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by Bernie Brown I stared at the computer screen, the recipe for blueberry cobbler staring back at me as my daughter’s voice, plaintive as a puppy’s whine, pleaded, “Please, Mom, why can’t I go? Everybody else is going.” “You can go to the school lock in, or you can stay home from the prom. You cannot go to some hotel room with a bunch of drunken seniors. That’s final.” I still didn’t look up because the hurt and accusation in my daughters’ eyes skewered me, their blue the same blue as my sister’s satin dress and cornflower corsage had been. “I said no, and I meant it. If you continue to whine, you can consider yourself grounded as well.” My daughter huffed out of the home office, slamming the door, sharp and sudden like the piercing pain I felt when I remembered my sister, who never came home from her prom. One year in age had separated us. Russian vodka at a Ramada Inn had bonded us. My sister had left the Ramada in a white Ford Mustang convertible. On the old river road, the bridge railing met the Mustang’s front bumper. The Sunday paper said the car had folded as neatly as a paper fan. A paper fan. The three words pulsed in my head. After that night, shame had shriveled my heart and kept me silent. My daughter didn’t know how the aunt she had never met, but looked so much alike, had died. My daughter didn’t know that the vodka arrived at the party in my handbag. Through the door my daughter yelled, “You never let me do anything. I hate you.” And I welcomed this hurt, believing pain would redeem me. My attention turned again to the screen. A cup of blueberries, a cup of sugar, a cup of flour. Blue berries. Blue dress. Blue flowers on my sister’s grave. 纸扇 贝妮•布朗 我盯着电脑屏幕，阅读着蓝莓酥皮水果馅饼的食谱，耳边不时传来女儿小狗一样哼哼唧唧的抱怨声，她几乎是带着哭腔恳求道：“妈妈，求求你了，为什么我不能去酒店参加聚会，其他人都去了。” “你可以成天呆在学校里，也可以远离舞会呆在家里。就是不能去酒店的房间，和一群醉醺醺的毕业班学生呆在一起。就这样定了。”我不敢再抬头，我怕女儿眼中的伤害和怨恨刺痛我的心，从她蓝色的眼睛里，我看见了姐姐蓝色的真丝连衣裙，和胸前佩戴的矢车菊小花饰。“我向来说一不二，你是知道的，如果还要嘀咕，你自己考虑关禁闭。” 女儿气呼呼地跑出家庭办公室，砰地关上自己的房门，我的心里突然感到针扎般尖锐的难受，当我想起我的姐姐从舞会上再也没有回来的时候。大我一岁的姐姐已经离开了我们，都是在华美达酒店喝的俄国伏特加惹的祸。 我姐姐是坐着一辆福特野马敞篷车离开华美达酒店的。当车子行驶在熟悉的沿河路时，福特车的保险杠撞在了栏杆上。据当时星期天的报纸报道，福特车挤压变形同折叠的纸扇。纸扇，这几个字在我的脑海里嗡嗡作响。 从那天晚上开始，悔恨让我心灰意冷，之后我变得沉默寡言。我的女儿不知道，她从未谋面的姨妈，长得和我那么相像的姨妈已经去世了。她更不会知道，伏特加是我放在袋子里拿到舞会上去的。 “你总是这也不让我做，那也不让我做，我恨你。”女儿还在房间里大声叫喊，对此我已无动于衷。 我只有接受这种伤害，希望痛苦能让我赎罪。我的注意力又转向屏幕，一杯蓝莓，一杯糖，一杯面粉。 蓝莓，蓝丝裙，还有姐姐坟墓上盛开的蓝色小花朵。 （寒心 译） 2015.03.19 赞 (散文编辑：江南风) |
