感人的短篇小故事

□原作：兰斯顿·休斯
编译：苍苍蒹葭
在比尔非常年轻的时候，他们曾经深深相恋。那时，他们常在一起散步、聊天，度过了许多甜蜜美好的夜晚。但是，后来，他们却因为一些没什么大不了的小事闹僵了，直至互不理睬。一气之下，她毅然嫁给了一位她自认为自己喜欢的人。于是，带着满腔的痛苦和憎恨，比尔离开了。
然而就在昨天，当她正穿过华盛顿广场的时候，她却看见了他。自从他们分手以来的这么多年里，这是她第一次遇见他。
“比尔·沃克。”她简直不敢相信自己的眼睛，情不自禁地喊道。
听到喊声，他收住了脚步，转过头，满脸疑惑地看着她。显然，他并没有立刻认出她来。但那只是一瞬，很快他就认出她来了，并且，那一脸的疑惑也变成了一脸的惊讶，对他来说，她看起来实在是太老了。
“玛丽！是你！你怎么会在这儿？”
她下意识地仰起脸，好像是在等待着他的亲吻似的。但是，他却礼节性地伸出了手。她只好也伸出手和他握了握。
“我现在住在纽约，”她说。
“哦——”他礼貌地微笑着，但是，随即，他却微微皱了皱眉头，一丝忧虑掠过他的眉间。
“我一直都在想你现在怎么样了，比尔。”
“我现在是律师，事务所就在纽约市中心，在纽约还颇有些名气呢。”
“你结婚了吗？”
“哦，当然，都有两个小孩了。”
“噢，”她轻轻地说，似乎有无限的失望。
有许多人穿过停车场，从他们的身边经过。他们不认识那些人。此刻，夕阳西下，已经快到黄昏了，天气非常寒冷。
“你先生怎么样？”他问道。
“我们有三个孩子，我现在在哥伦比亚大学的财务室工作。”
“你看起来非常……非常……好，”他说。他本想说“老”的，但是，话到嘴边又咽了回去。
她知道他想说的是什么。此刻，在华盛顿广场上的树阴下，她拼命地回忆着过去的往事。往事仿佛电影一般，一幕幕地涌现在她的脑海里。那时，他们住在俄亥俄州。她的年龄本来就比他大，如今，她早已经青春不再了，而比尔却仍旧年轻。
“我住在中央公园的西面。”她说，“有空的话请一定要过来玩玩。”
“我会的。”他答道，“也请你和你的先生在方便的时候一定要到我们家来一起吃晚饭，哪天晚上都行。露西和我都欢迎你们来。”
这时，有几片枯黄的树叶正从广场上的树木上慢悠悠地飘落下来，无声无息。面对着秋日的黄昏，她感到有些难过。
“我们也非常乐意来。”她回答说。
“哦，你真应该来看看我的孩子。”他咧开嘴，笑着说。
然而，就在这时，整个第五大道突然华灯齐放，在蓝色的暮霭中仿佛两条朦胧的光链。
“哦，我的公共汽车到了。”她说。
他连忙伸出手，说：“再见。”
“什么时候……”她还想再说些什么，但是，汽车马上就要开了，她不得不上车了。顿时，她只觉得那明亮的街灯模糊了，闪闪烁烁，朦朦胧胧。而她上车的时候，连嘴都不敢张，她害怕她忍不住会说出那些话来，那样的话，她会更加难以忍受。
然而，当车门“砰”地一声关上的时候，她却突然高声尖叫道：“再见！”
终于，汽车开动了。车门外，如织的行人从他们之间走过，往来于街道的两边，川流不息。对他们来说，那都是些陌生人。
汽车越行越远，他们之间的距离也越来越大。终于，比尔消失在她的视线外，消失在茫茫的人海中。这时，她才猛地想起她竟然忘了告诉他她的住址，也忘了问他的住址，还忘了告诉他，她最小的孩子也叫比尔……

EARLY AUTUMN-- By Langston Hughes
When Bill was very young, they had been in love. Many nights they had spent walking, talking together. Then something not very important had come between them, and they didn’t speak. Impulsively, she had married a man she thought she loved. Bill went away, bitter about women.

Yesterday, walking across Washington Square, she saw him for the first time in years.

“Bill Walker,” she said.
He stopped. At first he did not recognize her, to him she looked so old.
“Mary! Where did you come from?”
Unconsciously, she lifted her face as though wanting a kiss, but he held out his hand. She took it.
“I live in New York now,” she said.
“Oh” — smiling politely. Then a little frown came quickly between his eyes.
“Always wondered what happened to you, Bill.”
“I’m a lawyer. Nice firm, way downtown.”
“Married yet?”
“Sure. Two kids.”
“Oh,” she said.

A great many people went past them through the park. People they didn’t know. It was late afternoon. Nearly sunset. Cold.

“And your husband?” he asked her.
“We have three children. I work in the bursar’s office at Columbia.”
“You’re looking very . . .” (he wanted to say old) “. . . well,” he said.

She understood. Under the trees in Washington Square, she found herself desperately reaching back into the past. She had been older than he then in Ohio. Now she was not young at all. Bill was still young.

“We live on Central Park West,” she said. “Come and see us sometime.”
“Sure,” he replied. “You and your husband must have dinner with my family some night. Any night. Lucille and I’d love to have you.”

The leaves fell slowly from the trees in the Square. Fell without wind. Autumn dusk. She felt a little sick.

“We’d love it,” she answered.
“You ought to see my kids.” He grinned.

Suddenly the lights came on up the whole length of Fifth Avenue, chains of misty brilliance in the blue air.

“There’s my bus,” she said.
He held out his hand. “Good-bye.”
“When . . .” she wanted to say, but the bus was ready to pull off. The lights on the avenue blurred, twinkled, blurred. And she was afraid to open her mouth as she entered the bus. Afraid it would be impossible to utter a word.

Suddenly she shrieked very loudly. “Good-bye!” But the bus door had closed.

The bus started. People came between them outside, people crossing the street, people they didn’t know. Space and people. She lost sight of Bill. Then she remembered she had forgotten to give him her address — or to ask him for his — or tell him that her youngest boy was named Bill too.