhang. This, he knew, concealed a cave-like ledge where, on
33)turbulent days, fish sometimes 34)congregated.
Once more he tilted downward, finning 35)rhythmically. Awkward movement might 36)spook
his one chance for a hit. Closing on the overhang, he drifted beneath. In the deep green half-light his eyes adjusted on an easy target.
Like 37)fondling teenagers sprung by a cinema usher’s torch, two 38)butterfish all but froze, lying nose to nose, tails fanned just enough to retain station against the 39)algaed reef wall. Butterfish weren’t prime eating but, at five kilos, the biggest meant many fishcakes. He fired—head shot, a clean kill.
Butterfish 40)towed on his float-line, he swam shoreward. The surviving fish followed, shadowing, circling its dead mate, dreadful in its uncomprehending sorrow. He felt hollow as an empty shell.
An hour later that hollowness, like the southern ocean’s coldness, persisted. He’d begun to fillet. Lizzie was studying the process. Head barely as high as the low kitchen bench, Lizzie’s own gaze met the fish’s sightless one. Then, earnest sea-blue irises fixed upon her father’s, she asked, “Daddy, do fish cry?”
Life has its moments of truth. This was one.
After a sober minute between himself and the fish, he asked, “Lizzie, you like baked beans, yeah?”
This didn’t mean he would not cook the butterfish. It’s life taken, it must be eaten. Simply, never again would he spear one fish of a mating pair—even if, in its place, very ordinary fare had to be 41)partaken.
Lizzie’s face 42)frowned in 43)contemplation before she replied: “But beans make me fart.” The
pronouncement’s 44)solemnity, and the way she sucked her bottom lip after making it, was pure comedy. But aware of his child’s sensitivity, he mustn’t laugh.
Suppressed 45)mirth, however, generated warmth in a soul colder from 46)transgressing one of nature’s lesser laws: Thou shalt注3 not destroy companionship.
“Hmmm alright,” he said with mock 47)gruffness, “how about two minute noodles?”
“Ooh yes,” responded Lizzie, 48)guileless eyes shining like rock pools on a bright day, “I love noodles!” A smile to turn any sinner saintly. Lizzie’s slight arms encircled a thigh hardened by decades of driving swimfins against oceanic surge. Cuddling in she added, “But Daddy, I love you even lots more.”
In this moment a man, not a fish, found himself weeping.
女人不再死于难产，至少现在不会这样了。过了12个月——那无助的孩子让他无暇分心，她母亲的去世也让他丧失了感觉——他终于可以好好地伤心一回。不过有些时候，这些感觉总是不请自来。温热的泪水模糊了他冰冷的潜水镜。他移开眼罩，让海水灌进来，冲洗着自己的脸，抹去他的悲伤。他深吸一口气，屈身一跳，又向深处潜去。
海平面在上，由粗沙子累积而成的褐黄色礁石在下。强烈的涌浪卷着沙子，不停搅动。“就像在暴风雪里浮潜一样，”他想，心情灰暗地承认不该在翻斗器倾斜并嘎吱作响的情况下，还绕着水下峭壁环潜。但是他和小莉齐
必须填饱肚子，而他拒绝领取救济金。在当地龙虾供应商重新划分了“海产公园”之后，许多水手都与之签订了合同。但他没有。像装病的罪人一样接受审查？他才不干！至少他和年幼的女儿还能依靠他的潜水技术糊口。如果他能捕到新鲜的鱼，除了能直接充当食材，还能卖钱或换取其他必需品。但在今天这“沙子汤”里，捕鱼可不是易事。
他的“夏威夷吊索”捕捉方式虽然简单但很有效。太平洋岛民千百年来一直延用着这样持矛捕鱼的方式。射出橡胶管，在拇指和食指之间打圈，紧紧拉伸矛轴，定住，瞄准，然后快速射出：“嘣！”
扣紧鼻子，他往海底更深处潜去。一个庞然大物布满白色斑点的尾巴晃过，随即消失在滚滚的沙尘之中。他尾随而去，心跳加快了一倍。一条腿抽筋了。紧张的两个小时过去了，一无所获。他浮出海面，大口吐着海水，深深吸气，浑身颤抖。他的潜水服又破又旧，不足以维持体温，但莉齐比新潜水服重要。现在她最需要的是营养。他必须捉到一桌子鱼。
他最爱的金发小姑娘非常喜欢吃鱼。渔民寡妇费伊非常宠爱莉齐，让她蜷着身体围在火炉旁，吸吸拇指，拨弄着一缕缕丝缎般的金发，一边看着迪士尼的影片……看着一个已能跌跌撞撞地学步却依然需要大人怀抱的孩子是什么感觉？可爱极了。有时候他想，他和女儿之间这种相互的爱是让他保持理智的唯一原因。
他又朝着礁石缝里潜去。海水从这里灌注而入，形成巨大的水流。拨开那些不断扭动的巨藻，他滑入一个池塘形状的地方。礁石成了抵挡外来侵略者的天然屏障。现在他终于可以看清眼前的景象。在他下方有一块悬空的大石，上面满是海绵和海藻。他知道，这里必定掩着一处洞穴般的暗礁，在波涛汹涌的日子里，鱼儿有时会在这里聚集成堆。
他有节奏地摆动腿部，又一次倾斜着身子往下潜，担心动作太大会把不可多得的猎物吓跑。他渐渐靠近那块石头，慢慢地移到下面。就着半明半暗的深绿色光线，他的目光锁定在一个唾手可得的目标上。
就像正在互相爱抚的年轻人被电影院引导员的手电筒照到吓了一跳似的，两条鲳鱼一动不动地停在那里，脸朝脸，在爬满海藻的礁石前轻摆鱼尾以维持位置。鲳鱼不是最主要的食材，不过五公斤的大鲳鱼可以制作许多许多鱼饼。他瞄准射击——直中头部，干脆利落。
他用吊索拖着鲳鱼，向岸边游去。那条幸存下来的鲳鱼一路尾随，围着死去的伴侣绕圈，带着无法名状的悲哀。他感觉空落落的，犹如一颗抽空的贝壳。
一个小时过去了，那种空虚感有如南海的冰冷般挥之不散。他开始去鱼骨，莉齐则在旁边观看。她的头刚好与厨房的矮凳齐高，目光正对着鲳鱼已经没有焦距的瞳孔。接着，那对诚挚的海蓝色眼眸望向她爸爸，问道：“爸爸，鱼会哭吗？”
生命中总有必须直面的时刻。这就是其中之一。
他沉重地盯着鲳鱼，一分钟以后，他问道：“莉齐，你喜欢吃烤豆，对吧？”
这并不意味着他不会烹煮那条鲳鱼。它已经失去了生命，只能被吃掉。但他再也不会让正在交配的一对鱼儿阴阳相隔了——尽管在这个地方，这种事情并不稀奇。
莉齐皱着眉头，若有所思，然后回答说：“但是吃了豆子会放屁。”她说这句话时的严肃神情，再加上说完以后咬着下嘴唇的模样实在喜感十足。但他深知女儿敏感，不能发笑。他那因为违背了“永远不要拆散一对伴侣”这条相对次要的自然规律而冰冻的心灵在强压下去的快乐中暖和起来了。
“嗯，好吧，”他装出一副勉为其难的表情说，“那两分钟即熟面条怎么样？”
“噢，太好了，”莉齐眨巴着明亮的眼睛，美丽得如同晴天里闪着亮光的石头一般，“我爱吃面条！”她的微笑足以让任何罪人改邪归正。她的小手紧紧地圈住爸爸那因为长年踩着海浪潜水而练就的结实大腿，说道：“不过啊，爸爸，我更爱你呢。”
在那一瞬间，不是鱼，而是一个男人，哭了。
注1：屈体跳水又称镰刀式跳水，指的是一种头向下的跳水动作，把身体弯到腰部、腿伸直，在打开身体且以手先触水的姿势跳入水中以前，要先用手触脚。此处作动词用，意为向前屈体。
注2：夏威夷吊索，用于鱼叉捕鱼（spearfishing）的设备，唯一活动的部件是矛轴（spear shaft）和橡皮管（rubber tubing）。
注3：古英语，对应“you shall”。
学习小提示：这篇文章难度很高，前面部分用了大量篇幅描写潜水捕鱼，语言非常生动。潜水和海洋相关生词较多，大家可以先看单词注释，熟悉单词后再听录音，多听几遍，最后慢慢品读文笔之美。
Women weren’t supposed to die in childbirth, not anymore. It had taken 12 months, 1)mesmerised by a helpless baby and 2)numbed by her mother’s death, but finally he’d allowed himself to grieve properly. Sometimes though, it came back. Warm tears misted his cold dive mask. Lifting its seal he let seawater in, bathing his face, 3)erasing the sadness. He took a long breath, jack-knifed注1 and finned downward.
Ocean was up. 4)Coarse sand patched 5)tawny reef beneath. Strong 6)ground-swell sucked, sent the grains swirling. “Like 7)snorkelling through a snowstorm,”
he thought and grimly admitted he oughtn’t be out there, skirting the drop-off where 8)dumpers curled then crunched. But he and little Lizzie had to eat and he’d refused the 9)dole. Every other 10)deckhand signed on after the local lobster grounds got re-zoned “11)marine park.” Not him. 12)Scrutinised like some criminal 13)malingerer? Bugger that! No, he and his small daughter could survive on his dive skills. Fresh fish, if not directly consumed, were straight cash-in-hand exchange or top
14)barter—if he could find them. Today, surrounded by sandy soup, that wouldn’t be easy.
Simple but effective, his Hawaiian sling注2. Pacific Islanders had used similar 15)hand-spears for millennia. Firing rubber, looped 16)twixt thumb and forefinger, got stretched along 17)shaft, held, spear was aimed, released quick: 18)Whack!
Pinching nose, he kicked deeper. A large sweep’s white-tipped tail showed, then vanished in the sand stir. He finned upwards, heart thumping double-time. 19)Cramp 20)crimped one thigh. Two 21)strenuous hours gone—no result. Hitting 22)choppy surface, he spouted, sucked air and shivered. Wetsuit was old, 23)perforated, retained 24)scant body heat, but Lizzie had priority over a new suit. Right now her principal need was nutrition. He must get a table fish.
How his precious little blondie loved her 25)fillets. Right now, spoilt rotten by Faye, the 26)trawlerman’s
widow, Lizzie was curled beside a fire, sucking thumb, twirling her salt-blonde silk locks and watching Disney videos. What did you call a child no longer a 27)toddler but still needing 28)cuddlesome reassurance? Bloody gorgeous. Sometimes he thought only his love of, and the love from this child, kept him sane.
He dived again, into a gap in the reef. Here the sea surged inshore like a flooding 29)irrigation channel.
Swept over 30)writhing 31)bull kelp, he glided into pond-like 32)environs. Reef now formed a barrier to the outside breakers. At last he had fair visibility. Far below lay a sponge-and-weed-matted overhang. This, he knew, concealed a cave-like ledge where, on
33)turbulent days, fish sometimes 34)congregated.
Once more he tilted downward, finning 35)rhythmically. Awkward movement might 36)spook
his one chance for a hit. Closing on the overhang, he drifted beneath. In the deep green half-light his eyes adjusted on an easy target.
Like 37)fondling teenagers sprung by a cinema usher’s torch, two 38)butterfish all but froze, lying nose to nose, tails fanned just enough to retain station against the 39)algaed reef wall. Butterfish weren’t prime eating but, at five kilos, the biggest meant many fishcakes. He fired—head shot, a clean kill.
Butterfish 40)towed on his float-line, he swam shoreward. The surviving fish followed, shadowing, circling its dead mate, dreadful in its uncomprehending sorrow. He felt hollow as an empty shell.
An hour later that hollowness, like the southern ocean’s coldness, persisted. He’d begun to fillet. Lizzie was studying the process. Head barely as high as the low kitchen bench, Lizzie’s own gaze met the fish’s sightless one. Then, earnest sea-blue irises fixed upon her father’s, she asked, “Daddy, do fish cry?”
Life has its moments of truth. This was one.
After a sober minute between himself and the fish, he asked, “Lizzie, you like baked beans, yeah?”
This didn’t mean he would not cook the butterfish. It’s life taken, it must be eaten. Simply, never again would he spear one fish of a mating pair—even if, in its place, very ordinary fare had to be 41)partaken.
Lizzie’s face 42)frowned in 43)contemplation before she replied: “But beans make me fart.” The
pronouncement’s 44)solemnity, and the way she sucked her bottom lip after making it, was pure comedy. But aware of his child’s sensitivity, he mustn’t laugh.
Suppressed 45)mirth, however, generated warmth in a soul colder from 46)transgressing one of nature’s lesser laws: Thou shalt注3 not destroy companionship.
“Hmmm alright,” he said with mock 47)gruffness, “how about two minute noodles?”
“Ooh yes,” responded Lizzie, 48)guileless eyes shining like rock pools on a bright day, “I love noodles!” A smile to turn any sinner saintly. Lizzie’s slight arms encircled a thigh hardened by decades of driving swimfins against oceanic surge. Cuddling in she added, “But Daddy, I love you even lots more.”
In this moment a man, not a fish, found himself weeping.
女人不再死于难产，至少现在不会这样了。过了12个月——那无助的孩子让他无暇分心，她母亲的去世也让他丧失了感觉——他终于可以好好地伤心一回。不过有些时候，这些感觉总是不请自来。温热的泪水模糊了他冰冷的潜水镜。他移开眼罩，让海水灌进来，冲洗着自己的脸，抹去他的悲伤。他深吸一口气，屈身一跳，又向深处潜去。
海平面在上，由粗沙子累积而成的褐黄色礁石在下。强烈的涌浪卷着沙子，不停搅动。“就像在暴风雪里浮潜一样，”他想，心情灰暗地承认不该在翻斗器倾斜并嘎吱作响的情况下，还绕着水下峭壁环潜。但是他和小莉齐
必须填饱肚子，而他拒绝领取救济金。在当地龙虾供应商重新划分了“海产公园”之后，许多水手都与之签订了合同。但他没有。像装病的罪人一样接受审查？他才不干！至少他和年幼的女儿还能依靠他的潜水技术糊口。如果他能捕到新鲜的鱼，除了能直接充当食材，还能卖钱或换取其他必需品。但在今天这“沙子汤”里，捕鱼可不是易事。
他的“夏威夷吊索”捕捉方式虽然简单但很有效。太平洋岛民千百年来一直延用着这样持矛捕鱼的方式。射出橡胶管，在拇指和食指之间打圈，紧紧拉伸矛轴，定住，瞄准，然后快速射出：“嘣！”
扣紧鼻子，他往海底更深处潜去。一个庞然大物布满白色斑点的尾巴晃过，随即消失在滚滚的沙尘之中。他尾随而去，心跳加快了一倍。一条腿抽筋了。紧张的两个小时过去了，一无所获。他浮出海面，大口吐着海水，深深吸气，浑身颤抖。他的潜水服又破又旧，不足以维持体温，但莉齐比新潜水服重要。现在她最需要的是营养。他必须捉到一桌子鱼。
他最爱的金发小姑娘非常喜欢吃鱼。渔民寡妇费伊非常宠爱莉齐，让她蜷着身体围在火炉旁，吸吸拇指，拨弄着一缕缕丝缎般的金发，一边看着迪士尼的影片……看着一个已能跌跌撞撞地学步却依然需要大人怀抱的孩子是什么感觉？可爱极了。有时候他想，他和女儿之间这种相互的爱是让他保持理智的唯一原因。
他又朝着礁石缝里潜去。海水从这里灌注而入，形成巨大的水流。拨开那些不断扭动的巨藻，他滑入一个池塘形状的地方。礁石成了抵挡外来侵略者的天然屏障。现在他终于可以看清眼前的景象。在他下方有一块悬空的大石，上面满是海绵和海藻。他知道，这里必定掩着一处洞穴般的暗礁，在波涛汹涌的日子里，鱼儿有时会在这里聚集成堆。
他有节奏地摆动腿部，又一次倾斜着身子往下潜，担心动作太大会把不可多得的猎物吓跑。他渐渐靠近那块石头，慢慢地移到下面。就着半明半暗的深绿色光线，他的目光锁定在一个唾手可得的目标上。
就像正在互相爱抚的年轻人被电影院引导员的手电筒照到吓了一跳似的，两条鲳鱼一动不动地停在那里，脸朝脸，在爬满海藻的礁石前轻摆鱼尾以维持位置。鲳鱼不是最主要的食材，不过五公斤的大鲳鱼可以制作许多许多鱼饼。他瞄准射击——直中头部，干脆利落。
他用吊索拖着鲳鱼，向岸边游去。那条幸存下来的鲳鱼一路尾随，围着死去的伴侣绕圈，带着无法名状的悲哀。他感觉空落落的，犹如一颗抽空的贝壳。
一个小时过去了，那种空虚感有如南海的冰冷般挥之不散。他开始去鱼骨，莉齐则在旁边观看。她的头刚好与厨房的矮凳齐高，目光正对着鲳鱼已经没有焦距的瞳孔。接着，那对诚挚的海蓝色眼眸望向她爸爸，问道：“爸爸，鱼会哭吗？”
生命中总有必须直面的时刻。这就是其中之一。
他沉重地盯着鲳鱼，一分钟以后，他问道：“莉齐，你喜欢吃烤豆，对吧？”
这并不意味着他不会烹煮那条鲳鱼。它已经失去了生命，只能被吃掉。但他再也不会让正在交配的一对鱼儿阴阳相隔了——尽管在这个地方，这种事情并不稀奇。
莉齐皱着眉头，若有所思，然后回答说：“但是吃了豆子会放屁。”她说这句话时的严肃神情，再加上说完以后咬着下嘴唇的模样实在喜感十足。但他深知女儿敏感，不能发笑。他那因为违背了“永远不要拆散一对伴侣”这条相对次要的自然规律而冰冻的心灵在强压下去的快乐中暖和起来了。
“嗯，好吧，”他装出一副勉为其难的表情说，“那两分钟即熟面条怎么样？”
“噢，太好了，”莉齐眨巴着明亮的眼睛，美丽得如同晴天里闪着亮光的石头一般，“我爱吃面条！”她的微笑足以让任何罪人改邪归正。她的小手紧紧地圈住爸爸那因为长年踩着海浪潜水而练就的结实大腿，说道：“不过啊，爸爸，我更爱你呢。”
在那一瞬间，不是鱼，而是一个男人，哭了。
注1：屈体跳水又称镰刀式跳水，指的是一种头向下的跳水动作，把身体弯到腰部、腿伸直，在打开身体且以手先触水的姿势跳入水中以前，要先用手触脚。此处作动词用，意为向前屈体。
注2：夏威夷吊索，用于鱼叉捕鱼（spearfishing）的设备，唯一活动的部件是矛轴（spear shaft）和橡皮管（rubber tubing）。
注3：古英语，对应“you shall”。