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Now we had both moved away from Vancouver. But Sunny had moved with husband and her children and her furniture, in the normal way and for the usual reason—her husband had got another job. And I had moved for the newfangled reason that was approved of only in some special circles—leaving husband and house and all the things acquired during the marriage (except, of course, the children, who were to be pareelled about), in the hope of making a life that could be lived without hypocrisy or deprivation or shame.
如今，我们都离开了温哥华。只不过赛妮是和丈夫、孩子、家居用品一起以一种正常的方式离开的。原因也很正常一她的丈夫换了工作。而我却是以一种新式的理由离开的。这种理由只在某些特定的圈子里得到肯定。那就是离开婚姻及婚姻生活中所获取的所有东西（当然孩子除外，他们会定期来到我身边），希望过上一种没有虚伪、不丧失自我、不感到羞辱的生活。
I lived now on the second floor of a house in Toronto. The people downstairs had come from Trinidad a dozen years earlier. All up and down the street, the old brick houses were occupied by olive—or brownish-skinned people who spoke English in a way that was unfamiliar to me and who filled the air day and night with the smell of their spicy-sweet cooking. I was happy with all this—it made me feel as if I had made a true change, a long necessary voyage from the house of marriage. But it was too much to expert of my daughters—who were ten and twelve years old—that they should feel the same way. They had come to me at the beginning of the summer holidays, supposedly to stay for the whole two months. They found the smells of the street sickening and the noise frightening.
我现在住在多伦多的一幢房子的二楼。楼下的住户是在12年前从特立尼达拉岛搬来的。整条街道上老式砖房里居住的都是微褐色皮肤的人。他们以一种我不熟悉的方式说着英语，空气中从早到晚弥漫着他们又辣又甜的烹饪气味。我对这一切事物都很满意。因为这一切让我感觉自己真的改变了，这是为摆脱婚姻的禁锢而必须踏上的长长的旅途。但如果期望我的10岁和12岁的女儿同我有一样的感受，那就有些过分了。她们在暑假初来到我这里，本打算要待上整整两个月，她们觉得这街道的气味令人作呕，这里的噪音令人发怵。
For a while they did not complain. The older one said to the younger one,"Let Mom think we're happy. Or she'll feel bad."
刚开始，她们没有抱怨。大女儿对小女儿说：“让妈妈觉得我们很快乐，不然她会不开心的。”
At last a blowup. Accusations, confessions of misery, the younger wailing, "Why can't you just live at home?" and the older telling her bitterly, "Because she hates Dad."
后来终于爆发了。小女儿埋怨哭诉着：“为什么你不在家里住？”大女儿痛苦地告诉她说：“因为妈妈恨爸爸。”
I phoned my husband—who asked me nearly the same question and provided, on his own, nearly the same answer. I changed the tickets and helped my children pack and took them to the airport. When I came back, alone, I gathered up all reminders of them and stuffed them into a garbage bag. And I did more or less the same thing every time I thought of them: I snapped my mind shut. There were miseries I could bear—those connected with men. And other miseries—those connected with children—that I could not.
我打电话给我的丈夫——他问我近乎同样的问题，而他自己也给出了近乎一样的答案。我给孩子们换了票，帮她们收拾东西，送她们到飞机场。当我独自回来的时候，我把所有与她们有关的、可能唤起对她们记忆的东西收集在一起塞进垃圾袋里。而当我想起她们的时候，几乎也做同样的事，将我的思绪完全封闭。与男人有关的苦痛我可以忍受，而与孩子有关的苦痛我不能忍受。
