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"She's tired I expect,"Claire said, conveying weariness too. She wanted them to go. She could not confide in them. They might sneer. They were not friends any more than the ex-lovers, they were all social appendages, extras, acquaintances cultivated in order to be able to say to other acquaintances, "Well one night a bunch of us went mad and had a nude sit-in..."There was no one she trusted, no one she could produce for her mother and feel happy about it.
“我想她是累了，”克莱尔说，自己也显露出倦意。她希望客人快些离开。她不可能对他们说心里话，那样他们会嘲笑她的。他们也算不上什么朋友，与她过去的情人一样。他们都不过是她的社交附属物，多余的人，泛泛之交，和这些人的关系于她只不过是为了可以哪一天 和其他的泛泛之交说:“有一天晚上，我们一帮人发疯了，举行了一次裸体静坐示威……”没有一人她能信任，并且可以高高兴兴向她母亲介绍。
"Music, brandy, cigarettes..." They were recalling her, voicing their needs. They stayed until they'd finished the packet, which was well after midnight.
“放点音乐吧，再来点白兰地，还有香烟……”他们一直在叫她，提他们的要求。直到把桌上的烟酒一扫而光，他们才撤离，此刻已过午夜。
Claire hurried to her mother's room and found her awake with the light on.
克莱尔赶紧来到她母亲的房间，发现屋里开着灯，她还没睡。
"I'm sorry," Claire said.
“真对不起，”克莱尔说。
"You turned on me like a tinker," her mother said, in a voice cracked with emotion.
“你居然像补锅匠那样朝我吼叫，”她母亲说，激动得嗓音都沙哑了。
"I didn't mean to," Claire said. She tried to sound reasonable; she tried to tell her mother that the world was a big place and contained many people all of whom held various views about various things.
“我根本没想那样的，”克莱尔说。她极力想跟母亲讲道理；试图告诉她母亲，这个世 界很大，什么样的人都有，他们对各种不同的事物持有很多不同的观点。
"They're not sincere," her mother said, stressing the last word.
“他们都不真诚，”她母亲说。最后两个字说得很重。
"And who is?" Claire said, remembering the treacherous way the lovers vanished, or how former landladies rigged meters so that units of electricity cost double. Her mother had no notion of how lonely it was to read manuscripts all day, and write a poem once in a while, when one became consumed with a memory or an idea, and then to constantly go out, seeking people, hoping that one of them might fit, might know the shorthand of her, body and soul.
“那你说谁真诚？ ”克莱尔说。她想起了她那些恋人一个个甜言蜜语然后突然消失的样子,还有以前的那些房东太太为了让她多付一倍电费，在电表上做手脚。她母亲根本不理解她整天看书稿是多么孤独，有时因为想起某件往事或产生某种想法而不能自拔时写首诗，此外就是常常外出在人群中寻找，盼望其中能有一个人适合自己，能很快地了解自己，包括她的身体与灵魂。
"I was a good mother, I did everything I could, and this is all the thanks I get." It was spoken with such justification that Claire turned and laughed, hysterically. An incident leaped to her tongue, something she had never recalled before.
“我是个好母亲，我为你做了我能做的一切，而这就是我得到的回报。”这话说得如此理直气壮，以至于克莱尔转过身，歇斯底里地大笑起来。她忍不住说起了一件以前从未想起过的往事。
"You went to the hospital," she said to her mother, "to have your toe lanced, and…"
“有一次你去了医院，”她对她母亲说，“去给你的脚趾拔脓，还有……”
"What are you talking about?" her mother said numbly. The face that was round, in the evening, had become old, twisted, bitter.
“你在胡说些什么？ ”她母亲说。她实在气呆了，那晚上原本还丰满的脸一下显得苍老，扭曲起来，令人心酸。
