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The kids are excited, the plumber said. He was tall and large and moved quickly. I was thankful for his efficiency.
孩子们都很激动。水管工说。他很高很壮，走路也快。我很感谢他这么有效率。
I'll be in the car, Mom said, letting herself out of the house. The screen door shut behind her with metallic resonance, as it had thousands of times. I didn't like letting her descend the steps on her own, but I knew, in this moment, she'd refuse help. I took the box she'd made for Carnie and followed the plumber to his car.
我在车里等你，然后妈妈就出去了。纱门像以前一样关上的时候会发出巨大的金属的响声。我不想让妈妈自己下楼梯，不过我知道现在她不想让别人帮她。我拿着妈妈为卡尼准备的盒子跟着水管工走向他的车。
I'm always walking, Carnie sang, after midnight…
我午夜经常散步，卡尼唱着。
I couldn't look at Mom. I knew she was crying. I was relieved to see Carnie go, to have the burden of his welfare hoisted onto someone else's shoulders. But immediately I was brought back to the sadness of the moment, the fact that this represented a breaking-off point. There was an air of finality-my mother grieving in the car, our small home empty.
我不敢看妈妈。我知道她在哭。我感觉卡尼离开是种解脱，终于可以把照顾他的负担丢给别人了。可是现在回想起来，那是个真正让人心碎的日子。一切都已成定局，妈妈在车里难过，我们的家空了。
After the plumber pulled away, I walked through the house one last time. I could almost hear the place settling, breathing a sigh of relief, coming down from a high. Still, there was a palpable residue of our past lives, as if old gifts and parrot tirades had left their marks. I paused over my father's plastic fixes and things shaped by his hands that I couldn't take with me. Empty, the house reminded me of tombstone, a commemoration of my childhood.
水管工走了之后，我在房子里最后走了一圈。我甚至感到了这个房子如释重负。这里仍然有我们过去生活的气息，好像旧礼物和鹦鹉的长篇大论都留下了痕迹。我停在了那些带不走的爸爸做的工具那。房子空了，可是她是我童年的纪念。
I joined Mom in the car. I imagined her stillness and set face belied inner fragility, as if beneath the crust lay a deep well of hurt. As I turned onto the highway, I saw her touch her shoulders, the place where Carnie had so often rested, his remembered weight now a phantom presence on her thinning bones.
我上了车。我想象着她呆呆地坐在那，假装着坚强，就像坚硬的贝壳下面隐藏着最痛的伤痕。我开上高速公路的时候，我看见妈妈碰了一下肩膀，卡尼经常待在上面。他的重量从来没有在妈妈瘦弱的肩膀上消失。
We've been driving toward home, for five hours. Ike has been in and out of naps. We pass a billboard that says, Jesus Is Watching.
我们已经往家开了5个小时了。艾克一直处于睡睡醒醒的状态。我们路过了一个宣传板，上面写着“上帝在看着你”。
Jesus makes me nervous, Ike says. Jesus is a spy.
上帝让我很紧张，他是一个间谍，艾克说。
I laugh and then pause, thinking how the statement would have made Mom uncomfortable. The night sets in and Ike gets quiet. I watch his eyes in the reaiview. I wonder what he is thinking about.
我笑了，然后想着如果妈妈听见这句话她得多不舒服。天黑了，艾克也变安静了。我从后视镜里看着他的眼睛，想知道他在想什么。
Will you love me forever? I think to myself. Will you love me when I'm old? If I go crazy? Will you be embarrassed by me? Avoid my calls? Wash dishes when you talk to me on the phone, roll your eyes, lay the receiver down next to the cat?
你会永远爱我吗？我问我自己。我老了之后你也会爱我吗？如果我疯了呢？你会以我为耻吗？不接我的电话？或者接电话的时候在刷碗、揉眼睛，宁愿看猫也不愿意和我说话？
I realize how badly I need a piece of my mother. A scrap, a sound, a smell—something.
我强烈地想要一些关于妈妈的东西一个碎片、声音、味道，关于她的任何东西都行。
One more stop, I say to Ike.
再停一下，我对儿子说。
