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We pull into the dark gravel signage. It's just a deserted, plain house for plain folks on what is now a major highway. The white paint peels from the siding. I remember pulling into the driveway when I was past curfew, the light in my mother's bedroom flowing, the way I could simultaneously dread and love the thought of slipping through the front door, pouring a glass of water, and crafting an elaborate lie to explain my late arrival.
我把车开进了碎石的车道上。一个被遗弃了的给普通人住的普通房子，现在旁边的路已经成为主干道。墙板上的白漆已经掉了。我记得有时候回家过了规定的时间，开着车进到屋前车道时，看见我妈卧室里仍然灯光未熄。这时我一面担惊受怕，一面又感觉兴奋刺激，想着如何溜进前门，倒上一杯凉水，再琢磨如何巧妙地编个故事，来解释这么晚才回家的理由。
Ike is sleepy. He's wearing my rain jacket, though it's barely raining. RVs are pulling into the Walmart parking lot for the night. The smell of wet leaves makes me sick to my stomach with nostalgia. The boxwoods are overgrown and shapeless.
艾克困了。他穿着我的雨衣，虽然基本没下。房车都停进了沃尔玛的停车场准备过夜。湿叶子的味道让我更想家了。黄杨木长得太大，又没有形状。
Hold my hand, I say to Ike. Stay close.
拉着我的手，靠近点，我对艾克说。
The screen door is still intact, though the screen itself is punctured and webbed over. I stare into the dirty glass of the front door. I try the knob—locked.
纱门还在，可是已经很破了。我透过前门上那块脏玻璃往里看。门锁着。
I break the front door pane with the butt of the knife. I carry in my purse and carefully reach in through the mouth of teeth to turn the door-knob.
我用放在包里的刀的刀柄把前门的玻璃弄碎，然后小心翼翼地把手伸进去从里面把门打开。
This is weird, Ike said. I'm scared.
太奇怪了，我害怕，艾克说。
The damp carpet heaves underneath my feet. The house smells like cave, and yet like home. Windows are cracked; sills are covered in dead wasps and crumpled spiders. There is mold on the drywall and water spots on the ceiling. The stove and toilet have been ripped out. Ike starts to cry.
我脚底下的地毯鼓起来了。房子闻起来像个地窖，但是也像家。玻璃碎了，窗台上挂满了黄蜂和皱巴巴的蜘蛛网。石膏板上还有石膏线，房顶上还有水点的痕迹。火炉和坐便器已经掉了。艾克开始哭。
It's okay. I just want to stay here a minute.
别怕，我只是想待一分钟，我说。
I lead him to the back of the house, down the hallway which still feels more familiar to me than any I know. My bedroom, with its pale pink walls, looks small. Barren.
我带他走到房子的后面。走廊的味道我仍然感觉最熟悉。我房间粉色的墙已经掉色了，看上去很小，空空荡荡。
I'm sad that you lived here, Ike says, still crying.
艾克边哭边说，我很难过你以前住在这。
It wasn't that bad, honey, I say. This was a beautiful house.
宝贝，其实没有那么坏。它曾经很漂亮，我说。
The crown molding my father installed is still up, though one piece is loose and sags. I remember him getting up early so that he could work on it before heading to the factory. It was my mother's birthday present-crown molding or my room.
房顶上爸爸安的装饰线还在，只不过有一块已经松了。我记得他早上起得很早，就为了在上班之前弄好。这是妈妈给我的生日礼物，给我房间的装饰线。
My father died on the steps of the tool manufacturing plant. A heart attack. The doctor said it was a birth defect, that he was born with a weak heart. And now the building is empty, abandoned, as if all his work was for nothing. Mom's grief was as long as a river, endless.
爸爸由于心脏病死在了工厂的台阶上。医生说爸爸生下来心脏就不好。现在房子空了，被遗弃了，就好像他所有的努力都白费了。妈妈的悲伤像条河，绵延不绝。
I walk back to the kitchen and climb onto the green plastic countertop. Ike watches me, curious and confused. I remove the valances Mom made in the early eighties, dried bugs falling from the folds of the fabric into the sink below.
我走回到厨房，爬到了工作台上面。艾克好奇又困惑地看着我。我拿掉了妈妈在80年代做的窗帘挂布，挂布上面裹着的已经干掉的死虫子纷纷落在下面的水池里。
