NIC SHEFF was drunk for the first time at age eleven. In the years that followed, he would smoke pot regularly, do cocaine and Ecstasy, and develop addictions to crystal meth and heroin. Even so, he had always felt like he could quit and put his life together whenever he needed to. It took a violent relapse one summer to convince him otherwise.
尼克·谢夫十一岁时第一次喝醉。在接下来的几年里，他经常吸食大麻，吸食可卡因和摇头丸，并对冰毒和海洛因上瘾。即便如此，他总觉得只要有需要，他就可以退出并重新开始自己的生活。直到一年夏天，病情严重复发后，他才相信自己不这么认为。

In a voice that is raw and honest, Nic spares no detail in telling the compelling, heartbreaking, and true story of his relapse and his journey toward recovery.
尼克用一种原始而诚实的声音，不遗余力地讲述了他的旧病复发和康复之旅的引人入胜、令人心碎的真实故事。

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“The harrowing story of a decade of youthful drug abuse.”
“青少年吸毒十年的悲惨故事。”

—The Seattle Post-Intelligencer
——西雅图邮报情报员

“Riveting.” “铆。”

—Playboy -花花公子

“Sheff details his downward spiral, and the reader feels his desperation….
“谢夫详细描述了他的螺旋式下降，读者感受到了他的绝望……

—VOYA ——沃雅

“Graphic and detailed memoir [that] painfully depicts the author’s addiction to methamphetamines and his tortuous, tentative journey to health.”
“这本生动而详细的回忆录痛苦地描述了作者对甲基苯丙胺的成瘾以及他曲折的、尝试性的健康之旅。”

—School Library Journal ——学校图书馆杂志

“You begin to understand how love can miss its mark and spiral toward tragedy.”
“你开始明白爱情如何会错过它的目标并螺旋式走向悲剧。”

—Reading Room -阅览室

“Searingly honest.” “非常诚实。”

—Booklist ——书单

TWEAK 调整

Atheneum Books for Young Readers
雅典娜青年读者书籍

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
西蒙与舒斯特儿童出版部的印记

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
1230 美洲大道, 纽约, 纽约 10020

Copyright © 2008 by Nicholas Sheff
版权所有 © 2008 尼古拉斯·谢夫

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
保留所有权利，包括以任何形式复制全部或部分内容的权利。

Library of Congress Card Catalog Number 2008923615
美国国会图书馆卡片目录号 2008923615

ISBN-13: 978-1-4391-0333-3
ISBN-13：978-1-4391-0333-3

ISBN-10: 1-4391-0333-X ISBN-10：1-4391-0333-X

Visit us on the World Wide Web:
在万维网上访问我们：

http://www.SimonandSchuster.com

For Lee and my friend in New York
献给李和我在纽约的朋友

who took me in. You are both
谁收留了我。你们都是

beautiful, inspiring, powerful women.
美丽、鼓舞人心、强大的女性。

You are the two people I respect
你们是我尊敬的两个人

and admire most in the world.
并且是世界上最令人钦佩的。

Thank you. 谢谢。

How can I go forward when I don’t know which way I’m facing?
当我不知道自己面向哪个方向时，我该如何前进？

—John Lennon -约翰列侬

NOTE TO READERS: 读者须知：

This work is a memoir. It reflects the author’s present recollections of his experiences over a period of years. Certain names, locations, and identifying characteristics have been changed, and certain individuals are composites. Dialogue and events have been recreated from memory and, in some cases, have been compressed to convey the substance of what was said or what occurred.
这部作品是一部回忆录。它反映了作者目前对他多年来经历的回忆。某些名称、位置和识别特征已更改，并且某些个体是复合体。对话和事件是根据记忆重新创建的，在某些情况下，经过压缩以传达所说或所发生事情的实质内容。

CONTENTS 内容

PART ONE 第一部分

PART TWO 第二部分

EPILOGUE 结语

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 致谢

AFTERWORD 后记

PART ONE 第一部分

DAY 1 第一天

I’d heard rumors about what happened to Lauren. I mean, I never even knew her that well but we’d sort of hung out a few times in high school. Actually, I was sleeping with her for about two weeks. She had moved to San Francisco when I was a senior and we met somehow—at a party or something. Back in high school it was just pot, maybe I’d do some acid and mushrooms on the weekend.
我听说过有关劳伦发生的事情的谣言。我的意思是，我从来没有那么了解她，但我们在高中时曾一起出去过几次。事实上，我和她睡了大约两个星期。当我还是一名大四学生时，她搬到了旧金山，我们不知何故认识了——在一次聚会或其他什么地方。回到高中时，这只是大麻，也许周末我会做一些酸和蘑菇。

But I smoked pot every day. I was seventeen and had been accepted at prestigious universities across the country and I figured a little partying was due me. I’d worked hard those last three and a half years. Sure I’d had some problems smoking weed and drinking too much when I was younger, but that was all behind me. I was smart. I was on the swim team. My writing had been published in Newsweek. I was a great big brother. I got along with my dad and stepmom. I loved them. They were some of my best friends. So I just started smoking some pot and what harm could that do me anyway? Hell, my dad used to smoke pot. Most everyone in my family did. Our friends did—it was totally accepted.
但我每天都抽大麻。我当时十七岁，已被全国著名大学录取，我认为我应该参加一些聚会。在过去的三年半里我一直在努力工作。当然，我年轻时也有过吸大麻和酗酒的问题，但这一切都已经过去了。我很聪明。我是游泳队的成员。我的文章发表在《新闻周刊》上。我是一个很棒的大哥。我和我的爸爸和继母相处得很好。我爱他们。他们是我最好的朋友。所以我刚刚开始吸大麻，这会对我造成什么伤害呢？天哪，我爸爸过去常常抽大麻。我家里的大多数人都这么做了。我们的朋友做到了——它被完全接受了。

But with me things were different. In high school I was rolling blunts and smoking them in the car as I drove to school. Every break in classes had me driving off to get high. We’d go into the hills of Marin County, dropping acid or eating mushrooms—walking through the dry grass and overgrown cypress trees, giggling and babbling incoherently. Plus I was drinking more and more, sometimes during the day. I almost always blacked out, so I could remember little to nothing of what’d happened. It just affected me in a way that didn’t seem normal.
但对我来说，情况有所不同。高中时，我开车去学校时在车里滚钝器并抽烟。每次课间休息时，我都会开车去吸毒。我们会走进马林县的山上，滴酸或吃蘑菇——穿过干草和杂草丛生的柏树，咯咯笑着，语无伦次地胡言乱语。另外，我喝得越来越多，有时是在白天。我几乎总是昏过去，所以我几乎不记得发生了什么。它只是以一种看起来不正常的方式影响了我。

When I was eleven my family went snowboarding up in Tahoe, and a friend and I snuck into the liquor cabinet after dinner. We poured a little bit from each bottle into a glass, filling it almost three-quarters of the way with the different-colored, sweet-smelling liquid. I was curious to know what it felt like to get good and proper drunk. The taste was awful. My friend drank a little bit and stopped, unable to take anymore. The thing was, I couldn’t stop.
当我十一岁的时候，我们一家人去塔霍滑雪，晚饭后我和一个朋友偷偷溜进了酒柜。我们从每个瓶子里倒了一点到玻璃杯中，几乎四分之三的地方都充满了不同颜色、气味香甜的液体。我很好奇喝得醉醺醺的是什么感觉。味道很糟糕。我的朋友喝了一点，就再也喝不下去了。问题是，我无法停下来。

I drank some and then I just had to drink more until the whole glass was drained empty. I’m not sure why. Something was driving me that I couldn’t identify and still don’t comprehend. Some say it’s in the genes. My grandfather drank himself to death before I was born. I’m told I resemble him more than anyone else—a long face, with eyes like drops of water running down. Anyway, that night I threw up for probably an hour straight and then passed out on the bathroom floor.
我喝了一些，然后我只得喝更多，直到把整杯酒都喝光为止。我不知道为什么。有某种东西在驱使着我，但我无法识别，也仍然无法理解。有人说这是基因里的。我的祖父在我出生前就酗酒而死。有人告诉我，我比任何人都更像他——一张长脸，眼睛像水珠一样流下来。不管怎样，那天晚上我连续呕吐了大约一个小时，然后昏倒在浴室地板上。

I woke up with almost no memory of what I’d done. My excuse for the vomit everywhere was food poisoning. It scared me, honestly, and I didn’t drink again like that for a long time.
我醒来时几乎不记得自己做了什么。我到处呕吐的借口是食物中毒。老实说，这让我很害怕，我很长一段时间没有再那样喝酒了。

Instead I started smoking pot. When I was twelve I was smoking pot every day—sneaking off into the bushes during recess. And that pretty much continued through high school.
相反，我开始吸大麻。当我十二岁的时候，我每天都在吸大麻——课间休息时偷偷溜进灌木丛。这种情况几乎一直持续到高中。

Lauren and I really never got very close back then. When I heard later that she’d been put in rehab for cocaine abuse and severe bulimia, I guess it wasn’t that surprising. We’d both been really screwed up all the time and I had a history of dating, well, not the most balanced girls. I remember being ashamed to bring her to my house. I remember not wanting my parents to meet her. We’d come in late, late and leave early in the morning—whispering so as not to wake up my little brother and sister. Maybe it was them I wanted to shield from Lauren the most. Or, not from Lauren so much as, well, the person I was becoming. I was ashamed of my behavior, but still I kept going forward. It was like being in a car with the gas pedal slammed down to the floor and nothing to do but hold on and pretend to have some semblance of control. But control was something I’d lost a long time ago.
那时我和劳伦真的没有走得很近。当我后来听说她因滥用可卡因和严重贪食症而被送进戒毒所时，我想这并不奇怪。我们俩一直都搞砸了，而且我有约会的历史，嗯，不是最平衡的女孩。我记得我羞于带她来我家。我记得不想让我的父母见到她。我们迟到、迟到、一大早就离开——窃窃私语，以免吵醒我的弟弟妹妹。也许我最想保护他们免受劳伦的侵害。或者，与其说是来自劳伦，不如说是我正在成为的人。我为自己的行为感到羞愧，但我仍然继续前进。这就像坐在一辆汽车里，油门踏板猛地踩在地板上，除了坚持并假装能够控制之外，别无他法。但控制权是我很久以前就失去的东西。

Anyway, Lauren was not someone I thought about a whole lot. When she approaches me, I don’t even recognize her at first. It’s been five years. She yells my name:
不管怎样，劳伦并不是我经常想念的人。当她靠近我时，我一开始甚至没有认出她。已经五年了。她喊着我的名字：

“Nic Sheff.” “尼克·谢夫。”

I jump, turning around to look at her.
我跳了起来，转身看着她。

She is wearing big Jackie O sunglasses and her dyed black hair is pulled back tight. Her skin is pale, pale white and her features are petite and delicately carved. The San Francisco air is cold, even though the sun has broken through the fog, and she has a long black coat pulled around her.
她戴着大号的 Jackie O 太阳镜，染好的黑发紧紧地挽在脑后。她的皮肤苍白，苍白，五官娇小，精雕细琢。旧金山的空气很冷，尽管阳光已经冲破了雾气，她身上还披着一件黑色长外套。

So I think…think, think. Then I remember.
所以我想……想，想。然后我想起来了。

“L-Lauren, right?” “劳伦，对吗？”

“Yeah, don’t pretend like you don’t remember me.”
“是啊，别装作不记得我了。”

“No, I…” “不，我……”

“Whatever. What’re you doing here?”
“任何。你在这里做什么？

It’s a good question. 这是一个好问题。

I’d been sober exactly eighteen months on April 1st, just two days ago. I’d made so much progress. My life was suddenly working, you know? I had a steady job at a rehab in Malibu. I’d gotten back all these things I’d lost—car, apartment, my relationship with my family. It’d seemed like, after countless rehabs and sober livings, I had finally beaten my drug problem. And yet there I was, standing on Haight Street, drunk on Stoli and stoned out on Ambien, which I’d stolen from the med room at that rehab.
4 月 1 日，也就是两天前，我已经清醒了整整 18 个月。我取得了很大的进步。我的生活突然开始运转，你知道吗？我在马里布的康复中心有一份稳定的工作。我已经拿回了所有失去的东西——汽车、公寓、与家人的关系。经过无数次的戒毒和清醒的生活后，我似乎终于战胜了毒品问题。然而我却站在海特街，喝了斯托利，喝醉了，喝了安必恩，这是我从康复中心的医务室偷来的。

Honestly, I was as surprised by my own actions as anyone else. The morning of my relapse, I had no idea I was actually going to do it. Not that there weren’t ominous signs. In the twelve-step program they tell you to get a sponsor. Mine was a man named Spencer. He was around forty, strong, with a square face and hair that stood on end. He had a wife and a three-year-old daughter. He spent hours talking with me about recovery. He helped me get into cycling and walked me through the twelve steps. We’d ride our bikes together along the Pacific Coast Highway, up Latigo Canyon, or wherever. He’d relate his own experience getting sober from chronic cocaine addiction. But I stopped calling him as often. Maybe I felt like I didn’t need his help anymore. I seldom went to meetings, and when I did, my mind would talk to me the whole time about how much better I was than everyone else—or how much worse I was, depending on the day. I’d stopped exercising as frequently. I’d stopped taking the psych meds they had me on—a mixture of mood stabilizers and antidepressants. I’d started smoking again. Plus there was Zelda.
老实说，我和其他人一样对自己的行为感到惊讶。旧病复发的那天早上，我并不知道自己真的要这么做。并不是说没有不祥的迹象。在十二步计划中，他们告诉你要找到赞助商。我的是一个名叫斯宾塞的人。他四十岁左右，体格健壮，方脸，头发倒竖。他有一个妻子和一个三岁的女儿。他花了几个小时和我谈论康复问题。他帮助我开始骑自行车，并引导我完成了十二个步骤。我们会一起沿着太平洋海岸高速公路、拉蒂戈峡谷或任何地方骑自行车。他讲述了自己从长期可卡因成瘾中清醒过来的经历。但我不再那么频繁地给他打电话了。也许我觉得我不再需要他的帮助了。我很少去参加会议，而当我去的时候，我的大脑会一直告诉我我比其他人好多少，或者我比其他人差多少，这取决于当天的情况。我已经不再那么频繁地锻炼了。我已经停止服用他们给我服用的精神药物——情绪稳定剂和抗抑郁药的混合物。我又开始抽烟了。另外还有塞尔达。

Zelda was a woman I thought I was madly in love with. She was fourteen years older than I was and, well, she was also engaged to marry another guy, a wealthy real-estate broker named Mike. When I started sleeping with her, I tried to justify it to myself. I figured it was her decision and I wasn’t really doing anything wrong and it was just for fun and blah, blah, blah. Basically, I thought I could get away with it. I mean, I thought I could stay detached emotionally.
塞尔达是一个我以为我疯狂爱上的女人。她比我大十四岁，而且，她还订婚了，嫁给了另一个男人，一个名叫迈克的富有的房地产经纪人。当我开始和她睡觉时，我试图向自己证明这一点。我认为这是她的决定，我并没有真正做错任何事，这只是为了好玩，等等，等等。基本上，我以为我可以逃脱惩罚。我的意思是，我以为我可以在情感上保持超然。

I couldn’t. 我不能。

She came to represent for me everything I thought would make my life perfect. After all, she’d been married to this famous actor and was an actress and grew up in Los Angeles, raised by her famous uncle who was also in the movie business. Everyone seems to know her in L.A. She’s sort of a celebrity, you know? Being with her became my obsession.
她代表了我认为能让我的生活变得完美的一切。毕竟，她嫁给了这位著名演员，也是一名演员，在洛杉矶长大，由她同样从事电影行业的著名叔叔抚养长大。洛杉矶的每个人似乎都认识她。她有点名人，你知道吗？和她在一起成了我的痴迷。

Ultimately, however, she wouldn’t leave her boyfriend for me and got pregnant with his child. I was crushed. I mean, I just couldn’t handle it. So yesterday I relapsed, driving up the 5, drinking from a bottle of Jäger.
但最终，她不肯为了我而离开她的男朋友，并怀上了他的孩子。我被压垮了。我的意思是，我就是无法处理它。所以昨天我旧病复发，开车上 5 号公路，喝了一瓶野格啤酒。

So now I’m standing on Haight Street and Lauren, this girl I haven’t seen or thought about in five years, is here, in her long black coat, asking me what I’m doing.
所以现在我站在海特街，劳伦，这个我已经五年没有见过或想起的女孩，穿着她的黑色长外套，问我在做什么。

I’d driven up from L.A. the night before and slept in my old, falling-apart Mazda, parked in a lot on the edge of the Presidio—a great expanse of forest and abandoned army housing that stretches out to the cliffs overlooking the Pacific and the San Francisco Bay. A friend of mine, Akira, had once lived there. He occupied a basement apartment on the edge of the Presidio. I’d hoped to find him still living there, but after I wandered around the house some—looking into the dust-smeared windows—it was clear that the place was deserted. It was Akira who’d actually introduced me to crystal meth when I was eighteen. He was a friend of a friend. He did a lot of drugs and we immediately gravitated toward each other. Somehow that always seemed to happen—we addicts can always find one another. There must be some strange addict radar or something.
前一天晚上，我从洛杉矶开车过来，睡在我那辆破旧的马自达车里，车停在普雷西迪奥边缘的一块空地上。普雷西迪奥是一片大片的森林和废弃的军队住房，一直延伸到俯瞰太平洋的悬崖。和旧金山湾。我的一个朋友阿基拉曾经住在那里。他住在要塞边缘的一间地下室公寓里。我本来希望找到他还住在那里，但当我在房子里闲逛了一些之后——看着沾满灰尘的窗户——很明显这个地方已经荒废了。实际上是阿基拉在我十八岁时向我介绍了冰毒。他是一个朋友的朋友。他吸了很多毒，我们立刻就互相吸引了。不知何故，这似乎总是发生——我们瘾君子总能找到彼此。一定有一些奇怪的成瘾雷达什么的。

Akira was like me, but more strung out at the time. He had dyed red, curling hair and dark, dark eyes. He was thin, emaciated, with hollowed-out features and narrow, dirty fingers. When he offered me that first line of meth, I didn’t hesitate. Growing up I’d heard, you know, never to do heroin. Like, the warnings were everywhere and I was scared—do heroin, get hooked. No one ever mentioned crystal to me. I’d done a little coke, Ecstasy, whatever—I could take it or leave it. But early that morning, when I took those off-white crushed shards up that blue, cut plastic straw—well, my whole world pretty much changed after that. There was a feeling like—my God, this is what I’ve been missing my entire life. It completed me. I felt whole for the first time.
阿基拉和我一样，但当时更加紧张。他把卷发染成了红色，眼睛又黑又黑。他身材瘦小，面容憔悴，五官凹陷，手指又细又脏。当他向我提供第一道冰毒时，我毫不犹豫。在我成长的过程中，我就听说过，永远不要吸食海洛因。就像，警告无处不在，我很害怕——吸食海洛因，上瘾。从来没有人向我提起过水晶。我喝了一点可乐、摇头丸，无论什么——我可以接受也可以不喝。但那天一大早，当我把那些灰白色的碎碎片放在蓝色的切割塑料吸管上时——嗯，从那以后我的整个世界发生了很大的变化。有一种感觉——天哪，这就是我一生都在怀念的东西。它完成了我。我第一次感觉到完整。

I guess I’ve pretty much spent the last four years chasing that first high. I wanted desperately to feel that wholeness again. It was like, I don’t know, like everything else faded out. All my dreams, my hopes, ambitions, relationships—they all fell away as I took more and more crystal up my nose. I dropped out of college twice, my parents kicked me out, and, basically, my life unraveled. I broke into their house—I would steal checks from my father and write them out to myself to pay for my habit. When I had a job at a coffee shop, I stole hundreds of dollars from the register. Eventually I got arrested for a possession charge. My little brother and sister watched me get carted away in handcuffs. When my then seven-year-old brother tried to protect me, running to grab me from the armed policemen, they screamed for him to “get back.” His small body crumpled on the asphalt and he burst into body-shaking tears, sobbing and gasping for breath.
我想过去四年我几乎一直在追逐第一个高点。我非常想再次感受到那种完整。就像，我不知道，就像其他一切都消失了。我所有的梦想、希望、抱负、人际关系——当我把越来越多的水晶放进鼻子里时，它们都消失了。我两次从大学退学，我的父母把我赶了出去，基本上，我的生活崩溃了。我闯入他们的房子——我会从父亲那里偷支票，然后写给自己，以支付我的习惯。当我在一家咖啡店工作时，我从收银机里偷了数百美元。最终我因持有财产罪被捕。我的弟弟和妹妹看着我被戴上手铐带走。当我七岁的弟弟试图保护我，跑去把我从武装警察手中抓住时，他们尖叫着要他“回来”。他小小的身体瘫倒在柏油路上，泪水颤抖着，抽泣着，气喘吁吁。

Then there were the treatment centers, two in northern California, one in Manhattan, and one in Los Angeles. I’ve spent the last three years in and out of twelve-step programs. Throughout all of it, the underlying craving never really left me. And that was accompanied by the illusion that, the next time, things would be different—I’d be able to handle it better. I didn’t want to keep hurting people. I didn’t want to keep hurting myself. A girlfriend of mine once said to me, “I don’t understand, why don’t you just stop?”
然后是治疗中心，两个在北加州，一个在曼哈顿，一个在洛杉矶。在过去的三年里，我一直在十二步计划中进进出出。在整个过程中，潜在的渴望从未真正离开过我。随之而来的是一种幻觉，认为下一次，事情会有所不同——我能够更好地处理它。我不想继续伤害别人。我不想继续伤害自己。我的一个女朋友曾经对我说：“我不明白，你为什么不停下来呢？”

I couldn’t think of an answer. The fact was, I couldn’t just stop. That sounds like a cop-out, but it’s the truth. It’s like I’m being held captive by some insatiable monster that will not let me stop. All my values, all my beliefs, everything I care about, they all go away the moment I get high. There is a sort of insanity that takes over. I convince myself and believe very strongly that this time, this time, it will be different. I tell myself that, after such a long time clean, these last eighteen months, I can go back to casual use. So I walk down to the Haight and start talking to the first street kid who asks me for a cigarette.
我想不出答案。事实是，我无法停下来。这听起来像是一种逃避，但这是事实。就像我被某个贪得无厌的怪物所俘虏，它不会让我停下来。我所有的价值观、我所有的信仰、我关心的一切，一旦我兴奋起来，它们就会消失。有一种疯狂占据了上风。我说服自己，并且非常坚信，这一次，这一次，情况会有所不同。我告诉自己，经过这么长时间的清洁，这十八个月，我可以回去随意使用了。于是我走到海特，开始和第一个向我要烟的街头小孩交谈。

This turns out to be Destiny. He is a boy around my age, twenty or twenty-one, with snarled dreads and striking blue eyes. He has the narrow face of a fox or coyote and he’s hiding a can of beer indiscreetly in the sleeve of his oversize jacket. He is distracted and out of it as I’m talking to him. I keep trying to get him to focus on what I’m saying. Eventually, he agrees to introduce me to a friend of his who deals speed, so long as I buy him another beer.
事实证明，这就是命运。他是一个和我年龄相仿的男孩，二十岁或二十一岁，有着咆哮的恐惧和引人注目的蓝眼睛。他有一张狐狸或土狼般的窄脸，他在超大夹克的袖子里不小心藏了一罐啤酒。当我和他说话时，他心不在焉，心不在焉。我一直试图让他专注于我所说的话。最终，他同意将我介绍给他的一位经营速度的朋友，只要我再给他买一杯啤酒。

“Dude,” he says, his voice thick and strained, “I’m gonna tell you straight, man, I’m fo’realze. My boy’s gonna hook you up fat, that’s no joke. You ask anybody, homes, they’ll tell you, Destiny is all right. Everyone’s cool with me ’cause I be cool with everyone.”
“伙计，”他的声音粗重而紧张，“我要直接告诉你，伙计，我没意识到。我的孩子会把你钓得胖胖的，这可不是开玩笑。你问任何人、家庭，他们都会告诉你，命运是好的。每个人都对我很冷淡，因为我对每个人都很冷淡。”

He rambles on like that, pausing only to high-five pretty girls as they pass. As for me, the vodka and sleeping pills have calmed me down enough to keep me breathing through all this—though the blind hungering for the high that only meth can bring has me pretty anxious. There’d been times, in the past, where I got burned copping drugs on the street. On Mission Street I tried to buy some heroin once and came away with a balloon filled with a chunk of black soap.
他就这样胡言乱语，只在漂亮女孩经过时才停下来高声五声。至于我，伏特加和安眠药已经让我平静下来，足以让我在这一切中保持呼吸——尽管盲目地渴望只有冰毒才能带来的快感让我非常焦虑。过去，我曾多次在街上因吸毒而被烧伤。有一次，我在米申街试图买一些海洛因，结果得到了一个装满一块黑肥皂的气球。

I smoke cigarettes, one after the other, trying to keep Destiny on point—getting the phone number of his connection. It was right before Lauren stopped me that Destiny told me to wait while he went and got his “boy’s” number from a friend. He walked off down the street and then Lauren is standing there, asking me what I’m doing.
我一根接一根地抽烟，试图让命运保持在正确的位置——得到他联系的电话号码。就在劳伦阻止我之前，命运让我等他去从朋友那里拿到他“男孩”的电话号码。他沿着街道走开，然后劳伦站在那里，问我在做什么。

My first instinct, of course, is to lie. The wind is blowing the street clear and Lauren takes off her sunglasses, revealing those transparent green eyes of hers. What I say is, “Actually, I just moved back here from L.A. where I’d been sober over a year, but now I’m doing the whole relapse thing and I’m just waiting to hook up some meth. I heard you had some trouble like that too. Is that true?”
当然，我的第一直觉是撒谎。风吹得街道变得清朗起来，劳伦摘下墨镜，露出那双透明的绿色眼睛。我想说的是，“事实上，我刚从洛杉矶搬回来，在那里我已经清醒了一年多，但现在我正在做整个复发的事情，我只是在等着买一些冰毒。我听说你也遇到过这样的麻烦。真的吗？”

If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it.
即使她感到惊讶，她也不会表现出来。

“Yeah,” she says, her voice light and soft. “How much are you getting?”
“是的，”她说，声音轻柔。 “你能得到多少钱？”

“A gram, I hope. What are you doing here?”
“我希望是一克。你在这里做什么？”

“I was going to get my tattoo filled in. But, well, now I guess I’m going with you, aren’t I? You need any money?”
“我本来打算把纹身填满的。但是，好吧，现在我想我要和你一起去，不是吗？你需要钱吗？

“Uh, no.” “呃，不。”

She puts her glasses back on. “What about a car?”
她重新戴上眼镜。 “那车呢？”

“Uh, yeah, we could use your car. Mine’s over on Lake Street.”
“呃，是的，我们可以使用你的车。我的就在湖街那边。”

“All right, then.” “那好吧。”

What I said about the money is sort of true. I have three thousand dollars saved up and, for me, that is a lot of money. I’m sure that it’ll be enough to get me started on a life working and using in San Francisco. The rehab I’d worked at in Malibu catered to wealthy, often celebrity, clients. They paid well and, sober, I had few expenses. I can afford a sixty-dollar gram. In the next couple days, I’ll start looking for work. I mean, I’ve got it all figured out. Really.
我说的关于钱的事情是真的。我存了三千美元，对我来说，这是很多钱。我确信这足以让我开始在旧金山工作和使用的生活。我在马里布工作的康复中心为富有的客户（通常是名人）提供服务。他们的工资很高，而且清醒时，我的开支很少。我买得起六十美元一克。接下来的几天，我将开始找工作。我的意思是，我已经全部弄清楚了。真的。

We stand watching the people on the street, walking from shop to shop.
我们站在街上看着人们从一家商店走到另一家商店。

“What’ve you been doing?” I ask. “It’s been a long time.”
“你最近在做什么？”我问。 “已经很久了。”

“Five years. But, like you said, I had some trouble. I’m working now, though—for my mom. I have about four months clean.”
“5年。但是，就像你说的，我遇到了一些麻烦。不过，我现在正在为我妈妈工作。我大约有四个月的时间是干净的。”

“But you’re over it.” “但你已经克服了。”

“Hell, I’ve just been waiting for the right person to go out with.”
“天哪，我一直在等待合适的人一起出去。”

“Really?” “真的吗？”

“I don’t know.” “我不知道。”

“You look good.” “你看起来挺好的。”

“Thank you. It’s nice to see you, too.”
“谢谢。很高兴见到你，也是。”

“Yeah.” I put a hand on her shoulder, feeling her body tense up. “Here he comes.”
“是的。”我把手搭在她的肩膀上，感觉到她的身体绷紧了。 “他来了。”

Destiny is sort of strutting or limping or something down the street. I introduce him to Lauren.
命运就像是在街上昂首阔步、一瘸一拐或者什么的。我把他介绍给劳伦。

“Rockin’,” he says. “We can go meet him in, like, half an hour. Here’s his number.” He hands me a crumpled piece of paper. “You gonna get me that beer, right?”
“摇滚”，他说。 “我们可以在大约半小时内去见他。这是他的电话号码。”他递给我一张皱巴巴的纸。 “你会给我拿啤酒，对吗？”

“Of course.” “当然。”

“I’ll go get my car,” says Lauren.
“我去取车，”劳伦说。

I walk into the liquor store on the corner and buy two 40s of Olde E and another pack of Export As. Lauren pulls her green Nissan around and we pile in—me in front, Destiny in back. I pass him one of the 40s and drink a bunch of mine down. Lauren refuses to take it when I offer her some, but she pops a few Klonopins ’cause she says she’s gonna freak out if she doesn’t. She gives me one and I figure it won’t do anything since I used to take so much of it, but I chew it up anyway, hoping it might take the edge off or something.
我走进街角的酒类商店，买了两瓶 40 盎司的 Olde E 和另一包 Export As。劳伦开着她的绿色尼桑车，我们挤了进去——我在前面，命运在后面。我递给他一杯 40 多瓶威士忌，喝了一大杯。当我给劳伦一些时，劳伦拒绝接受，但她开了几片 Klonopins，因为她说如果她不接受，她会吓坏的。她给了我一个，我想它不会有任何作用，因为我以前吃了这么多，但我还是把它咀嚼起来，希望它可以减轻压力或其他什么。

Destiny directs us out of the Haight, and lower Haight, down Market and up into the Tenderloin. The rows of Victorian houses give way to corporate high-rises and then the gritty, twisting streets of the San Francisco ghetto—cheap monthly hotel rooms, panhandlers, small-time hustlers, dealers, and junkies. Neon signs, off during the day, advertise strip clubs and peep shows. The sky has blown completely blue, but the sun is blocked by the falling-down buildings, leaving everything cold and windswept and peeling.
命运引导我们离开海特，然后下海特，沿着市场，向上进入田德隆区。一排排维多利亚式房屋被高层企业大厦所取代，然后是旧金山贫民区的砂砾蜿蜒的街道——每月廉价的酒店房间、乞讨者、小骗子、毒贩和瘾君子。霓虹灯在白天关闭，为脱衣舞俱乐部和西洋镜做广告。天空已经完全变蓝了，但阳光却被倒塌的建筑物挡住了，一切都冰冷、被风吹得剥落。

We stop the car on the corner of Jones and Ellis, watching the scourge of walking dead as they drift down the street. One man—a skinny white guy with no hair on his head, but a lot on his face—stands in front of an ATM machine. He turns his head toward the sky every minute or so, screaming, “Please! Please!” Then he looks back at the ATM. Nothing comes out.
我们把车停在琼斯和埃利斯的拐角处，看着行尸走肉沿着街道漂流。一个男人——一个瘦小的白人，头上没有头发，但脸上有很多头发——站在一台 ATM 机前。他每隔一分钟就将头转向天空，尖叫道：“求求你了！请！”然后他回头看了看自动提款机。什么也没有出来。

“Here they come,” says Destiny, getting out of the car with the 40. “Thanks a lot, kids.”
“他们来了，”命运说着，带着 40 号下了车。“非常感谢，孩子们。”

“Cool, man, thanks.” “酷，伙计，谢谢。”

“Have fun,” he says, nodding toward Lauren knowingly. She maybe blushes a little.
“玩得开心，”他说着，故意向劳伦点点头。她可能会有点脸红。

A young kid greets Destiny and then jumps into Lauren’s backseat. He is accompanied by a tall, skinny white man with gray hair and a face that looks like a pile of pastry dough. The boy is thin, but strong, with a round nose and darting eyes. He wears a black bandanna tied around his head and ratty, baggy clothes.
一个小孩子向命运打招呼，然后跳进劳伦的后座。陪伴他的还有一个又高又瘦的白人，头发灰白，脸庞看起来像一堆糕点面团。男孩很瘦，但很强壮，鼻子圆圆，眼睛锐利。他头上系着一条黑色大手帕，穿着破烂、宽松的衣服。

“Yo, what’s up? I’m Gack,” he says.
“哟，最近如何？我是盖克，”他说。

The fat older man says nothing.
胖老头什么也没说。

“Hey, I’m Nic. This is Lauren.”
“嘿，我是尼克。这是劳伦。”

“Cool, cool. You wanna G, right?”
“酷，酷。你想要G，对吧？”

His voice comes out in quick, hoarse bursts. I just nod.
他的声音快速而嘶哑。我只是点头。

“Word,” he says. “Yo, this is my dad, Mike.”
“一句话，”他说。 “哟，这是我爸爸，迈克。”

Mike waves stupidly. 迈克傻乎乎地挥手。

“Anyway,” continues Gack, “you’re gonna give me the money, and I’m gonna go get yo’ shit. My dad’ll wait here.”
“不管怎样，”盖克继续说道，“你给我钱，我就去拿你的东西。我爸爸会在这里等你。”

“Dude, there’s no way. I’m not letting you walk outta here with my money.”
“哥们儿，没办法了。我不会让你拿着我的钱离开这里。”

“Come on, yo, there’s no other way. My dad’ll stay here and, look, here’s my cell phone, and my wallet, and I’ll leave my skateboard. Just wait two minutes, okay?”
“来吧，哟，没有别的办法了。我爸爸会留在这里，看，这是我的手机和钱包，我会留下我的滑板。请等两分钟，好吗？”

I look at Lauren. She shakes her head, but I say, “Fuck, all right.”
我看着劳伦。她摇摇头，但我说：“操，好吧。”

I hand him sixty bucks and he leaves. Part of me expects never to see him again, but he returns ten minutes later with our sack. He comes all out of breath.
我递给他六十美元，他就离开了。我心里有些希望再也见不到他了，但十分钟后他带着我们的袋子回来了。他气喘吁吁。

“Yo, I’m hookin’ you up so fat,” he says, handing over a very not fat Baggie of white crystals.
“哟，我把你搞得这么胖了，”他说着，递出了一个非常不胖的白色水晶袋。

“Dude,” I say, “this is fucking pin as hell.”
“伙计，”我说，“这真是太他妈的了。”

“No way, man.” “没门。”

I take out one of the pieces and put it in my mouth. The bitter, chemical sour makes me shudder, but it tastes familiar. “All right, fine,” I say.
我取出其中一块放入嘴里。苦涩的化学酸味让我不寒而栗，但味道却很熟悉。 “好吧，好吧，”我说。

“Word.” “单词。”

“You have any points?” asks Lauren.
“你有什么积分吗？”劳伦问。

I’m proud of her. I hadn’t even thought about getting rigs and there she is, coming right out and saying it.
我为她感到骄傲。我什至没有想过要买装备，而她就在那里，直接站出来说了这句话。

“Uh, yeah. You all don’t mess around, huh?”
“呃，是的。你们都别乱来吧？”

“No,” we both say at the same time.
“不，”我们同时说道。

Out of his pocket, Gack pulls a pack of maybe five syringes held together by a rubber band.
盖克从口袋里掏出一包，大约有五个注射器，用橡皮筋绑在一起。

“Those are cleans?” I ask.
“那些是干净的吗？”我问。

“Fo’sure.” “当然。”

“All right,” I say. “We’ll take those and we’re cool on the short sack.”
“好吧，”我说。 “我们会接受这些，我们对短麻袋很满意。”

“Dude, that sack is fat.”
“伙计，这个袋子太胖了。”

“Whatever.” “任何。”

“All right, well, call if you need more.”
“好吧，好吧，如果需要更多，就打电话吧。”

“We will,” I say. “我们会的，”我说。

And with that, Gack and his dad leave the car and Lauren and I drive off with fresh needles and about a gram of crystal methamphetamine.
说完，盖克和他爸爸下了车，劳伦和我带着新鲜的针头和大约一克冰毒离开了。

I remember Lauren’s dad’s house from the time we’d been together back in high school—but I also remembered it from when I was much younger. The place is a European-style mansion in Sea Cliff. It is four or five stories high, sort of boxy, with giant bay windows bordered by faded green shutters. Vines climb the gray-washed walls and white roses grow along the sloping stairway. It looks out on the ocean—rough and pounding, relentless. The top story, a bright, sun-drenched loft, used to be the playroom of my best friend and sort-of brother, Mischa.
我记得高中时我们在一起时劳伦父亲的房子，但我也记得我年轻得多的时候。地点是海崖的一座欧式豪宅。它有四五层楼高，有点四四方方，巨大的凸窗周围是褪色的绿色百叶窗。藤蔓爬上灰色的墙壁，白色的玫瑰沿着倾斜的楼梯生长。它眺望大海——波涛汹涌、波涛汹涌、无情无情。顶层是一间明亮、阳光普照的阁楼，曾经是我最好的朋友兼兄弟米沙的游戏室。

See, the divorce went down like this: My dad had an affair with a woman, Flicka, then left my mom for her. Mischa was her son. We all moved in together when I was five. Mischa was my age, with long, white-blond hair, blue eyes, and a famous actor father. He threw tantrums and would bite me, but we were also very close. His father was the one who had lived where Lauren’s father lives now. I would go over there and play video games with Mischa, or build Lego spaceships, or draw, or whatever.
看，离婚是这样进行的：我父亲与一个名叫弗丽卡的女人有染，然后为了她而离开了我妈妈。米莎是她的儿子。我五岁的时候我们就搬到了一起。米沙和我同龄，有着长长的白金色头发、蓝眼睛，父亲是一位著名的演员。他会发脾气，会咬我，但我们也很亲密。他的父亲曾经住在劳伦父亲现在住的地方。我会去那里和米沙一起玩电子游戏，或者建造乐高宇宙飞船，或者画画，或者其他什么。

Walking in the door with Lauren—backpack full of drugs, drunk and stumbling—I can’t help but feel a tightness in my stomach, thinking back to the child that I had been. I remember going on walks with my dad out to Fort Point, a jetty that stretches out underneath the Golden Gate Bridge. I remember eating sushi and tempura in Japantown, playing on the ships docked off Hyde Street, riding my bike through Golden Gate Park, being taken to the old Castro movie theater, where a man played the organ before every show. I remember my championship Little League team in Sausalito, birthday parties at the San Francisco Zoo, going to art galleries and museums. I’d been so small that my dad would shelter me from the cold by hiding me in his sweater. Our heads would stick out of the stretched-out wool neckline together. I remember the smell of him—that indescribable smell of dad. He was so there for me always—especially when my mom moved down south. Sober and living in L.A., I’d talked on the phone with him almost every day. We talked about everything—from movies, to art, to girls, to nothing at all. I wonder how long it will be before the calls start coming in—how long before he knows I’ve gone out, relapsed, thrown it all away.
和劳伦一起走进门口——背包里装满了毒品，喝醉了，跌跌撞撞——我不禁感到胃部发紧，回想起小时候的我。我记得和爸爸一起散步到堡垒角，这是一个延伸到金门大桥下方的码头。我记得在日本城吃寿司和天妇罗，在停靠在海德街的船上玩耍，骑自行车穿过金门公园，被带到老卡斯特罗电影院，那里每场演出前都有一个人演奏风琴。我记得我在索萨利托的少年棒球联盟冠军队、旧金山动物园的生日派对、参观美术馆和博物馆。我太小了，爸爸会把我藏在他的毛衣里来御寒。我们的头一起从拉长的羊毛领口里伸出来。我记得他的味道——那种难以形容的爸爸的味道。他总是在我身边——尤其是当我妈妈搬到南方时。清醒的时候，我住在洛杉矶，几乎每天都和他通电话。我们无所不谈——从电影、艺术、女孩，甚至什么都没有。我想知道要过多久才会接到电话——多久他才会知道我已经出去了，旧病复发，把一切都扔掉了。

Lauren’s room is in the basement—basically just a large canopy bed and TV and not much else. There are books and clothes and things all over the place. The shades are drawn over the windows, and Lauren plugs in a string of Christmas lights above the built-in shelves along the wall. She puts a CD in the player, something I’ve never heard before.
劳伦的房间位于地下室，基本上只有一张大床和电视，没有其他东西。到处都是书籍、衣服和其他东西。窗帘拉在窗户上，劳伦在墙上的内置架子上方插上一串圣诞灯。她在播放器里放了一张 CD，这是我以前从未听过的。

“Come on, let’s hurry up,” she says. “My parents will be home soon and I wanna get out of here before they come.”
“来吧，我们快点，”她说。 “我的父母很快就会回家，我想在他们回来之前离开这里。”

“Cool. You know, my parents’ weekend house in Point Reyes will be empty tonight. We can go stay out there.”
“凉爽的。你知道，我父母在雷斯岬的周末别墅今晚将空无一人。我们可以去外面呆着。”

“I gotta work tomorrow morning,” says Lauren.
“我明天早上要工作，”劳伦说。

“That’s fine. We’ll get you back.”
“没关系。我们会把你接回来的。”

“My parents are gonna freak out if I don’t come home tonight.”
“如果我今晚不回家，我的父母会吓坏的。”

“Make something up.” “编点东西。”

“Yeah, fuck, all right.” “是的，操，好吧。”

“Can I use this?” I ask, holding up a blown-glass jar, maybe an inch high, swirled with streaks of white and green.
“我可以用这个吗？”我举起一个大约一英寸高的吹制玻璃罐问道，罐子上有白色和绿色的条纹。

“Sure, whatever.” “当然，无论如何。”

“You gotta Q-tip?” “你需要棉签吗？”

“Fuck, yeah, but let’s go.”
“操，是的，但是我们走吧。”

“All right, chill.” “好吧，冷静点。”

She rummages around and gets me the Q-tip. I rip off the cotton from one end. I go to the sink in her bathroom and fill the jar with a thin layer of water. I pour in a bunch of the crystal and crush it up with the back of a Bic lighter I have in my pocket. I hold the flame to the base of the jar until the liquid starts to smoke and bubble. I drop in the cotton and then pull it all up into two of the syringes. I pass the one with less over to Lauren and set about making a fist with my right hand, watching the veins swell easily. My body is so clean, so powerful—over a year needle-free and my veins reveal themselves instantly. I think back to how difficult it’d once been to hit—when the veins all began collapsing, hiding under the skin. But now the veins jump up right away. I pull back the plunger, watch the blood rush up into the mixture, and then slam it all home.
她翻箱倒柜地给我拿了棉签。我从一端撕下棉花。我走到她浴室的水槽前，在罐子里装满了一层薄薄的水。我倒入一堆水晶，然后用口袋里的 Bic 打火机背面将其压碎。我将火焰放在罐子底部，直到液体开始冒烟并冒泡。我放入棉花，然后将其全部拉入两个注射器中。我把含量较少的递给劳伦，然后用右手握紧拳头，看着血管很容易肿胀。我的身体是如此干净，如此强大——一年多没有打针，我的静脉立即显露出来。我回想起曾经的击中是多么困难——当时静脉都开始塌陷，藏在皮肤下面。但现在，血管立刻就跳了起来。我拉回柱塞，看着血液涌入混合物中，然后将其全部推回原处。

I cough. 我咳嗽。

The chemical lets off this gas as it reaches your heart, or brain, or whatever and it rushes up your throat, choking you.
当这种化学物质到达你的心脏、大脑或其他什么地方时，它就会释放出这种气体，然后它会冲上你的喉咙，让你窒息。

I cough, choking like that.
我咳嗽，像那样窒息。

My eyes water—my head pounding like maybe I’ll pass out, my breathing going so fast.
我的眼睛流泪了——我的头砰砰作响，好像我可能会昏过去，我的呼吸如此急促。

“Goddamn, goddamn,” I say, the lights dimming out and really, I mean, there’s no feeling like it. The high is perfection.
“该死的，该死的，”我说，灯光变暗了，真的，我的意思是，没有什么感觉。高就是完美。

I turn and see Lauren push off and as it hits her I kiss her without saying anything and she kisses back and it is all so effortless, not like being sober and consumed by worry and fear and inhibitions. I kiss her harder, but she pushes me back, saying, “Come on, let’s go to the beach.”
我转过身，看到劳伦推开了她，当它击中她时，我什么也没说就吻了她，她也回吻了，这一切都是那么轻松，不像清醒时被担心、恐惧和压抑所吞噬。我用力地吻她，但她把我推了回去，说：“走吧，我们去海滩吧。”

We get outta there fast and then we are walking in the sunlight, back toward Lauren’s car. It is a different world, man, heightened, exciting. I light a cigarette and my fingers move spasmodically and I start talking, talking, talking. The waves of the drug keep sweeping through me and my palms turn sweaty and I grit my teeth. I tell Lauren about the book I’ve written and the job I want to get at this magazine in L.A. and suddenly it doesn’t seem like these are impossible dreams anymore. I feel like it is all happening—that my book is getting published and I can get any job I want and I’m gonna take Lauren along with me in my new life. Nothing, I mean nothing, can stop me.
我们快速离开那里，然后在阳光下走回劳伦的车。这是一个不同的世界，伙计，高度的，令人兴奋的。我点燃一根香烟，手指痉挛地动动，然后我开始说话、说话、说话。药物的浪潮不断席卷我的全身，我的手心出汗，我咬紧牙关。我告诉劳伦我写的书以及我想在洛杉矶这家杂志社找到的工作，突然之间，这些似乎不再是不可能的梦想了。我觉得这一切都在发生——我的书即将出版，我可以找到任何我想要的工作，我将带着劳伦一起进入我的新生活。没有什么，我的意思是没有什么可以阻止我。

“You know,” says Lauren, “my parents are going out of town next week, so you should stay with me in my house, unless you have somewhere else to go.”
“你知道，”劳伦说，“我的父母下周就要出城，所以你应该和我一起住在我家里，除非你有其他地方可去。”

“No, no,” I say, everything fitting together perfectly in my world, in my mind, in destiny, and fate and blah, blah, blah. “That’ll be great.”
“不，不，”我说，一切都完美地结合在我的世界里，在我的脑海里，在命运里，还有命运，等等，等等，等等。 “那就太好了。”

“They’re gone for two weeks.”
“他们已经消失两周了。”

I laugh. 我笑。

Baker Beach is mostly empty. We pull into the parking lot and look out at the pounding shore break, sucking up the brown, coarse sand and dashing it to pieces against the slick, jagged rocks. The Golden Gate Bridge looms up to the right, and across the channel are the Marin Headlands—lush, green, rolling hills dotted with eucalyptus and oak, the red earth cliffs dropping down to the swirling water below. We get out of the car and I take Lauren’s cold little soft hand in mine. We walk down along the dunes and the wind is blowing sand in my face, and suddenly I stop and strip off all my clothes down to my boxer briefs and run, headlong, into the surf. I hear Lauren giggling behind me, then nothing but the roar of the ocean and the cold, cold, cold.
贝克海滩几乎空无一人。我们把车开进停车场，望着窗外汹涌澎湃的海岸浪涛，它们吸起棕色粗沙，在光滑、锯齿状的岩石上摔成碎片。金门大桥在右侧若隐若现，海峡对面是马林海岬——郁郁葱葱、绿色连绵的山丘上点缀着桉树和橡树，红土悬崖一直延伸到下面漩涡般的海水中。我们下了车，我握住劳伦冰冷柔软的小手。我们沿着沙丘走下去，风把沙子吹到我脸上，突然我停下来，脱掉所有衣服，只剩下平角内裤，一头扎进海浪中。我听到劳伦在我身后咯咯地笑，然后就只剩下大海的咆哮声和寒冷、寒冷、寒冷。

The current is strong and I’m immediately struggling against it, ducking the swells and feeling the pull out the mouth of the bay. But I’m a good swimmer. I navigate past the rocks and begin paddling into the waves as they break along the beach. Growing up I’d surfed all along this coastline. My friends and I would stay out sometimes five or six hours. In the end I’d gotten very comfortable in the water, able to ride the big waves off Ocean Beach or down in Santa Cruz. I’d watch the pelicans riding the updrafts of the swells, or sea otters eating crabs, floating on their backs. I’d wake up early, heading out before the sun rose to get the morning glass. But as I got deeper and deeper into my using, my surfboards went untouched on their racks in the garage. I lost interest. There’s something devastating about that, though I try not to think about it.
水流很强劲，我立即奋力抵抗，躲避海浪，感受着海湾口被拉出的感觉。但我是一个很好的游泳运动员。我驶过岩石，开始划入冲破海滩的海浪。在我的成长过程中，我一直沿着这条海岸线冲浪。我和我的朋友有时会在外面呆五六个小时。最后，我在水中变得非常舒服，能够在海洋海滩或圣克鲁斯的巨浪中乘风破浪。我会看到鹈鹕乘着海浪的上升气流，或者海獭吃螃蟹，仰面漂浮。我会很早就起床，在太阳升起之前出去买晨光杯。但随着我越来越深入地使用，我的冲浪板在车库里的架子上却没有动过。我失去了兴趣。尽管我尽量不去想它，但这是毁灭性的。

I mean, here I am, bodysurfing the breakers at Baker Beach, feeling my breath catch in my lungs from the frigid water. The muscle memory is all there, in my arms and chest. I look back at Lauren, stripped and lying in the warm sand. I take another wave in, then run up to her, kissing the white of her stomach and listening to her laugh and shiver. Then I run on, up and down the beach. Fast, freezing, but not feeling it, really. I look at everything, the trees, and shells, and tall sea grass. It all seems so new and exciting. My little sister, Daisy, never failed to point out the delicate flowers or intricately shaped stones as we went on walks together. She was so present and filled with wonder. Meth gives me that childlike exuberance. It allows me to see, to really see. The world appears miraculous and I laugh and run down the beach until I’m gasping for air—then back to Lauren.
我的意思是，我在这里，在贝克海滩的海浪上冲浪，感觉呼吸被冰冷的海水困住了肺部。肌肉记忆就在那里，在我的手臂和胸部。我回头看着劳伦，她赤身裸体躺在温暖的沙滩上。我又挥了挥手，然后跑向她，亲吻她的腹部，听着她的笑声和颤抖。然后我在海滩上跑来跑去。速度很快，冰冷，但真的没有感觉。我看着一切，树木，贝壳，还有高高的海草。这一切看起来都是那么新鲜和令人兴奋。当我们一起散步时，我的妹妹黛西总是指出那些娇嫩的花朵或形状复杂的石头。她是如此的在场，充满了惊奇。冰毒给了我孩子般的活力。它让我能够看到，真正看到。世界显得很神奇，我笑着跑下海滩，直到喘不过气来，然后回到劳伦身边。

She smiles at me and I kiss her some more.
她对我微笑，我又吻了她一些。

That night I drive her car through the winding back roads out to our house in Point Reyes. The drive is so familiar. I know every turn. It’s the same route I’d used to get back from school every afternoon. We pass the little towns of San Anselmo and Fairfax, curving beneath the redwood forest of Samuel P. Taylor State Park. Then we come out on the green pastureland, obscured by the darkness and fog. We turn up our street, steep, steep, bordered by dense woods on either side. The car sputters some, but makes it—taking me home.
那天晚上，我开着她的车穿过蜿蜒的小路，来到我们位于雷斯岬的家。开车太熟悉了我知道每个转弯。这和我每天下午放学回家的路线是一样的。我们经过圣安塞尔莫和费尔法克斯小镇，在塞缪尔·P·泰勒州立公园的红杉林下蜿蜒前行。然后我们来到绿色的牧场上，被黑暗和雾气遮住了。我们拐上街道，陡峭、陡峭，两边都是茂密的树林。汽车发出了一些吱吱声，但还是成功了——带我回家。

My parents’ house isn’t huge or anything, but it is designed by some famous architect. It’s sort of very Japanese and minimalist, with mirrors and windows all over the place. It looks out on maybe half an acre of garden—wild, tangled vines, hedges, oaks, poplars. Gravel paths twist through the brush and in the spring and summer there are flowers everywhere.
我父母的房子并不大，但它是由一些著名的建筑师设计的。这是一种非常日式和极简主义的风格，到处都是镜子和窗户。它俯瞰着大约半英亩的花园——野生的、纠结的藤蔓、树篱、橡树、白杨树。砾石小路蜿蜒穿过灌木丛，春天和夏天到处都是鲜花。

Seeing that the driveway is empty and the lights are out, I creep along to the different doors and windows and things. It’s all locked. I climb the faded wooden gate, wander over to the back doors until I find one that isn’t dead-bolted solid. I yank it open, breaking the base of the door where it has been secured to the floor. Turning on as few lights as possible, I go through the house to the front and let Lauren in.
看到车道上空无一人，灯也灭了，我爬到不同的门窗之类的地方。一切都被锁定了。我爬上褪色的木门，漫步到后门，直到找到一扇没有锁紧的门。我把它拉开，打破了固定在地板上的门的底部。我尽可能少开灯，穿过房子走到前面，让劳伦进来。

“Jesus,” she says. “I remember these paintings.”
“天哪，”她说。 “我记得这些画。”

My stepmother is an artist. The walls of our house are covered with giant, swirling canvases. The oil images are dark yet organic—eyes, organs, branches, shapes repeated over and over.
我的继母是一位艺术家。我们房子的墙壁上覆盖着巨大的、旋转的画布。油画图像是深色的，但却是有机的——眼睛、器官、树枝、形状一遍又一遍地重复。

“They’re beautiful,” I say. “So haunting, right?”
“它们很漂亮，”我说。 “太令人难以忘怀了，对吧？”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

We go up to the living room and I put music on the stereo—some electronic stuff I left the last time I’d been home. I open a bottle of sake I find in the closet and pour a glass. Lauren looks at all the art books and things on the shelves. I look at the photographs of my little brother and sister on the windowsill. There is one of Jasper in his lacrosse uniform, smiling. There is Daisy, who’s just two years younger than Jasper, dressed as an elf, with a fake beard and her tangled hair pulled back. And there is the whole family together, my stepmom, her parents, brother, sister, my dad, my aunt and uncle, my brother, sister, cousins, and, on the far right, me. Walking through the house, I feel dirty—like I’m this charcoal stain polluting everything I touch. I can’t even look at the goddamn photographs—it hurts too much. I drink the sake down.
我们走到客厅，我在音响上播放音乐——一些我上次回家时留下的电子产品。我打开衣柜里找到的一瓶清酒，倒了一杯。劳伦看了看书架上所有的艺术书籍和东西。我看着窗台上弟弟妹妹的照片。贾斯珀穿着长曲棍球服，微笑着。黛西只比贾斯帕小两岁，打扮得像个精灵，留着假胡子，乱糟糟的头发向后梳着。全家人在一起，我的继母，她的父母，兄弟，姐妹，我的爸爸，我的阿姨和叔叔，我的兄弟，姐妹，表兄弟姐妹，还有最右边的我。走过房子时，我感觉很脏——就像我是炭污，污染了我接触到的一切。我什至不能看那些该死的照片——太痛苦了。我把清酒喝下去。

“Let’s go take a shower,” I say.
“我们去洗澡吧，”我说。

“Yeah. You wanna fix some more first?”
“是的。你想先解决一些问题吗？”

“Definitely.” “确实。”

We shoot up and take a shower. We have sex in my old bed until my knees are rubbed raw. After that, I smoke cigarettes and look for stuff to steal. I take a guitar and a couple jackets, but nothing bigger than that. Oh, and I need a notebook, so I grab this black thing with Powerpuff Girls stickers on the cover. It turns out to be my sister’s diary.
我们拍摄并洗澡。我们在我的旧床上做爱，直到我的膝盖磨破为止。之后，我就抽烟并寻找可以偷的东西。我带了一把吉他和几件夹克，但没有比这更大的东西了。哦，我需要一个笔记本，所以我拿了这个封面上有飞天小女警贴纸的黑色东西。原来是姐姐的日记。

DAY 4 第四天

We spend the night in some kitschy Art Deco motel off Lombard—the outside all mosaicked with bright-colored tiles. Lauren doesn’t actually stay past midnight. Her parents were worried and wondering where she is. I listen to her talking with her father on the phone. Her voice trembles—wanting desperately to sound…what, innocent? Something like that. Of course, there’d been times when I’d done the same thing—lying about being sober, trying to hide the fact that I’d relapsed. Lauren is able to convince her parents—at least for now. They believe her, I suppose, because they want to. My parents had been that way.
我们在伦巴第附近的一家装饰艺术风格的汽车旅馆里过夜——外面铺满了鲜艳的马赛克瓷砖。劳伦实际上不会待到午夜过后。她的父母很担心，想知道她在哪里。我听到她和她父亲通电话。她的声音在颤抖——拼命地想要听起来……什么，天真无邪？类似的事情。当然，有时候我也做过同样的事情——谎称自己清醒，试图掩盖自己旧病复发的事实。劳伦能够说服她的父母——至少现在是这样。我想他们相信她，因为他们愿意。我的父母就是这样。

I got thrown into my first treatment center when I was eighteen. I had been doing meth for only about six months, but already my life had begun falling apart. I dropped out of college and ended up having a sort of breakdown—wandering the streets and talking to people who weren’t there. I didn’t really come out of it until a police car was pulling up beside me. The officer threatened to arrest me but eventually let me go.
我十八岁时被扔进了我的第一个治疗中心。我吸毒只持续了大约六个月，但我的生活已经开始崩溃。我从大学退学，最终陷入了某种崩溃——在街上闲逛，与不在场的人交谈。直到一辆警车停在我身边，我才真正摆脱困境。警察威胁要逮捕我，但最终还是放了我。

My dad helped me get into rehab five days later—a large, Victorian-style, falling-down mansion on Fell and Steiner. I still remember walking in there that first day. It had threadbare red carpeting, a rotted, creaking stairway, and long, misshapen, warped hallways leading to room after room of beds, beds, beds. There must have been around fifty of us in that house—all men. We had groups all day where we were educated about substance abuse, twelve steps, and how to live life sober. Walking through those green-painted wooden doors, my whole body was shaking and I felt like maybe I’d throw up or something. My dad was there beside me, wearing that same old wool sweater he used to shelter me in as a child. His hair was clipped short, black and gray. His square glasses obscured his eyes, which were red from almost crying. Maybe he was shaking too.
五天后，我父亲帮助我进入了康复中心——位于菲尔和施泰纳的一栋维多利亚风格的倒塌豪宅。我仍然记得第一天走进那里。里面铺着破旧的红地毯，腐烂、吱吱作响的楼梯，还有长长的、畸形的、扭曲的走廊，通向一个又一个房间，床、床、床。那所房子里肯定有大约五十个人——全是男人。我们整天都在小组里接受有关药物滥用、十二个步骤以及如何清醒生活的教育。穿过那些漆成绿色的木门，我的全身都在颤抖，我感觉我可能会呕吐什么的。我爸爸就在我身边，穿着他小时候给我穿的那件旧羊毛毛衣。他的头发剪得很短，呈黑色和灰色。他的方形眼镜遮住了他的眼睛，他的眼睛几乎哭得通红。也许他也在发抖。

“Dad, please,” I begged him. “I’ll stop, I promise. Please, I don’t need to do this.”
“爸爸，求你了，”我恳求他。 “我会停下来，我保证。拜托，我不需要这样做。”

“You can’t come home, Nic.”
“你不能回家，尼克。”

“But Dad, I don’t belong here.”
“但是爸爸，我不属于这里。”

I was wrong. I knew it the first group I went to. One of the residents, Johnny, a squat little man with scraggy facial hair and a dyed black Mohawk, told his story. He talked about his descent into crack/cocaine addiction. What struck me wasn’t so much the specifics of his story, but rather the feelings he described. He talked about how until he started using, he had always felt like some alien, different from everybody. I think what he said was, “I felt like everyone else had gotten this instruction manual that explained life to them, but somehow I’d just missed it. They all seemed to know exactly what they were doing while I didn’t have a clue. That is, until I found drugs and alcohol. Then it was like my world suddenly went from black-and-white to Technicolor.”
我错了。我参加第一组的时候就知道了。其中一位居民约翰尼讲述了他的故事，他是一个矮胖的小个子男人，留着稀疏的面部毛发，留着染成黑色的莫霍克发型。他谈到了自己陷入快克/可卡因成瘾的情况。令我印象深刻的并不是他故事的细节，而是他所描述的感受。他谈到，在开始使用之前，他一直感觉自己像个外星人，与每个人都不同。我想他说的是，“我觉得其他人都得到了这本向他们解释生活的指导手册，但不知何故我只是错过了它。他们似乎都清楚地知道自己在做什么，而我却一无所知。也就是说，直到我发现毒品和酒精。然后我的世界就好像突然从黑白变成了彩色。”

Of course that had been my experience too, but it didn’t mean I was willing to change my behavior. I loved drugs. I loved what they did for me. They relieved me of that terrible sense of isolation I had always felt. They gave me the manual to life that Johnny had described. I could not, NOT give that up.
当然这也是我的经历，但这并不意味着我愿意改变自己的行为。我喜欢毒品。我喜欢他们为我所做的一切。他们让我摆脱了我一直感受到的可怕的孤立感。他们给了我约翰尼所描述的生活手册。我不能、不能放弃。

But my parents were so hopeful and the counselors would give you more privileges if you cooperated, so I did. I said what they wanted me to say. I shared about my commitment to repairing the damage I had caused. I talked about being willing to adopt the spiritual principles outlined in the twelve steps. And I suppose part of me meant it. I didn’t want to become like some of the other men at Ohlhoff House, grizzled, toothless, having lost everything. But I still had this feeling like it could never happen to me. I had a 4.0 in high school, for Christ’s sake. I was a published writer. I came from a good family. Besides, I was too young to really be an addict. I was just experimenting, right?
但我的父母对此充满希望，如果你配合的话，辅导员会给你更多的特权，所以我就这么做了。我说了他们想让我说的话。我分享了我对修复我所造成的损害的承诺。我谈到愿意采用十二个步骤中概述的精神原则。我想我的一部分就是这么想的。我不想变得像奥尔霍夫家里的其他人一样，头发花白，牙齿脱落，失去了一切。但我仍然有一种感觉，好像这永远不会发生在我身上。天哪，我高中时得了 4.0 分。我是一名出版作家。我来自一个良好的家庭。此外，我还太年轻，不可能真正成为瘾君子。我只是在尝试，对吗？

They released me thirty days later and I moved into a halfway house in the city. I stayed sober three days. Then, one night, I said I was going to a meeting, but drove to hook up crystal instead. The car just seemed to drive itself across the bridge to Oakland. I never came back that night. When my parents found out, I was forced to go into another thirty-day program in Napa. After that I managed to stay clean for over a month, but when I went away to college in Amherst, Massachusetts, I quickly relapsed again. This time, however, I was able to hide it from my parents. As my behavior grew more erratic (stealing credit cards, writing checks to myself) and my lies more improbable (I just wanted to buy presents for Jasper and Daisy), my dad continued to dismiss what was happening—I was wasting away in front of him.
三十天后他们把我释放了，我搬进了城里的一所中途之家。我三天都保持清醒。然后，有一天晚上，我说我要去参加一个会议，但是却开车去接水晶。汽车似乎自动驶过大桥前往奥克兰。那天晚上我再也没有回来。当我的父母发现后，我被迫去纳帕参加另一个为期三十天的课程。此后，我设法保持了一个多月的干净，但当我去马萨诸塞州阿默斯特上大学时，我很快又旧病复发了。但这一次，我终于瞒着父母了。随着我的行为变得越来越不稳定（偷信用卡，给自己写支票），我的谎言也越来越不可能（我只是想给贾斯珀和黛西买礼物），我父亲继续对所发生的事情不予理睬——我在面前浪费了。他。

By the time I finished my first year of school, my using had progressed to the point where I could no longer really hide it. At first it was just drinking and smoking pot, a little acid, but then I started asking around to get my hands on some meth. But since there was no crystal I could find in western Massachusetts, I started using heroin. I’d drive my girlfriend’s car into the slums of Hollyhock and just walk around till the offers started coming in. There was little doubt as to what a young white kid was doing wandering those streets. But the drug was expensive and snorting the white granulated powder was a waste.
当我完成第一年的学业时，我的使用已经发展到我无法再隐藏它的地步。起初只是喝酒和吸大麻，有点酸，但后来我开始四处打听以获得一些冰毒。但由于我在马萨诸塞州西部找不到水晶，我开始吸食海洛因。我会把女朋友的车开进蜀葵的贫民窟，然后四处走走，直到开始收到报价。毫无疑问，一个年轻的白人孩子在那些街道上闲逛是做什么的。但这种药物价格昂贵，吸食白色颗粒粉末是一种浪费。

That was my excuse to start sticking myself with needles. Putting the drug straight into the vein allowed me to conserve it a little more. I stole the syringes from the science lab. I taught myself to shoot up by looking at a diagram on the Internet. It was a messy process. I’d miss the vein and pump the drug right into my muscles. It would burn so bad. I didn’t realize the veins were just under the skin’s surface, so I’d dig way too deep. Before long, my arms were covered in puncture marks and I’d lost a lot of weight.
这就是我开始用针扎自己的借口。将药物直接注入静脉可以让我多保存一点。我从科学实验室偷了注射器。我通过查看互联网上的图表自学了拍摄。这是一个混乱的过程。我会错过静脉并将药物直接泵入我的肌肉。它会烧得很厉害。我没有意识到静脉就在皮肤表面下方，所以我挖得太深了。不久之后，我的手臂上布满了刺痕，我的体重也减轻了很多。

When I came home for summer vacation, I had my first experience with opiate withdrawals. It was just like in the movies—I was throwing up, shivering, sweating, scratching at my skin like there were termites crawling underneath.
当我暑假回家时，我第一次经历了鸦片戒断。就像电影里一样——我呕吐、发抖、出汗、抓挠我的皮肤，就像下面有白蚁在爬一样。

At first I tried lying to my parents, saying I had a stomach flu or something. The first moment I could get away, I went to get some meth from my friends in the city.
起初我试图向父母撒谎，说我得了肠胃流感之类的。当我能够离开的第一刻，我就去城里的朋友那里拿了一些冰毒。

Once I started IVing that drug, well, that was pretty much the end. After being off crystal for so long, my tolerance had gone back to nothing. Shooting it, the effect was so powerful, I plunged immediately into a period of about a week where, to this day, I have no idea what I did.
一旦我开始静脉注射这种药物，嗯，那几乎就结束了。脱离水晶这么久，我的忍耐力已经荡然无存了。拍完之后，效果太强大了，我立刻陷入了大约一周的时间里，直到今天，我都不知道自己做了什么。

I came to out of this blackout in my bed at my parents’ house. I could hear crying from the living room. My little brother’s voice was shattered by tears.
我在父母家的床上从停电中醒来。我能听到客厅里传来哭声。我弟弟的声音因泪水而破碎。

“Where is it? Where is it?”
“它在哪里？它在哪里？”

I felt that familiar sickness in my stomach.
我感到胃里有那种熟悉的不适感。

“Are you sure it was in there?” my dad asked.
“你确定它在里面吗？”我爸爸问。

“Yes,” wailed Jasper. “I had five dollars in there. Daisy, you took it.”
“是的，”贾斯​​帕哀嚎道。 “我里面有五美元。黛西，你拿走了。”

“NO, I DIDN’T!” She was crying too and screaming.
“不，我没有！”她也哭了，尖叫着。

I got out of bed and started to pack. I didn’t remember taking the money, but I knew I had.
我起床开始收拾行李。我不记得拿过钱，但我知道我拿过。

There was nowhere for me to go, really, but I couldn’t stay. I filled my bag with as much as I could carry. I hoisted it on my shoulder, put my eyes on the floor, and started walking out of there.
我确实无处可去，但我又不能留下来。我把我能装的东西都装满了我的包。我把它扛在肩上，眼睛盯着地板，然后开始走出那里。

Out in the living room, my dad and stepmom stood blocking my exit—their faces red and contorted.
在客厅里，我的父亲和继母站着挡住我的出口——他们的脸涨得通红，扭曲着。

“Where are you going?” my father demanded, on the verge of yelling.
“你要去哪里？”父亲几乎要大喊大叫地问道。

“I’m leaving.” “我走了。”

“Nic, we know you’re using again.”
“尼克，我们知道你又在使用了。”

“Yeah,” I said—my head down. “I’m not coming back.”
“是啊，”我低着头说道。 “我不会回来了。”

“This is bullshit,” my stepmom exploded, stomping across the room and slamming a door somewhere.
“这是胡说八道，”我的继母爆发了，跺着脚穿过房间，砰地关上了某处的门。

“You can’t just leave,” my dad said, the tears coming now.
“你不能就这样离开，”我爸爸说，现在泪水夺眶而出。

“I have to.” “我必须。”

“We’ll get you help.” “我们会给你帮助的。”

“No. I need to do this.”
“不。我需要这样做。”

“Nic, no, stop.” He reached out and tried to physically stop me. I pushed him hard.
“尼克，不，停下来。”他伸出手来试图阻止我。我用力推他。

“What the hell are you doing?” I screamed. “Jesus Christ, you people suffocate me.”
“你到底在做什么？”我尖叫。 “天哪，你们让我窒息了。”

The truth was, I didn’t want to stop. It’s not like I enjoyed stealing or hurting my dad, or whatever. I mean, I hated it. But I was so scared of coming off the drugs. It was like this horrible vicious cycle. The more I used, the more I did things I was ashamed of, and the more I had to use so I never had to face that. When I reached a certain point with my drug use, going back just seemed like too far a journey. Accepting responsibility, admitting guilt, making restitution, hell, just saying I’m sorry—it had become too daunting. All I could do was move forward and keep doing everything in my power to forget the past. So I marched out into the hot summer air. I hitchhiked to the bus stop and made my way to my friend Akira’s.
事实是，我不想停下来。我并不喜欢偷窃或伤害我的父亲，或者其他什么。我的意思是，我讨厌它。但我非常害怕戒毒。这就像一个可怕的恶性循环。我使用的越多，我做的羞耻的事情就越多，我不得不使用的也就越多，所以我永远不必面对这一点。当我吸毒到一定程度时，再回去似乎是一段太遥远的旅程。承担责任、认罪、赔偿，见鬼，只是说对不起——这已经变得太令人畏惧了。我能做的就是继续前进，尽我所能去忘记过去。于是我走出去，走进炎热的夏日空气中。我搭便车到公交车站，然后去我朋友阿基拉家。

After that my parents really stopped believing anything I said. But Lauren obviously hasn’t taken things as far as I have. Her parents are still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt or something. So she leaves me alone in that motel room and I write and draw for a while, listen to CDs, then actually sleep a few hours. When I wake up, I’m hungry and almost out of meth. I call Gack and he agrees to meet me at twelve thirty in the TL. I drive to North Beach to get breakfast.
从那以后，我的父母真的不再相信我所说的一切了。但劳伦显然没有像我那样走得那么远。她的父母仍然愿意给她无罪推定之类的东西。所以她把我一个人留在汽车旅馆房间里，我写了一会儿画了一会儿，听了 CD，然后睡了几个小时。当我醒来时，我很饿，而且几乎没有冰毒了。我给 Gack 打电话，他同意在 12 点 30 分在 TL 与我见面。我开车去北海滩吃早餐。

When I was little, maybe six or seven, my dad and I lived at the top of California Street. It was a high-rise apartment that looked out on the cable cars and the gothic towers of Grace Cathedral. It was across the street from a small park with a sandbox, swings, and a wooden play structure. My dad would take me there to play in the mornings, then we’d walk together down to North Beach—the Italian district of San Francisco. We’d go to Caffe Trieste, a rustic coffee shop on the corner of Grant. I would hold his calloused hand and watch the pigeons and the cracks in the sidewalk. Inside the café, my dad would order me hot chocolate and a raspberry pastry ring. We would sit at a corner table—me drawing and my father writing in a notebook. He would drink cappuccinos. Sometimes we wouldn’t write or draw at all; we’d just talk. I’d run my fingers over the mosaicked tabletop and smell the coffee and ask my dad questions about things. He would make jokes and tell me stories. Opera would play from the jukebox.
当我还小的时候，大概六七岁，我和爸爸住在加州街的顶端。这是一栋高层公寓，俯瞰着缆车和格雷斯大教堂的哥特式塔楼。街对面有一个小公园，里面有沙箱、秋千和木制游乐设施。早上我爸爸会带我去那里玩，然后我们一起步行到北海滩——旧金山的意大利区。我们会去 Caffe Trieste，这是一家位于格兰特街角的乡村风格咖啡店。我会握住他布满老茧的手，观察鸽子和人行道上的裂缝。在咖啡馆里，我爸爸会给我点热巧克力和覆盆子糕点圈。我们会坐在角落的桌子旁，我在画画，我父亲在笔记本上写字。他会喝卡布奇诺。有时我们根本不会写或画；我们只是谈谈。我会用手指抚摸马赛克桌面，闻闻咖啡的味道，并向爸爸询问一些问题。他会给我讲笑话，给我讲故事。自动点唱机会播放歌剧。

After breakfast maybe we’d walk over to City Lights Books—a damp, earthy-smelling printing house and bookshop. We’d walk past the sex show parlors and strip bars. After dark, women in tight leather costumes would hang around in front of the entrances, luring in passing johns. I remember thinking they were superheroes—Wonder Woman, Catwoman, Supergirl. I would talk with them and they all knew my name.
早餐后，也许我们会步行去城市之光书店——一家潮湿、散发着泥土味的印刷厂和书店。我们会走过性爱表演厅和脱衣舞酒吧。天黑后，穿着紧身皮衣的妇女会在入口处闲逛，引诱路过的妓女。我记得我以为他们是超级英雄——神奇女侠、猫女、女超人。我会和他们交谈，他们都知道我的名字。

Driving through North Beach this morning, I look out at the streets of my childhood. I stop my car and walk up to Caffe Trieste. Men and women stand outside talking and smoking. The sky has opened up blue and clear—the wind blowing hard off the bay. I go inside and order some coffee and a sandwich. I sit in the back at the same old table—the same old music coming from the speakers. I shoot up the last of the gram in their bathroom. The place is small and poorly lit. Someone keeps banging on the door ’cause it’s taking me so long to find a vein. Once I hit, I start to pump in the mixture, but my hand shakes and I shoot a bunch of it into the muscle of my arm. It burns something terrible and I groan in pain. My whole right arm goes numb and aches. I curse loudly and go to meet Gack. There is blood all over my arm when I walk outta there.
今天早上开车穿过北海滩，我看着窗外童年的街道。我停下车，步行前往里雅斯特咖啡馆。男人和女人站在外面聊天、抽烟。天空蔚蓝而晴朗——风从海湾吹来。我进去点了一些咖啡和三明治。我坐在后面同一张旧桌子旁边——扬声器里传出同样的旧音乐。我在他们的浴室里射出了最后一克。地方很小，光线也很差。有人一直敲门，因为我花了很长时间才找到静脉。一旦我击中，我就开始泵入混合物，但我的手颤抖，我将一堆混合物射入我手臂的肌肉中。它燃烧着可怕的东西，我痛苦地呻吟。我的整个右臂变得麻木和疼痛。我大声咒骂，然后去见加克。当我走出那里时，我的手臂上全是血。

Gack has me meet him in front of the hotel where he lives with his dad. It is named after some saint, but it looks like hell—barred windows, the paint peeling down to nothing, stripped away. He has a teener for me. I ask him if he wants to shoot some up with me right then, since I pretty much wasted the last one. He agrees and we go inside.
盖克让我在他和他父亲住的酒店前面见他。它是以某位圣人的名字命名的，但它看起来就像地狱一样——窗户上装有铁栅栏，油漆剥落得只剩下一层，被剥掉了。他给我准备了一个青少年。我问他是否想立即和我一起拍摄一些照片，因为我几乎浪费了最后一张。他同意了，我们就进去了。

The woman who runs the hotel is Indian and wears a traditional sari, with a bindi on her forehead and everything. She makes me give her my driver’s license in order to go up. She scowls through her thick, oversize glasses, her hair pulled back tight.
经营酒店的那位女士是印度人，穿着传统的纱丽，额头上有宾迪等等。她让我给她我的驾驶执照才能上去。她透过厚厚的超大眼镜皱起眉头，头发向后梳得紧紧的。

“You stay only one hour. Otherwise you pay.”
“你只待一小时。不然你就付钱。”

I follow Gack up the rotted-out, stained, carpeted stairs, to the third floor. Hollowed-out men and women pace the halls, smoking cigarettes and calling out to us with offers of different crap we can buy.
我跟着盖克走上腐烂、污迹斑斑、铺着地毯的楼梯，来到三楼。空荡荡的男男女女在大厅里走来走去，一边抽烟，一边向我们招呼，提供我们可以购买的各种垃圾。

“Hey, kids,” says a stoned-out-looking black man with a bald, shiny head. “I gotta get rid of this keyboard. You wanna buy it?” He holds up a small electric piano out for us to see.
“嘿，孩子们，”一个看上去醉醺醺、光头光秃秃的黑人说道。 “我得扔掉这个键盘。你想买吗？他举起一架小电钢琴让我们看。

“Does it work?” asks Gack.
“有效吗？”加克问道。

“Yeah, man, it works good. You wanna try it out?”
“是的，伙计，效果很好。你想尝试一下吗？

“Sure. Nic, you gotta second?”
“当然。尼克，你要排第二吗？”

“Sure, sure, fine, whatever.”
“当然，当然，好吧，无论如何。”

We follow the man back to his room. What it looks like is, well, just trashed. The bed has no sheets or anything and it looks like it is covered in dried blood. The floor is all ash and wrappers and porno mags and beer cans and tinfoil and videotapes. The man introduces himself as Jim. He shakes our hands. He clears off some clothes from the bed. He plugs the piano in, switches it on, and plays a simple chord progression, singing some R & B love song. His voice is deep and moving.
我们跟着那个人回到他的房间。它看起来就像是，嗯，只是垃圾。床上没有床单什么的，看起来像是沾满了干涸的血迹。地板上全是灰烬、包装纸、色情杂志、啤酒罐、锡纸和录像带。该男子自我介绍为吉姆。他与我们握手。他从床上清理掉一些衣服。他插上钢琴，打开它，弹奏简单的和弦进行，唱一些 R&B 情歌。他的声音低沉而动人。

“Right on. How much?” asks Gack.
“对了。多少？”加克问道。

“Twenty.” “二十。”

“Twenty?” “二十？”

“All right, ten. Look, man, I just wanna get high, that’s all. Ten bucks’ll get me through the night.”
“好吧，十个。听着，伙计，我只是想嗨起来，仅此而已。十块钱就够我度过一夜了。”

“All right, ten bucks.” “好吧，十块钱。”

Gack hands him the money. Somehow he manages to pull exactly ten dollars out of his pocket, without exposing the rest of his wad. The man takes the money quickly and stuffs it in his jeans. “Right on, right on.”
盖克把钱递给他。不知何故，他从口袋里掏出了整整十美元，而没有暴露他剩下的钱。男人迅速接过钱，塞进牛仔裤里。 “对了，对了。”

We walk back out into the hallway and into Gack’s room.
我们走回走廊，进入盖克的房间。

“This is so great,” says Gack, holding up the keyboard.
“这太棒了，”盖克举起键盘说道。

“Yeah, that’ll be fun to mess around with.”
“是啊，这样玩起来会很有趣。”

“No, man, you don’t understand. This is a start, a first step in recognizing my dream. I’m gonna start making music.”
“不，伙计，你不明白。这是一个开始，是实现我的梦想的第一步。我要开始创作音乐了。”

I don’t know what to say about that.
我不知道该说些什么。

Gack’s room is even more trashed than Jim’s was. Gay porn and cigarette butts and ripped paper and wrappers and shoes and jars of peanut butter and boxes of cookies are scattered all over the floor and bed. There is a washbasin in one corner filled with dishes. A computer put together with mismatching parts sits on the dresser. The fluorescent lights shine too bright and buzz overhead. Gack sets about clearing off a space to try out the keyboard.
盖克的房间比吉姆的房间更脏。同性恋色情片、烟头、撕破的纸、包装纸、鞋子、花生酱罐和饼干盒散落在地板和床上。角落里有一个洗脸盆，里面装满了盘子。梳妆台上放着一台由不匹配部件组装而成的电脑。荧光灯太亮了，在头顶上嗡嗡作响。 Gack 开始清理出一个空间来尝试键盘。

“Hey, man,” I say. “You got any more rigs or what?”
“嘿，伙计，”我说。 “你还有更多的装备吗？”

“Yeah. There are some cleans in that bag over there.” He points to a brown paper bag on the bedside table.
“是的。那边那个袋子里有一些干净的东西。”他指着床头柜上的一个棕色纸袋。

I reach over and find the needles and set about making us two big-ass shots. Gack asks if I want him to shoot me up. I hold out my arm and he inserts the point effortlessly and efficiently right into my vein. There is something chilling and erotic about the whole thing. He pumps the drug up inside me and I cough and feel the rush and it is so lovely, I mean, really.
我伸手找到针，开始给我们打两枪。盖克问我是否希望他向我开枪。我伸出手臂，他毫不费力地将针尖有效地插入我的静脉。整件事有一些令人毛骨悚然和色情的东西。他把药泵入我体内，我咳嗽起来，感觉到药流的涌动，这真是太可爱了，我是说，真的。

Gack shoots himself up and I say, “Hey, you wanna walk around with me or something?”
盖克朝自己开枪，我说：“嘿，你想和我一起走走吗？”

“Walk around?” “随便走走？”

“Yeah, man, I’ve been away from the city for, like, over two years.”
“是的，伙计，我已经离开这座城市大约两年多了。”

“All right, cool.” “好吧，酷。”

We walk back down the stairs. I get my ID back from the Indian woman and then we’re out on the street, moving fast down toward the water.
我们走下楼梯。我从印度女人那里拿回了身份证，然后我们就到了街上，快速朝水边走去。

“Was that really your dad the other day?” I ask, just trying to think of something to say.
“那天那真的是你爸爸吗？”我问道，只是想想想该说些什么。

Gack stuffs his hands in his pockets, his arms jerking convulsively. “Yeah, man.”
盖克双手插进口袋，手臂痉挛地抽搐。 “是的，伙计。”

“You live together?” “你们住在一起？”

“Uh, yeah. I never knew him until a year ago. I was adopted when I was, like, two or something.”
“呃，是的。直到一年前我才认识他。我大概在两岁左右的时候就被收养了。”

“Weird, man. How’d you all hook up again?”
“奇怪，伙计。你们怎么又勾搭上了？”

“I guess he just decided he wanted to meet me, so he came and found me at my adopted parents’ house.”
“我猜他只是决定想见我，所以他来我养父母家找到了我。”

“And you just went to go live with him?”
“那你就去和他住在一起了吗？”

“Yeah. He’s pretty cool. Sometimes he’ll bring guys back to the room, which is kinda fucked up.”
“是的。他很酷。有时他会把人带回房间，这有点糟糕。”

“Guys?” “伙计们？”

“Uh-huh. He’s gay.” “嗯。他是同性恋。”

We walk on. The clouds are blowing fast overhead and I keep smoking cigarettes and bumming them out to Gack. Gack talks a lot of nonsense about different things—his plans for the future, things like that. I’m not sure where the idea to ask Gack to help me comes from. Suddenly I just trust him completely and I come out with it, walking down Market—toward the shadow of the Bay Bridge.
我们继续前行。头顶上的乌云飞快地飘过，我不停地抽烟，向加克吐烟。 Gack 说了很多关于不同事情的废话——他对未来的计划，诸如此类的事情。我不知道请 Gack 帮助我的想法从何而来。突然之间，我完全信任他，然后我就出来了，沿着市场走，走向海湾大桥的阴影。

“Look, man,” I say. “I’m just puttin’ this out there—so hear me out for a second. I’ve got about twenty-five hundred dollars left, okay. I’d been sober eighteen months, working, and I saved that up. Now, with a habit like I’ve got, I’m gonna burn through that pretty quick, unless I can figure out some way to make some money. So here’s what I was thinking. I don’t really know you, right? And you don’t know me, but you’ve been cool to me so far and I have this feeling about you.”
“看，伙计，”我说。 “我只是把这个放在那里——所以请听我说完。我还剩下大约两千五百美元，好吧。我已经戒酒十八个月了，一直在工作，把钱存起来。现在，有了像我这样的习惯，我很快就会把它烧掉，除非我能找到一些赚钱的方法。这就是我的想法。我真的不认识你，对吧？你不认识我，但到目前为止你对我一直很酷，我对你有这种感觉。”

“You felt it too, huh?” he says, stopping to pick up a crumpled bag on the sidewalk. He looks inside, finds nothing, and then throws it down again.
“你也感觉到了，嗯？”他一边说，一边停下来捡起人行道上一个皱巴巴的袋子。他往里面看了看，什么也没发现，然后又把它扔了下去。

“Yeah,” I say. “是的，”我说。

“I knew we were gonna be friends.”
“我知道我们会成为朋友。”

“What?” “什么？”

“Yep, when I saw you that first day.”
“是的，我第一天见到你的时候。”

“Maybe I did too. Look, you know, I really respect you and all and I was just thinking we could buy, like, some big quantity of meth and then break it down and sell it together.”
“也许我也这么做了。听着，你知道，我真的很尊重你们和所有人，我只是想我们可以购买一些大量的冰毒，然后将其分解并一起出售。”

“Word. We should cut it.”
“单词。我们应该把它砍掉。”

“Cut it?” “剪了它？”

“Yeah, man. We’ll buy a bunch of really good shit, then cut it with, like, Epson salts or something. I’ll sell that shit so fast, man, and we’ll be able to use for free, maybe get a place to stay. I could, like, work for you. We could start our own syndicate, man. We’ll get walkie-talkies and shit.”
“是的，伙计。我们会买一堆非常好的东西，然后用爱普生盐之类的东西切割它。我会很快把这些东西卖掉，伙计，我们就可以免费使用，也许还能找到地方住。我可以为你工作。我们可以建立我们自己的辛迪加，伙计。我们会得到对讲机之类的东西。”

“Well, just think about it, man.”
“嗯，想想吧，伙计。”

“Fo’sure.” “当然。”

“And you know someone that could get us quantity for pretty cheap?”
“你知道有人可以以相当便宜的价格为我们提供数量吗？”

“I think so. Let me just make some calls. You wanna do this now?”
“我想是这样。让我打几个电话。你现在就想这么做吗？”

“Well, uh, all right, sure. And, hey, do you know where I can get some heroin?”
“嗯，呃，好吧，当然。而且，嘿，你知道我在哪里可以买到海洛因吗？”

“No doubt. What you want me to work on first?”
“毫无疑问。你想让我先做什么？”

“The H, I guess.” “我猜是H。”

“Cool, brother. Let me see your phone. Bullet’ll be able to help us out.”
“酷，兄弟。让我看看你的手机。子弹将能够帮助我们。”

“Bullet?” “子弹？”

“Yeah. I’ll page him.” “是的。我去传呼他。”

“Word.” “单词。”

“Just let me get another cigarette.”
“让我再拿一支烟吧。”

I give him two. 我给他两个。

Bullet is homeless. He is tall and thin, thin, with a carved-up face and greasy hair slicked back. His nose is sort of twisted and broken. There’s an off-white scar running down his face and his Adam’s apple sticks out dramatically. He wears a backward baseball hat, loose-fitting pants, combat boots, and he smells like stale sweat and urine. His walk is clumsy, with those spindly legs of his and a head that is continuously bobbing back and forth.
子弹无家可归。他又高又瘦，瘦瘦的，一张雕刻着的脸，油腻的头发向后梳着。他的鼻子有点扭曲和折断。他的脸上有一道灰白色的疤痕，喉结也非常突出。他戴着一顶向后的棒球帽，穿着宽松的裤子和军靴，闻起来有股臭汗味和尿液味。他的步态很笨拙，双腿细长，头不断地前后摇晃。

“Gack, man, how come you never call me?” He whines when he talks—always.
“哎呀，老兄，你怎么从来不给我打电话？”他说话时总是发出呜呜声。

“Dude, I’ve been busy.” “哥们儿，我最近很忙。”

“But you guys wanna score some dope, huh?”
“但是你们想喝点毒品，是吧？”

“Yeah,” I say. “是的，”我说。

“Well, I got a number—but maybe we could work out a deal or something before I give it up.”
“好吧，我得到了一个电话号码——但也许我们可以在我放弃之前达成一项协议或者其他什么。”

Gack and I drove to meet Bullet at the Safeway on Church and Market. It is a well-known hangout for street kids and runaways. For one thing, you can go into Safeway and graze out of the dried fruit and nut bins without too much trouble. Plus there is one of those private, self-cleaning toilets out front that is great to shoot up in. It is already getting to be dark and the lights on Twin Peaks are flickering on and off, on and off.
我和盖克开车去教堂和市场附近的西夫韦与子弹会面。这是街头儿童和逃亡者的著名聚集地。一方面，你可以进入西夫韦，从干果和坚果箱里拿出来吃，而不用太麻烦。另外，前面还有一个私人自洁厕所，非常适合拍摄。 天已经黑了，双峰上的灯光忽明忽暗。

“A deal like what?” “什么交易？”

“Like you give me a nice fat shot in exchange for the hookup.”
“就像你给我一个漂亮的肥肉镜头以换取勾搭。”

“No problem.” “没问题。”

“The girl’s name is Candy. Here’s the number. Don’t lose it.” He writes it on the front page of my sister’s diary that I’ve stolen. There is a drawing of a girl with pigtails pointing at blotchy squares on a wall. Underneath it, Daisy’d written: “We are in L.A. with Nic. We went to a museum. We saw Napoleon things.” That had been this past January, just two months earlier. My family had driven down to see me and we’d all gone to the Museum of Jurassic Technology on Venice Boulevard. Daisy went on to describe the museum and what she ate for lunch. Then she wrote something about seeing me and how I looked sad. She said it made her stomach feel all “fluddery.”
“那个女孩的名字叫坎迪。这是号码。别弄丢了。”他把这句话写在我偷来的我姐姐日记的首页上。有一幅图画，画的是一个扎着辫子的女孩指着墙上有斑点的方块。黛西在下面写道：“我们和尼克在洛杉矶。我们去了博物馆。我们看到了拿破仑的事。”那是去年一月的事，就两个月前。我的家人开车来看我，我们都去了威尼斯大道上的侏罗纪科技博物馆。黛西接着描述了博物馆以及她午餐吃的东西。然后她写了一些关于见到我以及我看起来悲伤的事情。她说这让她的胃感觉“混乱”。

Reading it, I know just how she felt. My stomach feels fluddery. I wonder if there might be a way to get the diary back to her. It was the last thing I ever wanted to take from her and yet, well, I did it. That’s always how it goes for me, isn’t it?
读了这篇文章，我知道她的感受。我的胃感觉不舒服。我想知道是否有办法把日记还给她。这是我最不想从她身上夺走的东西，但我还是做到了。我总是这样，不是吗？

Anyway, I call Candy. Her voice is so soft I can barely hear her, but I manage to convince her to meet me at the video store around the corner. She shows up in a yellow Cadillac with a tattered fur coat and dyed black hair that is light at the roots. She wears thick pancake makeup over broken-out skin. She is probably around thirty-something.
无论如何，我打电话给坎迪。她的声音很小，我几乎听不见，但我设法说服她在街角的音像店见我。她开着一辆黄色凯迪拉克出现，穿着一件破烂的毛皮大衣，头发染成了发根浅色的黑色。她在破损的皮肤上化了浓浓的煎饼妆。她大概三十多岁。

“You want two grams, right?”
“你想要两克，对吗？”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

She hands me four tiny balls wrapped in colored wax paper. I give her eighty bucks.
她递给我四个用彩色蜡纸包裹的小球。我给她八十块钱。

“This is great,” she says. “Do you always buy this much at one time?”
“这太棒了，”她说。 “你总是一次买这么多吗？”

“I guess.” “我猜。”

“Well, call me any time.”
“嗯，随时给我打电话。”

When I get back to my car, Bullet and Gack are hanging out, laughing and making fun of each other.
当我回到车里时，Bullet 和 Gack 正在闲逛，互相大笑、互相取笑。

“Gack told me your plan,” says Bullet. “You guys are gonna start your own little dealing syndicate, huh?”
“盖克告诉了我你的计划，”子弹说。 “你们要成立自己的小交易集团，是吧？”

“Sort of.” “有点。”

“Well,” he says. “You’ll never be able to do it without my help.”
“好吧，”他说。 “没有我的帮助，你永远无法做到这一点。”

“Why?” “为什么？”

“’Cause every crime syndicate needs some muscle.” And with that, he pulls out a giant bowie knife from somewhere and waves it through the air.
“因为每个犯罪集团都需要一些力量。”说着，他从不知道什么地方抽出一把巨大的鲍伊刀，在空中挥舞着。

I suck in a bunch of breath all at once.
我一下子倒吸了一口凉气。

“You got that junk?” he demands.
“你有那个垃圾吗？”他要求。

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“Well, let’s go then.” He puts the knife away and we drive down some side street to shoot up.
“嗯，那我们走吧。”他把刀收起来，我们开车沿着一条小街开枪。

Gack doesn’t want any heroin, but he sits with us. I melt down half a gram of the sweet-smelling black tar in the jar I took from Lauren’s. We suck up the syrupy brown liquid in two needles and push it all home. I wait: one, two, three, four. My head starts to tingle and I feel waves of pulsing calm sweep over me. My body goes slack and I look over at Bullet. He is smiling so big. I drift off somewhere for a minute. It is like everything is infused with this warmth and okayness. I laugh. “Shit’s good.”
加克不需要海洛因，但他和我们坐在一起。我把从劳伦那里拿来的罐子里的半克散发着甜味的黑色焦油融化了。我们用两根针吸出糖浆状的棕色液体，然后把它全部推回家。我等待：一、二、三、四。我的头开始发麻，感觉一股平静的浪潮席卷了我。我的身体变得松弛，我看着子弹。他笑得那么灿烂。我在某个地方飘了一会儿。仿佛一切都充满了这种温暖和美好。我笑。 “狗屎很好。”

“Word.” “单词。”

“So, Gack,” I say. “Should we let Bullet in?”
“所以，盖克，”我说。 “我们应该让子弹进来吗？”

“Hell yeah, man, he’s a good kid.”
“天哪，伙计，他是个好孩子。”

“That what you want, Bullet?”
“这就是你想要的，子弹？”

“I’m your boy.” “我是你的儿子。”

“Awesome.” “惊人的。”

“We should come up with a name or something,” says Gack. “We’re gonna start the next big street gang in San Francisco. Before long, we’ll have all the kids workin’ for us.”
“我们应该想出一个名字或者其他什么，”加克说。 “我们将在旧金山组建下一个大型街头帮派。不久之后，所有的孩子都会为我们工作。”

We sit back, talking on like that. I nod in and out, not giving a damn about one goddamn thing—knowing, just knowing, that it is all gonna work out.
我们坐下来，就这样聊天。我点点头，一点点点头，对任何一件该死的事情都不在乎——知道，只是知道，一切都会好起来的。

DAY 5 第五天

We drop Bullet off around two a.m. He has to meet some guys about a bike theft racket. Basically they just go around with bolt cutters, break all the locks, and pile the bikes into an old van. It’s risky, but Bullet needs the money and he’s strong and quick.
凌晨两点左右，我们让子弹头下车。他必须和一些人会面，讨论自行车盗窃案。基本上，他们只是用断线钳四处走动，打破所有的锁，然后把自行车堆进一辆旧货车里。这是有风险的，但子弹需要钱，而且他很强壮而且速度很快。

Gack and I have nowhere to go, so I ask if he wants to drive out to Point Reyes with me. We’ve shot a little more speed to clear my head from the H and I feel real balanced out. I’m having fun taking the tight, winding turns through the redwoods. We’re listening to this Japanese punk rock music really loud and maybe Gack doesn’t like it, but I don’t care.
盖克和我无处可去，所以我问他是否愿意和我一起开车去雷斯岬。我们提高了一点速度，让我的头脑从 H 方向上清醒过来，我感觉真正平衡了。我在红杉林中急转弯时玩得很开心。我们正在大声地听日本朋克摇滚音乐，也许 Gack 不喜欢它，但我不在乎。

Gack has half a joint, which we split, and the weed on top of everything is making me hallucinate pretty good. The road is all green and pink tracers. The branches hanging down are twisting, knotted veins—spider lattices, a crawling insect sky. Every time a car passes from the other direction I’m swallowed in the bright, bright lights. I swerve, but hang on.
盖克有半个关节，我们把它分开了，所有东西上面的杂草让我产生了很好的幻觉。路上全是绿色和粉红色的示踪剂。垂下来的树枝是扭曲、打结的脉络——蜘蛛网，爬行的昆虫天空。每当有汽车从另一个方向驶过时，我都会被明亮的灯光吞没。我突然转向，但坚持住。

We’re laughing and talking as we pull into the driveway, but then I see my parents’ car there. The house is dark, but they must be inside.
当我们把车驶入车道时，我们有说有笑，但后来我看到我父母的车停在那里。房子很黑，但他们一定在里面。

“Fuck.” “他妈的。”

“I thought you said they wouldn’t be here?”
“我以为你说过他们不会在这里？”

“I guess my little brother and sister don’t have school tomorrow.”
“我想我的弟弟和妹妹明天不上学了。”

I wonder if they can tell I’ve been there—if they’ve noticed the missing guitar and things, or the back door I broke open. I wonder about it for a minute sitting there, feeling sick to my stomach. I imagine them walking in, looking around—those first moments of doubt and realization.
我想知道他们是否能看出我去过那里——他们是否注意到吉他之类的东西不见了，或者后门被我打破了。我坐在那里想了一会儿，感到胃部不适。我想象他们走进去，环顾四周——那些最初的怀疑和认识的时刻。

“Did you leave that towel there?”
“你把那条毛巾留在那里了吗？”

“Did you drink that bottle of wine?”
“那瓶酒你喝了吗？”

“Were you in Nic’s room?”
“你在尼克的房间里吗？”

“Whose shoes are these?” “这些是谁的鞋？”

“Oh my God, someone’s been in the house.”
“天哪，有人进过屋子。”

I pull the car out of there quick, feeling more guilty and humiliated than anything else. I try to push that all out of my mind though, saying, “It’s cool. I know where we can go.”
我迅速把车开出了那里，心里比任何事情都感到更加内疚和羞辱。不过，我试着把这一切都抛到脑后，说：“这很酷。我知道我们可以去哪里。”

We head out farther along the point, past the town of Inverness. The salt-crusted buildings are all nearly rotted through and breaking apart. The old, rust-colored Inverness Store sits in the middle of the town’s only block. They have everything from groceries to clothing to videos. I remember going there with my friends after school, getting high, and playing the one arcade game they had for hours. We pumped so many quarters into that thing. I try to relate something along those lines to Gack, but he’s actually fallen asleep for a minute, so I drive on.
我们沿着这一点继续前行，经过因弗内斯镇。盐壳下的建筑都快要腐烂、散架了。古老的铁锈色因弗内斯商店坐落在镇上唯一的街区中间。他们拥有从杂货到衣服到视频的一切。我记得放学后和朋友们一起去那里，喝得很嗨，玩了几个小时他们玩的一款街机游戏。我们在这件事上投入了很多钱。我试图将类似的事情与加克联系起来，但他实际上睡了一分钟，所以我继续开车。

Virginia and Adam’s house is empty. They’re like my parents in that they have a weekday home in the city, and a weekend home out on the coast. Seeing that there’s no car in the driveway I really breathe for the first time since leaving my parents’ house. I’m so tired suddenly and all I want to do is sleep. Gack and I get out and wander around the back of the creaking wooden house, trying to find a place to break in.
弗吉尼亚和亚当的房子空了。他们就像我的父母一样，他们在城市里有一个工作日的家，在海岸上有一个周末的家。看到车道上没有汽车，自从离开父母家以来，我第一次真正呼吸了。我突然很累，只想睡觉。盖克和我下了车，在吱吱作响的木屋后面闲逛，试图找到一个可以闯入的地方。

Virginia and Adam are my parents’ best friends, or, at least, they’re really close and all. I guess I’m pretty close to them too. They have two kids. The older boy, Jessie—with blond, blond hair, a long curious face, and wide-gapped teeth—is exactly my little brother’s age and they’re in the same class at school. His younger brother, Trevor—with equally blond hair—is exactly my little sister’s age. Our two families would go to the beach together, build bonfires in the sand, barbecue hot dogs and things. I would tell stories to all the children. I was always telling stories.
弗吉尼亚和亚当是我父母最好的朋友，或者至少，他们非常亲密。我想我和他们也很亲近。他们有两个孩子。年长的男孩杰西——一头金发，一张好奇的长脸，牙齿宽大——和我弟弟的年龄一样，他们在学校同一个班。他的弟弟特雷弗（Trevor）有着同样的金发，与我妹妹的年龄相当。我们两家人会一起去海边，在沙子里生篝火，烧烤热狗什么的。我会给所有的孩子讲故事。我总是讲故事。

We would play tag on the beach, swim together in the stinging-cold ocean. The kids would all attack me and I’d have to fight them off—but gently. I remember genuinely looking forward to those nights together. We’d all go back to our house and play music, like the Talking Heads or something, and dance, dance, dance.
我们会在海滩上玩捉迷藏，一起在刺骨寒冷的海水中游泳。孩子们都会攻击我，我必须击退他们——但要温和。我记得我真的很期待那些在一起的夜晚。我们都会回到家里，播放音乐，比如 Talking Heads 之类的，然后跳舞、跳舞、跳舞。

Adam is in his early forties and is a brilliant graphic designer. Virginia is a writer and so sweet. We talked about movies and books and art and everything. I watched them take so much interest in their kids’ lives. I watched them devote themselves to those children. They gave so much, you know?
亚当四十出头，是一位出色的平面设计师。弗吉尼亚是一位作家，而且很可爱。我们谈论电影、书籍、艺术等等一切。我看到他们对孩子的生活如此感兴趣。我看着他们全心全意地照顾那些孩子。他们付出了那么多，你知道吗？

“Hey,” says Gack. “Come in here.” Somehow he’s gotten inside and has the back door open and is looking around, nervous, like someone might see.
“嘿，”盖克说。 “进来吧。”不知怎么的，他进了屋，后门开着，环顾四周，神色紧张，就像有人看到的那样。

I go in and we turn some lights on. The house is small—all wood floors, tattered throw rugs, and worn-out leather furniture. It is sparse but elegant—simple. We eat some cereal they have in the cupboard and spread out on the two couches. We talk for a while, saying nothing important. Eventually I fall asleep. I don’t dream. It’s all just black.
我进去，我们打开一些灯。房子很小——全是木地板、破烂的地毯和破旧的皮革家具。它稀疏但优雅——简单。我们吃了一些他们放在橱柜里的麦片，然后铺在两张沙发上。我们聊了一会儿，没说什么重要的事情。最终我睡着了。我不做梦。一切都是黑色的。

“Nic, quick, get up.” Gack is shaking me hard.
“尼克，快起来。”盖克使劲摇晃着我。

“Wh-what?” “什、什么？”

“There’s someone here.” “这里有人。”

The blurred morning light softly fills the living room and I look out on the thick bramble outside—wet and frosted with dew. There are some birds making shrill noises somewhere and then I hear it—heavy footsteps in the kitchen. Instantly I’m on my feet and we’re walking as silently as possible toward the door. I feel sick and high from adrenaline and fear. Behind us I hear the footsteps coming faster and then a man’s voice calling out with a thick Hispanic accent.
模糊的晨光柔和地洒满了客厅，我望着外面茂密的荆棘丛——湿漉漉的，结满了露珠。某处有一些鸟儿发出尖锐的声音，然后我听到厨房里传来沉重的脚步声。我立即站了起来，我们尽可能安静地朝门口走去。我因肾上腺素和恐惧而感到恶心和兴奋。我听到身后的脚步声越来越快，然后是一个男人带着浓重的西班牙口音的声音。

“Hey, you, kids, stop.” “嘿，你们这些孩子，停下来。”

We don’t. We run to my car and jump in fast, starting the motor as the man keeps yelling after us. There’s a whole crew of construction workers standing around the front of the house and they’re all staring at us as we drive off, looking at us with unveiled scorn—or is it pity? Either way, I’m not laughing and neither is Gack.
我们不知道。我们跑到我的车前，快速跳上车，启动发动机，那个男人不断地在我们身后大喊大叫。房子前面站着一整群建筑工人，当我们开车离开时，他们都盯着我们，带着毫不掩饰的蔑视——或者是怜悯？不管怎样，我没有笑，Gack 也没有。

We drive not saying anything, still out of breath. It’s so cold that I’m shivering and I crank the heat up all the way. The Tomales Bay opens up gray and still in front of us, the sun just starting to rise above the distant green knuckle of Elephant Mountain. The sky is wrapped in thick white clouds. I smoke a cigarette and give one to Gack without him asking for it. I pull into the town of Point Reyes and stop next to the Bovine Bakery. Gack rolls his eyes. “Come on, man, let’s get back to the city. This country shit is trippin’ me out.”
我们开车时什么也没说，仍然气喘吁吁。天气太冷了，我瑟瑟发抖，我把暖气一路调高。托马莱斯湾呈现出灰色，仍然在我们面前，太阳刚刚开始从远处的象山绿色山峰上方升起。天空被厚厚的白云包裹着。我抽了一支烟，并在没有向加克索要的情况下给了他一支。我把车开进雷斯岬镇，在牛面包店旁边停下来。盖克翻白眼。 “走吧，伙计，我们回城吧。这个国家的狗屎让我感到困惑。”

“I’m just getting some coffee. You want some?”
“我只是去喝点咖啡。你想要一些吗？”

“Coffee, man, I don’t drink that crap. Shit’ll rot your stomach out.”
“咖啡，伙计，我不喝那些垃圾。屎会把你的胃都烂掉的。”

I laugh at that and go inside. I bring Gack some hot chocolate instead and he seems pretty grateful for it. That bakery was where I used to get picked up for car pool every morning before school. I loved the croissants there, hot and fresh with chocolate insides that got all over the place. We’d meet there every morning at seven fifteen. The different parents of the kids who lived out in Point Reyes would take turns driving into the city. It was a long drive, so sometimes we’d listen to books on tape, or play guessing games, or whatever. When my little brother was born, he would be brought along on the rides and more often than not, he’d end up crying the whole time. We would take turns, the other kids and I, inventing different ways of distracting him—quieting him, making him smile, or getting his attention so he would just stare at you with his wide-open eyes. We had songs we’d sing to him. Everyone was so patient. He became the car pool mascot. I think we all missed him the days he wasn’t there.
我笑了笑，然后走了进去。我给盖克带来了一些热巧克力，他似乎对此非常感激。那家面包店是我每天早上放学前去拼车接我的地方。我喜欢那里的羊角面包，又热又新鲜，里面有巧克力，到处都是。我们每天早上七点十五分在那里见面。住在雷斯岬的孩子们的不同父母会轮流开车进城。开车的时间很长，所以有时我们会听磁带上的书，或者玩猜谜游戏，或者其他什么。当我的弟弟出生时，他会被带到游乐设施上，通常他会一直哭。我和其他孩子轮流发明不同的方法来分散他的注意力——让他安静，让他微笑，或者引起他的注意，这样他就会睁大眼睛盯着你。我们有歌要唱给他听。大家都很有耐心。他成为拼车吉祥物。我想在他不在的日子里我们都想念他。

My stepmom drove a lot of the time. I’m not sure how it happened exactly, but one day she just invented this game called the “complaining game.” Basically, it was sort of like therapy. We’d get five minutes to complain about what was bothering us. We’d give one another points from zero to ten, based on how honest, insightful, and revealing our shares were. Anyone who cried got an automatic ten. People cried pretty often.
我的继母大部分时间都开车。我不确定这到底是怎么发生的，但有一天她刚刚发明了一种叫做“抱怨游戏”的游戏。基本上，这有点像治疗。我们有五分钟的时间来抱怨困扰我们的事情。我们会根据我们分享的内容的诚实程度、洞察力和揭示程度，给彼此从零到十的分数。凡是哭过的人都会自动获得十分。人们经常哭。

The car pool consisted of three girls and me, all in sixth grade. We’d start playing the complaining game and talk about feeling excluded at a certain birthday party—or the way our teacher gave too much homework. Eventually, however, it would get increasingly personal, with each one of us opening up about our difficulties with our families and things like that. One of the girls, Teresa—who was always so quiet and shy and everything—started talking about her parents’ divorce and the hardship of that and how her mom was drinking too much. We all started crying and she was proclaimed the “complaining game” champion of all time.
车上有我和三个女孩，都是六年级的。我们会开始玩抱怨游戏，谈论在某个生日聚会上被排斥的感觉，或者我们的老师布置了太多作业。然而，最终，它会变得越来越个人化，我们每个人都会敞开心扉谈论我们与家人和类似事情的困难。其中一个女孩特蕾莎（Teresa）总是那么安静、害羞等等，她开始谈论她父母的离婚及其艰辛，以及她妈妈如何酗酒。我们都开始哭泣，她被宣布为有史以来“抱怨游戏”的冠军。

Of course, when we got to school, no one said anything about anything. I’d go off to play with my friends and the girls would all go play with theirs. We wouldn’t talk. Sometimes I’d see one of them getting picked on and I’d do nothing to stop it. If someone in my group of friends was mean to them, I’d go along with it. And the girls were the same way. But in the car, with my stepmom driving, we were transformed—wide open, like my little brother’s eyes.
当然，当我们到达学校时，没有人说什么。我会去和我的朋友们一起玩，女孩们也会和她们的朋友们一起去玩。我们不会说话。有时我会看到他们中的一个人被欺负，但我却无能为力阻止。如果我的朋友圈中有人对他们很刻薄，我也会同意。女孩们也是如此。但在车里，在继母开车的情况下，我们都变了——睁得大大的，就像我弟弟的眼睛一样。

So Gack and I pull out from in front of the Bovine with coffee and croissants and hot chocolate—when I almost hit this blue Volvo station wagon coming the other way. I slam on the brakes and lock eyes with the driver. She has black hair coming down over her face, but I recognize her. My stepmom. She sees me and I see her and I back out of there so quick. She honks her horn wildly and speeds off after me. I drive recklessly over the road, but she is behind me—chasing me down.
于是，盖克和我带着咖啡、羊角面包和热巧克力从 Bovine 前面下车——当时我差点撞到对面驶来的这辆蓝色沃尔沃旅行车。我猛踩刹车，目光与司机对视。她的黑发遮住了脸，但我认出了她。我的继母。她看到了我，我也看到了她，然后我很快就离开了那里。她疯狂地按喇叭，加速追赶我。我鲁莽地开车穿过马路，但她在我身后追赶我。

“What the fuck is going on?”
“这到底是怎么回事？”

“Dude, that’s my stepmom.”
“哥们儿，那是我的继母。”

“Well, why the hell is she following us?”
“呃，她到底为什么跟着我们？”

“Fuck if I know.” “我他妈的如果我知道的话。”

“Maybe you should stop and talk to her.”
“也许你应该停下来和她谈谈。”

“No way, man.” “没门。”

In the rearview mirror I can see her expression. It is strangely blank—resigned or something. I try hard not to meet her eyes, thinking about how disappointed she must be in me. My dad and Karen were married when I was eight years old. They’d met the year earlier. I’ve always respected Karen so much—as a person, as a parent to me, as an artist. I remember watching Pollyanna with her when my dad was out of town. It was the first time we were together, me and her, just the two of us. I think we both thought the movie was pretty stupid and we would crack each other up for months afterward doing Hayley Mills imitations. Karen took me on hikes with her and her friends around Marin. She took me to galleries and out to dinner. She read stories with me and bought me comic books. I respected her and, well, I’ve always wanted her respect, you know, just so badly. I’ve always wanted her to like me, mostly because I like her so much. But how can Karen respect me now? I am ashamed of myself and, for a moment, I can’t even remember why I’m doing any of this. What is the point? I guess it’s crystal meth. I mean, that’s always the bottom line, isn’t it? That’s the ultimate trump card for me. It is more powerful than anything.
从后视镜里我可以看到她的表情。奇怪的是，它是空白的——听天由命什么的。我努力不去看她的眼睛，心想她一定对我有多失望。我八岁时，我父亲和凯伦结婚了。他们一年前就认识了。我一直非常尊重凯伦——作为一个人、作为我的父母、作为一名艺术家。我记得当我爸爸出城时，我和她一起看波莉安娜。这是我们第一次在一起，我和她，只有我们两个人。我想我们都认为这部电影非常愚蠢，在模仿海莉·米尔斯之后的几个月里我们会互相嘲笑。凯伦带我和她以及她的朋友们在马林周围徒步旅行。她带我去了画廊，然后出去吃饭。她和我一起读故事，还给我买了漫画书。我尊重她，而且，我一直希望得到她的尊重，你知道，非常渴望。我一直希望她喜欢我，主要是因为我太喜欢她了。但凯伦现在怎么能尊重我呢？我为自己感到羞愧，有那么一刻，我什至不记得自己为什么要做这些。重点是什么？我猜这是冰毒。我的意思是，这始终是底线，不是吗？这对我来说是终极王牌。它比任何东西都更强大。

As we drive, I look out at the eucalyptus and buckeyes that line the road out to Stinson Beach. The grasses grow up wild and unkempt along Route 1. I’m giving my car everything it’s got, screeching around the corners, but Karen stays pretty close. We pass the bat house—a white-painted shack in the middle of a field with the doors and windows all boarded up. They can’t tear it down because it’s been taken over by species of bats that exist nowhere else in the world. The sun is up and the clouds are all gone and the wet road is drying quickly underneath us. I take the next turn a little too quickly. My back tires slide out and I almost spin.
当我们开车时，我望着通往斯廷森海滩的道路两旁的桉树和七叶树。 1 号公路沿线的草丛生得乱七八糟。我已全力以赴，在拐角处发出尖叫声，但凯伦仍紧随其后。我们经过了蝙蝠屋——田野中央的一座漆成白色的小屋，门窗都用木板封住。他们无法拆除它，因为它已经被世界上其他地方不存在的蝙蝠物种所占据。太阳升起，云层全部散去，脚下潮湿的道路很快就干了。我转下一个弯的速度有点太快了。我的后轮胎滑出，我差点打滑。

“This is so bad,” says Gack. “This is so fucking bad.”
“这太糟糕了，”加克说。 “这太他妈糟糕了。”

“Relax,” I say, but I’m anything but relaxed.
“放松，”我说，但我一点也不放松。

The gears of my car are grinding and I’m starting to smell the rubber burning. The heat gauge is way up there. We go through Dogtown, past the Horseshoe Hill Road turnoff. The coastal town of Bolinas sits off to the northeast. That was where I learned to surf. The waves there roll into the lagoon gently—perfect for beginners. We’d surf out at the point and then go eat pizza at the Bolinas Bakery. When my little brother and sister were old enough, we’d take them out in the water and push them into the shore break on an old, heavy longboard. We’d play road tag on the beach—where you’d draw trails in the sand that you had to run in. If you left the trail you were out.
我的汽车的齿轮正在磨擦，我开始闻到橡胶燃烧的味道。热量计就在那里。我们穿过狗镇，经过马蹄山路岔路口。沿海小镇博利纳斯位于东北部。那是我学会冲浪的地方。那里的海浪轻轻地滚入泻湖，非常适合初学者。我们会在那里冲浪，然后去博利纳斯面包店吃披萨。当我的弟弟和妹妹足够大时，我们会把他们带到水里，然后用一块又旧又重的长板把他们推到岸边。我们会在海滩上玩“道路追踪”游戏，你需要在沙子上画出你必须跑进去的小路。如果你离开了小路，你就出局了。

And here Karen and I are—playing road tag on the broken, jagged highway. Smoke is billowing up from the hood of my car. I round a bend and lose the Volvo for a moment, turning up a heavily wooded driveway. I swing the car around and let it idle there. We wait.
凯伦和我在这里——在破碎、锯齿状的高速公路上玩公路标签游戏。我的汽车引擎盖冒出滚滚浓烟。我拐过一个弯，暂时失去了沃尔沃，转上了一条树木繁茂的车道。我把车转了一圈，让它在那里空转。我们等。

“I need a shot,” says Gack.
“我需要尝试一下，”盖克说。

“Yeah.” My shirt is soaked through with sweat. My hair is wet, sticking up.
“是的。”我的衬衫已经被汗水浸湿了。我的头发湿漉漉的，竖起来。

“Should we wait here?” I ask.
“我们要在这里等吗？”我问。

“Okay.” “好的。”

I see my stepmom’s car go by—slow, slow. She doesn’t look up at us. She keeps moving. I turn off the car. It hisses loudly.
我看到继母的车开过——很慢，很慢。她没有抬头看我们。她继续前进。我关掉汽车。它发出嘶嘶声。

Gack dissolves a huge amount of crystal in the jar. After he pulls some up for himself, I add a bunch of heroin. I let Gack shoot me up. He’s so good at hitting me. Everything is all better after the tar and meth enters my bloodstream. I’m not even sure if that car chase was a dream—or real. But my smoking car answers that question.
盖克在罐子里溶解了大量的晶体。他给自己取了一些后，我又加了一堆海洛因。我让盖克向我开枪。他很擅长打我。焦油和冰毒进入我的血液后，一切都好多了。我什至不确定那场汽车追逐是一场梦还是真实的。但我的冒烟的车回答了这个问题。

Everyone knows I’ve relapsed now.
大家都知道我现在旧病复发了。

I drop Gack off in the TL and we make plans to meet up in a day or so. He says he’ll start feeling out for people looking to sell some quantity. I turn on my cell phone. I have twenty-seven messages. I listen to the first second or so of each one, then delete them. My stomach has dropped out completely and there’s a cold tingling up the back of my neck. I think about Spencer, my mom, my dad, my job, and friends I left behind. I wonder if I really have come too far to go back. Yes, I reason, I have. Besides, things aren’t so bad. It’s not like I owe those people anything. This is my life to live—or throw away. Isn’t that true? I tell myself again that it is.
我把 Gack 送到 TL，我们计划一天左右见面。他说他将开始寻找那些想要出售一些产品的人。我打开手机。我有二十七条消息。我会听每首歌曲的前一秒左右，然后将其删除。我的胃已经完全塌陷了，脖子后面有一股冰冷的刺痛感。我想起斯宾塞、我的妈妈、我的爸爸、我的工作以及我留下的朋友。我想知道我是否真的已经走得太远而无法回去了。是的，我推理，我有。此外，事情并没有那么糟糕。我并不欠那些人什么。这就是我的生活，要么活下去，要么就扔掉。这不是真的吗？我再次告诉自己，确实如此。

The only message I hear all the way through is one from Lauren. She wants me to come by after she has dinner with her parents. She says I can sneak in through the back gate and maybe no one’ll see me. I have a while to wait, so I drive down to Baker Beach and go swimming again in the ocean. I bring my leather toiletry kit over to the men’s room. I shower outside with my shorts on and then step into the sand-covered bathroom, setting up my shaving equipment along the dark-stained sink.
我自始至终听到的唯一消息是劳伦发来的。她要我和她父母吃完晚饭后过来。她说我可以从后门溜进去，也许没人会看到我。我还有一段时间等待，所以我开车去了贝克海滩，再次去海里游泳。我把皮革洗漱用品带到男洗手间。我穿着短裤在外面淋浴，然后走进铺满沙子的浴室，在深色污渍的水槽旁架起剃须设备。

I have a nice razor and one of those bristled facial brushes from L’Occitane. I have a silver dish of shaving soap. I get the hair off my face and put lotion all over. I put on deodorant. I splash on some cologne and put some styling product in my hair. I cut my fingernails and toenails. Every once in a while a stunned-looking beachgoer will come in, stare at me, then walk out quickly. Still, by the time I step outta there, I look halfway presentable.
我有一把漂亮的剃须刀和一把欧舒丹的鬃毛面部刷。我有一盘银色的剃须皂。我把脸上的头发弄掉，然后涂上乳液。我涂了除臭剂。我喷了一些古龙水，并在头发上抹了一些定型产品。我剪了手指甲和脚趾甲。每隔一段时间，就会有一个一脸震惊的海滩游客进来，盯着我看，然后快步走出去。不过，当我走出那里时，我看起来还算得体。

There’s something about outward appearances that has always been important to me. I always thought I was so ugly. I mean, I really did. I remember being in L.A. at my mom’s house as a little kid and just staring into the mirror for hours. It was like, if I looked long enough, maybe I’d finally be handsome. It never worked. I just got uglier and uglier. Nothing about me ever seemed good enough. And there was this sadness inside me—this hopelessness. Focusing on my physical appearance was at least easier than trying to address the internal shit. I could control the external—at least, to a point. I could buy different clothes, or cut my hair, or whatever. The pit opening up inside me was too frightening to even look at. But I could get a new pair of shoes and, here, I can make sure I’m clean shaven and have good skin.
外表对我来说一直很重要。我一直觉得我很丑。我是说，我真的做到了。我记得小时候在洛杉矶我妈妈的家里，盯着镜子好几个小时。就好像，如果我看得够久，也许我最终会变得英俊。它从来没有起作用。我只是变得越来越丑了。我的一切似乎都不够好。我内心有一种悲伤——一种绝望。专注于我的外表至少比试图解决内心的问题更容易。我可以控制外部——至少在某种程度上。我可以买不同的衣服，或者剪头发，或者其他什么。我内心敞开的深坑太可怕了，甚至不敢看。但我可以买一双新鞋，在这里，我可以确保我的胡子刮得很干净，皮肤也很好。

It’s so shallow and ridiculous and I see it, I do, but I’m powerless to change. I mean, I don’t know how to change. All I can do is just shoot more goddamn drugs.
这是如此浅薄和荒谬，我看到了，我看到了，但我无力改变。我的意思是，我不知道如何改变。我能做的就是射更多该死的毒品。

I decide that maybe I should try and apply for a part-time job at some coffee shop or something.
我决定也许我应该尝试在一些咖啡店或其他地方申请一份兼职工作。

I drive to Clement Street—past the imported goods stores and stinking fish markets, the sidewalk dim sum stands and Chinese bakeries. People are crowded together, talking loudly, walking fast. I go into the Goodwill and buy a forty-dollar Brooks Brothers suit and some nameless black shoes. After that I cross over to the Richmond Branch Library and sign up to use a computer. The wait is about two hours. The place is dingy and so full of bodies that the books and walls themselves smell of sweat. A slick, shining homeless man with layers and layers of clothes sleeps in the doorway. Old women with peroxide hair argue in Russian. A pregnant mother pushes her sleeping child in a blue-checked stroller—back and forth, back and forth.
我开车前往克莱门特街，经过进口商品商店和臭鱼市场、人行道上的点心摊和中式面包店。人们挤在一起，大声说话，快步走着。我走进 Goodwill 买了一套 40 美元的 Brooks Brothers 西装和一些无名的黑鞋。之后，我前往里士满分馆并注册使用计算机。等待时间大约是两个小时。这个地方肮脏不堪，到处都是尸体，书本和墙壁本身都散发着汗味。一个衣着光鲜亮丽的无家可归者睡在门口。头发过氧化氢的老妇人用俄语争论。一位怀孕的母亲推着一辆蓝色格子婴儿车熟睡的孩子，来来回回。

I smoke cigarettes and wait and scribble in my notebook. I try to write out a resumé so I can type it up once it’s my turn. Problem is, I can’t really leave any references. My work history is solid and my jobs always start off great, but soon degenerate and end badly. Usually I just stop showing up for work one day. That’s what happened at that rehab in Malibu. That’s what happened with the six jobs before that. Actually, I’ve never seen a job all the way through to the end—not even in sobriety. I always get so overwhelmed trying to do everything perfectly. I can’t do a job and not put everything I have into it. I need to be the best employee, the best coworker, the best whatever. I need everyone to like me and I just burn out bending over backward to make that happen. Having people be mad at me is my worst fear. I can’t stand it. There is this crazy fear I have of being rejected by anyone—even people I don’t really care about. It’s always better to leave them first, cut all ties, and disappear. They can’t hurt me that way—no one can. That’s why I have no references. But, of course, there’s always the hope that my new employer won’t check them out.
我一边抽烟一边等待并在笔记本上乱写乱画。我尝试写一份简历，以便轮到我时可以将其打印出来。问题是，我真的无法留下任何参考资料。我的工作经历很扎实，我的工作总是一开始很好，但很快就会退化并以糟糕的方式结束。通常我有一天会不再去上班。这就是马里布康复中心发生的事情。之前的六份工作就是这样。事实上，我从来没有见过一份工作从头到尾——即使是在清醒的情况下。我总是不知所措，试图把每件事都做得完美。我无法在工作中不投入我的一切。我需要成为最好的员工、最好的同事、最好的任何人。我需要每个人都喜欢我，而我只是为了实现这一点而竭尽全力。人们对我生气是我最害怕的事情。我受不了了。我非常害怕被任何人拒绝——即使是我并不真正关心的人。最好先离开他们，切断所有联系，然后消失。他们不能那样伤害我——没有人可以。这就是为什么我没有参考资料。但是，当然，我总是希望我的新雇主不会检查它们。

After printing out about twenty copies of my resumé, I drive over to the different business districts. I drop the resumés off at all the coffee shops and restaurants I come across. No one seems real interested. A couple of places give me times to come back for interviews.
打印出大约二十份简历后，我开车前往不同的商业区。我把简历投递到我遇到的所有咖啡馆和餐馆。似乎没有人真正感兴趣。有几个地方给了我回来面试的时间。

I drive through the financial district as I make my way down to the wharves. I park my car and look out on the white, beaten-down lighthouse of Alcatraz. The sky is quickly fading orange as the sun sets behind the horizon and a strong wind whips in across the bay. I pull on a jacket and sit drawing in my car for a while, until the light is gone completely. I sleep, curled up on the front seat as best I can. I sleep until my phone rings and I hear Lauren’s voice.
我开车穿过金融区，前往码头。我停好车，眺望窗外恶魔岛那座被毁坏的白色灯塔。当太阳落到地平线后面时，天空很快变成橙色，一阵强风吹过海湾。我穿上一件夹克，坐在车里画了一会儿，直到灯完全消失。我尽可能地蜷缩在前座上睡觉。我一直睡到手机响，听到劳伦的声音。

“Come over, the back gate is open.”
“过来吧，后门开着。”

I listen to music really loud as I drive to Sea Cliff, hiding my car several blocks away from her house ’cause I’m paranoid all of a sudden. Plus when I try to push open the tall wooden gate, there’s a brick holding it closed. I push harder and the thing gives, but the noise I figure probably wakes up the whole neighborhood. Still, I make it to the back door, which is unlocked, and into Lauren’s room without her parents finding me. We kiss for a long time and speak in whispers. She’s jonesing pretty bad, so I start cooking up a shot for us both.
当我开车去海崖时，我听着音乐，声音很大，把车藏在离她家几个街区远的地方，因为我突然变得偏执了。另外，当我试图推开那扇高高的木门时，有一块砖将它固定住。我用力推，东西就发出来了，但我想噪音可能会吵醒整个邻居。尽管如此，我还是走到了没锁的后门，进入了劳伦的房间，而她的父母却没有找到我。我们亲吻了很长时间，低声说话。她很无聊，所以我开始为我们俩准备一杯。

“You ever done heroin?” I ask.
“你吸过海洛因吗？”我问。

She shakes her head. 她摇摇头。

“You wanna try some?” “你想尝尝吗？”

She nods. I add a good-size chunk of dope to the mix.
她点点头。我在混合物中添加了一大块涂料。

Lauren watches me closely. I soak it all up with some cotton and then draw a little bit into both needles. I’m kinda worried about giving her too much ’cause it’s her first time and all. I pass her one of the loaded rigs and she digs around in her arm for a while with it, finally hitting.
劳伦仔细地看着我。我用一些棉花将其全部浸湿，然后在两根针上都画一点。我有点担心给她太多，因为这是她的第一次。我递给她一个装载好的装备，她用它在手臂上挖了一会儿，终于击中了。

She draws some blood up into the mix and then pushes it all into her arm. I watch it sweep over her. She goes slack, kind of—her breath rushing out. She puts her small white hand against her small white forehead and leans back, almost falling. She catches herself, straightens up—then starts almost falling again. I laugh, watching her.
她抽取了一些血液到混合物中，然后将其全部推入手臂。我看着它扫过她。她变得有些松弛——呼吸急促。她用白皙的小手抵住白皙的小额头，向后靠去，差点摔倒。她稳住了自己，直起身子——然后差点又摔倒了。我笑了，看着她。

I shoot myself up and we go over to the bed. There are pillows and comforters all over the place. The room is all dark, except for those Christmas lights, and I listen to Lauren’s breath coming through in short little gasps. Her pupils are like nothing—pinned out. The blue overwhelms them and I am high, high, high.
我开枪自杀，然后我们走到床边。到处都有枕头和被子。房间里一片漆黑，除了那些圣诞彩灯，我听到劳伦短促的喘息声。她的瞳孔就像什么都没有——被钉住了。蓝色淹没了他们，我很高，很高，很高。

“We gotta be quiet,” she says. Her voice comes out slurred and deep.
“我们必须保持安静，”她说。她的声音含糊而低沉。

I kiss her mouth and it’s like I’m pouring into her—or like I’m absorbing her into me. Her tongue is my tongue, her lips my lips, her breath mine. She moans and I whisper, “Shhhhhh.”
我亲吻她的嘴，就像我正在倾注在她体内——或者就像我正在将她吸收到我体内。她的舌头就是我的舌头，她的嘴唇就是我的嘴唇，她的呼吸就是我的。她呻吟着，我低声说：“嘘。”

We kiss like that and then I have her clothes off fast, and mine—taking her nipples in my mouth, kissing her breasts roughly. We start to make love and it’s, like, the most perfect, hard, pulsing, organic movement between us. We’re so there and not there—drifting on sensations of color and beating hearts and the sweat coming down, down, down.
我们就这样接吻，然后我迅速脱掉她的衣服，也脱掉我的衣服——把她的乳头含在嘴里，粗暴地亲吻她的乳房。我们开始做爱，这是我们之间最完美、最艰难、最有脉动、最有机的运动。我们既在那里又不在那里——随着色彩、心跳和汗水的感觉而漂流。

We go so long the bed is soaked through now with sweat—so much sweat. We’re kissing and locked together and it just goes on. We’re out of breath, but not. Every sensation is heightened. My hand holding hers is alive, sensual—hot. The bed is shaking and the walls are shaking and the ground and shelves and lamps and everything is shaking down around us and we just don’t care—we just don’t. I wanna stay like this forever—here with Lauren, high on meth and heroin. It seems like I’ve reached the pinnacle of my existence and I just don’t want it to stop.
我们走了这么久，床现在都被汗湿透了——太多的汗了。我们接吻并锁在一起，一切就这样继续下去。我们气喘吁吁，但没有。每一种感觉都被增强。我握住她的手，充满生机、性感——火热。床在摇晃，墙壁在摇晃，地面、架子、灯以及我们周围的一切都在摇晃，但我们不在乎——我们就是不在乎。我想永远保持这样的状态——和劳伦在一起，吸食冰毒和海洛因。似乎我已经达到了人生的顶峰，我只是不想让它停止。

Three and a half hours go by. I pull out and see that there is blood all over me. My skin has been chafed away. Still, I can’t feel it or anything.
三个半小时过去了。我抽出身来，发现浑身都是血。我的皮肤已经被磨掉了。尽管如此，我还是感觉不到它或任何东西。

Lauren lights a cigarette. We pass it back and forth between us. I wanna shoot up some more, so I stand and feel all light-headed, like I’m gonna pass out. I look down and I see my body and I’m amazed at how much weight I’ve already started to lose. My legs are starting to eat away at themselves, my hips are jutting out all dramatically. I teeter my way to the bathroom, piss, then hunt around for the rest of the dope and meth still in that cotton. That’s when I hear the knocking.
劳伦点燃一支香烟。我们在我们之间来回传递它。我想再射一些，所以我站起来，感觉头晕，好像要昏过去了。我低头看到自己的身体，惊讶地发现自己的体重已经开始减轻了。我的双腿开始自行磨损，我的臀部急剧突出。我摇摇晃晃地走进浴室，小便，然后四处寻找棉花中剩余的毒品和冰毒。就在那时我听到了敲门声。

Someone’s knocking at Lauren’s bedroom door and I feel this rush of panic. I lock myself in the bathroom and hold my breath. There are voices outside now and I figure, fuck, man, it’s over. I see the jar with the cotton in it and a dirty rig. Since we’re busted anyway I decide to suck up the rest of it and shoot it before getting thrown outta there—or thrown in jail. I sit on the toilet seat, as quietly as possible, hunting for a vein. I push off. There is a brief moment of, like, “Oh shit,” as I fall forward, crashing into the solid glass shower door. I bounce off that, hit the floor, and then it’s all black for some time.
有人敲劳伦卧室的门，我感到一阵恐慌。我把自己锁在浴室里，屏住呼吸。现在外面有声音，我想，操，伙计，一切都结束了。我看到了一个装着棉花的罐子和一个肮脏的装备。既然我们无论如何都被抓了，我决定在被扔出那里或被扔进监狱之前，把剩下的部分吸收起来并开枪射击。我尽可能安静地坐在马桶座圈上，寻找静脉。我推开。当我向前摔倒并撞到实心玻璃淋浴门时，有一个短暂的瞬间，就像“哦，该死”。我从那里弹起来，摔到地板上，然后有一段时间全黑了。

DAY 6 第六天

Coming to, there’s light flooding the bathroom and I’m lying on the tile, shivering. I stand and then my stomach seizes and I vomit into the toilet. I do it again. I choke and my throat burns and the tears and snot are wrenched outta my body. There’s no noise outside the bathroom, so after drinking some water from the tap, I turn the lock and sort of crawl my way out into Lauren’s room. No one’s there. The lights are all out and the sun’s coming in.
醒来时，浴室里透着灯光，我躺在瓷砖上，瑟瑟发抖。我站起来，然后我的胃痉挛了，我吐进了厕所。我再做一次。我窒息，喉咙灼痛，眼泪和鼻涕都从我的身体里挤出来。浴室外面没有任何噪音，所以在喝了一些水龙头里的水后，我转动锁，爬进了劳伦的房间。没有人在那里。灯光全部熄灭，阳光照进来。

I put on my clothes and try to sneak out the same way I came in. I reach my hand in my pocket and there’s a note there. The writing is scrawled hurriedly—frantic little marks on yellow lined paper.
我穿上衣服，试图像进来时一样溜出去。我把手伸进口袋，里面有一张纸条。字迹匆匆潦草——黄色横格纸上有疯狂的小标记。

Nic, if you’re fucking dead in there, I’m gonna kill you. Call me IMMEDIATELY when you wake up. My parents are leaving tomorrow around one, so you can move your stuff in after that. Fuck, I hope you’re not dead. CALL ME. Lauren.
尼克，如果你他妈的死在那里，我就杀了你。你醒来后立即给我打电话。我父母明天大约要离开，所以你可以在那之后把你的东西搬进来。操，我希望你还没死。打电话给我。劳伦.

I wait till I’m well away from that house before dialing her number. Her voice is soft, like she’s not supposed to be using her phone or something. The sky is blue, blue, but that San Francisco wind whips the hair around in front of my eyes.
我等到远离那所房子才拨通她的电话。她的声音很轻，就像她不应该使用手机什么的。天空很蓝，很蓝，但旧金山的风把我眼前的头发吹得乱七八糟。

“Nic?” “尼克？”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“Jesus, what the hell happened to you last night?”
“天哪，你昨晚到底发生了什么事？”

“Nothing. You know, when I heard your dad knocking, I hid in the bathroom. I guess I shot too much dope or something, ’cause I passed out. Didn’t you guys hear me when I fell?”
“没有什么。你知道吗，当我听到你爸爸敲门时，我就躲进了浴室。我猜我注射了太多毒品或什么的，因为我昏倒了。我摔倒的时候你们没听见吗？”

“What are you talking about?”
“你在说什么？”

“When your dad came downstairs.”
“当你爸爸下楼的时候。”

“Nic, that never happened.”
“尼克，那件事从来没有发生过。”

“But I heard it. I heard you talking to him.”
“但是我听到了。我听到你和他说话了。”

“Uh, no, you didn’t.” “呃，不，你没有。”

“Fuck.” “他妈的。”

“Nic, you can’t do that again, okay?”
“尼克，你不能再这样了，好吗？”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” “是的，对不起。”

“Will you come over tonight?”
“今晚你会过来吗？”

“Sure.” “当然。”

“Do you have any more of that…you know?”
“你还有更多的吗……你知道吗？”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“All right, call me later.”
“好吧，稍后给我打电话。”

I hang up. 我挂断电话。

It’s around five thirty when Gack calls me. I spent most of the day just walking around the avenues, looking for ground scores—money, cigarettes, or whatever else might’ve been left on the ground. Once I found a black leather kit full of haircutting equipment that had five checks and almost two hundred dollars cash in it. I’ve found packs of cigarettes, bags of leftovers, even the occasional sack of weed, or coke, or something. Today, however, I find nothing but an Aiwa stereo system that I don’t need. Actually, I see a plastic bag tied at the top in front of someone’s doorway. I’m hungry and it looks like take-out maybe. I walk quickly past, circle back, then grab the bag and run off. When I round the corner I open it—hoping for some Chinese food, or Thai noodles, or anything really. The bag is full of dog shit—lots of dog shit. I drop the sack and my stomach convulses from the smell.
盖克给我打电话的时候是五点三十分左右。我一天的大部分时间都在大街上走来走去，寻找地面上的痕迹——金钱、香烟或任何可能留在地上的东西。有一次我发现了一个黑色的皮革工具箱，里面装满了理发设备，里面有五张支票和近两百美元的现金。我发现了几包香烟、一袋袋剩菜，甚至偶尔还有一袋大麻、可乐或其他东西。然而今天，除了我不需要的爱华音响系统之外，我什么也没找到。事实上，我看到某人门口前面绑着一个塑料袋。我饿了，看起来可能是外卖。我快步走过去，绕了回来，然后抓起包就跑了。当我拐过街角时，我打开它——希望能吃到一些中国菜，或者泰国面条，或者任何真正的东西。袋子里装满了狗屎——很多狗屎。我扔下袋子，我的胃因气味而痉挛。

But, like I said, Gack calls at five thirty and tells me he thinks he’s found a hookup for us. He says he can’t go into details on the phone, but we agree to meet in the TL around eight. He says to bring three hundred dollars.
但是，就像我说的，盖克在五点三十分打电话告诉我，他认为他已经为我们找到了联系对象。他说他不能在电话中透露细节，但我们同意八点左右在 TL 见面。他说要带三百块钱。

“Three hundred?” I say. “That’s all?”
“三百？”我说。 “就这样？”

“For now, yeah.” “目前来说，是的。”

I withdraw the money from my account. I’ve still got more than two thousand dollars, but just barely. My feet hurt from walking all day and I look down at the soles of my Jack Purcell sneakers—the left one has a hole starting to eat its way through the bottom. Still, I keep walking and I know that as soon as I do another shot, I won’t feel the pain anymore. It’s the same with my throat. As I start to come down a little bit, I can feel that I’m sick. My throat is sore and my nose is filled with snot. I must’ve gotten a cold somewhere. But crystal will take it all away.
我从我的帐户中提取资金。我还有两千多块钱，但已经不多了。我的脚因为走了一整天而感到疼痛，我低头看了看我的杰克·珀塞尔运动鞋的鞋底——左边的鞋底有一个洞。尽管如此，我还是继续走，我知道一旦我再注射一次，我就不会再感到疼痛了。我的喉咙也是这样。当我开始有点沮丧时​​，我能感觉到我病了。我的喉咙很痛，鼻子里充满了鼻涕。我一定是哪里感冒了。但水晶会带走这一切。

The dark is settling in. The sky glows yellow—pale—anemic from the city lights. The Tenderloin at night is a real horror show. Every three feet someone is accosting you with a plea for a handout, or the offer of drugs or sex. The men and women wander the streets and alleys with a threatening, violent want. Takers looking to take, hustlers looking to hustle—all trying to satisfy a craving that is perpetually unsatisfiable. And tonight I’m one of them.
夜幕降临。天空在城市灯光的照射下泛出黄色——苍白——苍白的光芒。晚上的里脊肉是一场真正的恐怖表演。每三英尺就有一个人向你搭话，请求施舍，或者提供毒品或性服务。男人和女人带着威胁和暴力的欲望在大街小巷徘徊。索取者想要索取，骗子想要骗取——所有这些都试图满足永远无法满足的渴望。今晚我就是其中之一。

Gack is smoking a cigarette in front of a Carl’s Jr. He’s listening to music through some headphones. He’s wearing the same clothes he always wears.
Gack 在 Carl’s Jr. 面前抽烟。他正在通过耳机听音乐。他穿着他平时穿的衣服。

“What’s up, man?” he says, doing some slap/snap handshake thing with me. His eyes are all over the place.
“小伙子怎么了？”他说着，跟我做了一些拍打/握手的动作。他的眼睛到处都是。

“You tell me.” “你告诉我。”

He starts walking fast and I follow.
他开始快步走，我跟着。

“All right, so there’s this guy, Joe, right? Joe just got outta jail and he’s movin’ away to somewhere in, like, the deep South—Georgia, or some shit. Joe knows everybody and he says he’s gonna hook us up with his connection, so we can start dealing directly from them. He’s, like, passing on the torch, right?”
“好吧，那就是这个人，乔，对吧？乔刚刚出狱，他要搬到南方的某个地方——乔治亚州，或者其他什么地方。乔认识每个人，他说他会为我们建立联系，这样我们就可以直接与他们打交道。他就像是在传递火炬，对吧？”

“Cool.” “凉爽的。”

“So we’ll just try these hookups out. We’ll get three hundred dollars’ worth of really good shit. We’ll cut it and sell it—set aside maybe half for personal use.”
“所以我们就尝试一下这些连接。我们会得到价值三百美元的好东西。我们会把它切下来卖掉——留出一半供个人使用。”

“And you trust this guy?”
“你信任这个人吗？”

“Hell, yeah. I’ve known him for fucking ever.”
“见鬼，是啊。我他妈的就认识他了。”

“All right, man, so I’m gonna leave it up to you then.”
“好吧，伙计，那我就把这件事交给你了。”

“Word.” “单词。”

I haven’t really been paying attention, but somehow we’ve ended up down this alley with nothing but one flickering light overhead. We stop at a rusted iron gate in front of an apartment complex. Gack pushes a button, says, “Yo, it’s Gack,” and we’re buzzed in.
我并没有真正注意，但不知何故，我们最终沿着这条小巷走下去，除了头顶上闪烁的一盏灯之外什么也没有。我们在一栋公寓大楼前的一扇生锈的铁门前停了下来。盖克按下按钮，说道：“哟，是盖克。”然后我们就被接通了。

The hallway is cramped and smells of urine and mold. The carpet is bare, stained, burned. The walls are all uneven, giving the place the feeling of a rocking ship. I steady myself against the dirty brown banister.
走廊很狭窄，充满尿液和霉菌的气味。地毯光秃秃的，有污渍，有烧焦的痕迹。墙壁凹凸不平，给人一种船摇晃的感觉。我靠着肮脏的棕色栏杆稳住自己。

A door opens maybe ten yards away. A long-haired man who looks Persian or something—with black, thick eyebrows—steps out into the hall.
大约十码外有一扇门打开。一个长发男人，看起来像波斯人什么的——眉毛又黑又粗——走进大厅。

“He’s in here,” he says.
“他在这里，”他说。

We follow him inside a room the size of a small kitchen. There’s a bed, a porno movie playing on the TV, and nothing else. A fat man—probably fifty-five, with a receding hairline—smokes speed from a long glass pipe. He exhales loudly and looks up at us. He shifts back to the far corner of the bed, settling in against the back wall.
我们跟着他走进一个小厨房大小的房间。房间里只有一张床，电视上正在播放一部色情电影，除此之外什么也没有。一个胖子——大概五十五岁，发际线后移——从一根长长的玻璃烟斗里快速抽烟。他大声呼气，抬头看着我们。他移回床的最远角落，靠着后墙坐下。

“Gack, it’s been a long time.”
“嘎嘎，好久不见了。”

“Yeah, welcome back. This is Nic.”
“是的，欢迎回来。这是尼克。”

Joe reaches out and shakes my hand. His eyes are gray and glazed over. He has a scruffy beard covering his fleshy cheeks. His lips are wet and thick. He passes me the pipe and I take a hit without wiping it off or anything, even though I want to.
乔伸出手来和我握手。他的眼睛是灰色的，目光呆滞。他的肉质脸颊上覆盖着邋遢的胡须。他的嘴唇又湿又厚。他把管子递给我，我挨了一击，但没有把它擦掉或做任何事，尽管我想这么做。

“So, Nic,” he says, his voice trembling from the narcotics. “You wanna get into dealing this nasty shit, eh?”
“那么，尼克，”他说道，声音因麻醉剂而颤抖。 “你想参与处理这种令人讨厌的事情，是吗？”

I nod, sitting down on the floor next to the Persian man. Gack leans back on the bed with Joe.
我点点头，坐在波斯人旁边的地板上。盖克和乔一起靠在床上。

“Gack and I are gonna work together,” I say.
“我和盖克要一起工作，”我说。

“All right, man, but I’d be careful. Anyway, let’s get this started. You gotta phone I could borrow?”
“好吧，伙计，但我会小心的。无论如何，让我们开始吧。你要打电话给我借一下吗？”

I hand him my cell and he makes a few calls. I half listen to his conversation while Gack and I pass the pipe back and forth. The Persian man still says nothing. He doesn’t hit the pipe when I offer it to him.
我把手机递给他，他打了几个电话。当我和盖克来回传递烟斗时，我半听着他的谈话。波斯人仍然一言不发。当我向他提供管道时，他没有敲击管道。

“So someone’ll be by within the half hour,” says Joe. “These are definitely some folks you wanna be down with. Gack, pay attention, man.”
“所以半小时内就会有人过来，”乔说。 “这些人绝对是你想与之相处的人。盖克，注意点，伙计。”

Gack is messing around with a portable CD player—taking it apart with some multi-tool key chain thing. He looks up briefly.
Gack 正在摆弄一台便携式 CD 播放器——用一些多功能工具钥匙链的东西把它拆开。他短暂地抬起头。

“Let me lay this shit down for y’all. If I’m gonna give you kids my connects, you gotta understand a few things first. Gack, you’ve always been real straight ahead and Nic, well, if Gack vouches for you, then you’re all right with me.”
“让我为你们大家放下这件事。如果我要给你们孩子们我的联系，你们首先必须了解一些事情。盖克，你一直都是很正直的人，尼克，好吧，如果盖克为你担保，那么你就同意我了。”

He rambles on for maybe twenty minutes—talking about how you have to never let the other guy get up on you. Bottom line is it’s all about money. Never trust anyone. Never do anything out of goodwill. It’s all business. Never get sentimental. Never let anyone in. Start off selling small sacks, and as they get more dependent, keep making the sacks smaller. Always keep a weapon on you. The best is something discreet like a skateboard or a pair of drumsticks. Gack argues with him a little, stating that he’s always found that being honest gets you further in the long run. Joe dismisses this entirely. He expounds on the virtues of coldhearted bloodthirstiness. I listen and just try and make him like me by nodding every once in a while as though I really get it.
他胡言乱语了大约二十分钟——谈论如何永远不要让另一个人欺负你。底线是一切都与金钱有关。永远不要相信任何人。永远不要出于善意而做任何事情。这都是生意。永远不要感伤。永远不要让任何人进来。从卖小麻袋开始，当他们变得更加依赖时，继续让麻袋变小。始终随身携带武器。最好的是一些低调的东西，比如滑板或一对鼓槌。盖克与他争论了一会儿，说他总是发现诚实从长远来看会让你走得更远。乔完全驳斥了这一点。他阐述了冷酷嗜血的美德。我听着，时不时点点头，试着让他喜欢我，就好像我真的明白了一样。

The doorbell sounds and we buzz two large men into the building. One’s white, the other looks Latino. The room is so full of bodies now, I’m sweating. The introductions are brief. Joe presents Gack as his successor, they shake hands, pass over a phone number, and that’s it. I give them three hundred dollars for a rock of crystal about the size of a golf ball. It looks very pure. They leave and then it’s just me and Joe and Gack and the Persian guy, who still hasn’t said more than three and a half goddamn words.
门铃响了，我们把两个大个子推进了大楼。一个是白人，另一个看起来是拉丁裔。房间里现在挤满了尸体，我满头大汗。介绍很简短。乔提出盖克作为他的继任者，他们握手，传递电话号码，仅此而已。我给他们三百美元买一块高尔夫球大小的水晶。看起来非常清纯。他们离开了，然后只剩下我、乔、盖克和那个波斯人，他还没有说过超过三个半的话。

I hand the sack to Gack along with two clean rigs, asking him to make us shots to try it out. As Gack is preparing it, Joe starts asking me questions. I tell him my story, maybe being a little too open—saying I got all this money I’m looking to invest. He stares so directly into my eyes while I’m talking, I have to keep looking at the floor.
我把袋子和两个干净的装备一起交给了盖克，请他让我们尝试一下。当盖克准备的时候，乔开始问我问题。我告诉他我的故事，也许有点太开放了——说我得到了所有这些钱，我想投资。当我说话时，他直视着我的眼睛，我不得不一直看着地板。

He waits till Gack shoots me up before he says it. I cough so hard as the shit hits me. My ears just won’t stop ringing. I think maybe I’ll puke or something it’s so strong—but I revel in the intensity. My whole body is paralyzed for a moment. I breathe out for a long time, light a cigarette, laugh. Gack’s reaction is pretty much like mine. Shit’s very pure, like I thought.
他一直等到盖克开枪打死我才说出这句话。我咳嗽得厉害，粪便打到了我身上。我的耳朵就是不停地响。我想也许我会呕吐或者其他什么太强烈的东西——但我陶醉于这种强烈的感觉。我的全身一瞬间瘫痪了。我长长地呼了口气，点了一支烟，笑了。加克的反应和我的很像。狗屎很纯粹，就像我想的那样。

“You like that, huh?” asks Joe.
“你喜欢这样，嗯？”乔问道。

I nod. 我点点头。

“You know, I can get you some glass that’s a whole lot better.”
“你知道，我可以给你一些更好的玻璃。”

“Really?” “真的吗？”

“Hell, yeah. I could do it tonight. How much money can you get?”
“见鬼，是啊。今晚我可以做到。你能拿到多少钱？”

“I don’t know. Two hundred’s my limit, I think.”
“我不知道。我想，两百是我的极限了。”

“Well, that’ll be enough to start.”
“嗯，这样就可以开始了。”

“Okay.” “好的。”

I look over at Gack, try to read his expression, but he’s not paying attention. He’s back with the damn CD player. The Persian man is leaning against the wall, asleep. Some guy is fucking some girl from behind on the small, grainy TV screen.
我看着加克，试图解读他的表情，但他没有注意。他带着该死的 CD 播放器回来了。波斯人靠在墙上睡着了。一个男人在小小的、颗粒状的电视屏幕上从后面操一个女孩。

“Let me use your phone again.”
“让我再用一下你的手机。”

I hand it over and Joe gets up off the bed. He’s even fatter than he seemed sitting down. His stomach hangs way over his belt. He stomps outta the room, down the hall, and I wait. Gack says nothing. I take a notebook out of my bag and start to draw—faces coming out of faces with so many scratchy lines. Joe steps back through the door.
我把它递了过去，乔从床上起来。他比坐着时看起来还要胖。他的胃悬在腰带上方。他跺着脚走出房间，穿过走廊，我等待着。盖克什么也没说。我从包里拿出一个笔记本，开始画画——脸上浮现出许多潦草的线条。乔退后一步穿过门。

“All set. Let’s go to an ATM.”
“可以了，好了。我们去ATM机吧。”

“Cool.” “凉爽的。”

“There’s one down the street.”
“街上就有一家。”

We walk. 我们走。

Standing and moving after all the meth I’ve shot and smoked kicks everything screaming into hyperreality. As my blood starts to circulate more quickly, the drug crawls down the different pathways of my body. My nerves are shot. I can feel my toes moving compulsively in my shoes.
在我注射和吸完所有冰毒之后，站起来并移动一下，一切都尖叫着进入超现实。当我的血液开始更快地循环时，药物沿着我身体的不同路径爬行。我的神经受到打击。我能感觉到我的脚趾在鞋子里不由自主地移动。

The Tres Amigos liquor store has an ATM in the back next to the ninety-nine-cent bags of chips. As I take my card out, Joe leans over and looks at it closely.
Tres Amigos 酒类商店后面有一台自动提款机，旁边就是一袋 99 美分的薯条。当我拿出卡片时，乔俯身仔细地看着它。

“Bank of America, huh? I used to work for them back in the day. They still use the same number sequence? Yup. I got a way with numbers.”
“美国银行，是吧？我以前曾为他们工作过。他们仍然使用相同的编号规则？是的。我有办法处理数字。”

“Not me,” I say. “I’m horrible at that stuff.” I insert the card and type my code in. Joe is standing almost on top of me and I can smell the sweat clinging to his black hooded sweatshirt. Two hundred dollars comes out.
“不是我，”我说。 “我对那些东西很讨厌。”我插入卡并输入密码。乔几乎站在我身上，我可以闻到他黑色连帽运动衫上的汗味。两百块钱就出来了。

We make our way back to the apartment and Joe is talking a lot. He’s going on about the new life he’s gonna have in Georgia, or some place like that. He’s gonna leave all this behind him—thugging, meth—make a clean break, a fresh start.
我们回到公寓，乔说了很多话。他正在谈论他将在佐治亚州或类似的地方过的新生活。他要把这一切抛在脑后——暴徒、冰毒——彻底决裂，重新开始。

I’m encouraging. I nod a lot.
我很鼓励。我频频点头。

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You know, kid,” he says. “You’re all right. You’re gonna do fine. Just remember, in this game, you can’t trust anyone. You understand me?”
他把手放在我的肩膀上。 “你知道，孩子，”他说。 “你没事吧。你会做得很好的。请记住，在这个游戏中，你不能相信任何人。你明白我的意思？”

“Yeah,” I say. “是的，”我说。

“Especially in the fucking TL.”
“尤其是在该死的TL中。”

We go inside and Joe asks to borrow my phone again. I pass it over.
我们进去后，乔再次要求借我的手机。我把它传过去。

“This next connect is completely off the hook,” he says. “You aren’t gonna believe how good his shit is.”
“下一次连接完全没有问题，”他说。 “你不会相信他的狗屎有多好。”

He tells me to get the money ready. “Put it on the dresser here.”
他叫我准备好钱。 “放在这里的梳妆台上。”

I do. 我愿意。

Gack looks up suddenly. The Persian guy is still asleep. “Joe, what the hell is going on?”
盖克突然抬起头来。波斯小伙还在睡觉。 “乔，这到底是怎么回事？”

“Nothing, G, I’m just settin’ yer boy up with some more crystal.”
“没什么，G，我只是给你的孩子准备一些水晶。”

“From who?” “从谁？”

“Dude, chill. Hold on a minute, I gotta make one more call.” He walks outta the room.
“伙计，冷静点。请稍等一下，我还要再打一个电话。”他走出房间。

“Something’s weird,” says Gack. “How much money you get?”
“有些事情很奇怪，”加克说。 “你拿了多少钱？”

“Two hundred.” “二百。”

“Where is it?” “它在哪里？”

“There, on the dresser.” “那里，梳妆台上。”

“Where?” “在哪里？”

I look over. Of course it’s gone.
我看过去。当然已经消失了。

“Fuck, wait here,” yells Gack.
“操，在这儿等着，”盖克喊道。

He runs off. 他跑开了。

I’m just left staring. A sickness burrows into my insides. I wonder if I’ll ever see Gack again—if it was all a setup. My phone is gone—all that money. I’m not sure what to do. I start cooking up a huge chunk of black tar heroin. The Persian man jerks awake suddenly.
我只是盯着看。一种疾病钻进了我的内心。我想知道我是否还能再见到加克——如果这一切都是一个安排。我的手机不见了——所有的钱都不见了。我不知道该怎么办。我开始煮一大块黑焦油海洛因。波斯人猛然惊醒。

“What’s going on?” “这是怎么回事？”

“That guy Joe…” “乔那个家伙……”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“You know him well?” “你很了解他？”

“Sort of.” “有点。”

“He just ripped me off.”
“他只是敲诈了我。”

“Oh.” “哦。”

“Gack went to go find him—maybe. I don’t know. You mind if I shoot some heroin here?”
“盖克去找他了——也许吧。我不知道。你介意我在这里注射一些海洛因吗？”

“No, no—whatever you need. That sucks, man. How much he get?”
“不，不——无论你需要什么。太糟糕了，伙计。他能得到多少钱？”

I tell him. 我告诉他。

“Fuck. I’m Ali, by the way.”
“他妈的。顺便说一下，我是阿里。”

“Nic.” “尼克。”

He lies back as though trying to sleep against the wall again. I pump all the heroin into my vein. It maybe takes the edge off waiting. I focus on the ceiling fading in and out. Thirty minutes go by.
他向后躺去，好像想再次靠着墙睡觉。我将所有海洛因泵入静脉。也许这可以减轻等待的痛苦。我专注于天花板的淡入淡出。三十分钟过去了。

“All right,” I say. “Ali, man, I’m leaving. This is bullshit.”
“好吧，”我说。 “阿里，伙计，我要走了。这是胡说八道。”

“Yeah,” he says, opening his eyes out of a half sleep. “You gotta be more careful, man.”
“是啊，”他从半睡半醒中睁开眼睛说道。 “你必须更加小心，伙计。”

I pack my bag up, sling it over my shoulder, and start outta there. Ali shakes my hand. I feel heat in my eyes—a stinging like maybe I’ll cry. The hallway swells and shifts around me. The ripped-out feeling of my insides is overwhelming. But then Gack is calling out to me, just outside the gated stairway.
我收拾好包，把它扛在肩上，然后出发。阿里与我握手。我感到眼睛里发热——一种刺痛，我可能会哭。走廊在我周围膨胀并移动。我的内心被撕裂的感觉是压倒性的。但随后盖克就在带门的楼梯外呼唤我。

“Gack, man, fuck.” “哎呀，伙计，操。”

“Nic, I am so sorry.”
“尼克，我很抱歉。”

“You weren’t in on that?”
“你没有参与其中吗？”

“No way, man. I fucking swear. Look, here’s the deal—Joe took off. I just went home and my dad thinks he’d been there. He stole our computer—my dad is freaking out. He’s skipped out now, man. No one knows where he is.”
“没门。我他妈发誓。看，事情是这样的——乔起飞了。我刚回家，我爸爸以为他在那儿。他偷了我们的电脑——我爸爸吓坏了。他现在已经逃出去了，伙计。没有人知道他在哪里。”

“When did he take the computer?”
“他什么时候拿走电脑的？”

“Just now, man; he had a key to our room.”
“就在现在，伙计；他有我们房间的钥匙。”

“Gack, this is so not cool.”
“嘎克，这太不酷了。”

“I know, man. But look—I was talking to my dad. We’re gonna figure this out. He gave me his phone. Already we got someone waitin’ to buy a sack. We’ve gotta break that rock up and slang that shit. We’ll make your money back quick.”
“我知道，伙计。但是你看——我正在和我爸爸说话。我们会解决这个问题的。他把他的电话给了我。我们已经有人在等着买麻袋了。我们必须打碎那块石头并用俚语说那些狗屎。我们会尽快把钱还给你。”

“And?” “和？”

“And whatever extra we make we’re gonna give to my dad, cool?”
“无论我们赚到什么，我们都会送给我爸爸，好吗？”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe I should just cut my losses.”
“我不知道，伙计。也许我应该减少损失。”

“No way. This is gonna work out.”
“决不。这件事一定会成功的。”

I light a cigarette and I don’t offer one to Gack. We’re still leaning against the white peeling walls of Ali’s building.
我点了一支烟，但没有递给加克。我们仍然靠在阿里大楼剥落的白色墙壁上。

“Gack, man, honestly, I’m not sure I can trust you anymore.”
“哎呀，伙计，老实说，我不确定我还能再相信你吗。”

He’s quiet a minute. “Yeah, I understand. I do. But you gotta believe me, that had nothing to do with me. I’ve known Joe since I was a kid. I’m telling you, man, he had a key to our place. We all trusted him and he fucked over a lot of people tonight. Everyone’s lookin’ for him. He’s got nowhere to run. I bet we find him before morning—no joke.”
他安静了一分钟。 “是的，我明白了。我愿意。但你要相信我，这与我无关。我从小就认识乔。我告诉你，伙计，他有我们家的钥匙。我们都信任他，今晚他操了很多人。每个人都在寻找他。他无处可逃。我打赌我们会在早上之前找到他——不是开玩笑。”

“And you had no idea he was gonna rip me off?”
“你不知道他会敲诈我吗？”

He’s quiet again. “Look, at a certain point I, uh, sensed…something.” He jams his hands in his pockets. “But what was I supposed to say? You just kept going along with everything. You’re so open and nice—people are gonna tear you apart. They can sense it here, man. They feed on it. You gotta lot to learn if this is gonna work out.”
他又安静了。 “看，在某个时刻我，呃，感觉到了……一些东西。”他把手插进口袋里。 “但是我应该说什么？你只是继续一切。你是如此开放和友善——人们会把你撕碎的。他们在这里能感觉到，伙计。他们以此为食。如果这件事能成功，你需要学习很多东西。”

Now it’s my turn to be quiet awhile. “You’re right,” I say.

“Yeah, man, you gotta stay humble and you gotta watch me, man—you gotta pay attention. Watch what I do—how I act. I keep my mouth shut, man, and I never reveal more than I have to. Like if I have a pack of cigarettes, I never pull out the whole pack. I take out one cigarette and I keep it real discreet. If someone asks, I say I bummed it—even if I don’t mind givin’ ’em one. You never wanna let on that you have more than anyone else—you got it?”
“是的，伙计，你必须保持谦虚，你必须看着我，伙计——你必须集中注意力。观察我做什么——我如何表现。我会闭嘴，伙计，除非必要，我绝不会透露更多信息。就像我有一包香烟，我从来不会把整包烟抽出来。我拿出一根香烟，并小心翼翼地抽烟。如果有人问起，我会说我很失望——即使我不介意给他们一个。你永远不想让别人知道你比任何人都拥有更多——明白了吗？”

I nod. Gack actually puts his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, man, let’s move.”
我点点头。盖克实际上把手放在了我的肩膀上。 “来吧，伙计，我们走吧。”

We do. 我们的确是。

The first stop we make is at some cheap apartment complex south of Market. The streetlights are burned out and we turn down a back alley into almost total darkness.
我们的第一站是市场以南的一些廉价公寓大楼。路灯都灭了，我们拐进一条后巷，陷入一片漆黑。

There’s a hooded figure leaning against the side of a corrugated metal garage door. The deep charcoal orange glow of a cigarette, smoked down to the butt, illuminates his scarred face.
有一个戴着兜帽的人靠在波纹金属车库门的一侧。香烟的深炭橙色光芒，一直被抽到烟蒂，照亮了他伤痕累累的脸。

“Excuse me, uh, could you guys spare any change?” he asks as we walk past.
“对不起，呃，你们能给点零钱吗？”当我们走过时他问道。

“Bullet?” says Gack. “子弹？”加克说。

“Fuck, Gack, Nic, what’s up?”
“操，Gack，Nic，怎么了？”

“Dude.” “伙计。”

Bullet gets up off the ground and chucks the smoking filter out into the narrow street. He smells bad, like he hasn’t changed his clothes in a week. His eyes are lined and creased—heavy, gray. We ask him what he’s doing out here and he admits he was just trying to find a place to sleep.
子弹从地上站起来，把冒烟的过滤嘴扔到狭窄的街道上。他闻起来很难闻，就像他一周没有换衣服一样。他的眼睛布满了皱纹和皱纹——沉重、灰色。我们问他在这里做什么，他承认他只是想找个地方睡觉。

“I’m so tired, man. You guys have any ups for me?”
“我太累了，伙计。你们有什么好办法给我吗？”

I wanna say yes and give him speed and everything he wants, but I just shake my head.
我想说“是”并给他速度和他想要的一切，但我只是摇摇头。

“We gotta sell what we got.”
“我们必须卖掉我们得到的东西。”

Gack tells him the story of Joe ripping us off. Bullet doesn’t seem that surprised, really.
盖克给他讲了乔欺骗我们的故事。子弹看起来并不那么惊讶，真的。

“Well, you think I could sleep in your car?” he asks me. “I swear, I won’t fuck with anything. I’ll lock myself in, man.”
“嗯，你觉得我可以睡在你的车里吗？”他问我。 “我发誓，我不会搞任何事。我会把自己锁在里面的，伙计。”

I agree, but I won’t give him my keys. Instead, I walk back where I parked and let him in. He lies down in the back and grabs one of my sweaters and is immediately asleep. The smell of him fills my car.
我同意，但我不会把钥匙给他。相反，我走回停车的地方让他进来。他躺在后面，抓起我的一件毛衣，然后立即睡着了。我的车里充满了他的气味。

“It’s pretty weird us running into him,” I say to Gack, walking back toward the apartment.
“我们遇到他真是太奇怪了，”我一边向公寓走去，一边对加克说道。

“It’s not weird,” he says. “That’s how it all works, or haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“这并不奇怪，”他说。 “事情就是这样，还是你还没弄清楚？”

I think maybe he’s right.
我想也许他是对的。

Gack calls up on his dad’s phone and a couple minutes later a man comes down and opens the door. We’ve already broken off what’s supposed to be a gram but is obviously way smaller, and put it in the plastic wrapper from my pack of cigarettes. The guy is supposed to give us eighty bucks for it. He looks like he hasn’t been outside in years. He has doughy, pale skin and bones protruding from his face. His dark hair is falling out, and he has a red alcoholic nose. His stomach is horribly swollen and he looks almost pregnant. His voice comes out curt and demanding—high-pitched, whiny. We all introduce each other, but I don’t remember his name. He leads us through the shabby lobby—walls covered with rusted-out mailboxes—into a loud, clunking, dented elevator.
盖克拨通了他父亲的电话，几分钟后，一个男人下来打开了门。我们已经把原本应该是一克但显然要小得多的东西拆下来，然后把它放在我香烟盒的塑料包装纸里。那家伙应该给我们八十块钱。他看上去已经很多年没有出门了。他的皮肤松软、苍白，脸上骨头突出。他的黑发开始脱落，鼻子因酒气而发红。他的肚子肿得厉害，看起来几乎怀孕了。他的声音简短而严厉——高亢、哀怨。我们都互相介绍，但我不记得他的名字。他领着我们穿过破旧的大厅——墙上挂满了生锈的邮箱——进入一部声音很大、嘎嘎作响、凹陷的电梯。

The doors open and we step inside. The space is cramped and I can smell something like baby powder on the man’s pasty skin. He runs a meaty hand through his stringy hair, then reaches out and stops the elevator somewhere between the second and third floor. A light hums sickeningly overhead. Sweat collects on his forehead and runs down along his ears. My breath catches, waiting for something.
门打开了，我们走了进去。空间很狭窄，我能闻到男人苍白的皮肤上有类似婴儿爽身粉的味道。他用一只肉肉的手梳理着他的头发，然后伸出手，将电梯停在二楼和三楼之间的某个地方。头顶上有一盏灯发出令人作呕的嗡嗡声。汗水聚集在他的额头上，顺着耳朵流下来。我呼吸急促，等待着什么。

“What’s up, man?” asks Gack.
“小伙子怎么了？”加克问道。

“Let’s see it,” the man says.
“让我们看看，”男人说。

Gack pulls out the sack, holding it tightly in his hand.
盖克拉出袋子，紧紧地握在手里。

“Looks small,” says the man.
“看起来很小，”男人说。

“Whatever, this is fat.” “不管怎样，这就是胖子。”

The man stares at Gack. Gack looks right into the man’s milky green eyes. The man looks away. He hands Gack a wad of cash.
男人盯着盖克。盖克直视着男人乳绿色的眼睛。男人移开视线。他递给盖克一叠现金。

“Take it, Nic.” “拿走它，尼克。”

I do—stuffing it in my pocket.
我愿意——把它塞进口袋里。

Gack passes the sack over and the man turns the elevator back on. It lurches up, bucks, and we struggle our way to the fourth floor.
盖克把麻袋递了过去，那人重新打开了电梯。它突然倾斜起来，我们艰难地爬到了四楼。

“Good night, boys,” the man says.
“晚安，孩子们，”男人说。

He walks out into the hallway and we take the elevator down. We’re almost out the front door when I finally take the money out and count it.
他走进走廊，我们乘电梯下去。当我们快要走出前门时，我终于把钱拿出来数了数。

“Gack, man, he’s twenty short.”
“哎呀，伙计，他还矮二十岁。”

“What?” “什么？”

I show him the three twenty-dollar bills.
我给他看了三张二十美元的钞票。

“Fuck.” “他妈的。”

“What do we do?” “我们做什么？”

“Just, uh, hold on a second.”
“只是，呃，等一下。”

He dials the guy’s number. There’s no answer. I squat down and rock on the balls of my feet—holding my knees to my chest.
他拨通了那个人的电话号码。没有答案。我蹲下来，用脚掌摇晃——将膝盖放在胸前。

“Go get Bullet,” he says. “Give him a shot, okay? I’ll wait here and try and get my dad on the phone.”
“去拿子弹吧，”他说。 “给他一个机会，好吗？我会在这里等一下，然后试着给我爸爸打电话。”

I walk out into the night, hiking up the collar of my jacket against the damp that’s settled in over everything. The blood in my ears is loud, loud, loud and my hands shake. I think about Bullet’s big bowie knife and the fat man, smelling of fine powder.
我走进夜色中，拉起夹克领子，抵御一切都被浸透的湿气。我的耳朵里充满了血声，声音很大，声音很大，我的手也在颤抖。我想起了子弹的大鲍伊刀和那个散发着细粉气味的胖子。

I tap on the window and Bullet starts up.
我点击窗口，Bullet 启动。

“What’s going on?” “这是怎么回事？”

“Hey, unlock the door.” “喂，把门打开。”

I slide into the front seat and immediately start making up two shots. I put some more heroin in both our rigs, explaining the situation to Bullet. He hoots loudly.
我滑进前座，立即开始补两张照片。我在我们的两个装备中又放了一些海洛因，并向子弹解释了情况。他大声叫。

“All right, man, bring it on. We’re gonna fuck that guy up.”
“好吧，伙计，带上吧。我们要操死那个家伙。”

I swallow something down in my throat.
我把东西咽到喉咙里。

“You packin’ anything?” he asks me.
“你收拾东西了吗？”他问我。

I laugh. “Bullet, come on, man, I’ve never even hit anyone before.”
我笑。 “子弹，来吧，伙计，我以前从来没有打过人。”

He can’t figure that one out.
他想不出来。

We shoot up and light cigarettes and get ready.
我们开枪，点燃香烟，做好准备。

He hands me a screwdriver from his back pocket.
他从后兜里掏出一把螺丝刀递给我。

“Hold this,” he says. “But if you have to swing it, use the handle side first, got it? We don’t wanna actually kill this guy.”
“拿着这个，”他说。 “但是如果你必须摆动它，请先使用手柄一侧，明白了吗？我们并不想真的杀了这个人。”

I don’t think all the heroin in the world could make my stomach stop cramping up on me, but I do manage to lead Bullet back to the man’s apartment complex. Gack is still talking on the phone to his dad, but he hangs up when we knock on the door and lets us in. The three of us pace the lobby, talking. Bullet’s voice has dropped, like, three octaves since doing that H.
我不认为世界上所有的海洛因都能让我的胃停止痉挛，但我确实设法把子弹带回了那个男人的公寓大楼。盖克仍在和他爸爸通电话，但当我们敲门并让我们进去时，他挂断了电话。我们三个人在大厅里踱步，交谈着。自从做了那个H之后，子弹的声音下降了三个八度。

“So my dad says it was probably a mistake.”
“所以我爸爸说这可能是一个错误。”

“Does your dad know which apartment is his?” I ask.
“你爸爸知道哪一套公寓是他的吗？”我问。

Gack shakes his head. 盖克摇摇头。

Bullet thinks for sure the guy was trying to rip us off. He goes on about all the shit he’s gonna do to him. Gack and I both pretty much ignore this for now. We decide to go up to the fourth floor and check it out. Maybe we’ll hear something. Meanwhile, Gack keeps dialing the man’s number. There’s never any answer.
子弹认为那家伙肯定是想敲诈我们。他继续讲述他将对他做的所有事情。 Gack 和我现在几乎都忽略了这一点。我们决定上四楼去看看。也许我们会听到一些消息。与此同时，盖克继续拨打那个人的号码。永远没有任何答案。

The elevator carries us along slowly. We step out onto the dark splattered carpet and speak quietly to one another. There are potted plants lining the hallway. The numbers are nailed unevenly into the flimsy apartment doors—401, 402, 403. We listen at each one. None of us are really breathing at all. Everything is quiet.
电梯载着我们慢慢前行。我们走到漆黑的、溅满斑点的地毯上，轻声地互相交谈。走廊两旁摆满了盆栽植物。这些数字参差不齐地钉在脆弱的公寓门上——401、402、403。我们仔细听着每一个数字。我们没有人真正在呼吸。一切都很安静。

I’m the one who hears the pounding first. It’s faint and rhythmic—coming from the last apartment next to the window and fire escape.

“Over there.” “在那边。”

A moan escapes the keyhole. Bullet pulls out the knife.
一声呻吟从钥匙孔中逸出。子弹拔出刀子。

We all just listen. 我们都只是听着。

Another moan and then the fat man’s voice comes through—saying something like, “Hold still, hold still.” He’s repeating it over and over.
又是一声呻吟，然后胖子的声音传来——像是在说“别动，别动。”他一遍又一遍地重复这句话。

Gack nods and Bullet pounds on the door with his fist. The whole world is turned silent a moment. I back up and Gack puts a hand on my shoulder. He whispers in my ear, “It’s all right.”
加克点点头，子弹用拳头敲门。整个世界瞬间安静下来。我向后退了一步，盖克把手放在我的肩膀上。他在我耳边低语：“没关系。”

Then the fat man’s voice is right at the door.
然后胖子的声音就在门口响起。

“What is it?” “它是什么？”

“Yo, it’s Gack, Mike’s son.”
“哟，这是盖克，迈克的儿子。”

“What do you want?” “你想要什么？”

The door opens ever so slightly and all at once Bullet kicks the thing as hard as he can.
门打开得非常轻微，子弹突然用尽全力踢了那东西。

The fat man falls back on the floor. He’s wearing white underwear and nothing else. His skin hangs down all over the place. When he falls his head whips back, smashing against the hard polished wood floor. He says, “Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ.”
胖子向后倒在地板上。他只穿着白色内衣，没有其他任何东西。他的皮肤到处都垂下来。当他跌倒时，他的头猛地向后仰，撞在坚硬的抛光木地板上。他说：“耶稣基督，耶稣基督，耶稣基督。”

He keeps on saying it.
他一直这么说。

We all step in and I close the door behind us. I look away from the man crumpled on the floor.
我们都走了进来，我关上了身后的门。我把目光从那个瘫倒在地板上的男人身上移开。

“You shorted us twenty,” says Gack. “It’s eighty for a gram, last I checked.”
“你卖空了我们二十个，”加克说。 “我上次查了一下，一克是八十。”

“I gave you eighty, I swear.”
“我给了你八十，我发誓。”

“Nic?” “尼克？”

I take out the three twenty-dollar bills. Bullet grabs them from me—balling them up, throwing them at the man.
我拿出三张二十美元的钞票。子弹从我手中夺过它们，将它们揉成一团，扔向那个人。

“Count it.” “算一下吧。”

The man writhes around like a giant slug.
男人像一只巨大的蛞蝓一样翻滚着。

“I’m sorry. I swear, it was an accident. I’ll get the money.”
“对不起。我发誓，这是一次意外。我去拿钱。”

“Damn right,” says Bullet.
“太对了，”子弹说。

Then suddenly, we hear something coming from the back room. It’s like a grunting sound.
突然，我们听到后面的房间里传来什么声音。就像咕噜声一样。

“What the fuck is that?”
“那是什么鬼？”

Bullet has the knife all poised and everything and before I know what I’m doing, I have the screwdriver out and I’m clutching it tightly. We walk through the apartment, toward the back bedroom. Bullet pushes open the door just as the man on the floor yells, “Don’t.”
子弹已经把刀准备好了，在我知道自己在做什么之前，我已经拿出螺丝刀并紧紧抓住它。我们穿过公寓，朝后面的卧室走去。子弹推开了门，地上的那个人大喊：“不要。”

Inside there is a very hairy man tied so that he is stretched naked and facedown across the width of the bed. He is blindfolded and gagged. He seems to be choking a little or something, ’cause he makes this weird noise in his throat. Bullet says, “Awww, fuck” and then laughs and laughs.
里面有一个毛茸茸的男人，他被绑着，赤身裸体，脸朝下，与床一样宽。他被蒙住眼睛，堵住嘴。他似乎有点窒息什么的，因为他喉咙里发出奇怪的声音。子弹说：“噢，操”，然后大笑起来。

“You have no right to treat people this way,” the fat man says, walking with his head down into the small, immaculate kitchen. His pants are slung over a high-backed chair. He reaches his hand into the front pocket, pulling out a crumpled twenty and throwing it on the floor with the others. Gack gathers it up. He kind of nods at us and we all get the hell out of there.
“你没有权利这样对待别人，”胖子一边说着，一边低着头走进狭小的、一尘不染的厨房。他的裤子挂在高背椅上。他把手伸进前面的口袋，掏出一张皱巴巴的二十美元，和其他的一起扔到地板上。盖克把它收集起来。他向我们点了点头，然后我们就离开了那里。

I hear the man cursing behind us and I feel like I need to wash my hands.
我听到那个男人在我们身后咒骂，我觉得我需要洗手。

Gack calls his dad from the cell phone once we’re outside. Our next hookup is just three blocks away. His dad tells him that as far as everyone can figure, Joe is gonna be leaving on a Greyhound from the bus station sometime in the morning. We decide to stake the place out after we make some more deliveries. Actually, it’s Bullet who seems the most enthusiastic about the whole idea. His loyalty is sweet, in a very not sweet sort of way. Anyway, he’s going on and on about the best plan of attack, or whatever, when I start thinking about my ATM card.
我们一出门，盖克就用手机给他爸爸打电话。我们的下一个连接点距离我们仅三个街区。他的父亲告诉他，据每个人所知，乔将于早上某个时间乘坐灰狗巴士从公交车站出发。我们决定在交付更多货物后将该地点放样。事实上，子弹似乎对整个想法最感兴趣。他的忠诚是甜蜜的，但以一种非常不甜蜜的方式。不管怎样，当我开始考虑我的 ATM 卡时，他正在不停地谈论最好的攻击计划，或者其他什么。

The fog is so thick we can’t even see the streetlights overhead, except for a dull, obscured glow. For some reason I can’t get this image of Joe standing over me at the liquor store out of my head. He was staring at me—watching for what? My ATM code, of course.
雾太浓了，我们甚至看不到头顶上的路灯，除了暗淡的、模糊的光芒。出于某种原因，乔在酒类商店里站在我身边的画面一直萦绕在我的脑海中。他盯着我——看什么？当然是我的 ATM 代码。

“Oh shit,” I say. “Yo, Gack, let me see that phone.”
“哦，该死，”我说。 “哟，Gack，让我看看那部手机。”

I pull out my card and dial the number on the back of it—hoping, hoping, hoping that I’m not too late. After what seems like forever, I get some guy on the line. He sounds fairly apathetic to my frantic pleas to put a hold on my account.
我拿出名片，拨通了背面的号码——希望、希望、希望我还不算太晚。似乎过了很久之后，我接到了一个人的电话。对于我疯狂地请求暂停我的账户，他听起来相当冷漠。

“Sir,” he keeps saying, “even if your card was stolen, no one can access your account without your PIN number.”
“先生，”他不断地说，“即使您的卡被盗，没有您的 PIN 码，任何人都无法访问您的帐户。”

“Yeah, but I think this guy saw me enter my code.”
“是的，但我认为这个人看到了我输入的代码。”

“When was this?” “这是什么时候的事？”

“I don’t know, a couple hours ago. Just, uh, look, you gotta cancel that card, okay?”
“我不知道，几个小时前。只是，呃，听着，你得取消那张卡，好吗？”

“Yes, of course, sir.” “是的，当然，先生。”

I tear my card in half and throw it in a trash can. I think about retribution, maybe. I think about all the times I’d stolen my parents’ credit cards. I think about the girl at my school whose Chevron card I used for about a month before they finally discovered it was missing. When I went to college in Massachusetts, I would wander the dorm halls, looking for open doors—dashing in quickly and stealing whatever money or cigarettes I found lying around. There was a pool and a gym there where I’d go through the lockers every couple of days. I never got very much cash, but it was enough to keep a steady supply of heroin in my arm.
我把卡片撕成两半，然后把它扔进垃圾桶。也许我会考虑报复。我回想起我偷了父母信用卡的所有经历。我想起了我学校里的那个女孩，我用她的雪佛龙卡大约一个月了，直到他们最终发现它丢失了。当我在马萨诸塞州上大学时，我会在宿舍楼里闲逛，寻找敞开的门——快速冲进去，偷走我发现的任何钱或香烟。那里有一个游泳池和一个健身房，我每隔几天就会检查一下那里的储物柜。我从来没有得到太多现金，但这足以让我的手臂里保持稳定的海洛因供应。

I stole from girlfriends.
我偷了女朋友的东西。

I stole from my grandparents.
我从祖父母那里偷东西。

I stole from aunts, uncles, friends.
我从阿姨、叔叔、朋友那里偷东西。

I stole and justified it and stole more.
我偷了，并为之辩解，然后偷了更多。

I feel sick being on the other side of it. I feel unsafe, violated, out of control. It’s like the time in Amsterdam when I got beat up by an African guy at three in the morning. Even strung out and on the street, I had a feeling that I was protected somehow from the bad shit that went down—like it just couldn’t happen to me. Walking through the twisted cobblestone streets of Holland, stoned out on Ecstasy and mushrooms, I was so surprised that the guy actually hit me. And for what? He’d asked me a question and I hadn’t responded—that was it. It happened so fast—so abruptly.
我在它的另一边感到恶心。我感到不安全、被侵犯、失控。就像在阿姆斯特丹凌晨三点我被一个非洲人殴打一样。即使在街上闲逛，我也有一种感觉，我在某种程度上得到了保护，免受发生在我身上的坏事的影响——就像这不可能发生在我身上一样。走在荷兰扭曲的鹅卵石街道上，吃着摇头丸和蘑菇，我很惊讶那个家伙居然打了我。为了什么？他问了我一个问题，我没有回答——就是这样。事情发生得太快了——太突然了。

An innocence I’d clung to was lost in that instant. Tonight with Joe, I have the same feeling. It is a dirty world and a dirty life. Everyone’s out to fuck you over. Any illusions I have are dashed quickly to pieces. I feel just, you know, defeated.
我所坚持的纯真在那一刻消失了。今晚和乔在一起，我也有同样的感觉。这是一个肮脏的世界，也是一个肮脏的生活。每个人都想操你。我的任何幻想都会很快破灭。我感觉，你知道，失败了。

But Gack doesn’t see it that way. “This is just what we need,” he says. “Motivation.”
但盖克并不这么认为。 “这正是我们所需要的，”他说。 “动机。”

We walk quickly, making our deliveries. At a certain point we find out about some really cheap crystal a guy’s selling farther south of Market. It’s not great, but we buy a whole bunch of it and start slanging that instead. Already we’ve made almost two hundred dollars back. It feels so effortless. Mostly I just follow Gack—don’t say much, just watch.
我们走得很快，送货。在某个时刻，我们发现有人在市场以南的地方出售一些非常便宜的水晶。这不太好，但我们买了一大堆，然后开始谩骂它。我们已经赚回了近两百美元。感觉是那么的不费吹灰之力。大多数时候我只是关注 Gack——不多说，只是观看。

If dealing is this easy and profitable, I can’t really see having any problems. There’s no way I’m gonna fall into the life I had before—eating out of trash cans, hustling money from guys at gay bars, hanging out on the corner of Castro and 18th, where guys circle the block in fancy sports cars. It hurt so bad the first few times. I thought maybe I’d throw up—just praying for it to be over, for him to finish. They’d take me back to their apartments—or houses up near Twin Peaks. And, of course, there were the rough ones—the ones into violence, leather, different harnesses and things. You just try to shut it all out—getting as loaded as possible. But I’m determined not to do that again. There’s a nausea that sweeps through me just thinking about it. Dealing has to work out for me. It has to. It took a miracle to get me outta that situation. I can’t count on something like that happening again.
如果交易如此简单且有利可图，我真的看不出有任何问题。我绝对不会再陷入以前的生活了——吃垃圾桶里的东西，在同性恋酒吧里从男人那里骗钱，在卡斯特罗街和 18 街的街角闲逛，那里的男人开着豪华跑车绕着街区转。前几次疼得很厉害。我想我也许会吐——只是祈祷一切结束，祈祷他结束。他们会把我带回他们的公寓——或者双峰附近的房子。当然，也有一些粗暴的——暴力、皮革、不同的马具之类的。你只需尝试将一切拒之门外——尽可能地加载。但我决心不再这样做。一想到这件事，我就感到一阵恶心。交易必须对我有利。必须如此。奇迹让我摆脱了这种困境。我不能指望类似的事情再次发生。

See, after I ended up stealing that money from my little brother and I got kicked out of the house, I didn’t know what to do. I went to my friend Akira’s apartment near the Presidio. He agreed to let me stay with him for a while. I had a little bit of money left over and I kept shooting meth and heroin, looking for work around the city. I finally got hired at a coffee shop near the Castro. I told the manager, a very clean-cut-looking, gym-toned gay guy in his late thirties, that I had been kicked out of my house by my tyrannical father after he discovered that I was sleeping with boys. The manager took pity on me and let me work for him, but it was only a couple shifts a week. My habit was growing and I needed money bad. Akira lived in a basement apartment beneath his mom’s place. His mom had always hated me. At the time, you know, I didn’t understand it. I thought she was just cruel and uptight. Now, of course, I can see that she was scared of me and worried about my influence on her son.
看，当我从我弟弟那里偷了钱并被赶出家门后，我不知道该怎么办。我去了我朋友 Akira 在 Presidio 附近的公寓。他同意让我和他住一段时间。我只剩下一点钱了，我继续注射冰毒和海洛因，在城市里寻找工作。我终于在卡斯特罗附近的一家咖啡馆找到了工作。我告诉经理，一个三十多岁、外表非常干净、体态健美的同性恋者，在发现我和男孩子们上床后，我被我暴虐的父亲赶出了家门。经理可怜我，让我为他工作，但每周只有几个班次。我的习惯越来越强烈，我非常需要钱。阿基拉住在他妈妈家楼下的一间地下室公寓里。他妈妈一直讨厌我。当时，你知道，我不明白。我认为她只是残酷而紧张。当然，现在我可以看出她害怕我，担心我对她儿子的影响。

Anyway, I snuck upstairs one day while she was at work and found a checkbook hidden in her bedside table. I wrote a hundred dollars out to myself and cashed it at one of those check-cashing places in the Fillmore. I immediately spent the money on drugs, but the check place had called Akira’s mom and she figured out that I had taken the money. Akira was upset and told me I had to leave. Our friendship was really never the same after that and I felt just so terrible about what I’d done.
不管怎样，有一天，我趁她上班的时候偷偷上楼，发现一本支票簿藏在她的床头柜里。我给自己写了一百美元，然后在菲尔莫尔的一家支票兑现处兑现了它。我立即把钱花在了毒品上，但检查处给阿基拉的妈妈打电话，她发现我拿了钱。阿基拉很沮丧并告诉我我必须离开。从那以后我们的友谊真的不再一样了，我对我所做的事情感到非常糟糕。

I spent some time living in a youth hostel, and then when I couldn’t afford that, I slept in a park. That was when I started turning tricks for the first time, really. I wasn’t making a ton of money or anything, just enough to get high and not starve. The few friends I still had I never told what I was doing to get money. I ate maybe a candy bar a day—Snickers usually. I weighed very little. I walked all night long. I walked all day. I had nowhere to go.
我在青年旅舍住了一段时间，然后当我负担不起时，我就睡在公园里。那是我第一次开始变戏法，真的。我并没有赚到很多钱，也没有赚到什么，只是足够让自己兴奋起来而不至于挨饿。我从未告诉过我所拥有的少数朋友我在做什么来赚钱。我每天大概吃一块糖果——通常是士力架。我的体重很小。我走了一整夜。我走了一整天。我无处可去。

One day I saw that an old friend of our family’s was having a retrospective of his work at the Castro movie theater. He is a director who is pretty famous and all. His son, JT, is an actor and they were both scheduled to be at the opening reception. I dragged myself over there, my clothes torn and stinking. I tried to get inside, but the doorway was being guarded. Thankfully, though, JT noticed me and came outside. He put his arms around me. The bulk of his frame crushed me. He offered me a cigarette.
有一天，我看到我们家的一位老朋友正在卡斯特罗电影院举办他的作品回顾展。他是一位非常有名的导演。他的儿子 JT 是一名演员，他们都计划出席开幕招待会。我拖着身子过去，衣服破破烂烂，散发着恶臭。我试图进去，但门口有人把守。不过值得庆幸的是，JT 注意到了我并走了出来。他用双臂搂住我。他庞大的身躯压垮了我。他递给我一支烟。

“How did this happen to you?” JT asked, his voice so soft—gentle. He took off his glasses and rubbed his dark, narrow eyes.
“你怎么会遇到这种事？” JT问道，他的声音很温柔。他摘下眼镜，揉了揉又黑又窄的眼睛。

“What happened to you?” It was more of a plea than a question. “I remember when you were a little kid, you were, like, the golden child or something. You were so happy…so…light. I’d play with you for hours and you’d never cry or anything. Do you remember that?”
“你怎么了？”这与其说是一个问题，倒不如说是一个恳求。 “我记得当你还是个小孩子的时候，你就像金童之类的。你是如此幸福……如此……轻松。我会和你一起玩几个小时，你永远不会哭或发生任何事情。你是否记得？”

“Sort of.” “有点。”

“Well, you were pretty young. But you were still, even then, so open and everything. And watching you grow up, I was always so proud of you.”
“嗯，你还很年轻。但即使在那时，你仍然如此开放和一切。看着你长大，我一直为你感到骄傲。”

“I looked up to you so much. All the music I listen to, all the books I read, they were all inspired by you.”
“我太尊敬你了。我听的所有音乐，读过的所有书籍，都是受到你的启发。”

“So what happened? Last time I saw you it was like, what, three years ago? You were lookin’ at colleges in Manhattan. You were all excited about going to school—writing.”
“所以发生了什么事？上次我见到你的时候，好像是三年前？你正在寻找曼哈顿的大学。你们都对上学写作感到兴奋。”

“Yeah. It’s just crystal meth, man. I wish I’d never tried this shit, I swear.”
“是的。这只是冰毒，伙计。我希望我从来没有尝试过这种事，我发誓。”

“You wanna get off it?”
“你想摆脱它吗？”

“I don’t know. I need to.”
“我不知道。我需要。”

“Well, look, I just broke up with my girlfriend and I’m moving back home for a couple months. Why don’t you stay with me at our apartment? We’ll get you a doctor, get you some medicine—you can just detox there and figure out your life, man. We gotta place in upstate New York you’ve never been to. We’ll go up there, get you straightened out. We’ll get my dad’s masseuse working on you. We’ll hook you up with an apartment, a good job. It’ll be all good.”
“好吧，听着，我刚刚和女朋友分手，我要搬回家几个月。你为什么不和我一起住在我们的公寓里呢？我们会给你找个医生，给你一些药——你可以在那里戒毒，然后弄清楚你的生活，伙计。我们必须在你从未去过的纽约州北部安置一个地方。我们会去那里，让你理清思路。我们会让我爸爸的按摩师为你按摩。我们会给你安排一套公寓，一份好工作。一切都会好起来的。”

I agreed to meet him at the Four Seasons Hotel the next day. I went to my dealer’s place in Oakland. I spent most of my money on speed and pills, then I went back to the park in Fort Mason. I stayed up for a long time, just shooting drugs. I had gotten my backpack full of clothes out of the locker at the youth hostel. I actually had two backpacks, and then I had the brilliant idea of cutting the packs up and sewing them together to make one, giant, SUPER backpack. By the time I finished cutting everything up, however, I got really tired and passed out. When I woke up I had no super backpack and no regular backpack, either. I put all my stuff in a laundry cart I’d stolen and pushed it from the park, down Columbus, to the Four Seasons on Market. There were two large doormen with earpieces and walkie-talkies. They weren’t about to let me pass—all rags, a laundry cart full of clothes, an electric guitar, and a head full of so much heroin and meth I could barely talk. When they asked the names of the “guests” I was visiting, I just laughed.
我同意第二天在四季酒店见他。我去了奥克兰的经销商处。我把大部分钱都花在了速度和药物上，然后我回到了梅森堡的公园。我熬夜很长一段时间，就是为了吸毒。我从青年旅社的储物柜里拿出了装满衣服的背包。我实际上有两个背包，然后我想到了一个绝妙的主意，将背包剪开并将它们缝在一起，制成一个巨大的超级背包。然而，当我把所有东西都剪完时，我真的很累，昏倒了。当我醒来时，我没有超级背包，也没有普通背包。我把所有的东西都放进偷来的洗衣车里，然后把它从公园推到哥伦布，到市场的四季。有两个戴着耳机和对讲机的大门卫。他们不打算让我过去——全是破布，一辆装满衣服的洗衣车，一把电吉他，脑子里塞满了海洛因和冰毒，我几乎无法说话。当他们问我拜访的“客人”的名字时，我只是笑了。

“Look, you’re not gonna believe me. Can you just call up and ask if anyone is expecting me. I was told my name would be left with the, uh, front desk, or whatever it’s called. I’m Nic Sheff.”
“听着，你不会相信我的。你可以打电话问问是否有人在等我。有人告诉我，我的名字将留在，呃，前台，或者无论它叫什么名字。我是尼克·谢夫。”

That didn’t work. They wanted to know who I was there to see, so eventually I told them. Dropping my friends’ names got me yelled at that I better get the hell outta there. They said they’d call the cops. When I refused to leave and kept insisting that they call up to make sure, they finally agreed. After that they apologized, like, a hundred times and brought us champagne and a fruit basket.
那不起作用。他们想知道我去见谁，所以最终我告诉了他们。说出朋友的名字让我大喊大叫，说我最好离开那里。他们说他们会报警。当我拒绝离开并坚持要求他们打电话确认时，他们终于同意了。之后他们道歉了大约一百次，并给我们带来了香槟和水果篮。

We flew out to New York on the red-eye that same night. I just remember talking to a flight attendant for most of the trip, sitting on the floor in the back where she was preparing the meals and things. I’d had to do the rest of the speed in the bathroom at the Four Seasons, about a gram at once, so I was pretty much in a blackout for the next week. I managed to stay off hard drugs for a couple months, but then I relapsed and I was worse than ever.
当天晚上我们乘坐红眼航班飞往纽约。我只记得在旅途的大部分时间里我都在和一位空乘人员交谈，我坐在后面的地板上，她正在准备饭菜和其他东西。在四个季节的比赛中，我必须在浴室里完成剩下的速度，一次大约一克，所以接下来的一周我几乎处于停电状态。我设法在几个月内戒掉了硬性药物，但后来我旧病复发，而且比以往任何时候都更糟。

Gack and Bullet and I actually walk by that same Four Seasons on our way back to my car. After all our deliveries and everything, we’ve made about three hundred dollars—plus we have a ton of the really good speed left. The morning fades in gray and cold. The streetlights extinguish one by one overhead. The wind picks up, leaving us all shivering slightly. Wet clings to the air, soaks through us—courses in our veins. We smoke cigarettes, but it doesn’t warm us. I crank the heat up as we drive to the bus station. My jaw is so tight and it makes these popping noises as I open and close it.
事实上，我和 Gack、Bullet 在回车的路上也经过了同样的四个季节。完成所有的交付和所有工作后，我们已经赚了大约三百美元，而且我们还剩下很多真正好的速度。早晨渐渐变得灰暗而寒冷。头顶上的路灯一盏一盏地熄灭了。风刮起来了，我们都微微颤抖。湿气附着在空气中，浸透我们——流进我们的血管。我们抽烟，但它并不能让我们感到温暖。当我们开车去公交车站时，我把暖气调高了。我的下巴太紧了，当我打开和关闭它时，它会发出爆裂声。

Despite all the drugs and everything, I wanna sleep. There’s a pounding in my head—the blood draining out.
尽管服用了所有药物和一切，我还是想睡觉。我的头猛地一痛——血液都流出来了。

I call Lauren from a pay phone and tell her what is going on with me. She agrees to leave the side door unlocked so I can go crash there after we find Joe and get my shit back. She sounds kind of annoyed with me for not having come over, but I don’t care. Isn’t that the greatest gift in the world—just not to care? I feel so grateful for it. That’s nothing I ever knew sober.
我用公用电话给劳伦打电话，告诉她我发生了什么事。她同意不锁侧门，这样我就可以在找到乔并拿回我的东西后去那里。她听起来对我没有过来有点生气，但我不在乎。不在乎，这难道不是世界上最伟大的礼物吗？我对此感到非常感激。这是我清醒时所不知道的。

The bus station is surrounded by a virtual shantytown of tents and cardboard houses. A girl I went to rehab with had lived there before getting checked into treatment. She’d lived in a tent with three guys, one of whom was her fiancé. The cops would raid these homeless settlements every couple months. They’d make a bunch of arrests, then leave ’em alone to rebuild or whatever. The place seems pretty full right now—young punk kids with ripped clothes and spiked hair looking angry and desperate, fighting over cigarettes and blankets and cans of beer.
公交车站周围实际上是一个由帐篷和纸板屋组成的棚户区。和我一起去康复中心的一个女孩在接受治疗之前就住在那里。她和三个男人住在一个​​帐篷里，其中一个是她的未婚夫。警察每隔几个月就会突击搜查这些无家可归者的住所。他们会逮捕一批人，然后让他们独自进行重建或其他什么事情。现在这个地方似乎挤满了人——年轻的朋克孩子穿着破烂的衣服，头发尖刺，看上去愤怒而绝望，为了香烟、毯子和罐装啤酒而打架。

Gack and Bullet and I decide to split up so we can each cover a different entrance. There’s actually four ways to get into the station, so Bullet says he’ll keep circling the main lobby. Honestly, I’m not sure what I’ll do if I see Joe. I can’t really imagine confronting him and kicking his ass or anything. Still, I try and psych myself up—my heart pounding like crazy every time someone comes through the electric sliding doors.
Gack、Bullet 和我决定分开，这样我们就可以各自覆盖不同的入口。实际上有四种方法可以进入车站，所以子弹说他会继续绕着主大厅转。老实说，我不确定如果见到乔我会做什么。我真的无法想象面对他并踢他的屁股或其他什么。尽管如此，我还是努力让自己兴奋起来——每当有人穿过电动推拉门时，我的心就会疯狂地跳动。

The station is almost empty. The sound of a few footsteps echoes in the tile corridors. A few of the torn-up black seats are occupied by sleeping men and women wearing layers of tattered rags. Two police officers are there trying to rouse one guy who’s slid off onto the dirty linoleum floor. His skin is slick, like maybe it is covered in oil, and his long hair is matted together in one solid dreadlock. He has a long, long beard. The cops—male, with crew cuts and square jaws—are bent over him, shaking his shoulders. Both wear latex gloves. I go take a piss and when I get back all three of them are gone. Joe hasn’t shown up yet either. I huddle myself into a corner and wait.
车站几乎空无一人。瓷砖走廊里回荡着几声脚步声。一些破烂的黑色座位上坐着睡着的男人和女人，他们穿着层层破布。两名警察正在试图叫醒一名滑倒在肮脏的油毡地板上的人。他的皮肤光滑，就像沾满了油，他的长发盘成一团坚实的辫子。他留着很长很长的胡子。警察——男性，留着平头，方下巴——俯身在他身上，摇晃着他的肩膀。两人都戴着乳胶手套。我去撒尿，等我回来时，他们三个都走了。乔也还没有出现。我蜷缩在角落里等待。

I blink a couple times. Pink and green geometric shapes form against the white walls. It’s like a tower of flashing triangles is building itself up organically from the ground. I can’t get rid of them. Not like it really bothers me that much. I’m used to hallucinations a lot worse than this. The bus station hums and flickers with pulsing brightness. It’s all I can do to keep focused on the doors. I stand up and walk on over to Gack. He’s asleep at his post. I nudge him.
我眨了几次眼。粉色和绿色的几何形状在白色的墙壁上形成。就像一座由闪烁的三角形组成的塔正在从地面有机地建造起来。我无法摆脱它们。并不是说它真的让我那么困扰。我已经习惯了比这更糟糕的幻觉。公交车站嗡嗡作响，闪烁着脉动的亮度。我能做的就是把注意力集中在门上。我站起来，走向加克。他在岗位上睡着了。我轻推他。

“Uh, s-sorry man.” “呃，对不起，伙计。”

“Nah, dude, let’s go.” “嗯，哥们儿，我们走吧。”

“You sure?” “你确定？”

I nod. “He’ll get his anyway,” I say. “This is bullshit. If he needs the money that bad, he can have it. I gotta go sleep.”
我点点头。 “无论如何，他都会得到他的，”我说。 “这是胡说八道。如果他那么需要钱，他就能得到。我得去睡觉了。”

“Yeah,” Gack agrees. “It’ll end badly for Joe.”
“是的，”盖克同意。 “这对乔来说结局很糟糕。”

Bullet is still pacing the place like some tightly caged animal. It takes a little coercing to get him to let up. We get back in my car and I decide to buy them all breakfast.
子弹仍然在这个地方来回踱步，就像一只被关在笼子里的动物。需要一点点强迫才能让他放松下来。我们回到车里，我决定给他们买早餐。

“You can get four Home Run Pies for a dollar at Cala Foods,” says Bullet.
“在 Cala Foods，你可以花一美元买到四个全垒打馅饼，”子弹说。

“Whatever you guys want.”
“你们想要什么都可以。”

I drop them off in the TL and drive to Lauren’s. We agree to meet up later. Bullet’s got nowhere to stay, but neither Gack nor I offer any solutions. I want to help him, I do, but I can barely help myself. We leave him wandering and agree to meet up later. I smoke cigarettes in Lauren’s white bed and wait to fall asleep.
我把他们放在 TL 上，然后开车去劳伦家。我们同意稍后见面。 Bullet 无处可去，但 Gack 和我都没有提供任何解决方案。我想帮助他，我愿意，但我几乎无法帮助自己。我们让他继续闲逛，并同意稍后见面。我在劳伦的白色床上抽烟，等待入睡。

DAY 9 第 9 天

Since Lauren’s parents are gone, we’ve spent the last three days basically holed up in her house. Turns out her dad has a fantastic wine cellar that we’ve (or I’ve) been sampling from. Plus I’m a pretty good cook, so I’ve been raiding their pantry and things. I make coffee with a French press in the mornings, preparing pasta and salad and eggs—drinking Beaujolais, Bordeaux, pinots, and Chiantis.
自从劳伦的父母去世后，我们过去三天基本上都躲在她家里。原来她父亲有一个很棒的酒窖，我们（或我）曾在那里品尝过。另外，我是一个非常好的厨师，所以我一直在搜查他们的食品储藏室和其他东西。我早上用法式滤压壶煮咖啡，准备意大利面、沙拉和鸡蛋，喝博若莱、波尔多、皮诺和基安蒂酒。

I actually know something about food and wine. It was the summer before my senior year in high school that I went off to this study abroad program in Paris when I was sixteen. It was just for the summer and the thing was pretty structured and everything. You stayed in a hotel with all these other high school students—went to French classes during the day, then were supposed to eat together and go on these “excursions” at night. They’d go to the top of the Eiffel Tower or bowling or something. Drinking alcohol was grounds for immediate expulsion.
我实际上对食物和酒有所了解。那是我高中四年级前的那个夏天，当时我十六岁，去巴黎参加了这个出国留学项目。这只是为了夏天，一切都很有条理。你和所有其他高中生一起住在一家酒店——白天上法语课，然后应该一起吃饭，晚上继续这些“短途旅行”。他们会去埃菲尔铁塔的顶部或者打保龄球什么的。饮酒是立即被驱逐的理由。

The first night I was there, I met up with this girl named Cappucine whose parents were friends with my stepmom. She was a few years older than me and had agreed to take me around the city. She lived just outside Paris in Saint-Cloud. We went to a bar that night and got very drunk—or at least, I did. We walked all over Montmartre—up the steps to the great church, the Sacré-Coeur. Looking down on the city with this girl and her friends, I felt so old—so mature—so cool. I was way into all those French New Wave movies like Breathless, Bob Le Flambeur, The 400 Blows, and Elevator to the Gallows. Walking around the city, a Gitane cigarette hanging perpetually from my mouth, I was Jean-Paul Belmondo, or Alain Delon, or one of those untouchable, unfeeling stars. I never went back to the hotel that night. I stayed with Cappucine. It wasn’t long before I was drinking in the morning. We went to visit her family in the south of France, drank rosé from vineyards in St. Tropez. I’d wake up and pour a glass of wine—or sometimes vodka—and drink that along with my coffee. I had my dad’s credit card and I bought all new clothes for myself at Chevignon and Agnès B. I decided never to return to the United States.
我在那里的第一个晚上，遇到了一个叫卡普辛的女孩，她的父母是我继母的朋友。她比我大几岁，同意带我游览这座城市。她住在巴黎郊外的圣克劳德。那天晚上我们去了一家酒吧，喝得酩酊大醉——至少我是这样。我们走遍了蒙马特高地——拾级而上，来到了伟大的圣心教堂。和这个女孩和她的朋友一起俯视这座城市，我感觉自己好老——好成熟——好酷。我很喜欢法国新浪潮电影，比如《气喘吁吁》、《火焰鲍勃》、《四百击》和《上绞架的电梯》。在城市里走来走去，嘴里永远挂着一支 Gitane 香烟，我是让·保罗·贝尔蒙多，或者阿兰·德龙，或者是那些不可触碰、无情的明星之一。那天晚上我再也没有回过酒店。我和卡布辛住在一起。没过多久，我就早上喝酒了。我们去法国南部拜访了她的家人，喝了来自圣特罗佩葡萄园的桃红葡萄酒。我醒来后会倒一杯酒——有时是伏特加——然后和咖啡一起喝。我有我爸爸的信用卡，我在 Chevignon 和 Agnès B 给自己买了所有新衣服。我决定不再回美国。

Again, fix the outsides and maybe my insides won’t be such a dark place.
再说一次，把外面修好，也许我的内心就不会那么黑暗了。

Four months later, the credit cards were all canceled and I was finally convinced to come home and finish high school. Sitting in class back in the Bay Area, watching pep rallies and things, it was a little, er, strange. Here I’d been drinking ouzo and riding motorcycles around Montpelier—then suddenly I was dealing with curfews and the swim team. I wanted so desperately not to be a child anymore. I always thought once I was an adult, independent, whatever, these feelings of hopelessness and despair would go away. I could be like those characters in the movies. Drugs and alcohol gave me that feeling. Getting high, I was walking on the beach with Cappucine again, promising her a future and thinking that I meant it.
四个月后，信用卡全部被取消，我终于被说服回家完成高中学业。坐在湾区的教室里，看着动员大会和其他事情，这有点，呃，奇怪。在这里，我一直在喝茴香烈酒，骑着摩托车绕着蒙彼利埃转一圈，然后突然间我要应对宵禁和游泳队的问题。我非常渴望不再是个孩子。我一直以为，一旦我长大了，独立了，无论如何，这些绝望和绝望的感觉就会消失。我可以像电影中的角色一样。毒品和酒精给了我这种感觉。兴奋起来后，我再次与卡普辛一起在海滩上散步，向她承诺了一个未来，并认为我是认真的。

It strikes me how, being here with Lauren, it is more or less the same thing. Here I am, so old and yet so young. Stuck, suspended somewhere in between adulthood and a child’s fantasy. But I keep all this to myself, shooting more and more heroin and crystal methamphetamine.
让我惊讶的是，和劳伦在一起，这或多或少是一样的。我在这里，那么老，却那么年轻。卡住了，悬浮在成年和孩子的幻想之间。但我把这一切都保密，注射越来越多的海洛因和冰毒。

I leave Lauren to meet Gack a few times. I park my car at the Safeway at Church and Market. We just stand along the street and say stupid shit like, “Crystal, crystal,” or, “You wanna stay up all night?”
我有几次离开劳伦去见盖克。我把车停在教堂和市场的西夫韦。我们只是站在街上说些蠢话，比如“水晶，水晶”，或者“你想熬夜吗？”

The people who pass either just ignore us or express interest and we follow them around the corner and sell them a sack. It is that easy.
路过的人要么不理睬我们，要么表现出兴趣，我们就跟着他们转过街角，卖给他们一袋。就是这么简单。

No one ever complains about how small what we sell them is.
没有人抱怨我们卖给他们的东西有多小。

We definitely aren’t making a ton of money, but it’s enough to at least use for free. Gack keeps trying to get me to buy walkie-talkies, but I don’t really see the point. I guess he just thinks it’d be cool.
我们肯定赚不到很多钱，但至少足以免费使用。 Gack 一直试图让我买对讲机，但我真的不明白有什么意义。我猜他只是觉得这样很酷。

So I split the profits with Gack and take whatever money I can home to Lauren. The heroin’s really working for her. She has this tendency to get all freaked out doing too much meth. We’ll be making love or something, and all of a sudden she’ll shush me—convinced there’s someone in the house, upstairs. Granted, most of the time it does sound like there’s someone up there. There’ll be this banging around, or the noise of footsteps, or a door being shut. None of it ever turns out to be real. I keep saying something like, “Baby, look, I know it sounds like there’s someone upstairs. It always sounds like there’s someone upstairs. But we might as well just assume that there’s no one up there because otherwise it’s gonna drive us crazy. So what if there is someone up there? What are we gonna do about it anyway? Let’s just keep telling ourselves it’s all in our minds—’cause it is, you know?”
所以我与盖克分享利润，并把我能赚到的钱都拿回家给劳伦。海洛因确实对她有用。她有一种倾向，吸食太多冰毒后就会被吓坏。我们会做爱什么的，突然她会嘘我——确信有人在楼上的房子里。诚然，大多数时候听起来确实有人在那里。会有敲击声，或者脚步声，或者门被关上的声音。这些都没有被证明是真实的。我一直在说这样的话：“宝贝，听着，我知道听起来楼上有人。听起来楼上总是有人。但我们不妨假设上面没有人，否则我们会发疯的。如果上面有人怎么办？无论如何，我们该怎么办呢？让我们不断告诉自己这一切都在我们的脑海里——因为它就是这样，你知道吗？”

I’m pretty good about convincing myself that way, but she is more invested in her paranoia. The heroin calms her down nicely. So when we run out, she’s all over me about calling Candy. It’s around eight thirty and dark outside. Candy can’t meet us for another couple hours, so I suggest we take a walk down by Fort Point. The gate is locked, so we park Lauren’s car up on the cliffs and walk down the worn, wooden, creaking steps. We actually hold hands.
我很擅长以这种方式说服自己，但她更专注于她的偏执。海洛因很好地让她平静下来。所以当我们用完的时候，她就一直想给我打电话给坎迪。八点三十分左右，外面天黑了。坎迪再过几个小时才能见到我们，所以我建议我们沿着堡垒角散步。大门锁着，所以我们把劳伦的车停在悬崖上，然后沿着破旧、吱吱作响的木质台阶走下去。我们实际上手牵着手。

Listening to Lauren, I’ve been able to piece together most of her story since leaving high school. Basically, it’s pretty similar to mine. She never quite reached the depth of depravity that I did, but she’s still got time. At least, that’s how I figure it. She went into her first rehab right out of high school, a dual diagnosis treatment center—one that dealt with both drug addiction and bulimia. Since then she’s had a couple jobs temping at law firms around the city, but mostly she’s just been in and out of different facilities and programs. Nothing ever took, obviously.
听着劳伦的讲述，我已经能够拼凑出她高中毕业后的大部分故事。基本上，它和我的很相似。她从未达到我所达到的堕落深度，但她还有时间。至少，我是这么认为的。高中一毕业，她就进入了第一次康复中心，这是一个双重诊断治疗中心，既治疗毒瘾又治疗贪食症。从那时起，她在城市各地的律师事务所做过几份临时工作，但大多数时候她只是进出不同的设施和项目。显然，什么也没带走。

Fort Point stretches out to the pillars of the Golden Gate Bridge. The surf comes pounding in hard and fast against the rock jetty. Wind blows in from the mouth of the bay and the ocean is churning and spraying us as we walk. The lights from Marin reflect back across the channel and the abandoned military barracks—boarded up and covered in layers of graffiti—bend and shift under the weight of the salt air. I hold Lauren’s hand and we talk about how beautiful everything is and how there really is no city like San Francisco, after all. At one point an official-looking truck comes our way, headlights blinding us as we look back. Lauren panics some.
堡垒角一直延伸到金门大桥的桥柱。海浪猛烈而快速地冲击着岩石码头。风从海湾口吹来，我们行走时，海水在翻腾，水花溅到我们身上。马林的灯光反射回海峡，废弃的军营用木板封起来，上面覆盖着层层涂鸦，在含盐空气的重压下弯曲和移动。我握住劳伦的手，我们谈论一切是多么美丽，毕竟没有像旧金山这样的城市。有一次，一辆看起来像官方的卡车向我们驶来，当我们回头看时，车头灯刺得我们眼花缭乱。劳伦有些惊慌。

“Should we run?” she asks.
“我们应该跑吗？”她问。

“Definitely not.” “当然不。”

The truck passes by without bothering us. My heart is maybe going a little bit.
卡车驶过，没有打扰我们。我的心可能有点跳动。

“This is freakin’ me out,” she whines. “Maybe we should go back.”
“这把我吓坏了，”她抱怨道。 “也许我们应该回去。”

“It’ll be fine.” “不会有事的。”

“You don’t worry at all, do you?”
“你一点也不担心，是吗？”

I laugh. “If you only knew.”
我笑。 “如果你只知道。”

She asks about my plans for the future.
她询问我未来的计划。

“I don’t know. I mean, what else is there to do? People might say I’m wasting my life, but it’s all relative. If I was a lawyer, I’d go to fucking law school—but I’m not. I’m a drug addict and so what do I do? Use, right? Use until the wheels fall off. We’ll get by, Lauren.”
“我不知道。我的意思是，还有什么可做的？人们可能会说我在浪费生命，但这都是相对的。如果我是一名律师，我会去他妈的法学院——但我不是。我是一名吸毒者，那么我该怎么办？使用，对吗？使用直至轮子脱落。我们会渡过难关的，劳伦。”

I pull her in toward me and kiss her. “What more is there to life than this?” I ask. “Walking free through a city that we love—listening to the ocean—kissing each other—getting high. We’re so alive, you and I.”
我把她拉向我并吻她。 “人生还有什么比这更重要的事呢？”我问。 “自由地漫步在我们热爱的城市——聆听​​大海的声音——互相亲吻——兴奋起来。你和我，我们都还活着。”

She laughs now. “And when my parents get home—what then? We’ve got nowhere to go.”
她现在笑了。 “当我父母回家后——然后呢？我们无处可去。”

“I’ll get a place.” “我去找个地方。”

“For us together.” “为了我们在一起。”

“Sure.” “当然。”

“So are we boyfriend/girlfriend then?”
“那我们是男女朋友吗？”

“If you want to be.”
“如果你愿意的话。”

“Come on, Nic.” “来吧，尼克。”

“Yeah, of course we are.”
“是的，我们当然是。”

We kiss each other some more.
我们再亲吻对方一些。

Getting into the car, Lauren realizes she forgot her scarf. It must’ve fallen off somewhere. I tell her to stay and I go running back the way we came. Tears well up in my eyes from the cold and I feel maybe like I’m flying—so grateful. Everything is working out perfectly. I even find her scarf, at the very end of the point. I run back and she’s happy and we drive off to meet Candy and we listen to this old Tosca CD—smoking one cigarette after the other.
进入车内，劳伦意识到她忘记了围巾。它一定是在某个地方掉下来了。我让她留下来，然后我就沿着来时的路跑回去。寒冷让我泪流满面，我感觉自己好像在飞翔——非常感激。一切都很顺利。我什至在最后找到了她的围巾。我跑回来，她很高兴，然后我们开车去见坎迪，我们听着这张旧托斯卡 CD——一根接一根地抽着烟。

Candy has stitches all along her left cheekbone that weren’t there before. It looks all swollen and glossy. She pushes her hair back behind her ears and asks me, “So what’s the deal? How come it took you so long to call?”
坎迪的左颧骨上布满了以前没有的缝线。它看起来肿胀且有光泽。她把头发拨到耳后，问我：“那是怎么回事？怎么这么久才打电话来？”

“Well, I’m more of a tweakhead, you know. I just use this shit to level out the meth.”
“嗯，你知道，我更像是一个爱搞怪的人。我只是用这个东西来平衡冰毒。”

“It’s good though, huh?” “不过这样也不错吧？”

I nod, looking at her. “Maybe you wanna come hang out sometime?” I say.
我点点头，看着她。 “也许你想找个时间过来玩一下？”我说。

She turns her pinned, gray eyes on me. She’s still wearing too much makeup, but the scar makes her markedly prettier. I’m kinda sick like that.
她用灰色的眼睛盯着我。她的妆容仍然很浓，但伤疤让她明显变得更漂亮了。我有点病了。

“Sure,” she says. “But not tonight.”
“当然，”她说。 “但今晚不行。”

“I could take you out somewhere.”
“我可以带你去一个地方。”

“Look, you’re just a kid.”

“In some ways.” “在某些方面。”

She passes over the dope and I give her some money. She lights a Parliament Menthol.
她把毒品递了过去，我给了她一些钱。她点燃了议会薄荷醇。

“We’ll see. Call me sooner next time, okay?”
“我们拭目以待。下次早点给我打电话好不好？”

“Sure.” “当然。”

I drive Lauren’s car back to her house. Candy’s look stays with me. I feel it wrapped serpentine around my spine. She reminds me of someone—the smell of her. And then I remember.
我开着劳伦的车回到她家。坎迪的样子一直萦绕在我的脑海里。我感觉它像蛇一样缠绕在我的脊椎上。她让我想起了一个人——她的气味。然后我想起来了。

When that movie star’s wife my dad had the affair with broke up with him, we moved to an apartment in the Mission. My mom had been forced to move to L.A. for work with an old boyfriend and I saw her only on holidays, like Christmas. My dad always treated me more like a friend than a son, really. I mean, especially back then. He took me everywhere with him—out to dinner, to parties. My godparents, a gay couple, lived across the street. We’d go over there for dinner and we’d all talk about politics and movies and things. They made me feel included, grown-up.
当我父亲与那位电影明星的妻子有染后与他分手后，我们搬到了教会的一间公寓。我妈妈被迫搬到洛杉矶与前男友一起工作，我只在假期（例如圣诞节）见到她。我爸爸对待我更像是朋友，而不是儿子，真的。我的意思是，尤其是在那时。他到处都带着我——出去吃饭、参加聚会。我的教父母是一对同性恋夫妇，住在街对面。我们会去那里吃晚饭，我们都会谈论政治、电影之类的事情。他们让我感觉自己被包容了，变得成熟了。

But, of course, then my dad started dating. He was single and young and it made sense that he’d go out and leave me with babysitters. I’m not sure where he met Audrey—at some gallery opening or something—but she was tattooed all over with long, long blond hair. She was maybe twenty-one or-two and smelled like incense all the time. She only babysat me like three times, but I’ll never forget that smell of her. She looked so beautiful and ravaged at the same time. She would crawl into bed with me as I was falling asleep and hold me and I’d smell her and be so turned on. I’d try to hide my small erection. One night she rented The Last Temptation of Christ and we watched that together. I was eight years old.
但是，当然，后来我父亲开始约会。他单身而且年轻，他出去把我留给保姆是有道理的。我不确定他在哪里认识奥黛丽——在某个画廊开幕式上什么的——但她全身都纹身着长长的金发。她大概二十一两岁，身上一直散发着熏香的味道。她只照顾了我三次，但我永远不会忘记她身上的味道。她看上去如此美丽，但同时又饱受蹂躏。当我睡着的时候，她会和我一起爬到床上，抱着我，我会闻到她的味道，然后感到兴奋。我会试图隐藏我的小勃起。一天晚上，她租了《基督最后的诱惑》，我们一起看了。那年我八岁。

But driving away from Candy, I think of Audrey and lying in bed with her. Candy has that smell—that same look. Something is tearing apart the lattice structure of my veins. I get home and go straight to Lauren’s room. I fuck her hard and it goes on and on. We soak through her sheets and mattress and carpeted floor.
但开车离开坎迪时，我想起了奥黛丽和她躺在床上。糖果有那种气味——同样的外观。有什么东西正在撕裂我血管的晶格结构。我回到家，直接去劳伦的房间。我用力操她，这样的事一直持续着。我们浸湿了她的床单、床垫和铺着地毯的地板。

When it’s over I cook up a bunch of heroin and go to pick out a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator. I take it up to the kitchen and pour a large glass for myself. I’m naked and standing at the full-length window, looking out on the street below—feeling powerful. I eat an apple and bring one down for Lauren. The room is very quiet and I call out to her, but there’s no answer.
结束后，我煮了一堆海洛因，然后从冰箱里拿出一瓶白葡萄酒。我把它拿到厨房，给自己倒了一大杯。我赤身裸体站在落地窗前，看着下面的街道——感觉很强大。我吃了一个苹果，又拿了一个给劳伦。房间里很安静，我呼唤她，但没有回应。

When I worked at the rehab in Malibu, they made me take a CPR class at the Red Cross. I thought it was bullshit at the time—some thick-necked EMT talking too fast and asking stupid rhetorical questions. The class was maybe three hours long and I guess I paid attention. I mean, I got the damn certificate.
当我在马里布的康复中心工作时，他们让我参加红十字会的心肺复​​苏课程。我当时认为这是胡说八道——一些厚脖子的急救人员语速太快，还问了愚蠢的反问。这堂课大概有三个小时，我想我很专心。我是说，我拿到了该死的证书。

Seeing Lauren on the floor, turning blue, my reaction is strange. I don’t panic or anything. A calm sweeps through me. I remember the EMT. What’d he say to do first? You shake them and shout, “Are you okay?”
看到劳伦倒在地板上，脸色发青，我的反应很奇怪。我不惊慌什么的。一股平静席卷了我的全身。我记得是急救人员。他说先做什么？你摇晃他们并喊道：“你还好吗？”

I do that. 我这样做。

Check for a heartbeat. 检查心跳。

She’s got one. 她有一个。

Check for breathing. 检查呼吸情况。

No on that. 不。

All right, then open the air passage, tilt the head back, and start chest compressions.
好吧，然后打开气道，头向后仰，开始胸外按压。

I put my mouth to her cold, small lips.
我把嘴贴在她冰冷的小嘴唇上。

Breathe. 呼吸。

One, two, three, four, five.
一二三四五。

I feel her ribs and breastbone plate crack some under my weight as I push down. Her belly fills as I blow the air in. Her chest heaves.
当我向下推时，我感觉到她的肋骨和胸骨板在我的重量下破裂了。当我吹气时，她的肚子充满了。她的胸部起伏。

I reach over and grab the phone, dialing 911.
我伸手抓起电话，拨打了 911。

Breathe. 呼吸。

One, two, three, four, five.
一二三四五。

“911 emergency, how can I help you?”
“911紧急情况，需要什么帮助吗？”

“Yeah, my girlfriend just OD’ed on heroin. We need an ambulance now.”
“是的，我女朋友刚刚吸食了海洛因。我们现在需要一辆救护车。”

Breathe. 呼吸。

One, two, three, four, five.
一二三四五。

“Do you know CPR?” “你懂心肺复苏术吗？”

“I’m doing it.” “我正在做。”

“Where are you located?” “你现在在哪里？”

“I don’t know the address. Sea Cliff. Trace the call, will you?”
“我不知道地址。海崖。追踪电话，好吗？”

Breathe. 呼吸。

One, two, three, four, five.
一二三四五。

And now the panic sets in. Fuck, man, she can’t die. Her skin is so transparent and the veins are blue, blue rising beneath the surface.
现在恐慌开始了。操，伙计，她不能死。她的皮肤是如此透明，血管是蓝色的，蓝色在表面下升起。

“An ambulance is on its way, sir.”
“先生，救护车正在路上。”

I hang up. 我挂断电话。

Breathe. 呼吸。

One, two, three, four, five.
一二三四五。

Check the heart. 检查心脏。

Still going. 仍在继续。

“God,” I say aloud. “I don’t believe in you, but now would be a good time to give us a goddamn miracle.”
“上帝，”我大声说道。 “我不相信你，但现在正是给我们创造奇迹的好时机。”

Breathe. 呼吸。

One, two, three, four, five.
一二三四五。

And then, just like that, she gasps, gasps, gasps and jerks awake. She blinks twice and bursts into tears. I do the same thing, holding her.
然后，就这样，她喘着气，喘着气，喘着气，猛地醒了。她眨了两下眼睛，泪流满面。我也做同样的事，抱着她。

When I hear the sirens outside I go out and tell the firemen and whoever that she’s all right, but they come in anyway. They seem kinda pissed about the whole thing. Regulations say they gotta take her to the ER, but Lauren refuses. She’s naked and we can’t get her to put clothes on. She cries and cries—sounding like a sick cat or something. One of the bigger guys threatens to call the cops on us and that gets Lauren moving. She’s still way out of it and nodding all over the place. She clings on to me and I basically have to carry her up to the ambulance. She kisses me, but at that point I’m just trying to get her outta there. They tell me to meet her at the UCSF Hospital. I hate fucking emergency rooms, but I agree anyway.
当我听到外面的警报声时，我出去告诉消防员和其他人她没事，但他们还是进来了。他们似乎对整件事感到有点生气。按照规定，他们必须带她去急诊室，但劳伦拒绝了。她赤身裸体，我们无法让她穿上衣服。她不停地哭——听起来就像一只生病的猫什么的。一个大个子威胁要报警抓我们，这让劳伦感动了。她还很不自在，到处点头。她紧紧抓住我，我基本上必须把她抱到救护车上。她吻了我，但那时我只是想把她赶出去。他们让我去加州大学旧金山分校医院见她。我讨厌他妈的急诊室，但我还是同意。

The only time I ever ended up in the ER was for a drug overdose, actually. I was living in New York, turning tricks. I’d been up for a couple days doing coke and crystal and drinking so much, I mean so fucking much. This very muscular guy whose name, I think, was Brian, had picked me up at this cheesy gay bar where they give you free drinks if you take your shirt off. They were his drugs. I had no money. I ended up back at my apartment in the middle of this orgy of guys. Vaguely I remember someone eating out my ass, while my dick refused to get hard. Then I just gave up and let whoever wanted to fuck me, fuck me.
事实上，我唯一一次进急诊室是因为服药过量。我当时住在纽约，正在变戏法。我已经好几天没睡了，喝可乐和水晶，喝了很多，我的意思是喝了很多。这个肌肉发达的家伙，我想他的名字叫布莱恩，他在一家俗气的同性恋酒吧接了我，如果你脱掉衬衫，他们就会给你免费饮料。它们是他的毒品。我没有钱。我最终回到了我的公寓，置身于这群人的狂欢之中。我隐约记得有人吃掉了我的屁股，而我的鸡巴却不肯硬起来。然后我就放弃了，让谁想操我就操我。

At some point I noticed a vial of GHB on the bedside table. I drank about three-quarters of it down, figuring that would do the trick. I started to black out and I had this total sense of relief. Finally, I thought, it’s over, and then I just fell out. Of course, I woke up at a nearby hospital, a tube down my throat, needles in my arms, a catheter in my dick, my ribs broken from the CPR. But the sick thing, the really fucking sick thing was my first thought when I came to. See, when I’d gone to the bathroom at my apartment, I’d managed to get alone with the bag of crystal and had hidden some of it in a bottle of Ambien I’d been prescribed. I knew it was still there.
有时我注意到床头柜上有一瓶 GHB。我喝了大约四分之三，认为这样就可以了。我开始眼前一黑，我有种如释重负的感觉。最后我想，一切都结束了，然后我就摔倒了。当然，我在附近的一家医院醒来，喉咙里插着一根管子，手臂上插着针，阴茎里插着导管，心肺复苏术使我的肋骨折断。但当我醒来时，我的第一个念头就是恶心的事情，真的他妈的恶心的事情。看，当我去公寓的浴室时，我设法单独拿着那袋水晶，并将其中一些藏在我开的一瓶安必恩中。我知道它还在那里。

I made some grunting noises for them to get the tube out, which they did, me gagging and retching all over the place. Then the nurse left and I started ripping all the needles out of my arms. The catheter in my dick was this plastic tubing connected to a bag I could piss into. I started to pull the thing out of the hole in the head of my cock and it burned, Jesus it fucking burned, but it wouldn’t come out. Still, I just kept pulling until the pain got so bad that I begged the nurses to get the goddamn thing out of me, which they finally did. Then I got up, hospital gown and all, and started to walk out the front door. The security guard stopped me—physically dragging me back in. I kept trying to sneak out until they let me sign an AMA discharge form, ’cause I’d been such a pain in the ass. I ended up in my third rehab about a week later.
我发出一些咕噜声，让他们把管子拔出来，他们照做了，我呕吐得到处都是。然后护士离开了，我开始从手臂上拔掉所有的针头。我阴茎里的导管是一根塑料管，连接到一个我可以撒尿的袋子上。我开始把那东西从我鸡巴头上的洞里拔出来，它烧起来了，天哪，它他妈烧起来了，但它就是拔不出来。尽管如此，我还是继续拉，直到疼痛变得如此严重，我恳求护士把我那该死的东西从我身上取出来，他们终于这么做了。然后我起身，穿上病号服，开始走出前门。保安拦住了我，用身体把我拖了回去。我一直想溜出去，直到他们让我签署 AMA 出院表，因为我真是太痛苦了。大约一周后，我完成了第三次康复治疗。

I think back to my night in the ER and I go downstairs and shoot a bunch of heroin before driving up to UCSF. They’ve already admitted Lauren by the time I get there, so they let me on in. She’s sitting on a white cot in the middle of the cramped central areas. Doctors and nurses pass bits of paper back and forth, make jokes, enter information into computers. There don’t seem to be any other patients around, but everyone seems rushed and frantic. A doctor with a mullet tied back in a ponytail and soft, squishy features is trying to get something coherent out of Lauren. I think he’s trying to figure out whether she was trying to commit suicide or not—but he never just comes straight out with it. I step in, saying she had only done heroin one or two other times and didn’t know about the dosing. He talks to me as though I were Lauren’s concerned parent, the responsible one. He asks me all these questions. What’s her home life like? Does she need help getting into treatment? I fight so hard not to nod out while he’s talking. I’m not sure how well I’m doing. I ask him if she can leave and he says no. She has to be evaluated by the psychiatrist.
我回想起在急诊室的那晚，我下楼注射了一堆海洛因，然后开车前往加州大学旧金山分校。当我到达那里时，他们已经接纳了劳伦，所以他们让我进去了。她坐在狭窄的中心区域中间的一张白色床上。医生和护士来回传递纸张、开玩笑、将信息输入计算机。周围似乎没有其他病人，但每个人都显得匆忙而疯狂。一位医生把鲻鱼扎成马尾辫，面容柔软，正试图从劳伦身上找出一些连贯的东西。我想他是想弄清楚她是否想自杀——但他从来没有直接说出来。我介入，说她只吸过一两次海洛因，而且不知道剂量。他跟我说话，就好像我是劳伦关心的、负责任的父母一样。他问我所有这些问题。她的家庭生活是什么样的？她需要帮助接受治疗吗？当他说话时，我努力控制着不点头。我不确定自己做得怎么样。我问他她是否可以离开，他说不可以。她必须接受精神科医生的评估。

“I go to a psychiatrist,” says Lauren. “Jules Bernabei. He works at San Francisco General.”
“我去看精神科医生，”劳伦说。 “儒勒·伯纳贝。他在旧金山总医院工作。”

The doctor ignores her. 医生不理她。

“Can’t we leave AMA?” I ask.
“我们不能离开AMA吗？”我问。

“What?” the doctor asks. “什么？”医生问道。

“I was in the hospital once and I just asked to sign this AMA form and they let me go. They had to. Come on, doctor, I’ll take care of her.”
“我住过一次医院，我只是要求签署这份 AMA 表格，他们就让我走了。他们不得不。走吧，医生，我会照顾她的。”

“No, no. I’m afraid not.”
“不，不。恐怕不是。”

“Can you stop us?” “你能阻止我们吗？”

“Yes. We can involve the authorities if you wish.”
“是的。如果您愿意，我们可以让当局介入。”

Lauren hands me her purse and I kiss her and tell her we’ll figure this out. She keeps pleading to get her psychiatrist on the phone, so they agree to page him.
劳伦把她的钱包递给我，我吻了她并告诉她我们会解决这个问题的。她不断恳求给她的精神科医生打电话，所以他们同意给他打电话。

I’m not sure what I’m feeling but I go out into the thick, wet air and light a cigarette and pace. Maybe everybody is staring at me. I pull out Lauren’s cell phone. It’s two thirty. For some reason I call Zelda. Maybe hers is the only number I remember.
我不确定自己的感觉如何，但我走进了浓重潮湿的空气中，点了一根烟，迈着步子。也许每个人都在看着我。我拿出劳伦的手机。现在是两点三十分。出于某种原因，我给塞尔达打电话。也许她的号码是我唯一记得的。

Zelda is singularly beautiful. The first time I saw her was at some meeting in Hollywood. She identified herself as a newcomer—wearing big, round sunglasses, her red hair hanging down to the small of her back. I couldn’t stop looking at her the whole meeting—high cheekbones, a long, angular nose, chapped parted lips. Her body was so tiny—jagged shoulders, sticking out like angels’ wings. She looks like an Egon Schiele painting. I actually asked for her number that first day. I never do that. She gave it to me, but she was in this treatment program where she couldn’t get calls for three months. I forgot all about her until I came back to my old Sober Living one night. I’d just turned twenty-one and was celebrating my birthday at the halfway house. She’d checked in about a week earlier.
塞尔达传说非常美丽。我第一次见到她是在好莱坞的一次会议上。她自称是个新人——戴着又大又圆的墨镜，红头发垂到腰部。整个会面过程中我一直不停地看着她——高高的颧骨、长而尖的鼻子、干裂的嘴唇。她的身体是如此的渺小——参差不齐的肩膀，像天使的翅膀一样伸出来。她看起来就像埃贡席勒的画作。实际上第一天我就问了她的电话号码。我从来没有这样做。她把它给了我，但她在这个治疗项目中，三个月内无法接到电话。我忘记了她，直到有一天晚上我回到原来的清醒生活。我刚刚满二十一岁，正在中途之家庆祝我的生日。她大约一周前登记入住。

We started talking and I felt so close to her immediately. It was like talking to myself. Of course, I later found out how much older she was than me—and, eventually, that she had a boyfriend. Plus she’d lived so much more than I had. She’d been married to that actor for seven years. All her boyfriends were famous in some way and her family was equally well known. She was humble about all this, but I was intimidated and never thought she could ever want me like I was increasingly wanting her. But we started spending more and more time together. I told her things I’d never told anyone.
我们开始交谈，我立刻感觉和她很亲近。这就像自言自语。当然，后来我发现她比我大多少——最终，她有男朋友了。而且她的生活比我丰富得多。她和那个演员结婚七年了。她所有的男朋友都在某种程度上出名，她的家人也同样出名。她对这一切都很谦虚，但我很害怕，从来没有想过她会像我越来越想要她一样想要我。但我们开始花越来越多的时间在一起。我告诉了她一些我从未告诉过任何人的事情。

One night we went to the Chateau Marmont on Sunset. We drank black tea and she smoked cigarettes while a little girl, maybe six or seven, played this haunting, real minimalist piano music. I mean, she was just some kid messing around, but it was fucking great. Someone even tipped her twenty bucks or something.
一天晚上，我们在日落时分去了马尔蒙城堡。我们喝红茶，她抽烟，一个大概六七岁的小女孩弹奏着这首令人难忘的、真正的极简主义钢琴音乐。我的意思是，她只是个胡闹的孩子，但那真是太棒了。甚至有人给了她二十块钱什么的。

I’m not sure what we talked about, or why that night was any different from any other. She drove me home and we made out in her car and she cried the whole time. I fell ever more in love with her from that day forward. We kept trying to break it off, but would eventually end up seeing each other again.
我不知道我们谈论了什么，也不知道为什么那天晚上与其他任何一个晚上都有所不同。她开车送我回家，我们在她的车里亲热，她一直在哭。从那天起我就更加爱她了。我们一直试图分手，但最终还是会再次见面。

How can I ever explain what it was about Zelda? Sure she was amazing to look at, but there was something more. There was a sadness there, mixed with wisdom, and a pained humor. Whatever it was, I felt like I could see right down to the moths struggling on their backs in the base of her silver, shimmering soul. I also felt like we were meant to be together—she, this ageless beauty, and I, this old man and tiny child. When we kissed and made love it was like nothing I’d never known before—and that was sober.
我该如何解释《塞尔达》的故事呢？当然，她的外表令人惊叹，但还有更多的东西。那里有一种悲伤，混合着智慧和痛苦的幽默。不管是什么，我觉得我可以看到她银色闪闪发光的灵魂深处那些在背上挣扎的飞蛾。我也觉得我们注定要在一起——她，这个永恒的美丽，而我，这个老人和小孩。当我们接吻、做爱时，一切都是我以前从未体验过的——而且那是清醒的。

But she wouldn’t leave Mike for me. I’m not sure why. Maybe she didn’t feel safe with me. Maybe I was really too young. It tore me up—I mean, really.
但她不会为了我而离开迈克。我不知道为什么。也许她和我在一起没有安全感。也许我真的太年轻了。它让我心碎——我是说，真的。

So I call Zelda from Lauren’s cell phone. She doesn’t answer. I leave a rambling message. Even just hearing her voice on the machine brings back so much. It actually makes me kind of angry and I hang up and pace some more.
所以我用劳伦的手机给塞尔达打电话。她没有回答。我留下一条漫无目的的信息。即使只是在机器上听到她的声音也会让我回想起很多事情。这实际上让我有点生气，我挂断电话并继续踱步。

Eventually, I go back into the waiting room and try to sleep on two orange plastic chairs—no good. My legs keep twitching all over the place. The other thing is, I really have to take a piss, but the heroin has made all my muscles too relaxed or something, ’cause I can’t figure out how to make that happen. There’s a group of dark-skinned Hispanic women talking loudly now in the waiting area, their voices echoing off the linoleum. I decide to walk around the hospital some, since the woman at the front desk tells me the psychiatrist hasn’t even arrived for Lauren yet.
最终，我回到候诊室，尝试睡在两把橙色塑料椅子上——但效果不佳。我的腿总是到处抽搐。另一件事是，我真的想小便，但海洛因让我所有的肌肉都太放松了，因为我不知道如何才能做到这一点。现在，一群黑皮肤的西班牙裔妇女在等候区大声交谈，她们的声音在油毡上回响。我决定在医院里走走，因为前台的女士告诉我精神科医生还没有来接劳伦。

I ride the elevator for a while, wondering if there are cameras in there—maybe I could stop it and shoot up right there. But, no, I’m too sketched out and I figure there’re probably cameras. So I just go up and down. Even the elevator smells like a goddamn hospital. Kelly, the mother of a friend of mine, is a nurse at a hospital in Oakland. In order to graduate from high school, I had to do all this community service. Kelly agreed to take me with her for a couple days around the hospital. One of the things I remember most was this guy with a horribly fat stomach. He was very thin, but his stomach was huge. I sat with him while we waited for Kelly. He asked me questions about school and things. He was very sweet and polite and positive. Kelly came in and asked him to remove his shirt, so he did. What he had was a colostomy—his intestine had been rerouted out his stomach. Thing was, he had developed a lot of fluid swelling at the base of the wound. I excused myself to get some water, then nearly fainted in the hall. Kelly later told me he’d be dead in a few months.
我乘坐电梯一段时间，想知道里面是否有摄像头——也许我可以停下来直接在那里拍摄。但是，不，我的草图太清晰了，我想可能有相机。所以我只是上上下下。就连电梯里也有股该死的医院的味道。凯利是我一个朋友的母亲，是奥克兰一家医院的护士。为了从高中毕业，我必须做所有这些社区服务。凯莉同意带我一起去医院玩几天。我记得最清楚的一件事就是这个家伙的肚子大得可怕。他很瘦，但肚子却很大。当我们等待凯利时，我和他坐在一起。他问了我一些关于学校和事情的问题。他非常可爱、有礼貌、积极。凯利进来并要求他脱掉衬衫，他就这么做了。他接受的是结肠造口术——他的肠子被从胃中移出。事实是，他的伤口底部出现了大量液体肿胀。我借口去拿水，然后差点晕倒在大厅里。凯利后来告诉我，几个月后他就会去世。

The other thing I remember was this schizophrenic drug addict who’d tried to kill himself by jumping off a building. He broke his neck, but he didn’t die—he was a quadriplegic.
我记得的另一件事是这个精神分裂症吸毒者试图跳楼自杀。他扭断了脖子，但他没有死——他四肢瘫痪了。

“We’re just going to look at this small wound on his bottom,” Kelly said.
“我们只是要看看他屁股上的这个小伤口，”凯利说。

She pulled back the sheet and the guy literally had no left butt cheek. It had been rotted away by some flesh-eating disease. The place quickly filled with the smell of decaying flesh and shit. This time I passed out cold in the outside hall. The next day she had me follow a urologist around—putting catheters in old guys’ dicks.
她拉开床单，发现那家伙的左屁股根本就没有了。它已经被某种食肉疾病腐烂了。这个地方很快就充满了腐肉和粪便的气味。这次我在外厅里晕倒了。第二天，她让我跟着一位泌尿科医生四处走动——把导管插入老家伙的阴茎里。

I get outta the elevator and go check on Lauren. They tell me she’s sleeping and that they’re giving her an IV of fluid to rehydrate her. I call Gack from Lauren’s phone. His dad answers.
我走出电梯，去看看劳伦。他们告诉我她正在睡觉，他们正在给她静脉注射液体以补充水分。我用劳伦的电话给盖克打电话。他的父亲回答。

“Hey Mike, it’s Nic, you guys up?”
“嘿，迈克，我是尼克，你们起床了吗？”

“Always. You wanna talk to little Gack?”
“总是。你想和小盖克谈谈吗？”

“Sure. Fucking Lauren OD’ed. I’m at the UCSF ER.”
“当然。他妈的劳伦已经吸毒了。我在加州大学旧金山分校急诊室。”

“Is she all right?” “她还好吗？”

“Yeah. I had to do CPR and shit, but she’s alive.”
“是的。我不得不做心肺复苏之类的，但她还活着。”

“Are you all right?” “你没事儿吧？”

“Yeah, I guess so, thanks, Mike.”
“是的，我想是的，谢谢，迈克。”

He goes to get Gack. I’m struck by how sweet these fuckin’ people are.
他去找盖克。我对这些该死的人的可爱感到震惊。

I tell Gack about the whole scene and ask if he can get me any herb.
我告诉盖克整个场景，并问他是否能给我一些药草。

“Dude, I got a little bit. It’ll take me an hour to take the bus up there.”
“兄弟，我有一点。我坐公共汽车到那儿要花一个小时。”

“I ain’t going anywhere.”
“我哪儿也不去。”

“Word.” “单词。”

We meet out front about two hours later. We shoot up some speed in Lauren’s car, then smoke a joint. I feel stupidly high.
大约两个小时后我们在前面见面。我们在劳伦的车里加快了速度，然后抽了根烟。我感觉自己高得离谱。

“So you saved her life,” Gack says. “That’s fucking intense.” I swear the fool never changes his clothes. He’s wearing the same bandanna around his head, Karate Kid style.
“所以你救了她的命，”盖克说。 “这太他妈激烈了。”我发誓这个傻瓜永远不会换衣服。他头上戴着同样的大手帕，就像空手道小子的风格。

“Yeah,” I say. “I was so weirdly calm about the whole thing.”
“是的，”我说。 “我对整件事出奇地平静。”

“That’s gonna be pretty heavy for her when she realizes what you did.”
“当她意识到你所做的事情时，这对她来说将是相当沉重的。”

“Yeah, well, if it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have OD’ed in the first place.”
“是的，好吧，如果不是我，她一开始就不会吸毒。”

“Nah, she was just lookin’ for an excuse to start using again, right? It would’ve happened eventually. You know, my girlfriend lives right around here.”
“不，她只是想找个借口重新开始使用，对吧？这最终会发生。你知道，我女朋友就住在附近。”

“Your girlfriend?” “你女朋友？”

“Yeah, dude—Erin.” “是的，伙计——艾琳。”

“Fuck, we gotta all go out sometime.”
“操，我们总得找个时间出去一下。”

“She’s only seventeen.” “她才十七岁。”

“So?” “所以？”

He tells me about how he met her, trying to sell her a sack, actually. She lives with her mom—still goes to high school and all. Gack talks a lot and we walk around some. The UCSF hospital rests up in the dense forest and eucalyptus trees of the hills looking down on Golden Gate Park. The fog always wraps the place in a still wetness that is both eerie and idyllic.
他告诉我他是如何认识她的，实际上是想卖给她一个麻袋。她和妈妈住在一起——仍然在上高中等等。 Gack 说了很多话，我们也四处走走。加州大学旧金山分校医院坐落在山上茂密的森林和桉树中，俯瞰着金门公园。雾气总是把这个地方包裹在一种静止的潮湿之中，既怪异又田园诗般。

“I love this city,” I say.
“我爱这座城市，”我说。

“Yeah.” “是的。”

Lauren’s phone rings twenty minutes later and I answer.
二十分钟后劳伦的电话响了，我接了电话。

It’s Lauren calling from the hospital.
是劳伦从医院打来的。

“Nic, where are you?” “尼克，你在哪儿？”

“Outside. Can we go?” “外部。我们可以走了吗？

“Yeah, you gotta come fill out some paperwork.”
“是的，你得来填写一些文件。”

“Me?” “我？”

“Yeah, why? What’s wrong?”
“是的为什么？怎么了？”

“Nothing. I’ll be right there.”
“没有什么。我马上到。”

I say bye to Gack and agree to meet him later. He says he’s gonna go walk Erin to school. It’s five a.m.
我向加克道别并同意稍后见他。他说他要步行艾琳去学校。现在是凌晨五点。

I walk into the hospital. I’m way too loaded for this shit.
我走进医院。我实在是太受不了这个狗屎了。

Inside they make me promise to watch Lauren closely and make sure she gets some rest. I agree—again, the responsible one. Then I sign some papers and take her home.
他们在里面让我保证密切关注劳伦并确保她得到休息。我同意——再一次，负责任的人。然后我签署了一些文件并带她回家。

I get whatever heroin’s left out of the cotton and shoot us both up with it. We fuck as the sun rises and she says almost nothing the whole time. I notice how thin she’s getting. Her bones cut into me. We pass out sometime around ten.
我从棉花里取出海洛因，然后把我们俩都射死了。我们在太阳升起的时候做爱，而她自始至终几乎什么也没说。我注意到她变得多么瘦。她的骨头刺进了我的身体。我们十点左右就昏倒了。

DAY 10

A few hours later the phones are ringing and ringing. The house phone and Lauren’s cell phone—over and over. There’s some light coming in the windows, so I can tell it’s real late and sunny outside. The caller ID on Lauren’s cell keeps showing DAD.
几个小时后，电话铃声不断响起。家里的电话和劳伦的手机——一遍又一遍。窗户里透进了一些光，所以我知道外面已经很晚了，阳光明媚。劳伦手机上的来电显示一直显示爸爸。

He just keeps calling. None of this wakes Lauren up ever, but I’m feeling kinda worried and restless, so I shake her awake.
他只是不停地打电话。这些都没有吵醒劳伦，但我感到有点担心和不安，所以我摇醒了她。

“What? Fucking what?” “什么？他妈的什么？

“Dude, your dad keeps calling. They must have heard something about last night.”
“伙计，你爸爸一直打电话来。他们一定听说了昨晚的事。”

“Fuck. I bet the fucking neighbors called them.”
“他妈的。我敢打赌是他妈的邻居给他们打电话的。”

Her eyes are all swollen and her hair is everywhere. Her breasts are sagging strangely, suddenly too big for her shrinking frame.
她的眼睛都肿了，头发到处都是。她的胸部奇怪地下垂，突然间对于她日渐萎缩的身材来说太大了。

“You want me to make some coffee?” I ask.
“你要我煮咖啡吗？”我问。

“Yeah. I’ll sleep a little more, then figure out what to say.”
“是的。我再睡会儿，然后再想想该说什么。”

“Okay.” “好的。”

“Nic?” “尼克？”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“You saved my life.” “你救了我的命。”

“Nah, whatever.” “算了，随便吧。”

“I’m falling in love with you.”
“我爱上你了。”

“Yeah, me too, Lauren.” “是的，我也是，劳伦。”

It feels like I mean it, but you can never be sure.
感觉我是认真的，但你永远无法确定。

I go upstairs and it is bright and hot. I make coffee and an omelet with avocado and sautéed mushrooms. While it’s all cooling, I set up a rig of meth. I hit a vein, but after I pull back the blood into the syringe, my hand moves and I feel a burning in my arm. I dig around some more. Maybe ten minutes go by of me just hunting and hunting and not finding any goddamn vein. Then suddenly I realize that the pressure has built up really high in the plunger, so I pull out and try to press it down. The blood has coagulated in the head of the needle. I push and push, but nothing comes out. Finally I press the thing down as hard as I can and then it gives and blood sprays out all over the white kitchen wall. After that I try to find a vein again and eventually get the shot off, though I’m pretty sure I wasted the whole goddamn thing. I try to clean up the blood, but the shit has dried already and is a son of a bitch to get rid of. I eat the omelet with toast and drink the coffee with a whole bunch of sugar.
我上楼，里面又亮又热。我煮咖啡和煎蛋卷，配牛油果和炒蘑菇。当一切都冷却下来时，我设置了一套冰毒装置。我撞到了静脉，但当我将血液抽回注射器后，我的手动了，我感到手臂有灼烧感。我又挖了一些。也许十分钟过去了，我只是不断地狩猎，却没有找到任何该死的矿脉。然后我突然意识到柱塞中的压力已经非常高，所以我拉出并尝试将其按下。血液已凝结在针头上。我推呀推呀，却什么也没有出来。最后，我尽我所能地用力按下那个东西，然后它就松开了，血溅满了白色的厨房墙壁。之后，我再次尝试找到静脉并最终完成射击，尽管我很确定我浪费了整个该死的事情。我试图清理掉血迹，但粪便已经干了，简直就是混蛋。我吃煎蛋卷配吐司，喝咖啡加一大堆糖。

If Lauren’s parents know she’s relapsed, I figure I’m pretty much fucked. They’re probably gonna come home early from their trip and then all this luxury living is over. I bring Lauren’s coffee down to her and find myself kinda wishing I never called the goddamn ambulance in the first place. She would have been fine. But, of course, I had no way of knowing that.
如果劳伦的父母知道她旧病复发，我想我就完蛋了。他们可能会提前结束旅行回家，然后所有这些奢侈的生活就结束了。我把劳伦的咖啡拿给她，发现自己有点希望自己一开始就没有叫该死的救护车。她本来会没事的。但是，当然，我无法知道这一点。

I have trouble waking her up and when I do, she cries some.
我很难叫醒她，当我叫醒她时，她会哭一些。

“You gotta call ’em,” I say.
“你得给他们打电话，”我说。

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“You want me to leave you alone?”
“你想让我留下你一个人吗？”

“Just for a couple minutes. Hey…can you get me off?”
“就几分钟。喂……你能放我下来吗？”

I do. I hit a vein on her wrist. It’s the only one I can find.
我愿意。我击中了她手腕上的一根静脉。这是我唯一能找到的。

After that I go outside and smoke cigarettes in the backyard. The wind blows patterns in the cypresses and across the long grass. There’re three corgis out there that I’ve never noticed before. I wonder how long it’s been since they’ve been fed. They all bark at me, but I ignore it. Somehow the warmth and the clear sky seem to be taunting me. I’m aware of how pale I’m becoming. Maybe I should go swimming, but I feel weak. Even the meth isn’t getting me that high anymore.
之后我就到外面后院抽烟。风在柏树和长草上吹过图案。那里有三只我以前从未注意到的柯基犬。我想知道他们有多久没有吃东西了。他们都对我吠叫，但我不予理睬。不知何故，温暖和晴朗的天空似乎在嘲笑我。我知道我的脸色变得多么苍白。也许我应该去游泳，但我感觉很虚弱。甚至冰毒也不再让我那么兴奋了。

I’m on my third cigarette when Lauren opens the back door. She’s sobbing like crazy. Her face is all contorted and everything. “He wants to talk to you.”
当劳伦打开后门时，我已经抽了第三支烟了。她疯狂地哭泣。她的脸完全扭曲了。 “他想和你说话。”

“Me?” I feel scared for some reason—my stomach drops out all at once.
“我？”我不知为什么感到害怕——我的胃一下子就塌下来了。

“Please,” she whines. “求你了，”她哀嚎道。

So I go in and see the phone is off the hook, lying on the bed. I pick the thing up and sit down, the words catching in my throat as I say, “Yeah, hello?”
于是我进去一看，电话没挂断，躺在床上。我拿起那东西坐下来，话语哽在喉咙里，说道：“嗯，你好？”

The man’s voice on the other end is broken with tears. He has a refined, sort of dignified Southern accent.
电话那头的男人声音哽咽，泪流满面。他有一口优雅而庄重的南方口音。

“You’re Nic?” he says. “你是尼克？”他说。

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“I remember meeting you before. You went to Lauren’s high school?”
“我记得以前见过你。你在劳伦的高中上学吗？”

“Yes.” “是的。”

“Nic, Lauren tells me you saved her life last night. Son, I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I love my daughter very much and I—well—I love you for saving her, you know?” He chokes on that one.
“尼克，劳伦告诉我你昨晚救了她的命。儿子，我无法告诉你这对我来说有多重要。我非常爱我的女儿，而且我——嗯——我爱你救了她，你知道吗？”他被那个东西噎住了。

“I know you want what’s best for her too,” he continues. “That’s why I’m asking you—begging you—to help me help Lauren, okay?” There’s been a patronizing tone in his voice the whole time he’s talking to me, like he’s addressing a small child. Still, I play along.
“我知道你也想给她最好的，”他继续说道。 “这就是为什么我请求你——恳求你——帮助我帮助劳伦，好吗？”他和我说话的时候，声音里一直带着居高临下的语气，就像在对一个小孩子说话一样。尽管如此，我还是一起玩。

“Yeah, of course.” “嗯，当然咯。”

He goes on to describe some of Lauren’s history in treatment centers. He tells me that she’s a drug addict and can’t use like normal people and blah, blah, blah. I listen and don’t say anything. He asks me to try and convince Lauren to go to her therapist’s house in Santa Cruz for the week. He realizes she doesn’t wanna go back to rehab, but surely that’d be a good compromise. I agree, telling him I’ll do whatever I can. He says he knows he can trust me. I feel pretty sick inside.
他接着描述了劳伦在治疗中心的一些经历。他告诉我她是个吸毒者，不能像正常人一样吸毒，等等等等。我听着，什么也没说。他让我尝试说服劳伦去她位于圣克鲁斯的治疗师家待一周。他意识到她不想回到康复中心，但这无疑是一个很好的妥协。我同意了，并告诉他我会尽我所能。他说他知道他可以信任我。我内心感觉很不舒服。

“Okay, let me talk to Lauren again,” he says.
“好吧，让我再和劳伦谈谈，”他说。

I pass the phone over.
我把电话递过去。

Lauren scratches at the back of her neck, says “okay” a bunch of times, then hangs up.
劳伦抓着脖子后面，说了好几次“好吧”，然后挂断了电话。

“Jules is coming over after work to take me down to Santa Cruz.”
“朱尔斯下班后会过来带我去圣克鲁斯。”

“That’s your shrink, right?”
“那是你的心理医生，对吗？”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“I said I’d make you go.”

“I don’t have to, you know?” She looks up at me. I see how glossy and red her eyes have become—like they are covered by a layer of wax paper.
“我没必要这么做，你知道吗？”她抬头看着我。我看到她的眼睛变得多么有光泽和红色——就像被一层蜡纸覆盖了一样。

“I’ll pack my things right now,” she says. “I’ll go away with you.”
“我现在就收拾东西，”她说。 “我和你一起走吧。”

I think about that. Honestly, I can’t see Lauren cutting it living in my car with me. I need her to have this house and access to her parents’ money. It’s not that I don’t care about her, but I’m just trying to be realistic. We gotta play things carefully—not throw away what we got working for us. I tell her this and she cries some. I drink the warm white wine from the night before, but she doesn’t want any. We make love tiredly to pass the time. We take a shower and then she packs and I get whatever shit I have lying around. Just as I’m about to leave, Lauren stops me.
我想了一下。老实说，我看不到劳伦和我一起住在我的车里。我需要她拥有这所房子并获得她父母的钱。并不是我不关心她，而是我只是想现实一点。我们必须谨慎行事——不要丢弃我们已经为我们工作的东西。我告诉她这件事，她哭了一些。我喝了前一天晚上的温白葡萄酒，但她不想要。我们疲倦地做爱来打发时间。我们洗了个澡，然后她收拾行李，我就收拾掉身边的所有东西。正当我准备离开时，劳伦拦住了我。

“Look,” she says. “Why don’t you stay here?”
“看，”她说。 “你为什么不留在这里？”

“Here?” “这里？”

She says she’ll leave me her car and keys to the house. She says she’ll go down to Jules’s for one night—that’ll appease everybody—then I can come pick her up.
她说她会把她的车和房子钥匙留给我。她说她要去朱尔斯家住一晚——这样可以安抚大家——然后我可以来接她。

“I love you,” she says.
“我爱你，”她说。

“I love you, too.” “我也爱你。”

She makes me promise not to let anybody stay here while she’s gone. Of course I agree.
她让我保证在她离开期间不会让任何人留在这里。我当然同意。

Then I leave, not wanting her psychiatrist to see me here. I drive Lauren’s car.
然后我离开了，不想让她的精神科医生看到我在这里。我开劳伦的车。

It’s a funny thing about psychiatrists and therapists. I mean, I’ve been in therapy my whole goddamn life. It was sort of my dad’s religion or something like that. After my mom moved away, they made me go to this shrink in the city. She was a large woman who wore big, flowing dresses and had a furry upper lip. Mostly I would just play with the dolls and toys in her office. She had a little wooden house that I would put the dolls in. I remember her asking me, in this very level voice, where each of the dolls lived. I pointed to the different rooms in the dollhouse.
对于精神科医生和治疗师来说，这是一件有趣的事情。我的意思是，我他妈的一生都在接受治疗。这是我父亲的宗教信仰或类似的东西。我妈妈搬走后，他们让我去了城里的心理医生那里。她身材魁梧，穿着宽大飘逸的裙子，上唇毛茸茸的。大多数时候我只是玩她办公室里的洋娃娃和玩具。她有一座小木屋，我会把娃娃放进去。我记得她用一种非常平静的声音问我，每个娃娃住在哪里。我指着玩具屋里的不同房间。

“This is where the daddy lives,” I said, showing her one side of the house. “And this is where the mommy lives.”
“这是爸爸住的地方，”我边说边给她看了房子的一侧。 “这就是妈妈住的地方。”

I gestured to the other side of the house.
我指着房子的另一边。

“And what about that doll?” she asked, indicating the one still in my hand.
“那那个娃娃呢？”她问道，指着我手里还拿着的那个。

“Oh, that’s the baby,” I said. “The baby doesn’t have anywhere to live—he sleeps outside.”
“哦，那是婴儿，”我说。 “孩子没有地方住——他睡在外面。”

She scribbled in her notepad.
她在记事本上写着。

Still, for all the therapy I had, none of it ever really fixed that feeling of torn-apartness inside of me. I learned how to express myself, that was all. And, for whatever reason, identifying the root cause of my problem—like fear of abandonment or something—didn’t change a goddamn thing. I could see quite clearly why I acted a certain way, but that wouldn’t make me any different. I sought out craziness. I was attracted to it. No therapy could take that away.
尽管如此，尽管我接受了所有的治疗，但都没有真正解决我内心的撕裂感。我学会了如何表达自己，仅此而已。而且，无论出于何种原因，找出问题的根本原因——比如害怕被遗弃之类的——并没有改变什么该死的事情。我可以很清楚地明白为什么我会以某种方式行事，但这并不会让我有任何不同。我寻找疯狂。我被它吸引了。没有任何疗法可以消除它。

One of the first serious relationships I had was with this girl named Lyric. She was a year younger than me and—went to my rival high school. She was a virtuous, good-natured scholastic wonder who ended up going to Harvard. Thing was, she was also bulimic and would get so goddamn drunk with me. Even back then, I mean, when I was only sixteen, my drinking and drugging had already started controlling my life. She was nowhere near as bad as I was—though we would usually start drinking around midday and keep going from there.
我的第一个认真的关系是和这个名叫 Lyric 的女孩。她比我小一岁，就读于我的竞争对手高中。她是一位善良、善良的学术奇迹，最终进入了哈佛。事实是，她也有暴食症，和我在一起会喝得烂醉如泥。我的意思是，即使在那时，当我只有十六岁的时候，我的酗酒和吸毒就已经开始控制我的生活。她远没有我那么糟糕——尽管我们通常会在中午左右开始喝酒，然后继续喝酒。

This was the kind of girl I always ended up with. I have this strange magnetic pull or something that draws them toward me—and me to them. Knowing that it was all related to my childhood didn’t do a goddamn thing.
我总是和这样的女孩在一起。我有一种奇怪的磁力或某种东西，可以将他们吸引到我身边，而我也吸引到他们身边。知道这一切都与我的童年有关并没有做任何事。

So I leave Lauren’s, driving her car to the TL, the keys to her parents’ house in my pocket. I listen to music and feel so blessed—like the greatest hustler in the goddamn world. Not that it’s all an act. I see a lot of myself in Lauren—the little child, the desperate self-destructiveness, the way she tries not to care.
于是我离开劳伦家，开着她的车前往特拉维夫，她父母家的钥匙在我的口袋里。我听着音乐，感到如此幸福——就像这该死的世界上最伟大的骗子一样。并不是说这全是一种行为。我在劳伦身上看到了很多我自己的影子——那个小孩子，绝望的自我毁灭，她试图不去关心的方式。

I call Gack from a pay phone and we agree to meet in front of his hotel. I’m actually getting kinda low on meth so we gotta re-up later. I go to the bank and withdraw a bunch of money. I have to go in and see the teller directly ’cause I had to throw away my card. Amazingly I managed to cancel my card before Joe was able to steal any money from me, but I still have only a little over a thousand dollars left. It’s frightening how fast the money is going, but I figure Gack and I can up our dealing and make it back.
我用公用电话给加克打电话，我们同意在他的酒店门前见面。事实上，我的冰毒含量已经很低了，所以我们得稍后再补充。我去银行取出一大笔钱。我必须直接进去见柜员，因为我不得不扔掉我的卡。令人惊讶的是，在乔偷走我的钱之前，我设法取消了我的卡，但我仍然只剩下一千多美元。钱花得真快，但我想我和盖克可以加大交易力度，把钱赚回来。

The sun is falling lower in the sky, but it’s still clear and hot. It’s almost six o’clock. There’s a feeling, like, well, like fate is on my side. Any doubts are blotted out by drugs and the music in Lauren’s car and blah, blah, blah. I’ve got the windows down and a cigarette in my mouth. I cry at how good my life is—or at least, that’s what I think at the time.
太阳正在天空中落下，但天气仍然晴朗而炎热。快六点了。有一种感觉，好像命运站在我这边。任何疑虑都被毒品和劳伦车里的音乐和废话、废话、废话抹去了。我把车窗摇下来，嘴里叼着烟。我为自己的生活多么美好而哭泣——或者至少我当时是这么想的。

Gack shows me that he’s got new shoes on.
盖克向我展示他穿了新鞋。

“My dad bought ’em for me,” he says.
“我爸爸给我买了它们，”他说。

They’re black skate shoes with thick laces.
它们是带有厚鞋带的黑色滑板鞋。

“Cool, man.” “帅气的男人。”

“So how’s Lauren?” “那么劳伦怎么样了？”

I tell him about her dad and the therapist in Santa Cruz and all.
我告诉他她的父亲和圣克鲁斯的治疗师等等。

“You got keys?” he says.
“你有钥匙吗？”他说。

“Yeah. Hey, we should pick your girl up and bring her over. I’d like to meet her.”
“是的。嘿，我们应该去接你的女儿并把她带过来。我想见见她。”

“Word.” “单词。”

“I need to buy some more shit, too.”
“我还得再买点东西。”

“Cool. I got an idea.”
“凉爽的。我有一个主意。”

We drive to Church and Market and cruise around there for a while. I try to get a little more of Gack’s story out of him. I keep telling him that this whole thing will make a great book.
我们开车前往教堂和市场，并在那里巡游了一段时间。我试图从他那里了解更多关于加克的故事。我一直告诉他，这整件事将会成为一本很棒的书。

“My street education,” I tell him.
“我的街头教育，”我告诉他。

“Yeah, man, you’re doing pretty good. You got some crazy angels guiding you.”
“是啊，伙计，你做得很好。有一些疯狂的天使在引导你。”

“You too, man. I mean, what a great thing it was to meet you. I’m gonna pitch it, man, maybe to the SF Weekly or something.”
“你也是，伙计。我的意思是，见到你真是太好了。我会把它推销给《旧金山周刊》之类的，伙计。”

“Dude, I’ll be famous.” “兄弟，我会出名的。”

“You deserve it.” “你应得的。”

Gack tells me about his foster parents, who live out in Napa. He ran away to the city when he was twelve. Until a little over a year ago, he’d been going back and forth between the streets and their trailer near Sonoma. He’d lived in different squats and abandoned houses throughout the city. He’d go home only when he ran out of options. Of course, once his real dad came back to find him, he moved in with him. His dad had a bad back and needed a lot of help getting around—plus he was on a shitload of pain meds. Gack doesn’t know much about his dad’s background.
加克向我讲述了他住在纳帕的养父母的故事。十二岁时，他逃到城里。直到一年多前，他还在索诺玛附近的街道和拖车之间来回穿梭。他住在全城不同的棚屋和废弃的房子里。只有当他别无选择时，他才会回家。当然，当他的亲生父亲回来找到他后，他就搬去和他住在一起。他父亲的背部不好，需要很多帮助才能走动，而且他还要服用大量止痛药。加克对他父亲的背景了解不多。

Gack saw his mom from time to time. She lived up in Napa too. She had six years sober—going to twelve-step meetings and things. He guessed he liked her all right. He seems pretty okay with the whole situation—though maybe those tracks on his arm suggest otherwise.
盖克时常见到他的妈妈。她也住在纳帕。她已经戒酒六年了——参加了十二步会议之类的事情。他猜他喜欢她。他似乎对整个情况相当满意——尽管他手臂上的痕迹也许表明事实并非如此。

Driving, I can’t get Gack to say just exactly what we’re looking for. He keeps repeating, “It’ll reveal itself.”
开车时，我无法让 Gack 确切地说出我们在寻找什么。他不断重复：“它会自行显现。”

“What will?” I ask. “什么会？”我问。

“We’ll see.” “我们拭目以待。”

We drive and drive. The bars are just starting to open and the early dining crowds are gathering around the different restaurants on Market. The street kids are sitting around the front of the Safeway—looking to get high with no money, somehow. I see some of the kids we’ve been dealing to—not that I know any of their names. Absently I wonder about their parents, families, childhoods, whatever. They all sort of dress the same—tight pants with a lot of zippers, boots, hooded sweatshirts—as much black as possible.
我们开车一直开车。酒吧刚刚开始营业，早起的人群聚集在市场上的不同餐厅周围。街上的孩子们坐在西夫韦街的前面——不知何故，他们想在没有钱的情况下吸毒。我看到了一些我们一直在打交道的孩子——但我不知道他们的名字。我心不在焉地想知道他们的父母、家庭、童年等等。他们的着装都差不多——有很多拉链的紧身裤、靴子、连帽运动衫——尽可能黑。

We circle the block a few more times.
我们又绕着街区转了几圈。

“There,” says Gack, pointing.
“那里，”盖克指着说道。

“What?” “什么？”

“There. Pull over a second.”
“那里。停下来一秒钟。”

I wait while Gack goes running off down the street. I try to find just the right song on the CD player. I put that Talking Heads live album on track ten, “This Must Be the Place.” Somehow I just seem to flip right to it.
我等待着盖克沿着街道奔跑。我尝试在 CD 播放器上找到合适的歌曲。我把 Talking Heads 的现场专辑放在第十首歌“This Must Be the Place”上。不知怎的，我似乎就直接转向了它。

It’s funny ’cause this was the song my parents’ friends Tim and Susan danced to at their wedding. They held the thing at our house in Point Reyes. Susan actually used to babysit me when I was little. But as I got older, I became really good friends with her boyfriend, Tim. Tim started surfing around the time I did and we’d go down to Santa Cruz together. We’d surf all day at Four Mile, or the Hook, or Steamers—floating in the cold, cold water, talking about music or whatever. We’d leave at, like, six in the morning and get coffee and muffins at the Beach Café. We’d stay out for hours, then go get burritos at El Toro—or Cole’s BBQ, if we were in Santa Cruz. Tim would make mixes for me of all the new music he was constantly buying at Amoeba, this huge record store on Haight. He’d take me to clubs with his brother-in-law, Xi. We’d dance and play pool and stuff like that. Tim was a great dancer.
这很有趣，因为这是我父母的朋友蒂姆和苏珊在他们的婚礼上跳舞的歌曲。他们把那东西藏在我们位于雷斯岬的家里。我小时候，苏珊实际上曾经照顾过我。但随着年龄的增长，我和她的男朋友蒂姆成了很好的朋友。蒂姆大约在我开始冲浪的时候开始冲浪，我们一起去圣克鲁斯。我们会在四英里、胡克或汽船冲浪一整天——漂浮在冰冷的水中，谈论音乐或其他什么。我们大概早上六点出发，在海滩咖啡馆喝咖啡和松饼。我们会在外面待上几个小时，然后去 El Toro 吃墨西哥卷饼，如果我们在圣克鲁斯的话，可以去 Cole’s BBQ。蒂姆会为我制作他在阿米巴（海特的一家大型唱片店）不断购买的所有新音乐的混音。他会带我和他的姐夫习近平一起去俱乐部。我们会跳舞、打台球之类的。蒂姆是一位出色的舞者。

Xi introduced me to philosophy and the writings of Baudelaire, Rimbaud, and Camus. He is from China—born at the height of the Cultural Revolution. The two guys, Tim and Xi, were such heroes of mine. I benefited so much from hanging out with them.
习近平向我介绍了哲学以及波德莱尔、兰波和加缪的著作。他来自中国——出生于文化大革命最激烈的时期。蒂姆和习近平这两个家伙是我心目中的英雄。和他们一起出去玩让我受益匪浅。

At the wedding, a mariachi band played in our garden as Tim and Susan walked down the aisle. The DJ was this, like, six-foot-five, thug-lookin’ dude from some bar south of Market. Tim and Susan danced to this Talking Heads song together. They held each other and danced. The lyrics go something like: “I’ll love you till my heart stops—love you till I’m dead.”
婚礼上，蒂姆和苏珊走过红毯时，一支流浪乐队在我们的花园里演奏。 DJ 是来自市场以南某个酒吧的身高六英尺五、看上去像暴徒的家伙。蒂姆和苏珊一起随着这首 Talking Heads 的歌曲跳舞。他们互相拥抱，跳舞。歌词大概是这样的：“我会爱你直到我的心脏停止跳动——爱你直到我死去。”

Listening to this song now, I think back to that night. I shucked oysters for the guests, helped set up speakers, helped build a shelter from the light rain over the dance floor. And, of course, I danced and talked and then woke up early the next morning to go surfing out at Drakes Estero.
现在听着这首歌，我想起了那个夜晚。我为客人剥牡蛎，帮助设置扬声器，帮助在舞池上方搭建一个避雨的避难所。当然，我又跳舞又说话，然后第二天一早就起床去 Drakes Estero 冲浪。

And now Gack is coming up on the car with some older girl who’s got this long, curling, natural red hair; white skin; and freckles, freckles, freckles. She gets into the back and Gack sits next to me and says, “This is Angela. She needs a ride back down Market. Can we do that for her?”
现在盖克正和一个年纪较大的女孩一起上车来，她有一头长长的、卷曲的、自然的红色头发；白皮肤;还有雀斑，雀斑，雀斑。她坐进后排，盖克坐在我旁边说：“这是安吉拉。她需要搭车返回市场。我们可以为她做这件事吗？”

I introduce myself. She keeps telling me how nice my car is and I try to get her to understand that it’s not mine—it’s just some girl’s and I’m like Gack, homeless and struggling. The only difference between us is this crazy stroke of luck, or God, or fate, or whatever—plus I saved up some money working while I was clean and blah, blah, blah.
我自我介绍一下。她一直告诉我我的车有多好，我试图让她明白这不是我的——这只是某个女孩的，而我就像盖克一样，无家可归，苦苦挣扎。我们之间唯一的区别就是这种疯狂的运气，或者上帝，或者命运，或者其他什么——再加上我在干净的时候攒了一些钱，等等，等等。

Gack is giving me that look, like, shut the fuck up—or more like pity that I always feel the need to explain myself, obsessed with showing people who I am so they’ll like me, or I don’t know what. I need to chill out, shoot some dope, and change this fucking CD.
Gack 给我的表情就像是，他妈的闭嘴——或者更像是怜悯，因为我总是觉得需要解释自己，痴迷于向人们展示我是谁，这样他们就会喜欢我，或者我不知道什么。我需要冷静一下，拍点东西，然后换一张该死的 CD。

When we get to some alley off Market, Gack and Angela say they’re gonna go up to her place a minute. I’ve calmed myself down by smoking cigarettes and just forcing myself to be quiet. Neither Gack nor Angela talked much in the car, which always makes me nervous—but I kept telling myself it was all right. So now they walk off down the alley, but then Gack runs back and leans in the window.
当我们到达市场外的某个小巷时，盖克和安吉拉说他们一会儿就去她家。我通过抽烟和强迫自己保持安静来让自己平静下来。加克和安吉拉在车里都没怎么说话，这总是让我紧张——但我一直告诉自己没关系。现在他们沿着小巷走开，但盖克跑回来靠在窗户上。

“Dude, I need your wallet.”
“哥们，我需要你的钱包。”

“What?” “什么？”

“She’s gonna hook me up—but she needs to think it’s my money.”
“她会勾搭我——但她需要认为这是我的钱。”

“That girl?” “那个女孩？”

“Trust me.” “相信我。”

I hand him my wallet.
我把钱包递给他。

I shoot a little heroin and nod, nod, nod waiting for them to come back. I’m actually in some weird dream/hallucination thing when he knocks on the side door and I jump ten miles.
我注射了一点海洛因，点点头，点点头，等待他们回来。当他敲侧门时，我实际上正处于一些奇怪的梦/幻觉中，我跳了十英里。

He’s giggling like a maniac.
他像个疯子一样咯咯地笑。

“Dude, this shit is so good.”
“哥们儿，这玩意真是太好了。”

“How much you get?” “你得到多少钱？”

“Two teeners.” “两个青少年。”

“Holy shit.” “天啊。”

“So we gonna go divide this stuff up—cut it—slang it. Word?”
“所以我们要把这些东西分开——剪掉——用俚语。单词？”

“You wanna go to Lauren’s?”
“你想去劳伦家吗？”

“Hell yeah.” “是啊。”

“How much should I put aside for us?”
“我应该为我们留多少钱？”

“Half.” “一半。”

“Word.” “单词。”

We drive back to Lauren’s. I order us a bunch of dim sum from this place on Geary and a six-pack of Tsingtao.
我们开车回到劳伦家。我从 Geary 的这个地方给我们点了一堆点心和六罐装的青岛啤酒。

“You should tell your girl to come over,” I say.
“你应该让你的女儿过来，”我说。

“Really?” “真的吗？”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“Hey, she’s never shot meth before. You think I could borrow some to get her off with?”
“嘿，她以前从来没有注射过冰毒。你觉得我可以借一些来放过她吗？”

“Dude, of course.” “老兄，当然。”

We eat pork buns and chow mein, drink beer, smoke cigarettes in the kitchen.
我们在厨房里吃猪肉包和炒面，喝啤酒，抽烟。

“There are so many rooms,” says Gack.
“房间太多了，”加克说。

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“I ain’t ever been in no house like this before.”
“我以前从来没有住过这样的房子。”

“Word.” “单词。”

“I’m gonna go get Erin.”
“我要去接艾琳。”

“Take your time.” “慢慢来。”

He leaves and I decide to check my e-mail on Lauren’s stepmom’s computer. As I’m walking up the carpeted stairs, though, I hear this strange yapping noise over and over. I walk down and open the back door. The three dogs are barking at the door. I let them in and hunt around for some dog food to give them. I guess I feel kinda bad about leaving ’em out there. It’s wet and cold outside.
他离开了，我决定在劳伦继母的电脑上查看我的电子邮件。然而，当我走上铺着地毯的楼梯时，我一遍又一遍地听到这种奇怪的叫声。我走下楼，打开后门。三只狗在门口狂吠。我让他们进来并四处寻找一些狗粮给他们。我想把它们留在外面我感觉有点不好。外面又湿又冷。

Lauren’s stepmom’s office is on the second floor and piled high with papers and photos of Lauren—but more of Lauren’s half sister. She looks around my little brother’s age, but with white-blond hair like I used to have. I log on and check my e-mail. There’s not one. No one’s written me. No one has even tried begging me to come home. There’s nothing from my family—nothing from anyone. I wonder if I need to wait for Gack and his girl before trying that crystal. I decide I might as well wait—but in the meantime I can drink a bottle of red wine. I pick out a decent one and set about trying to write a story idea about Gack and Bullet and everyone. I figure I’ll send it out to the SF Weekly or the Guardian. Writing usually comes so quickly to me, but I spend at least an hour obsessively trying to get the perfect words out. Even after all that, what remains on the page is virtually unintelligible.
劳伦继母的办公室位于二楼，里面堆满了劳伦的文件和照片，但更多的是劳伦同父异母的妹妹的照片。她看起来和我弟弟的年龄差不多，但有着和我以前一样的白金色头发。我登录并查看我的电子邮件。没有一个。没有人给我写信。甚至没有人试图求我回家。没有任何来自我家人的东西——没有任何人的东西。我想知道我是否需要等待盖克和他的女孩才能尝试那个水晶。我决定还是等一等——但同时我可以喝一瓶红酒。我挑选了一个不错的，然后开始尝试写一个关于 Gack 和 Bullet 以及每个人的故事想法。我想我会把它寄给《旧金山周刊》或《卫报》。对我来说，写作通常来得很快，但我至少花了一个小时痴迷于写出完美的文字。即使在这一切之后，页面上剩下的内容实际上仍然难以理解。

Suddenly I’m scared. Writing has never been a struggle for me before. Somehow the idea of being this drug-fueled, outsider artist has always been really appealing to me. I remember this artist I knew in New York who was a recovering heroin addict and a big-time painter. He used to tell me that if being loaded helped him create better work, then he would definitely not have gotten sober. His work was better when he was off dope. After all, he said, art is the most important thing. I believed the same thing at the time.
突然我很害怕。写作对我来说从来都不是一件困难的事情。不知何故，成为一名受毒品驱动的局外艺术家的想法一直对我很有吸引力。我记得我在纽约认识的一位艺术家，他是一位正在康复的海洛因成瘾者，也是一位大画家。他曾经告诉我，如果酗酒有助于他创作出更好的作品，那么他肯定不会清醒。当他戒毒后，他的工作会更好。毕竟，他说，艺术是最重要的。我当时也相信同样的事情。

The doorbell rings. I go down and let Gack and his girl in. The trio of dogs follow me to the front door.
门铃响了。我下去让盖克和他的女儿进来。三只狗跟着我到前门。

Erin looks like she’s maybe eleven or twelve. She’s totally undeveloped—with a high soft voice and a tiny nose. Her blond hair is choppy and short. She has piercings all over. She wears an oversize hooded sweatshirt, jeans, and Converse tennis shoes. Her brown eyes are so wide open. She literally gasps stepping into the house. “This place is beautiful.”
艾琳看上去大概十一岁或十二岁。她完全没有发育——声音高亢柔和，鼻子很小。她的金发又短又短。她全身都有穿孔。她穿着超大号连帽运动衫、牛仔裤和匡威网球鞋。她的棕色眼睛睁得大大的。她走进房子时确实气喘吁吁。 “这个地方很漂亮。”

“Wine?” I offer her my glass and she drinks from it. “Let’s go downstairs.”
“葡萄酒？”我把我的杯子递给她，她就喝了。 “我们下楼吧。”

The girl is so nervous, she can’t really talk. I put on some music—this old Amon Tobin CD—and Gack gets shots together for all of us.
女孩太紧张了，根本说不出话来。我放了一些音乐——这张阿蒙·托宾的旧 CD——然后 Gack 为我们所有人一起拍摄。

“First time, huh?” I say, feeling ashamed of myself suddenly.
“第一次吧？”我说着，突然感到羞愧。

“Uh-huh.”

“We’re not gonna give her too much,” he says. “She’s got school tomorrow.”
“我们不会给她太多，”他说。 “她明天还要上学。”

I watch Gack, noticing that his version of not too much is way fucking more than I would have wanted to shoot my first time—especially if this shit is as good as he says it is. Still, I don’t say anything about it. Instead, I ask Erin about high school and her friends and things. She can’t really answer with anything more than one syllable.
我看着加克，注意到他的版本“不太”比我第一次拍摄时想要的要多得多——尤其是如果这狗屎像他说的那么好的话。不过，我对此什么也没说。相反，我向艾琳询问高中和她的朋友之类的事情。她只能用一个音节来回答。

Gack holds the needle up to her and she pulls back her sweater. There are all these white scars up her arm.
盖克把针举到她身上，她拉回毛衣。她的手臂上全是白色的伤疤。

“You a cutter, huh?” I ask.
“你是切割工，是吧？”我问。

“I was.” “我曾是。”

“That’s kinda hot.” “这有点热。”

“No, it’s not,” says Gack, squeezing her bicep to get the veins to stand out. “She’s never gonna do that again.”
“不，不是的，”盖克一边说，一边挤压她的二头肌，让静脉突出。 “她再也不会这么做了。”

She rolls her eyes and makes a face.
她翻了个白眼，做了个鬼脸。

When Gack hits and pushes it home, she starts gasping for air. “I gotta…I gotta…”
当盖克击中并将其推回原位时，她开始喘气。 “我必须……我必须……”

“In there,” I say. “在那儿，”我说。

She runs into the bathroom and throws up in what I hope is the toilet. That’s what it sounds like anyway.
她跑进浴室，吐到了我希望是厕所的地方。无论如何，听起来就是这样。

“Girls always puke,” says Gack.
“女孩总是会呕吐，”加克说。

“Well, you gave her a fucking truckload.”
“好吧，你给了她一卡车的东西。”

I hear her voice calling from the bathroom. “Gack, get me a cigarette.”
我听到她的声音从浴室里传来。 “嘎嘎，给我一支烟。”

He looks at me and I put my pack on the floor.
他看着我，我把包放在地板上。

“Baby, you all right?” “宝贝，你还好吗？”

“I think so. Damn, this feels pretty good, huh?”
“我想是这样。该死的，这感觉很不错吧？”

I laugh at that. “You guys should go upstairs—check out some of the other rooms,” I say.
我对此笑了。 “你们应该上楼去看看其他一些房间，”我说。

“Yeah. Thanks, man.” “是的。谢啦。”

Gack shoots me up and the shit is very good. I feel this surge of eroticism or something, all at once—maybe like an orgasm. Better than that, I’d say.
Gack 向我开枪，这真是太棒了。我突然感觉到一股强烈的情欲之类的感觉——也许就像高潮一样。我想说，比那更好。

I hold my head in my hands.
我双手抱头。

“Good, right?” “很好，对吧？”

“Yeah. Take that girl upstairs this instant.”
“是的。马上带那个女孩上楼去。”

I turn the music up really loud and they go to fuck, or whatever. I draw on a piece of cardboard with these oil pastels Lauren has. At least I still have that. Drawing you don’t really have to think about anyway.
我把音乐开得很大声，然后他们就开始做爱，或者其他什么。我用劳伦拥有的这些油画棒在一块纸板上画画。至少我还有那个。无论如何，绘画你实际上不必考虑。

I swear it’s only like ten minutes till Gack and his girl are back downstairs and she’s kinda freaking out, saying, “Gack, come on, come on.”
我发誓只需要十分钟，盖克和他的女儿就回到楼下，她有点吓坏了，说：“盖克，来吧，来吧。”

“We gotta go,” he tells me. “I’ll be back.”
“我们得走了，”他告诉我。 “我会回来的。”

Erin doesn’t say anything to me—she just pulls at Gack and looks spooked as hell.
艾琳没有对我说什么——她只是拉着盖克，看上去很害怕。

He definitely gave her too much. I’ve really only had one experience with amphetamine psychosis. This drug dealer, Annika, who was my friend Tyler’s girl, got really out there smoking speed. I came to her house in the Panhandle to buy a twenty bag, but when she came to the door, she immediately put her finger to her lips—telling me to get down, that the cops were outside. It was weird ’cause there was no reasoning with her. She kept saying, like, “I know what’s going on. You think I’m fucking stupid. Well, I’m not. I know. I know.”
他确实给了她太多。我真的只经历过一次安非他明精神病。这个毒贩安妮卡是我朋友泰勒的女儿，她在外面抽烟的速度非常快。我来到她位于狭长地带的家买了二十袋，但当她走到门口时，她立即将手指放在嘴唇上，告诉我赶紧下来，警察就在外面。这很奇怪，因为没有和她讲道理。她一直说，“我知道发生了什么事。你认为我他妈的很蠢。嗯，我不是。我知道。我知道。”

Eventually I just left ’cause she started yelling at me more and more—plus she wouldn’t sell me any speed. I had to go all the way to fucking Oakland to get it. I heard she was hospitalized that night.
最终我离开了，因为她开始对我吼叫得越来越多，而且她也不肯卖给我任何速度。我必须千里迢迢跑到他妈的奥克兰才能得到它。我听说她那天晚上住院了。

So hopefully Erin’s not gonna lose it. She’s so fucking young.
所以希望艾琳不会失去它。她太他妈年轻了。

I lock the door after they leave, then I go call Lauren. She answers, but sounds all stoned out.
他们离开后我锁上门，然后打电话给劳伦。她回答了，但听起来很精神恍惚。

“Nic?” “尼克？”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

“Baby, I’m sleeping.” “宝贝，我睡了。”

“Okay.” “好的。”

“You gotta come get me tomorrow.”
“你明天一定要来接我。”

“You sure?” “你确定？”

“Yeah.” She yawns. “I love you. Call me in the morning.”
“是的。”她打哈欠。 “我爱你。早上给我打电话。”

“Okay.” “好的。”

“I love you.” “我爱你。”

“You too.” “你也是。”

We hang up and I draw and listen to music some more.
我们挂断电话，我又画画、听音乐。

Gack doesn’t show up again till, like, one thirty. He’s all out of breath. “Let’s get moving,” he says.
直到大约十点三十分，盖克才再次出现。他已经气喘吁吁了。 “我们开始吧，”他说。

“Get movin’ how? Is Erin all right?”
“怎么动起来？艾琳还好吗？”

“Yeah, I guess. She was hella paranoid—said she needed to just lie in bed for a while and sleep.”
“是的，我猜。她非常偏执——说她需要在床上躺一会儿然后睡觉。”

“Sleep? Dude, there’s no way.”
“睡觉？老兄，没办法了。”

“Yeah, well, come on. We gotta cut that crystal. I got some vitamin B we can use to cook it with.”
“是啊，好吧，来吧。我们得切割那个水晶。我有一些维生素 B，我们可以用来煮它。”

“Whatever you say, man.” “随你怎么说吧，伙计。”

We go to the kitchen and find a glass and pour a bunch of crystal in with the vitamin B powder. We add a tiny bit of water and start to melt it down over the stovetop flame. Once it forms a liquid, we lay it out on a cookie sheet and place that in the freezer. It’s actually Gack who does it all. Five minutes later we pull out the sheet, and the vitamin B and crystal have fused together to make a layer of what looks like soap. He chips all the pieces out of the sheet and dumps it on the counter. It’s sort of powdery and colored off-yellow.
我们去厨房找到一个玻璃杯，将一堆水晶和维生素 B 粉末倒入其中。我们添加一点点水并开始在炉灶火焰上将其融化。一旦它形成液体，我们将其放在饼干片上并将其放入冰箱中。实际上这一切都是 Gack 干的。五分钟后，我们拉出薄片，维生素 B 和晶体融合在一起，形成一层看起来像肥皂的东西。他把床单上的所有碎片都切下来，然后扔到柜台上。它有点粉状，颜色为淡黄色。

“What the fuck is that supposed to be?”
“那到底是什么？”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “We just need to add more crystal.”
“别担心，”他说。 “我们只需要添加更多的水晶就可以了。”

I pull out both teeners—the one for us and the one we’re cutting. Both of them look really small already.
我拉出了两个青少年——一个是给我们的，另一个是我们要剪的。它们看起来都已经很小了。

“Jesus,” I say. “We did a fucking lot.”
“天哪，”我说。 “我们他妈做了很多。”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

For the first time I notice that Gack’s mouth is twitching. His eyes are wide and jumping. I look down at my hands. They’re shaking bad.
我第一次注意到盖克的嘴在抽搐。他的眼睛睁得大大的，跳跃着。我低头看着我的双手。他们抖得厉害。

“Fuck, man, you think we did too much?”
“操，伙计，你觉得我们做得太过分了吗？”

“No, it’s cool,” says Gack. “We just gotta focus. Give me the rest of that teener.”
“不，这很酷，”加克说。 “我们只需要集中注意力。把那个少年剩下的部分给我。”

“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“你确定你知道自己在做什么吗？”

He asks if he’s ever let me down before and I pass the shit over, shaking my head. He repeats the whole cooking down, cooling process. What comes out is, well, a little better than before—but still flaky and powdery and yellow.
他问他以前是否曾让我失望过，我摇摇头，把这些话忽略了。他重复了整个烹饪、冷却的过程。结果是，嗯，比以前好一点了，但仍然是片状、粉状和黄色的。

“Dude, I would never buy that shit.”
“老兄，我绝对不会买那种东西。”

“It’s cool,” he says. “这很酷，”他说。

He tries a few more times—letting it cool longer, shorter, experimenting with cutting it different ways. Somehow, with each pass, it seems to be getting smaller.
他又尝试了几次——让它冷却得更久、更短，尝试用不同的方式切割它。不知何故，每经过一次，它似乎就变得更小。

“Fuck it,” he finally says. “This is good enough.”
“操，”他最后说道。 “这已经足够好了。”

“What?” “什么？”

“We just gotta tell ’em this shit is raw—unprocessed. People’ll buy it. Trust me. Look, it’ll be better when I bag the shit up.”
“我们只是要告诉他们这些东西是生的——未经加工的。人们会买的。相信我。你看，等我把这些东西收拾起来就会好一些。”

I go down and get my shoes and jacket and things. When I come up, all the “raw” meth has been separated into small plastic Baggies. Each one should, theoretically, sell for twenty bucks. I look at it skeptically, but don’t say anything. I know Gack is trying his best.
我下去拿鞋子、夹克和其他东西。当我出现时，所有“原始”冰毒都被分成小塑料袋。理论上，每一件应该卖二十美元。我疑惑地看着它，但什么也没说。我知道盖克正在尽最大努力。

“I’m sorry, man,” he finally says. “We’ll never use that cut again.”
“我很抱歉，伙计，”他最后说道。 “我们再也不会使用那种削减了。”

I laugh. “No shit.” 我笑。 “没什么。”

“But come on, it’ll work out.”
“但是加油，一切都会解决的。”

It’s late, like almost three, but the kids are still chilling around in front of the Church and Market Safeway.
已经很晚了，差不多三点了，但孩子们仍然在教堂和西夫韦市场前闲逛。

I wait by the car while Gack goes and talks with a few of them. He comes back a couple minutes later.
我在车旁等着，盖克则去和他们中的几个人交谈。几分钟后他回来了。

“Fuck those guys, man, ain’t never got no money. Let’s cruise over to Castro.”
“去他妈的那些家伙，伙计，他们从来都没有钱。我们去卡斯特罗吧。”

So we walk fast down Market and there is no one around—I mean, no one. About a block away from the Safeway, though, some punk-lookin’ dude with a bleached Mohawk and big lace-up boots yells out to us. We stop. He comes up and wants to buy a twenty bag. He’s got sort of grizzly-looking facial hair and real spaced-out eyes.
于是我们沿着市场快步走去，周围没有人——我是说，没有人。不过，在距西夫韦大约一个街区的地方，一个留着漂白莫霍克发型、穿着系带大靴子、朋克模样的家伙向我们大喊。我们停下来。他走过来想买二十袋。他的面部毛发看起来像是灰色的，眼睛却是茫然的。

He looks at the sack we hand him for a long time. “What the fuck is this?”
他盯着我们递给他的袋子看了很长时间。 “这他妈是什么？”

“Shit’s raw, dude, hella pure and uncut.”
“狗屎是原始的，伙计，非常纯粹，未经切割。”

“Nah, fuck that.” “不，他妈的。”

“Look, man, just try it. We’ll roll back here in, like, twenty minutes.”
“看，伙计，试试吧。大约二十分钟后我们就会回到这里。”

“All right, but if this shit’s no good, I’ma track y’all down.”
“好吧，但如果这件事不好的话，我会追踪你们。”

“Don’t worry.” “不用担心。”

The man hands Gack a crumpled twenty and we keep on moving down the street. There’s some guy sleeping across the sidewalk—wrapped in a blanket like a corpse. We have to step over him.
那人递给盖克一张皱巴巴的二十块钱，我们继续沿着街道走。人行道上有人睡着了——裹着毯子，像一具尸体。我们必须跨过他。

Down Castro we manage to sell one sack to some gay couple in town from somewhere. Watching the men circle the block around 18th makes my stomach twist up. I actually think I recognize one of the guys—some Asian dude in a white Mustang. He just keeps circling, circling, circling. But, no, I’m sure it’s not him.
在卡斯特罗，我们设法从某个地方向城里的一对同性恋夫妇卖了一袋。看着这些人在 18 号附近绕着街区转，我的胃里一阵绞痛。事实上，我想我认出了其中一个人——一个开着白色野马的亚洲人。他只是不停地转、转、转。但是，不，我确信那不是他。

As we walk back toward Safeway, we see that Mohawk kid coming toward us. He keeps playing with his nose.
当我们走回西夫韦时，我们看到那个莫霍克小孩朝我们走来。他一直在玩弄自己的鼻子。

“What’s up?” asks Gack. “这是怎么回事？”加克问道。

“Dude,” he says, jerking around. “Something’s weird about this shit.”
“伙计，”他说，猛地转过身来。 “这玩意儿有些奇怪。”

“Nah, man, you’re hella gacked out.”

“Yeah, but something’s weird. I want my money back.”

“Don’t we all,” I say.

“Yeah, man, it’s not gonna happen.”

“Dude, you better not fuck with me—you can’t sell bunk shit like that and get away with it.”

His jaw’s really going. I feel this surging in my head—or pounding—or whatever.

Gack keeps walking. “You know that shit’s for real, man.”

“There’s speed in it, sure, but y’all did something.”

“Whatever, man, yer trippin’.”

“You can’t get away with it.”

He’s so close to me, man, I can smell the sweat all over him. Gack keeps walking, walking—never stopping for a second.

“If you don’t make things right, man, I’ll tell everyone y’all are selling bunk shit.”

Now Gack turns and squares off in front of the guy. “All right, that’s enough. Fuck off…NOW.” He jerks his body forward toward Mohawk kid and Mohawk kid flinches back. I get myself up tall next to Gack and clench my fists and the kid runs off, yelling, “You guys are fucking finished.”

My heart is beating a little bit. Actually, it’s kind of slamming against my chest and collarbone and whatever. “What was that?” I ask.

“Nothing. Let’s get outta here.”

We get back to my car, or, uh, Lauren’s car. Gack keeps telling me not to worry. If I give him a bunch of the sacks to take with him, he’ll sell ’em, no problem. Everything is working out, he keeps saying. For the first time, I’m not so sure. I think back to my life sober—working, getting up early to go on bike rides and shit, going to movies. I haven’t looked at a newspaper in over two weeks. There could be a new war going on and I’d have no idea. But this is the life I want to live, right? I mean, I’m happier.
我们回到我的车，或者，呃，劳伦的车。盖克一直告诉我不要担心。如果我给他一堆麻袋让他随身携带，他就会卖掉它们，没问题。一切都很顺利，他不断地说。第一次，我不太确定。我回想起我清醒的生活——工作、早起去骑自行车之类的、去看电影。我已经两个多星期没有看报纸了。可能会发生一场新的战争，但我不知道。但这就是我想要的生活，对吗？我的意思是，我更快乐了。

We drive around awhile and I feel like, there’s nothing else to do but go shoot more drugs—or smoke more cigarettes. We go back to Lauren’s and spend the rest of the night messing around in her room, not accomplishing anything. Gack manages to take apart a portable CD player of mine that was skipping, but he can’t put it back together. We have to throw it away. I’ve pretty much finished all the heroin, leaving just a little bit for the morning—except, of course, it was morning long ago. The sun is up when we finally sleep some. I’m wondering if this is fucking worth it. We’re kinda just goin’ in circles. When I wake up, I puke for a while in the bathroom. I lie on the tile floor and, ’cause no one’s looking, I cry a little. The feeling racks through me, but not a lot of tears come out. I’m sweating and shivering and I smell so bad. I take a shower, but the sour smell won’t leave me. My skin is gray, scaly, broken out. My body is eating itself.
我们开了一会儿车，我觉得，除了吸更多的毒品或者抽更多的烟之外，没有别的事可做。我们回到劳伦家，整个晚上都在她的房间里闲逛，一无所获。 Gack 设法拆开了我的一台正在跳音的便携式 CD 播放器，但他无法将其重新组装起来。我们必须把它扔掉。我几乎吸完了所有的海洛因，只剩下一点给早上用——当然，那是很久以前的早上了。当我们终于睡上一觉时，太阳已经升起。我想知道这是否值得。我们有点原地踏步。当我醒来时，我在浴室里吐了一会儿。我躺在瓷砖地板上，因为没人看，我哭了一会儿。这种感觉折磨着我，但眼泪却流不出来。我满头大汗，浑身发抖，而且气味难闻。我洗了个澡，但酸臭味却挥之不去。我的皮肤呈灰色，有鳞屑，有破损。我的身体正在自我吞噬。

DAY 15 第 15 天

After shooting the rest of the dope and a bunch of crystal, I kinda blot out the doubts for a while. I call Lauren and she still wants me to come pick her up, so I try to focus on the directions she’s giving me.
在拍摄完剩下的涂料和一堆水晶后，我暂时消除了疑虑。我打电话给劳伦，她仍然希望我去接她，所以我试着专注于她给我的指示。

I drop Gack off in the TL, with his promise that he’s gonna sell some of that whack, cut shit. Santa Cruz is only, like, two hours south of the city, but it feels like I’m going on this big road trip or something—freeing Lauren—staging a jailbreak.
我把 Gack 送到了 TL，他承诺他会卖掉一些东西，废话。圣克鲁斯距该市以南仅大约两个小时车程，但感觉就像我正在进行一次大型公路旅行或其他什么 - 释放劳伦 - 进行越狱。

The coast highway runs along Ocean Beach, through Pacifica, and up along Devil’s Slide—a treacherous stretch of road with almost no barrier from the several-hundred-foot drop to the sea below—then winds down to the small coastal town of Santa Cruz. The cliffs are steep and unforgiving—the ocean surges, swells, slams against the rocks. Cypress trees and eucalyptus, pines and buckeyes, sway, sway in the heavy onshore winds. Everything is worn away from the salt and damp—the houses bleached out, faded and warped. I’m having fun taking the turns too fast and tight.
海岸公路沿着大洋海滩，穿过帕西菲卡，然后沿着魔鬼滑道向上延伸——这是一条从数百英尺高的落差到下面的大海几乎没有任何障碍的危险路段——然后蜿蜒到达沿海小镇圣克鲁斯。悬崖陡峭无情——海水汹涌澎湃，猛烈撞击岩石。柏树和桉树、松树和七叶树，在陆上的强风中摇曳。一切都因盐分和潮湿而磨损——房屋褪色、褪色、扭曲。我很享受转弯太快太紧的感觉。

Lauren’s shrink lives in some gated community where all the streets have “berry” names—Idleberry, Huckleberry, Boysenberry, etc. The guard at the front shows me where to find Jules’s house. It looks like all the others. It’s real big, but tasteless—boxy—tan, generic, nothing paint. I pull into the driveway and sit there for a minute, breathing.
劳伦的心理医生住在某个封闭的社区，那里所有的街道都有“浆果”的名字——艾德贝里、哈克贝里、博伊森贝里等。前面的警卫告诉我在哪里可以找到朱尔斯的房子。看起来和其他人都一样。它确实很大，但没什么味道——四四方方——棕褐色，很普通，没有任何油漆。我把车开进车道，坐了一会儿，喘着气。

The front door opens while I’m trying to figure out my next move. Smoking a cigarette is the best I can come up with, but I stamp it out nervously as I see this woman coming out to greet me—or at least, I hope that’s what she’s doing. She has short curly hair, dyed to disguise the gray. She’s a little overweight and heavily made-up—her clothes conservative and not at all stylish. I get outta the car.

“You must be Nic,” she says, way too sweetly.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Ruth-Anne.”

I shake her hand and meet her eyes with mine. I smile.

“Come in,” she says, and I follow behind her.

The house looks out on a golf course and the ocean. Two teenage girls are eating bowls of ice cream at this long glass table. Lauren and a balding, very white man in a dress shirt are talking outside on two cushioned metal chairs. I assume that must be Jules.

“Do you want some juice?” asks Ruth-Anne, her voice still way too cheery.

“Uh, okay.” “呃，好吧。”

“Apple or grape?” “苹果还是葡萄？”

“Apple, please. Thank you.”
“苹果，请。谢谢。”

She pours me a glass.
她给我倒了一杯。

“Should I go out there?”
“我应该出去吗？”

“Yes,” she says.

I walk outside into the windswept afternoon and the man stands instantly to shake my hand.

“Nic, I’m Jules,” he says. His voice is very soft and soothing, like someone talking on one of those goddamn guided meditation tapes we had to listen to in rehab.

Lauren lights a cigarette, so I do too. I pull a chair over next to her and put my hand on her thigh. She leans her head against my shoulder.

Jules tells me, as kindly as possible, what a bad idea it is for Lauren to return to the city with me. He crosses and uncrosses his legs. He wraps his fingers around one another—long and pale with polished nails. He tells me that if I truly love Lauren, I’ll leave her alone to clean up for a while. I look in his eyes. They are striking blue. I say I want to help Lauren, but it’s ultimately her choice. Besides, we kind of have to see this run we’re on out to the end. We’ll bottom out soon enough.

He tries to reason with me. He asks me if OD’ing on heroin isn’t bottom enough. I keep repeating that it’s Lauren’s decision and she says she wants to go home. She assures Jules she won’t use.
他试图跟我讲道理。他问我吸食海洛因是否还不够低。我不断重复这是劳伦的决定，她说她想回家。她向朱尔斯保证她不会使用。

He obviously doesn’t believe her, but it’s not like he can stop us or anything. For a while he drills me about my history. I answer honestly. I don’t hide anything.
他显然不相信她，但他也无法阻止我们什么的。有一阵子他向我灌输了我的历史。我如实回答。我不隐瞒任何事情。

“Yeah, I’m definitely a drug addict—but, uh, it’s kinda working for me right now. I mean, I know it’s gonna end badly—but I gotta see this through.”
“是的，我确实是个瘾君子——但是，呃，它现在对我有点用。我的意思是，我知道结局会很糟糕——但我必须坚持到底。”

“You don’t have to,” he says. “You want to.”
“你不必这样做，”他说。 “你想要。”

He offers to see me for a free visit sometime—maybe get me on some medication. I thank him all over the place. Jules more or less says nothing the whole time. Lauren looks real out of it—tired—and I realize she hasn’t had any speed for over twenty-four hours. The depression, the painful crashing need to sleep, is sweeping through her. I actually have to support her with my arm as we walk outta there.
他提出有一天可以免费拜访我——也许可以给我开点药。我处处感谢他。朱尔斯自始至终几乎什么也没说。劳伦看起来很疲惫——很累——而且我意识到她已经二十四小时没有任何速度了。抑郁症、痛苦的、强烈的睡眠需求席卷了她。当我们走出那里时，我实际上必须用手臂支撑她。

“You’re making a mistake,” says Jules.
“你犯了一个错误，”朱尔斯说。

“Probably.” “大概。”

As soon as we get down the block, we pull over and I watch for patrol cars while Lauren gets off with what’s left of the good crystal. I’m definitely using more than I’m selling, which is bad, obviously.
我们一到街区，就靠边停车，我留意巡逻车，而劳伦带着剩下的好水晶下了车。我使用的数量肯定超过了我销售的数量，这显然很糟糕。

I try not to think about money and how, at this rate, shit won’t last another week. Between the meth and heroin, Gack and me and Lauren are using over two hundred dollars a day. If you add food and cigarettes and eventually having to find another place to live other than Lauren’s parents’ house, well, I can feel the top of the ladder getting closer. I try not to think about it, but you know how that goes.
我尽量不去想钱的事，以及按照这样的速度下去，狗屎不会再持续一周了。盖克、我和劳伦每天要吸食冰毒和海洛因超过 200 美元。如果再加上食物和香烟，最终不得不在劳伦父母的房子之外找到另一个住处，那么，我能感觉到梯子的顶端越来越近了。我尽量不去想它，但你知道那是怎么回事。

“Better, baby?” I ask. “好点了吗，宝贝？”我问。

She tells me she loves me and I drive us home. “We do gotta cut back,” she says.
她告诉我她爱我，然后我开车送我们回家。 “我们确实必须削减开支，”她说。

I agree, taking hold of her hand. “Yeah, plus Gack fucked up a whole teener. Shit’s unsellable. We gotta be really careful with what’s left.”
我同意了，握住了她的手。 “是啊，加上盖克搞砸了整个青少年。屎是卖不出去的。我们必须非常小心剩下的东西。”

She tells me that Jules said he would have to call her parents if she left his house. I ask what that means.

“They’re gonna come home and try and talk me into getting help.”

“What?”

She tells me not to worry. We’ll go live in my car together—it’ll be all right. We’ll find a place eventually. Maybe we’ll get sober. If we get sober, her parents will support us.

“We can have a baby,” she says.

I just squeeze her hand. “How much time before they come back?”

“It’ll probably be by tomorrow night.”

“Fuck.” “他妈的。”

She keeps trying to calm me down, but I can’t really see her living in my car. I can’t really see getting sober, either. I kinda wish I’d left her in fucking Santa Cruz. We call Candy on our way back into town and I drop another eighty bucks on some heroin.
她一直试图让我平静下来，但我实在看不到她住在我的车里。我也看不到自己会变得清醒。我真希望我把她留在他妈的圣克鲁斯。我们在回城的路上给坎迪打电话，我又花了八十美元买了一些海洛因。

We shoot most of the cut meth at Lauren’s. The cut makes both of us kinda sick, but we still make love like we do. There’s always that, isn’t there? I feel her moving on top of me on the whiteness of her bed. I feel the pillows and quilts. I feel all this luxury that is about to be gone—so quick, too. We soak the room with our sweat and I can’t feel anything, but I keep on fucking her ’cause I don’t know what else to do. My mind is going, going, going and even this isn’t stopping it, but it helps. When I was a little boy I used to masturbate like this. I was too young to come—but I had all this sexuality inside me and I’d play with myself for hours to escape, or whatever. Hell, maybe it just felt good. There were a few friends I had when I was little who would masturbate with me. It was when I was like nine or ten—maybe younger. We were all too little to have anything happen. I remember telling sexual stories to my friends—making shit up that would turn us all on. I would talk while we were doing it. It’s funny ’cause lying here with Lauren, I’m doing the same thing—making love to her in a whisper with my words and my body. That must mean something, right? I guess I’m still that confused little boy, or is that too simple?
我们大部分的冰毒都是在劳伦家拍摄的。伤口让我们俩都有点不舒服，但我们仍然像以前一样做爱。总是有这样的事，不是吗？我感觉到她在白色的床上在我身上移动。我摸着枕头和被子。我感觉所有这些奢华都即将消失——而且速度也很快。我们的汗水浸湿了房间，我感觉不到任何东西，但我继续操她，因为我不知道还能做什么。我的思绪一直在走、走、走，即使这并不能阻止它，但它有帮助。当我还是个小男孩的时候，我经常这样自慰。我太年轻了，不能来——但我内心充满了性欲，我会和自己玩几个小时来逃避，或者其他什么。天哪，也许只是感觉很好。我小时候有几个朋友会和我一起自慰。那是在我九岁或十岁的时候——也许更年轻。我们都太小了，不可能发生任何事情。我记得给我的朋友们讲过性故事——编造一些能让我们所有人兴奋的故事。当我们这样做的时候我会说话。这很有趣，因为和劳伦一起躺在这里，我也在做同样的事情——用我的言语和身体低声与她做爱。这一定意味着什么，对吧？我想我还是那个迷茫的小男孩，还是这太简单了？

DAY 16 第 16 天

Lauren’s fucking scared about facing her parents. We do the rest of that nasty cut shit and I can’t believe it’s all gone. Gack may have sold some, but it’s not real likely. I make breakfast and help clean up. She talked to her parents early this morning. They should be in at, like, six. Still, I’m not taking any chances having to meet them like this—so I leave early. Lauren says if I don’t call her many times this evening, she’ll fucking kill me. I try to look at her objectively.
劳伦他妈的害怕面对她的父母。我们做了剩下的那些令人讨厌的剪辑，我不敢相信这一切都消失了。 Gack 可能已经卖掉了一些，但可能性不大。我做早餐并帮忙打扫卫生。今天一早她就跟父母谈过了。他们应该在六点钟左右。不过，我不会冒险像这样见到他们——所以我提前离开了。劳伦说如果我今晚不多次给她打电话，她就会杀了我。我试着客观地看待她。

Over two weeks and she looks completely changed. She’s lost so much weight her small head looks enormous on her withering neck. Her cheekbones are standing out against the hollowness of her face and eyes. Her arms are bruised, bloody—brown splotches—white scars—swollen in some places, horribly shrunken in others. Her lips are washed out—white—cracked. I kiss them and taste her dry nicotine tongue.
两周多了，她看起来完全变了。她体重减轻了很多，小小的脑袋在枯萎的脖子上显得很大。她的颧骨在她凹陷的脸和眼睛的衬托下显得格外突出。她的手臂青肿、血淋淋的——棕色斑点——白色疤痕——有些地方肿胀，有些地方萎缩得可怕。她的嘴唇被洗掉了——惨白——干裂。我亲吻它们，品尝她干燥的尼古丁舌头。

“We’ll be all right,” she says.
“我们会没事的，”她说。

I take my stuff and walk out to where I parked my car. There’s leaves and shit all over it. There are four parking tickets under the windshield wipers. The back tire is flat and I got no spare.
我拿上我的东西，走到我停车的地方。上面全是树叶和粪便。挡风玻璃雨刷下有四张停车罚单。后轮胎瘪了，我没有备用轮胎。

Back to Lauren’s. 回到劳伦的。

I use her phone to call a tow truck. When we get to the gas station, the attendant—an aging, lined white guy with long hair slicked back—tries to sell me new tires all around. I tell him I just need it to be drivable.
我用她的电话叫了一辆拖车。当我们到达加油站时，服务员——一个长发梳到脑后、皮肤皱纹的老白人——试图向我兜售新轮胎。我告诉他我只需要它可以驾驶。

“These other ones are gonna go,” he says, his voice all thick and hoarse.
“其他的人都会走了，”他说，声音又粗又沙哑。

“I’ll take my chances.” “我会抓住机会的。”

“Yer chances ain’t good.”
“你的机会不大。”

I thank him. 我感谢他。

While his boys are fixing the tire, I go call Gack. Between the tow truck and the tire, well, that’s a little under two hundred bucks. I worry about how fast my money is disappearing. I’m on, like, the corner of Geary and 21st and the early afternoon streets are mostly empty. Gack said he sold three sacks and used the other. That’s sixty dollars he got, at least.
当他的孩子们正在修理轮胎时，我去给加克打电话。加上拖车和轮胎，嗯，不到两百美元。我担心我的钱消失得有多快。我在 Geary 和 21 街的拐角处，下午早些时候的街道大多是空的。加克说他卖掉了三袋，并使用了另一袋。他至少得到了六十美元。

When I pick him up, he’s all excited ’cause he found a pair of pants behind some church. They have all these pockets, which he thinks is just fucking great. They’re, like, army style—dark, olive green—torn at both knees. I see his pale knees sticking through.

“How’s Erin?”

“Oh, dude,” he says, his voice cracking some. “She fucking lost it. Shit weren’t cool. She called me all wanting me to take her to the hospital and shit. Poor thing had to go to school like that in the morning.”
“哦，伙计，”他说，声音有些沙哑。 “她他妈的失去了它。糟糕透了。她打电话给我，想让我带她去医院。可怜的东西早上就得这样去学校。”

“But she’s all right?” “但是她还好吗？”

“Sure.” “当然。”

We go cop behind some donut place near the Bay Bridge. Gack goes in like always and I wait in the car. I’m tired, man. All the speed in the world can’t seem to get me up. I watch some black dude with a thick beard and a thicker parka asking for money on the street corner. I’ve tried it before. Really, there’s no feeling worse. Not even hustling is as bad. At least with that, there’s a sense of being a commodity of some value. Asking for money is a proclamation of your own unfitness for survival. It’s saying, “I am the weak one of the herd.” Or worse, a parasite that feeds on society. Trying to meet a person’s eyes, begging them for scraps—it is humbling in a way that few things are. And sitting here, I keep thinking that I’m about to have no other option. Tricking or begging—that’s what’s gonna be left for me. Plus I’m so goddamn worn out.
我们去海湾大桥附近的一家甜甜圈店后面找警察。盖克像往常一样进去，我在车里等着。我累了，伙计。世界上所有的速度似乎都无法让我站起来。我看到一些留着浓密胡须、穿着厚外套的黑人在街角讨钱。我以前尝试过。真的，没有比这更糟糕的感觉了。即使是喧闹也没有那么糟糕。至少这样，就有一种成为具有一定价值的商品的感觉。向人要钱就是对自己不适合生存的宣告。它说：“我是群体中的弱者。”或者更糟糕的是，一种以社会为食的寄生虫。试图与一个人四目相对，向他们乞求残羹冷炙——这在某种程度上是一种谦卑，很少有事情能做到这一点。坐在这里，我一直在想我别无选择。欺骗或乞讨——这就是留给我的。而且我实在是太累了。

When I was on the streets before, I had so much drive. I remember when I was living at Akira’s, he let me stay in this storage space in his garage. I had to clear all the shit out that was in there, but keep it secret from his mom—so I just piled it all up in the rafters and put a mattress under it all. One night I was sleeping and it all came crashing down—splitting my head. There was blood everywhere. In the morning, I woke up with this huge scab on my forehead. I put on a shirt and this apron I had from a job I’d gotten at this Italian restaurant. They gave me the shirt and apron, but I never went back. So I put that shit on and got this bag of ice and started walking up Park Presidio, Clement, and Geary. I picked the scab off and the blood was coming down. I went up to people and was, like, “Please help, I just got in this accident at work. I need money to get a taxi back home.”

I made around fifteen bucks in about half an hour, but then this Russian woman with very platinum hair stopped me.

“What you say doesn’t make sense,” she said. “If you got hurt at work, why didn’t they help you?”

My eyes widened. “Good question.”

That was the end of that scheme. I guess it was pretty stupid to begin with. But doing that shit now—I just can’t see it. Plus, back then, fifteen bucks would get me through a day of shooting speed. I’ve moved far beyond that point now—but we know that already.
那个计划就这样结束了。我想一开始就很愚蠢。但现在做这种事——我就是看不到。另外，当时十五美元就可以让我完成一天的射击速度。现在我已经远远超出了这一点——但我们已经知道了。

When Gack comes back he’s all freaked out. He tells me to drive—quick. Walking through the alley, some guy approached him and told him to empty his pockets. He had to throw his skate at the guy and run. I screech outta the parking lot. Gack is breathing hard.
当盖克回来时，他吓坏了。他叫我开车——快点。穿过小巷时，有人走近他，让他把口袋里的东西掏空。他不得不把溜冰鞋扔向那家伙然后逃跑。我尖叫着冲出了停车场。盖克呼吸困难。

“What the fuck is happening to us?” I ask. “Doors are closing.”
“我们他妈到底怎么了？”我问。 “门正在关闭。”

“Nah,” Gack assures me. “It’s all good.”
“不，”盖克向我保证。 “都很好。”

Driving toward Church and Market, I ask Gack to get me a shot ready. “Do you need one?” I ask.
驱车前往教堂和市场，我请盖克帮我准备一枪。 “你需要一个吗？”我问。

He shrugs. 他耸耸肩。

“All right, fuck it. Make ’em big, man. I’m not even getting high no more.”
“好吧，去他妈的。让它们变大，伙计。我什至不再兴奋了。”

“Word.” “单词。”

We shoot up in the Safeway parking lot. I actually feel it, which is good, and I cough and all. Gack bags the shit up just like it is ’cause I ain’t fucking cutting shit anymore. I’ll sell small sacks, but I don’t wanna deal with all that again. He goes off to try and make some sales on twenty bags. I try writing in my notebook—Daisy’s notebook. My thoughts are scattered. It’s all bullshit. I draw instead, looking up every once in a while to watch the couple in the car next to me. The guy is real haggard-looking, but young—late twenties. The girl is sort of pudgy, with a bob haircut, dyed black. The car is full of crap. It’s a boxy red nothing, like mine. After a while, I realize they’re both shooting up—or, uh, the guy is shooting them both up. I get outta the car and lean against the hood, lighting a cigarette. I watch them both get off, then the guy looks up and notices me staring at them.
我们在西夫韦停车场拍摄。我确实感觉到了，这很好，我咳嗽等等。 Gack 把这些东西收起来，就像它本来的样子，因为我他妈的不再剪东西了。我会卖掉小袋子，但我不想再处理这些了。他去尝试销售二十个袋子。我尝试在我的笔记本——黛西的笔记本上写字。我的思绪散乱了。都是废话。相反，我画画，时不时地抬头看看我旁边车里的一对夫妇。这家伙看上去很憔悴，但很年轻——二十多岁。这个女孩有点矮胖，留着波波头，染成黑色。车里全是垃圾。它是一种四四方方的红色，没什么，就像我的一样。过了一会儿，我意识到他们都在射击——或者，呃，那家伙正在向他们射击。我下了车，靠在引擎盖上，点燃了一支香烟。我看着他们俩下了车，然后那家伙抬起头，发现我在盯着他们看。

“Yeah?” he asks, rolling the window down.
“是的？”他摇下车窗问道。

“Nothing, don’t trip. I just didn’t know if y’all wanted a little up for later.”
“没什么，别绊倒。我只是不知道你们是否想要稍后再起床。”

“What?” “什么？”

“I got this really good crystal I’m selling if y’all are interested. I ain’t no cop or nothing.”
“如果你们有兴趣的话，我正在出售这块非常好的水晶。我不是警察，什么也不是。”

He turns to his girl.
他转向他的女孩。

“What do you think, baby, you want some crystal?”
“你觉得怎么样，宝贝，你想要一些水晶吗？”

“Crystal?” “水晶？”

“Is it good?” she asks.
“好吗？”她问。

“Kid says it is.” “孩子说的是。”

“Is it good, kid?” she asks, laughing.
“孩子，这样好吗？”她笑着问道。

“You can try some if you want.”
“如果你愿意的话，可以尝试一下。”

“No shit?” “没有屎吗？”

I tell them again it’s good. I tell them it’s what I’m on. We’re talking like old friends. They agree to buy forty dollars’ worth and I’m so grateful that I actually hook them up really fat. I even give them Lauren’s number. If they want more they can just call. They thank me and I thank them. I feel this power inside—a renewed faith. Maybe things’ll work out after all.
我再次告诉他们这很好。我告诉他们这就是我所做的。我们像老朋友一样聊天。他们同意买四十美元的东西，我很感激，我真的把他们挂得很胖。我什至给了他们劳伦的电话号码。如果他们想要更多，可以打电话。他们感谢我，我也感谢他们。我感受到了内心的力量——一种新的信念。也许事情终究会解决的。

But then I see Gack coming up and he’s talking to himself and clenching his fists.
但后来我看到盖克走过来，他正在自言自语，握紧拳头。

“Let’s go,” he says. “我们走吧，”他说。

“What?” “什么？”

“We’re fucking closed out here.”
“我们这里他妈的关门了。”

“What do you—”

“That fucking guy, he talked a lot of shit.”

“Mohawk kid?” “莫霍克小子？”

“Yeah. He said I was selling bunk shit. No one’ll buy from me. I’m gonna find him and beat the shit outta him. We gotta go down to Haight.”

“Haight?”

“Yeah, they say he’ll be down there.”

I do what he says. Somehow Gack thinks that beating up the Mohawk guy will prove he’s been straight ahead with everyone. When I tell him about hooking the couple up, he sighs like I’m so fucking stupid.

“Come on, man, you can’t be doing that. These people ain’t ever gonna call you. Just ’cause you are cool with someone and hook ’em up don’t mean they’re gonna have any loyalty to you. People don’t give a fuck.”

“But—”

“I’m different. There are a few of us who are. Hey, pull over a second, I think I see one.”

“One what?”

“One of us.”

So I pull over. We’re in the Panhandle—actually right near my old drug dealer Annika’s place. There’s nothing here but row after row of Victorians—maybe a liquor store or whatever. The pavement is all cracked with blades of grass growing through. There’s dog shit everywhere. The street stinks of it.

I see Gack go up to this guy who is short and hunched. He has a scruffy beard, a beanie, a black jacket. He’s drinking from a brown paper bag and smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, or I guess it’s a joint. They talk for a second and then they’re back to my car.

“Nic, this is Ben. Ben’s all right.”

He gets into the backseat. The weed he’s smoking fills the car with this sweetness. I take a long pull from the wet roach and pass it to Gack.

“Ben, you wanna help us find this kid who’s been dissin’ us? We gonna kick his fucking ass.”

“Yeah, all right. I gotta parole board meeting at four in Daly City.”

“Dude,” I say. “I’ll drive you.”

“What about that punk-ass motherfucker? We gotta take care of that shit, Nic.”

“Whatever,” I say. “Fuck that kid. We’ll see him around sometime. Why waste our energy looking for him? That’s like giving him power and shit.”

“Word,” says Gack. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Yeah.”

So we all drive out along the beach to Daly City. At one point, way down the avenues at, like, Judah and 30-somethingth, Gack wants me to stop. We’re right near his girl’s place and he wants to call her—see if she can hang out awhile. He goes to find a pay phone and I sit with Ben. Ben doesn’t say much—except that he just got outta jail. He mentions some letter he’s waiting for. Apparently there was some guy he shared a cell with who promised to give him the deed to a big piece of property in England. By some coincidence they turned out to be related or something. The whole thing sounds like bullshit to me, but I don’t tell him that.

I look out on all the Chinese and Korean markets. I’m thirsty as hell, but I don’t wanna buy any more shit. I just filled up my tank with gas and bought hella cigarettes and shit, so I’m pretty fucking worried about the fact that I got only five hundred dollars left. That’ll be gone in a week—and that’s if I try real hard to conserve it. Basically, I can’t be buying food anymore.

I have this empty water bottle in the back of my car, so I go into a dry cleaning place. Now, I’m pretty used to having people look at me and not trust me and whatever. No one in the city ever lets you use their bathroom or anything. And, in general, folks on the avenues are real suspicious and cold. I’m nervous about walking into this place, but, like I said, I’m thirsty and can’t afford to throw any more money away. So I go inside and the woman leaning on the counter scowls at me behind thick glasses. She speaks in not great English—asking what I want.

“Nothing. I just, uh, I need some water.”

“Water?”

“Yes, please. I’m so thirsty. Could you fill this bottle up with water for me—or show me where I can fill it up?”

“You want water for drinking?”

“Please.”

“No, you go buy.”

“Please, I just want some tap water.”

“No, you go.”

She points a long, thin finger toward the street.

“Go.” I meet her eyes for a second, then turn and walk silently out. The sun seems very far away.

I shove my hands into the pocket of my sweatshirt, but then I hear a voice calling after me.

“Boy. Boy.”

Turning, I see the woman from the dry cleaner’s running after me. She has a small bottle of water in her hand.

“You take this.”

“What? Why?”

“You take.”

I thank her. She just turns and walks back into her store. I guess I feel like crying. I’m not sure why.

Gack comes back and I tell him the story and he doesn’t really seem to care. He can’t find Erin, so he decides to just come with us down to Daly City. Ben’s meeting takes about five seconds. He basically just has to show up. The building is this big institutional-looking green block slab. My car is kinda jerkin’ and being weird and shit. When we park, the engine lets off this steam or something. I mean it’s kind of hissing and smoking. I lift up the hood and stare at the insides—not like I know shit about cars. I suppose it’s only a matter of time before the car gives out. I’m just gonna have to drive it till it stops running completely. It can’t be long.

Ben says he’s really hungry as we drive back to the city.

“If we get to Glide by five then we can get in the dinner line,” he says.

“Glide?”

“Sure.”

I know Glide Memorial Church from when I was little. In grade school, we used to take trips down there to help work in the soup kitchen. We all hated it, of course. Mostly we just served punch, or whatever—helped clear away trays. We were too young to chop anything or handle serving the hot food. I remember distributing bread to the line of men and women—none of ’em looking at one another or at me. Mostly they weren’t too scary or anything. Sometimes they’d ask for an extra piece of bread, or more juice. We weren’t supposed to give it to them, but I always did.

I can’t say what I thought about seeing those people having to be fed like that. I mean, I’m not sure if I really thought about why they were in that position. Obviously, growing up in the city, I was used to seeing the homeless. I know I felt sorry for them—men and women wrapped in blankets lying on the hard concrete. I guess I thought they were sick or something. No, I don’t remember what conclusions I drew.

But one thing was for sure—I never in my life imagined being one of them.

Yet here I am, standing in line with a little yellow ticket in my hand—the sun blocked out by the dry-rot buildings. I’m standing in line with all these other men and women, mostly older than me, huddled together—but never touching, never looking up, never talking. I stare at a piece of gum turned black, stamped into the sidewalk. I’m suddenly real paranoid about someone I know from when I was a kid driving by—a teacher, or even my parents. I’m hoping we can just get inside, you know?

The church stretches up, up, up, with dirt caked into the worn-away bricks. A stained-glass window reflects no light and purple flags hang from the steeple. We’re let in through a side door, down these bare carpeted stairs. There are a lot of pictures of Jesus on the walls and signs posting times for substance abuse counseling groups and AIDS testing and whatever. I follow Ben and Gack follows me. We don’t say one thing. The whole room of people is weighted with shame.

I grab a tray. Two young black women and an older white man with a tie-dye T-shirt serve beans, coleslaw, white rice, and stale bread. I ask for everything on my plate and thank them. We go sit down at one of the long plastic tables. We eat fast. We’re below the street and the only light comes from some fluorescent pale bulbs along the ceiling. The food actually tastes great. I eat it all.

Lauren sounds terrible when she finally answers her phone. She’s crying hysterically and chokes and gasps for breath. Her parents are kicking her out if she doesn’t agree to go into rehab. She has about a week to decide—that’s when they’re all going to meet with Jules about her options for treatment. They want me to come to the meeting.

“Me? Why?”

“Because I love you and we want to help you.”

“Oh, Lauren, I don’t know.”

“It’ll be fine, we’ll do it together.”

“I’m not going back to rehab.”

“Just come,” she says, sniffling loudly. “Maybe they’ll figure something else out.”

“And until then?”

She says she has to stay home. She can go out to some appointments and things. Maybe she can meet me then. Otherwise we just have to wait and see.

I hang up the phone. Suddenly I don’t feel like hanging out anymore. I tell Gack and Ben that I’ve gotta go. We agree to meet up tomorrow. Ben gives me a number of some hotel where I can leave a message for him. I get in my car and start driving back toward the parking lot on 15th and Lake—figuring I’ll maybe walk around the Presidio some, see if there’s any old abandoned army housing that I can sneak into. I’ve always had this fantasy of squatting in one of those places. They’re all single-story brick or white wood houses—boarded up—doors fastened shut with heavy padlocks.

Driving over there, the heat gauge is, like, busting through the glass. I can hear this hissing noise and there’s a bunch of gray-black smoke. The car stalls out right at the base of the lot and I manage to coast it into one of the parking spaces.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I put some stuff in a shoulder bag—a screwdriver, a notebook, pens, three CDs, a portable CD player, and these big studio headphones. I play this Fantômas record. It’s sort of arty death metal with all these sudden starts and stops—strange vocalizations over hardcore compositions. I set out through the Presidio—the trees hanging down and the streetlights all glowing orange. The roads wind through the dense forest. The shadows are dramatic and startling. I keep feeling like someone is coming up behind me and I look back, nervous. It reminds me of this time outside my old drug dealer’s place in Oakland.

I mean, downtown Oakland’s pretty safe and all, but the little suburbs are just totally fucked up. No one even knows they’re there, so you could basically just go in and never come out and no one would ever know. I remember walking through there and I was listening to this John Coltrane CD. It was the Impulse stuff after he kicked heroin and started talking to God through his music. It’s really out there and I was listening to one of those CDs, walking through this neighborhood. It seemed like everyone was staring at me and it was really just a matter of time before this big car, a Cadillac or something, crept up slow next to me. I was just pretending not to notice and all, so I walked on. But the car sped up, then pulled this fat U-turn and stopped. These three big-ass dudes with fucking bandannas and football jerseys got out and they were just mobbing straight toward me. You know that walk? When they stick their chests out and sort of waddle, but it looks tough, you know, a tough waddle. Basically, I thought I was fucked. I had this goddamn backpack full of CDs and drugs and money, all of which I figured I was about to part ways with. I didn’t know what to do. They got closer and I turned and started to run. They actually fucking chased me. Somehow, tweaked out, listening to Coltrane, running from these big guys, about to get jacked, it all seemed so funny and I started laughing. I mean, I was really fucking laughing so I couldn’t stop. But I was still trying to run, which made me laugh even more. They just stopped and, like, looked at me all puzzled and shit and then they started laughing. They were laughing and I was laughing and I just kept running till I was outta there.

But here in the Presidio, there’s absolutely no one around. I can’t really understand it. With all the homeless folk in SF, the fact that these woods remain unmolested is sort of a mystery. I remember talking to this strung-out older man camped out somewhere near the Steps of Rome Caffe on Columbus. I was like, “Dude, why are you sleeping on this concrete, man? For one dollar you take a bus twenty minutes and are in this national park.”

The guy turned his head toward me and asked, confused, “There’s a national park around here?”

“Yeah, man, the fucking Presidio.”

“How do I get there?”

I told him, but the next day I saw him back on Columbus—trying to sleep in the same goddamn spot.

So I walk along the trails and small paved roads. There are large abandoned houses all around—but I keep feeling like someone’s watching me or something.

In a way it’s like too serene or whatever—too empty. I feel that familiar feeling of being a dark smudge on this otherwise pristine white canvas. There’s just no way to blend in out here. And then, walking along the street, I feel these headlights behind me. I turn quickly—just glancing back and, sure enough, there’s a car comin’ up slow. I pick up my pace some, but then back off—not wanting to look suspicious. I turn my head again. A wave of nausea sweeps through me and my blood drains as I see the roof of the car—a police cruiser. It’s right alongside me and staying there. I try to remember if there’re any drugs in my bag. I’m pretty sure there aren’t—but there is that screwdriver—plus my arms are so completely covered in tracks. I wonder if they can arrest you for that. It seems like they can pretty much arrest you for anything.

I lower my headphones and look over at the car. They’ve got one of those sidelight things out the passenger window and it is mad shining at me—white and glaring. I stop walking and just stare it down, my arms dangling—not making any sudden movements. The cruiser slows to almost nothing. I can’t see anything but the light. I wait—my heart going, going, going.

And then they drive off.

Just like that.

They don’t say anything.

I’m shaking all over.

I walk back to my car and try to sleep in the backseat. Every twenty minutes or so, I wake up—sure that some cop is banging on my window. When morning comes I have to throw up three times. A shot of heroin calms my stomach, but can’t take away the fear.
我走回车里，尝试在后座上睡觉。每隔二十分钟左右，我就会醒来——确信有警察在敲我的窗户。到了早晨，我必须呕吐三次。注射一针海洛因可以让我的胃平静下来，但无法消除恐惧。

DAY 23 第 23 天

It’s Sunday morning, five a.m., cold before the sun is up. I’m shivering, shivering, shivering. Gack and Bullet and I are outside the Fairmont Hotel. We’ve been waiting all night and I’m not really sure how we ended up here. It’s been five days of basically nothing but shooting drugs, selling bags of crystal here and there, sleeping in my car—if at all—eating at Glide, or stealing sandwiches from Starbucks. One day we find half a box of pizza on the ground, another day there’s a plate of rice and fish leftovers wrapped up on top of a garbage can in the Marina. Everyone seems to have forgotten about that Mohawk kid, but the crystal’s still hard to move—plus we’re using so much. I’ve only seen Lauren a couple times, mostly just to drop off a sack for her.
那是周日早上，凌晨五点，太阳升起之前天气寒冷。我在颤抖，颤抖，颤抖。我和盖克、子弹在费尔蒙酒店外面。我们已经等了一晚上了，我不太确定我们是怎么到这里的。这五天基本上什么都没有，除了吸毒、到处卖水晶袋、睡在车里——如果有的话——在格莱德吃饭，或者从星巴克偷三明治。有一天我们在地上发现了半盒披萨，另一天在码头的垃圾桶上发现了一盘米饭和鱼的剩菜。每个人似乎都忘记了那个莫霍克小孩，但水晶仍然很难移动——而且我们用了太多。我只见过劳伦几次，大部分时间只是为了帮她放下一个袋子。

The meeting with her shrink and all is tomorrow morning. I’m nervous about it, but I agree to show up. Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep doing this. It’s like there are seven candles lit in my stomach. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven candles burning and smoking—lit—seven flames of doubt, fear, sorrow, pain, waste, hopelessness, despair. They turn my insides black with soot and ash. There is something at the back of my eyes—a pressure building, building, building—hot like the flames of seven candles, which no amount of breath can extinguish.
与她的心理医生的会面都是明天早上。我对此很紧张，但我同意出席。老实说，我不确定我还能继续这样做多久。就像我的肚子里点燃了七根蜡烛。一二三四五六七。七支蜡烛燃烧着，冒着烟——点燃了七支怀疑、恐惧、悲伤、痛苦、浪费、绝望、绝望的火焰。他们用煤烟和灰烬把我的内脏变成黑色。我的眼睛后面有某种东西——一股压力在积聚、积聚、积聚——像七根蜡烛的火焰一样炽热，无论呼吸多少都无法熄灭。

I imagine drinking glasses of water. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. I dive into the clearest pool. I drown myself in the coarse, dry sand. I swallow handfuls of crushed white salt, but the flames burn higher still—brighter, hotter, deeper. Sweat runs in delicate patterns down my back, over my crooked spine and jutting hips. I scratch at the wounds these last weeks have left, but I can’t break free of them. The flies gather and vultures circle overhead. The fire eats away my flesh. The fire spreads. The fire runs through my veins. The fire courses beneath my muscles—my tendons—the marrow of my bones.
我想象喝一杯水。一二三四五六七。我潜入最清澈的泳池。我把自己淹死在粗糙干燥的沙子里。我吞下一把碎白盐，但火焰燃烧得更高——更亮、更热、更深。汗水以微妙的方式流过我的背，流过我弯曲的脊椎和突出的臀部。我抓着过去几周留下的伤口，但我无法挣脱它们。苍蝇聚集，秃鹰在头顶盘旋。火吞噬了我的肉。火势蔓延。火焰在我的血管中流淌。火焰在我的肌肉——我的肌腱——我的骨髓下面蔓延。

I sit rocking on the street corner. No, I can’t keep doing this. I just can’t.

Bullet shoots the last of the heroin. He found out his mom died this morning from her lymphatic cancer and I couldn’t say no. I give him a lot of cigarettes. He doesn’t cry, but he keeps breaking shit. He kicked this newspaper stand to pieces. He’s mumbling about being taken to the park by her as a child. His words are all slurred over the heroin nods. Gack tries to comfort him but Bullet just yells at him. I mostly say nothing. I haven’t changed clothes in three days. I can’t even smell myself anymore. The money is going. My veins are already collapsing so it’s getting hard as hell to hit. I’ve started having to dig around, like Lauren. I’ve even started trying to shoot up in my hands and legs and feet. Gack tells me not to fuck with my legs, ’cause if you miss you can’t walk without being in, like, so much pain. I don’t listen to him.

Anyway, Bullet keeps going on about going to a park with his mom—or that he wants to go to a park—I can’t really tell. But we’ve hiked up California Street past the Fairmont ’cause we are trying to find some sort of park to hang out at so Bullet will shut up about it. I seem to remember a playground up here. It was this huge place with a big orange slide and tunnels and monkey bars. Before we get there, though, Gack and I are gonna do some more speed and we’re trying to decide whether to go into the Fairmont bathroom or not. It’s gonna be impossible to go in there at five a.m. without drawing a lot of attention to ourselves. Bullet shot up on a doorstep down the street, so Gack and I end up going back down there.
不管怎样，子弹一直在说和他妈妈一起去公园——或者说他想去公园——我真的说不出来。但我们沿着加州街徒步经过费尔蒙特酒店，因为我们想找个公园闲逛，这样子弹就不会再谈论这件事了。我好像记得这里有一个游乐场。这是一个巨大的地方，有一个橙色的大滑梯、隧道和单杠。不过，在我们到达那里之前，盖克和我要加快速度，并尝试决定是否进入费尔蒙浴室。早上五点走进那里，我们不可能不引起很多关注。子弹射到了街上的一个门口台阶上，所以我和盖克最后又回到了那里。

Bullet plays watch guard while we shoot up. That’s the end of our speed.

Gack is able to hit somewhere on my forearm and the rush hits me and I’m satisfied for about a minute—then it dies out. I know I’m high, I just don’t feel it. The sun begins to lighten the sky and everything turns clear and crisp and pale—cold. There’s a layer of pink sky on the rooftops. We walk up the hill toward the playground. My legs are sore—my body is giving out.

We walk to the playground and it is so much smaller than I remembered. After all, I was just a child when I was last here. The park is actually filled with people, mostly Asian, wearing sweat suits and moving slow, slow, slow. Arms outstretched, then in. Legs up, out, down—moving like they’re underwater, or weighed down with lead. The three of us stop and stare.

“Tai chi,” I say.

Then suddenly, cars begin pulling up all around us—limousines, town cars, BMWs, Mercedes. Men and women, young and old, dressed in fine suits, tuxedos, long flowing dresses with flowers and expensive purses—they’re swarming around us, going up the steps to…what? Grace Cathedral.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask.

“Fuck if I know.”

Gack runs off to ask somebody. He approaches a young lady in a pink ruffled dress. She looks kindly enough, but freezes when she sees Gack. Still, he gets her to talk to him.

“It’s Easter,” he yells back at us.

“No way,” says Bullet. “Fucking Easter. I gotta go to church.”

“What?” I say. “Bullet, there’s no way.”

“Yeah, don’t you see—that must be why we came here.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think you can go in there like you are.”

“What do you mean by that?”

I leave that one alone.

Gack comes back over and Bullet tells him all about needing to go to church.

“Do what you want,” says Gack. “But there’s no fucking way I’m going in there.”

Bullet asks us maybe ten times what the chances are—us being up here on Easter and all.

“It’s gotta be a sign.”

“Yeah,” says Gack. “A sign that if you go in there, they’ll call the cops on your ass. Look how those fools are dressed. You wanna go to church? Well, then let’s go back down to the TL.”

But Bullet insists and so we watch him disappear into the crowd.

I laugh.

I laugh and fucking laugh and Gack does too.

“This is all so pathetic,” I say. “We can’t go on like this.”
“这一切都太可悲了，”我说。 “我们不能再这样下去了。”

“What else is there?” “那里还有什么？”

“Should we wait for him?”

“Nah, fuck it.”

We walk back through the playground and back down the hill and the sun is up and the sky is clear.

“I love this city,” I say.

“Yeah,” agrees Gack.

“But it’s gonna fucking kill us.”

“Yeah.”

“You ever think of getting out?”

“No.”

My feet hurt so bad—there’re blisters everywhere from walking so much. I tell Gack all about Lauren and having to meet with her family tomorrow. I tell him I’m thinking about getting clean again. He tells me it’s a waste of time.

“What is life for, if not for living?”

“Is this living?”

“We’re so free.”

“Sort of.”

Back in the TL the streets are already crowded with people looking to eat, or get well, or whatever. There’s no sign of Easter here. I smoke cigarettes while Gack goes up to his room to get some shit. I wanna try to take a shower and change clothes maybe before seeing Lauren—maintain some semblance of looking like I’ve got it together. Gack isn’t allowed visitors in his hotel anymore—so we’ve gotta find somewhere else around here to take a shower. Most of the apartments have communal showers, so it’s just a question of getting through the front gate.

Gack thinks he knows someone a couple blocks down who’ll buzz us in. He brings down a Snickers bar for my breakfast.

The apartment house is maybe five or six stories—white peeling paint, warped siding, a white painted gate blocking the stairs from the street. Gack pushes one of the buttons on the call box, but it just rings through. I smoke another cigarette and wish I had some water. After trying a few more buttons, we still can’t get inside. We walk around the back of the building. Gack thinks maybe he can climb one of the drainpipes up to an open window, but there’re cameras back here and the whole thing just seems sketchy as hell. The back door is just as impenetrable as the front. The alley smells like beer, or piss, or both. It dead-ends at a big concrete wall circled with barbed wire.

After discussing our options for a while, we see a very voluptuous-looking black woman with long extensions click-clacking in high heels up toward the rear entrance. She stops there in front of it and tilts her head back. She’s wearing a lot of makeup.
在讨论了我们的选择一段时间后，我们看到一位看起来非常性感的黑人女性，长长的腿，穿着高跟鞋，咔嗒咔嗒地朝后门走去。她在它前面停下来，向后仰起头。她化了很多妆。

“Hey, Kevin, man—gimme the fucking key!” She yells that up at the building. “Yo, motherfucker—the key!”
“嘿，凯文，伙计——给我他妈的钥匙！”她对着大楼大喊。 “哟，混蛋——钥匙！”

A bald man sticks his head out the window and tells her to be quiet, then lets a key chain fall down several stories next to her. She picks it up delicately with her pink acrylic nails.
一个秃头男人把头伸出窗外，让她安静，然后让一根钥匙链从她旁边几层楼掉下来。她用粉红色的亚克力指甲小心地把它捡起来。

She gets the door open and starts to walk in and Gack runs up to grab the door. She turns and lowers her eyes at him. “Nuhuh. I don’t think so.”

“My cousin lives in there,” says Gack.

“Then yo cousin can let yo ass in. Step back.”

Gack does and the door is closed in his face.

We go around to the front again.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s forget it.”

But just then, as the sun clears the top of the building and the street is washed with noonday light, an old Asian woman—stooped, with silver hair and thick glasses—exits the building with a metal cart and several bags. I rush up to hold the door for her—ever the chivalrous one—and Gack does the same. We watch her leave, then go into the building. It looks the same as all the other cheap fucking run-down places around here—smoky, stained carpeting and uneven hallways.
但就在这时，当太阳从大楼顶部升起，街道被正午的阳光照亮时，一位弯着腰、戴着厚厚眼镜、银发的亚洲老妇人推着一辆金属车和几个袋子走出了大楼。我冲上去为她把门——永远是一位侠士——而盖克也做了同样的事。我们看着她离开，然后走进大楼。它看起来和这附近所有其他廉价破旧的地方一样——烟雾缭绕、污迹斑斑的地毯和凹凸不平的走廊。

“The showers are in there,” says Gack. “Here, I got you a towel.”
“淋浴就在那里，”加克说。 “这个，我给你拿条毛巾。”

He pulls this crumpled damp shredded rag outta his bag and I thank him. He’s also got a bottle of some shampoo. I take the stuff and try the door to the bathroom, but it’s locked.
他从包里拿出这块皱巴巴的湿碎布，我感谢他。他还有一瓶洗发水。我拿起东西，尝试打开浴室的门，但门锁着。

“Fuck, you think someone’s in there?”
“操，你觉得里面有人吗？”

“Not likely.” “不见得。”

He knocks and there’s no response.
他敲门，但没有回应。

“Let’s try the next floor.”
“我们去下一层试试吧。”

We turn to find the stairs, but then there’s this man standing there behind us. He’s tall, with a paunchy belly and a red Mohawk—though he must be in his late thirties. His eyes are bugged somewhat and his lips jut out—as though he had puckered up to kiss somebody and his mouth just froze like that. He’s wearing an Asian print silk robe that doesn’t conceal very much. His chest and legs are thick with hair.
我们转身寻找楼梯，但这个人站在我们身后。他身材高大，大腹便便，留着红色莫霍克发型——尽管他一定有三十多岁了。他的眼睛有些肿，嘴唇突出——就好像他撅起嘴要亲吻某人，但他的嘴就这样僵住了。他穿着一件亚洲印花丝绸长袍，遮掩度并不高。他的胸部和腿上长满了浓密的毛发。

“Oh, yes,” he says. “They started locking the showers so kids would stop coming in off the street to use them.” His voice sounds very, uh, lazy—tired, or bored, or something. He speaks like he sees everything that is going on and it is very tiresome indeed. I guess you could say he sounds haughty. Yeah, that’s it.
“哦，是的，”他说。 “他们开始锁上淋浴间，这样孩子们就不会从街上进来使用它们了。”他的声音听起来非常，呃，懒惰——疲倦，或者无聊，或者别的什么。他说得好像他看到了正在发生的一切，这确实很令人厌烦。我想你可能会说他听起来很傲慢。是的，就是这样。

“You gotta key?” asks Gack.
“你要钥匙吗？”加克问道。

“Yes, but you may as well come along and use mine. I have a bathtub with soaps and whatnot. I’m sure you would find that preferable.”
“是的，不过你也可以一起来用我的。我有一个浴缸，里面有肥皂之类的东西。我相信你会觉得这样更好。”

“Sure, thanks,” says Gack.
“当然，谢谢，”加克说。

There’re eels slithering through my belly, turning and flicking their tails. But Gack doesn’t seem worried, so I follow them up several flights of stairs.
鳗鱼在我的肚子里滑行，转动着尾巴。但盖克似乎并不担心，所以我跟着他们上了几层楼梯。

“You’ll have to excuse the place,” the man says. “I just moved into this room from a smaller one and I haven’t unpacked yet. Also, an ex-boyfriend is asleep in the kitchen—well, passed out really. I’m sure you understand, boys.”
“你得原谅这个地方，”那人说。 “我刚从一个较小的房间搬进这个房间，还没有打开行李。另外，一位前男友在厨房里睡着了——嗯，真的昏倒了。我相信你们都明白，孩子们。”

True enough, there’s stuff all over the room—boxes and blankets and clothes and trash and shit. In the small kitchen, a younger-looking boy is out cold, naked on a pile of clothes and magazines and things. I have to step over him to get to the shower. The bathroom is cluttered with lots of soaps and shampoos and things. There’s a wood-handled scrub brush and razors and lotion and whatever. There’s no showerhead, but an extendable nozzle that comes from the faucet. I have to sort of crouch down, balancing on the balls of my feet. It reminds me of all the showers in Europe. There’s a small window letting in shafts of light. I do the whole bathing thing.

Around the time I’m washing the shampoo out of my hair, the door opens and I kind of freeze a little. The man with the robe comes in and says, “Don’t mind me,” then goes over and takes a piss in the toilet. His cock is very big and the veins are sticking out grotesquely. I try not to notice that he’s staring at me. I keep going with the shower. The guy stares and stares. Finally, he walks out.
当我洗掉头发上的洗发水时，门打开了，我有点僵住了。穿长袍的男人进来说：“别介意我。”然后走过去，在厕所里小便。他的鸡巴很大，血管怪异地突出。我尽量不去注意他在盯着我看。我继续洗澡。那家伙盯着又盯着。最后，他走了出去。

I breathe a little more easily.
我呼吸轻松了一些。

So I finish and dress and go back into the main room. That one guy is still passed out in the kitchen. I step over him again.
于是我穿好衣服，回到主房间。那个家伙仍然昏倒在厨房里。我再次跨过他。

Gack is on the floor messing with this little radio or something.
盖克在地板上摆弄这个小收音机什么的。

“You ready?” I ask. “你准备好了吗？”我问。

“Sure, sure, sure.” “当然，当然，当然。”

We start to leave and then the man has his hand on mine—gently pulling me back. “If you should ever need a place to stay sometime, I’m sure I could make it worth your while. Here’s my phone number. My name’s Daryl, by the way.” He hands me a little piece of paper and I stuff it in my pocket.

“Yeah, thanks.”

We get outta there and I feel this nausea in my throat.

“What a fucking creep,” says Gack.

“Yeah, word.” But my options are running out. Soon fucking guys like Daryl is gonna be all I got. Not that I can say anything about that to Gack.

The two of us take a bus down to where my car is abandoned and I change clothes and shoot the rest of the heroin. Gack thinks we should re-up on speed to try and make some money, but I’m so broke I think I’m gonna wait till tomorrow.

Still, he convinces me to at least hook up a gram to get us through the night. We walk up to Haight Street and there’re people everywhere—shopping and whatever. I feel actually fairly normal, even though I can tell I’m nodding a little as we walk. I’ve already dropped my cigarette, like, ten times. Anyway, Gack goes and scouts around for some crystal and I head into Amoeba.

It’s a little overwhelming, all the CDs and people and everything. I go to the “just released” section. There’re tons of albums I see that I normally would buy—or would have anticipated buying. The Secret Chiefs 3 have a new album out—as well as Trevor Dunn and Eyvind Kang. Obviously I can’t buy them now. I realize I have no idea what movies have been released or anything. I’m so isolated—insulated in this world of scrounging to get money so I can buy drugs, to get high, then start all over again.

But Gack manages to get us a gram for fifty bucks from some kid in the park. The kid is wearing a thick, dirty jacket with safety pins all over it. He has a red-orange beard and wide, paranoid eyes. The stuff he’s got doesn’t look really good but there’s a lot there. It definitely isn’t short.
但盖克设法以五十美元的价格从公园里的某个孩子那里给我们买了一克。这孩子穿着一件又厚又脏的夹克，上面到处都是安全别针。他留着橙红色的胡须和偏执的大眼睛。他手里的东西虽然看起来不太好，但是也不少。绝对不短。

So we buy the drugs and I have only a couple hundred bucks left. Gack and I go and shoot up in the bathroom of a taqueria off Clayton. Shit gets me high—that’s what I can say for it. The emptiness in my stomach—the well digging down—the nausea—the aching won’t leave me. It’s profound—consuming. I feel like curling up, serpentine on the floor, crying. I need a thousand pounds of heroin. I need to drown myself in methamphetamine. I need pills, weed, vials of liquid acid.
所以我们买了药，我只剩下几百块钱了。我和盖克去克莱顿附近一家墨西哥快餐店的浴室里拍摄。狗屎让我兴奋——这就是我能说的。我胃里的空虚、挖井、恶心、疼痛都无法离开我。这是深刻的——消耗性的。我想蜷缩在地板上，哭泣。我需要一千磅海洛因。我需要把自己淹没在甲基苯丙胺中。我需要药丸、大麻、小瓶液体酸。

Or maybe—maybe—I just need to get sober.
或者也许——也许——我只是需要清醒一下。

My head keeps going around like this.
我的头一直这样转。

Gack asks me what’s wrong and I tell him I think I gotta be alone a minute—take a walk or whatever. He says that’s all cool and to call him. I leave like that. Sea Cliff is miles away, but I walk over there. I walk down Stanyan, down Park Presidio—then on down Clement. I listen to music—Miles Davis’s Live-Evil. My heart is beating, beating, beating.
盖克问我怎么了，我告诉他我想我得独处一分钟——散散步什么的。他说那很酷，给他打电话就行了。我就这样离开了。海崖远在数英里之外，但我步行过去。我沿着斯坦扬走，沿着普雷西迪奥公园走，然后沿着克莱门特走。我听音乐——迈尔斯·戴维斯的《Live-Evil》。我的心在跳动，跳动，跳动。

I think about Jasper and Daisy. I think about my dad and stepmom. I think about Spencer and my friends in the program. I think about my mom and her husband and their two dogs. I think about my job at that rehab. I’d started taking some classes at Santa Monica College. I’d had a life. Suddenly I can’t even remember why I started using again in the first place. I wanna throw up, I think. I’m sweating from everywhere. I’m sweating from everywhere, but I’m real cold, too.

The avenues are deserted as always, but I feel like people are watching me from their windows as I pass. I know that’s not the most sane thought in the world. I call Lauren from a pay phone and she answers right away.

“Lauren,” I say, my voice cracking some. “I need help. I think I’m ready to get help.”

“Oh, baby,” she says. “Where are you?”

“Right near your house?”

“Then come over.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, no one’s home.” “是啊，家里没人。”

So I walk over to Lauren’s house and already the sun is going. When she opens the door, I hold her and then I cry and cry. I sob so hard. All those damn corgis are all over—whining and trying to lick me and I just cry, cry, cry. I don’t know when I’ve ever cried like this before. It’s been a long time. I smell the soap in Lauren’s hair as she wraps herself around me. I can’t stop.
于是我走到劳伦家，太阳已经落山了。当她打开门时，我抱着她，然后我就哭了。我哭得很厉害。所有那些该死的柯基犬都结束了——抱怨着并试图舔我，我只是哭，哭，哭。我不知道我什么时候曾这样哭过。已经很久了。当劳伦搂着我时，我闻到了她头发上的肥皂味。我停不下来。

“It’ll be all right, baby.” She just repeats that over and over.
“一切都会好起来的，宝贝。”她只是一遍又一遍地重复这句话。

Eventually we make it down to her room and I’m still crying but we make love and all. A crack in the floor breaks open and we tumble in—swallowed by the eroticism of sex and our closeness to death. Our bones stick together and the joints pop, pop. I’m blind, or disoriented, or not really sure what. The blankness of white nothing pulls me out of myself for a moment and I feel very far away—disconnected. Somehow I fall asleep like that. I don’t dream.
最终我们到达了她的房间，我还在哭，但我们做爱等等。地板上出现了一条裂缝，我们跌了进去——被性的情欲和我们与死亡的亲密所吞没。我们的骨头粘在一起，关节突然爆开。我失明了，或者迷失了方向，或者不太确定是什么。白色的空白让我暂时脱离了自我，感觉很遥远——与世隔绝。不知怎的，我就这样睡着了。我不做梦。

I wake up with my jaw tight as hell from clenching it so hard.
当我醒来时，我的下巴因为用力咬紧而绷得紧紧的。

Lauren’s shaking me. “Come on,” she says. “We gotta go—my parents are home.”
劳伦在摇晃我。 “来吧，”她说。 “我们得走了——我父母在家。”

“I can’t stay here?”

“Candy called.” Lauren’s all dressed and everything. “She’s got some really good heroin in. She’s gonna cut us a deal, er, uh, something.”
“坎迪打来电话了。”劳伦已经穿戴整齐，一切应有尽有。 “她里面有一些非常好的海洛因。她会和我们做一笔交易，呃，呃，一些东西。”

“Baby, I ain’t got any money left really.”
“宝贝，我真的没钱了。”

“I have a little,” she says, all but pulling me out of bed. “We’ll get clean right after this—I promise.”
“我有一点，”她说，几乎把我从床上拉了起来。 “这之后我们就会干净起来——我保证。”

“Okay,” I say. “Yeah, I know this cool old hotel off Grant. We can hole up there till we’re done with the heroin.”
“好吧，”我说。 “是的，我知道格兰特附近有一家很酷的老酒店。我们可以躲在那里，直到吸完海洛因为止。”

“Then we’ll come back here and my parents’ll help us.”
“然后我们会回到这里，我的父母会帮助我们。”

“I love you,” I say.
“我爱你，”我说。

“Yeah, I love you, too.”
“是啊，我也爱你。”

And so fast, fast, fast we’re outta there. It makes sense to me. We’ll just go on one more run—blow it all out till the end. I know it’s gonna be all right now. We shoot most of the crystal in her car down the block from her house. She hasn’t used much in a couple days, so she gets real high. I drive.
我们很快就离开了那里。对于我，这说得通。我们将再跑一次——全力以赴，直到最后。我知道现在一切都会好起来的。我们把她车里的大部分水晶都射到了她家附近的街区。她已经几天没有使用太多了，所以她变得非常兴奋。我开车。

The San Remo Hotel is, like, fifty bucks a night—but nice. Dark wood paneling, strange potted ferns and things, thick carpeting. The place feels like a ship—warped, uneven, sinking.
圣雷莫酒店大概是五十美元一晚，但是很不错。深色的木镶板，奇怪的盆栽蕨类植物之类的东西，厚厚的地毯。这个地方感觉就像一艘船——扭曲、不平坦、正在下沉。

We hook up a bunch of tar heroin from Candy and pack some stuff up to take to our small room. There are two twin beds. I look out the window at the clear sky—streaked white and blue. The sun is still warm, though falling—shattering the leaves, littering the ground with bright yellow and shadows. I watch the branches sway, sway—weeds growing up through cracks in the parched concrete—vines twisting up the brick walls across the street—green turning red and brown. It is all so, uh, lovely—but then I pull the shades down and turn to Lauren.
我们从坎迪那里买了一堆焦油海洛因，并打包了一些东西带到我们的小房间。有两张单人床。我望向窗外晴朗的天空——白色和蓝色的条纹。太阳虽然落下，但仍然很温暖——打碎了树叶，地上布满了亮黄色和阴影。我看着树枝摇曳、摇曳——杂草从干燥的混凝土裂缝中生长出来——藤蔓缠绕在街对面的砖墙上——绿色变成红色和棕色。一切都是那么，呃，可爱——但随后我拉下窗帘，转向劳伦。

“This is it,” I say. “You ready?”
“就是这样，”我说。 “你准备好了吗？”

“Yeah, baby—let’s do it.”
“是的，宝贝——我们就这么做吧。”

I cook up the heroin so it is thick, syrupy black and add whatever’s left of the meth. Lauren actually hits real easy, but I gotta dig for fucking ever. I swear all the veins in my arm are straight collapsed. I finally find one in the back of my hand.
我将海洛因煮成浓稠的、糖浆状的黑色，然后添加剩余的冰毒。劳伦实际上打得很轻松，但我必须永远挖掘他妈的。我发誓我手臂上的血管都直接塌陷了。我终于在手背上找到了一个。

The bed is soaking and stinking—but as night turns to day, turns to night, turns to day, we don’t leave. The cleaning staff knocks but we tell them to go away. Maybe they’re talking about us, maybe they’re not.
床又湿又臭——但随着黑夜变成白天，变成黑夜，变成白天，我们没有离开。清洁人员敲门，但我们让他们走开。也许他们在谈论我们，也许他们不是。

I smoke cigarettes out the window and throw up several times. The only food we eat is candy from a vending machine down the hall. We drink water from the tap. Four days go by. Lauren’s phone rings and rings, but we never answer until all the heroin is gone and most all the money, too.
我在窗外抽烟，吐了好几次。我们吃的唯一食物是大厅里自动售货机里的糖果。我们从水龙头喝水。四天过去了。劳伦的电话响了又响，但我们从来没有接听，直到所有的海洛因和大部分的钱都消失了。

“Dad,” she slurs into the mouthpiece. “Dad, I’m ready. I’m ready to get help.”
“爸爸，”她用话筒含糊地说。 “爸爸，我准备好了。我已经准备好寻求帮助了。”

He tells her to come home.
他告诉她回家。

“What about Nic?” “尼克呢？”

He wants me to wait till the morning for the meeting with her therapist, but Lauren insists he let me stay the night.
他希望我等到早上与她的治疗师会面，但劳伦坚持让我过夜。

He relents. 他态度软化了。

We get our stuff and leave quickly. I have to throw up a bunch more on the way to Lauren’s car. The world’s just going around and around and I’m blacking out. Clouds filled with gray, gray rain make ready to drop their heavy load on the streets below. It’s so cold that my teeth chatter and my stomach is tight, tight, tight.
我们拿好东西就迅速离开。在去劳伦车的路上我又吐了一大堆。世界在转来转去，而我却昏了过去。云朵里充满了灰色、灰色的雨，准备将沉重的负担落在下面的街道上。天气太冷了，我的牙齿打颤，我的胃很紧，很紧，很紧。

Lauren has to drive. We’re both crying some now, as we get closer. I put my hand on her thigh.
劳伦必须开车。当我们越来越接近时，我们都哭了。我把手放在她的大腿上。

Pulling up to the house, her dad comes running out to the car. He’s short and sort of round—with a tiny head and a dyed brown comb-over. He cries some as he hugs Lauren to him. He shakes my hand awkwardly and I try not to throw up all over him.
车子停到了家门口，她爸爸跑到车边。他个子矮，有点圆，脑袋很小，梳子染成棕色。当他拥抱劳伦时，他哭了一些。他笨拙地握着我的手，我尽量不吐到他身上。

“Dad, please,” says Lauren. “We need to go sleep.”
“爸爸，求你了，”劳伦说。 “我们需要去睡觉了。”

“Okay, sweetie, Jules will be here soon with some medicine for you.”
“好的，亲爱的，朱尔斯很快就会来给你拿药。”

Lauren has to support most of my weight as we walk. I’m actually sicker than she is. Those dogs bark at me all over the place and the smell of them makes me cringe. I’m blacking out. I lie in Lauren’s white bed and try to just focus on my breath going in and out—the way my lungs expand and contract like they do. I’m hyperventilating some and I try to calm myself, but it doesn’t really work. Lauren holds me, but the feel of her skin on me is suddenly repulsive.
当我们走路时，劳伦必须支撑我的大部分体重。其实我的病比她还重。这些狗到处对我狂吠，它们的气味让我感到畏缩。我眼前一黑。我躺在劳伦的白色床上，试着专注于我的呼吸——就像我的肺部扩张和收缩的方式一样。我有些换气过度，我试图让自己平静下来，但这并没有真正起作用。劳伦抱着我，但她皮肤贴在我身上的感觉突然让我感到厌恶。

“Please—please—I just need to lie here.” That’s all I can say. I maybe pass out for a moment, waking up only to take some pill Jules is shoving in my face.
“求你了——求你了——我只想躺在这里。”我只能说这么多。我可能有一瞬间昏倒了，醒来只是为了吃朱尔斯塞到我脸上的药丸。

“Thank you,” I say, but I throw up whatever it is he gives me. I roll out of the bed onto the floor and vomit into a blue plastic trash can.
“谢谢你，”我说，但我吐出了他给我的一切。我从床上滚到地板上，吐到一个蓝色的塑料垃圾桶里。

I sleep like that on the carpet.
我就这样睡在地毯上。

DAY 26 第26天

Waking up, the sickness has passed some. My clothes are soaked through with sweat. I pull on one of Lauren’s sweatshirts and stagger up the stairs into the living room. It’s raining outside and I can feel the damp underneath my skin. Lauren, Jules, Lauren’s dad, and some woman are sitting around the living-room table. Lauren is so pale and sunken in. They offer me coffee and I take it. I add lots of sugar. I also eat a piece of toast, but I feel them all staring at me with each bite I take. It seems like the noise of me chewing is, like, the loudest thing ever.
一觉醒来，病已经过去了一些。我的衣服都被汗水浸湿了。我穿上劳伦的一件运动衫，摇摇晃晃地走上楼梯，走进客厅。外面正在下雨，我能感觉到皮肤下面湿漉漉的。劳伦、朱尔斯、劳伦的父亲和一些女人坐在客厅的桌子旁。劳伦脸色苍白，心情低落。他们给我提供了咖啡，我喝了。我加了很多糖。我也吃了一块吐司，但我每吃一口都感觉他们都在盯着我看。我咀嚼的声音似乎是有史以来最响亮的声音。

“We were just discussing treatment options for the both of you,” says Jules, in this voice that sounds like it should be from a guided meditation tape—soothing and serene. “Please, sit down.”
“我们只是在讨论你们俩的治疗方案，”朱尔斯说道，他的声音听起来像是来自引导冥想磁带——舒缓而平静。 “请坐下。”

“Thanks.” “谢谢。”

I’m introduced to Kathy, Lauren’s stepmom. She is definitely less than thrilled to meet me. She has a creased, overtanned face with blond highlights and a lot of makeup. Her lips are thin, lined, and painted bright red. She mostly says nothing.
我被介绍给劳伦的继母凯西。她见到我肯定不太高兴。她有一张满是皱纹、晒黑的脸，有金色亮点，化了浓妆。她的嘴唇很薄，有皱纹，涂着鲜红色。她大多什么也不说。

Jules explains that he wants to get Lauren and me into our own place—a furnished monthly hotel off Van Ness. He knows the owner and he will certainly keep an eye on us. As well, we will be randomly drug-tested throughout the week. We will have to go to seven twelve-step meetings a week and meet with Jules twice a week—separately. Both Lauren and I will have to get jobs and Lauren is no longer allowed to work for her mother. Her parents will pay for food and rent.
朱尔斯解释说，他想让劳伦和我住进我们自己的住处——范尼斯附近一家配备家具的月租酒店。他认识主人，他一定会留意我们。此外，我们将在一周内进行随机药物测试。我们每周必须参加七次十二步会议，并每周与朱尔斯单独会面两次。劳伦和我都必须找到工作，劳伦不再被允许为她母亲工作。她的父母将支付食物和房租。

I just nod my head. It sounds perfect, you know? I’ll be taken care of. I won’t have to worry about money and whatever.
我只是点头。听起来很完美，你知道吗？我会被照顾的。我不用担心钱什么的。

“What if we test dirty?” asks Lauren.
“如果我们测试脏了怎么办？”劳伦问。

Jules looks at Lauren’s father.
朱尔斯看着劳伦的父亲。

“Then all deals are off,” Jules says. “You’ll either have to go back into a residential treatment program, or you’re on your own.”
“那么所有交易都取消了，”朱尔斯说。 “你要么必须回到住院治疗计划，要么就只能靠自己了。”

“I don’t know,” says Lauren. She starts talking about why what they’re saying isn’t fair and now I’m trying to talk her into taking it. Her dad and Jules seem grateful that I’m so enthusiastic. We are all trying to convince her now.
“我不知道，”劳伦说。她开始谈论为什么他们所说的不公平，现在我试图说服她接受它。她的父亲和朱尔斯似乎很感激我如此热情。我们现在都在努力说服她。

And so it’s decided. They’re gonna take care of us while we get back on our feet. We all shake hands and then Lauren’s dad asks if he can talk to me privately. He puts a hand on my shoulder and leads me into this study area. There are books all over the shelves and a white stuffed tiger-head rug on the floor.
就这样决定了。当我们重新站起来时，他们会照顾我们。我们都握手了，然后劳伦的爸爸问他是否可以和我私下谈谈。他把手放在我的肩膀上，带我进入这个学习区域。书架上摆满了书，地板上铺着白色虎头毛绒地毯。

“Nic,” he says, “I appreciate everything you’re trying to do. I know you care about Lauren very much and that means a lot to me. But I have to ask you one favor—I need you to stay away for a few nights. Just till we get your place set up. I want to have Lauren here, alone. We have to talk over some things and I’d just feel safer that way.”
“尼克，”他说，“我很感激你所做的一切。我知道你非常关心劳伦，这对我来说意义重大。但我必须请你帮个忙——我需要你离开几个晚上。直到我们为您安排好位置。我想让劳伦独自一人在这里。我们必须讨论一些事情，这样我会感觉更安全。”

“Yeah, I understand.” “是的，我明白了。”

“You do? Excellent. Thank you.”
“你做？出色的。谢谢。”

He shakes my hand again firmly and I try to meet his eyes. They are distant blue, like Lauren’s.
他再次坚定地握着我的手，我试着看着他的眼睛。它们是遥远的蓝色，就像劳伦的一样。

When we tell her I’m leaving, she kinda throws a tantrum. I’m just trying to keep on her dad’s good side, you know? I mean, what a fucking opportunity, right? I wanna do whatever he says at this point. Plus, the sickness is coming back and I figure I should at least say good-bye to Gack and maybe Candy, too—maybe get high one more time—just one more time. I’ve still got a little money anyway.
当我们告诉她我要离开时，她有点发脾气。我只是想站在她爸爸一边，你知道吗？我的意思是，这真是一个他妈的机会，对吧？现在我想按他说的做。另外，病又复发了，我想我至少应该告别加克，也许还有坎迪——也许再嗨一次——就再一次。反正我还有一点钱。

So I call Gack and we agree to meet back at Church and Market. The rain’s stopped, so I’m able to walk to the bus stop without much trouble and ride down there. I sit toward the back, looking at some graffiti drawn on the seat in front of mine. As we sway and stutter down Geary, I think about the possibility of me staying clean in this city. It feels impossible again. Not that I don’t want to—but it’s just so easy to get on a bus, call Gack—justify it to myself. I guess it’s that way in every city—I just know this one so intimately. The thought scares me some.
所以我打电话给加克，我们同意在教堂和市场见面。雨已经停了，所以我可以毫不费力地步行到公交车站，然后骑车下去。我坐在后面，看着我前面的座位上画着一些涂鸦。当我们摇摇晃晃、结结巴巴地走下吉尔里时，我想到了我在这座城市保持干净的可能性。又感觉不可能了。并不是我不想——但上公共汽车太容易了，给 Gack 打电话——向自己证明这一点。我想每个城市都是这样——我对这个城市太熟悉了。这个想法让我有些害怕。

Gack shows up with a bag of a few clean needles and he goes off with twenty dollars of mine while I wait for Candy. I’m leaning my back against this video store and watching all the street kids trying out whatever hustle they got on those who pass. Some of ’em are just straight-up begging—ain’t got no hustle at all. I’ve got that cold sweating again from the heroin withdrawal and I ache, ache, ache all over.
盖克带着一袋干净的针出现了，在我等坎迪的时候，他带着我的二十美元走了。我靠在这家音像店的背上，看着所有街头小孩对路过的人尽一切努力。他们中的一些人只是直接乞讨——一点也不忙碌。我又因为海洛因戒断而出冷汗，浑身疼痛、疼痛、疼痛。

Candy pulls up some minutes later and I get in the passenger door. Her skin’s broken out and her mascara is starting to run down, but she’s still fucking striking as hell.
几分钟后坎迪把车停了下来，我上了乘客门。她的皮肤已经破烂，睫毛膏也开始流淌，但她仍然非常引人注目。

“You only getting half a gram today?”
“你今天只吃了半克吗？”

“Yeah,” I say. “This is it. I’m getting clean.”
“是的，”我说。 “就是这个。我正在变得干净。”

She sighs, lighting a Parliament Menthol cigarette.
她叹了口气，点燃了一支议会薄荷香烟。

“You goin’ away then?” “那你走了吗？”

“No, I’m stayin’ around.”
“不，我会留在附近。”

“All right, then, don’t throw away my number.”
“好吧，那你就别扔掉我的电话号码了。”

“No, we’re done.” “不，我们已经完成了。”

“We’ll see.” She hands over the wax paper ball and tells me she’s gotta get going.
“我们拭目以待。”她递出蜡纸球并告诉我她得走了。

“You ever think about stopping?” I ask.
“你有没有想过停下来？”我问。

She puts on a pair of big sunglasses before turning toward me. “Honey, we’ve all tried. I’ll see you around. You’re a good kid.”
她戴上一副大墨镜，然后转向我。 “亲爱的，我们都尽力了。我们回头见。你是个好孩子。”

I leave. 我离开。

Gack’s reaction is basically the same as Candy’s. We hike up to Dolores Park and shoot the speed (and heroin for me) in someone’s doorway. Everything is all cleared out in my head suddenly. I feel a surge of power and find myself thinking, thinking, thinking back to what Candy said.
Gack的反应与Candy的反应基本相同。我们徒步前往多洛雷斯公园，在某人的门口拍摄速度（对我来说是海洛因）。我脑子里的一切突然都清晰了。我感到一股力量涌动，发现自己在思考、思考、回想起坎迪所说的话。

“Yeah,” says Gack, walking down to the still wet playground. “I went to some twelve-step meetings and shit. I didn’t really get it. They say the average life expectancy of tweakers like us is around three years. I’ve been going for at least twice that and I’m doin’ all right. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“是的，”加克一边说，一边走向仍然潮湿的操场。 “我参加了一些十二步会议之类的。我真的不明白。他们说像我们这样的调整者的平均预期寿命约为三年。我已经去过至少两次了，而且一切都很好。我不会担心这个。”

“But I just feel like I’m not even getting that high anymore—and I’m outta money, you know?”
“但我只是觉得我已经不再那么兴奋了——而且我没钱了，你知道吗？”

“There’s always money. We’ll figure it out.”
“钱总是有的。我们会想办法的。”

“Maybe you’re right.” “也许你是对的。”

“Trust me,” he says. “You only get to live this life once. I’d rather be blissed out for a short time than fucking bored and miserable till I’m like ninety or something.”
“相信我，”他说。 “这一生你只能活一次。我宁愿享受短暂的幸福，也不愿一直感到无聊和痛苦，直到九十岁左右。”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about that too.”
“是啊，我也想过这个问题。”

We’re quiet awhile after that—or at least, I am. Gack is kinda rambling like he does, but I’m not paying attention. I try to remember—was I happy before all this? The fucking tweak won’t let me think. It tries to tell me I wasn’t. Maybe that’s the truth.
之后我们安静了一会儿——至少我是这样。 Gack 也像他一样胡言乱语，但我没有注意。我努力回忆——在这一切发生之前我快乐吗？该死的调整不会让我思考。它试图告诉我我不是。也许这就是事实。

“This is life,” says Gack, shaking me. “This is living. Every day is an adventure.”
“这就是生活，”加克摇晃着我说道。 “这就是生活。每一天都是一次冒险。”

“I don’t know,” I say after a moment. “Every day is the same thing. Gack, I love you for everything you’ve done for me—but I don’t think I can go on like this. Maybe you could get help too.”
“我不知道，”过了一会儿我说道。 “每天都是同样的事情。加克，我爱你为我所做的一切，但我想我不能再这样下去了。或许你也能得到帮助。”

“No thanks,” he says, smiling. “But, yeah, I love you too. And we’ll see each other soon. It’ll do you good to clean up for a while—especially get off that fucking junk. That’s some nasty-ass shit.”
“不用了，谢谢，”他微笑着说。 “但是，是的，我也爱你。我们很快就会见面。清理一段时间会对你有好处——尤其是摆脱那些该死的垃圾。那是一些令人讨厌的狗屎。”

“Word.” “单词。”

“Word.” “单词。”

We walk together down Valencia, talking shit—just keeping it light, you know?
我们一起沿着巴伦西亚散步，聊着屎——只是保持轻松，你知道吗？

We walk all the way to the TL and it’s dark and starting to rain again some. I say good-bye to Gack, then call Lauren. She begs me to sneak into the house and spend the night. I figure since it’s raining, that’s the best option I got. Her dad’ll either understand, or he won’t. I don’t care. I shoot the rest of the dope and it’s all I can do to get on the bus again. My hands shake so bad that I can’t get the dollar into the little machine. I have to hand it to the bus driver and get him to do it. He looks bored, or annoyed, or both.
我们一路走到TL，天已经黑了，又开始下雨了。我向盖克道别，然后给劳伦打电话。她恳求我溜进房子过夜。我想既然下雨了，这是我最好的选择。她的父亲要么会理解，要么不会。我不在乎。我拍完了剩下的毒品，我能做的就是再次登上公共汽车。我的手抖得很厉害，以至于我无法将美元放入小机器中。我必须把它交给公交车司机并让他去做。他看起来很无聊，或者很生气，或者两者兼而有之。

Lauren doesn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that I’m there. She lets me in through the front door, dragging my loaded ass down the stairs. When she sees how fucking high I am she tries to get me to give her whatever’s left of the drugs—but I don’t have any. She pretends to be less pissed off than she is. My world fades out into an opiated fantasy.
劳伦甚至懒得试图隐瞒我在那里的事实。她让我从前门进去，拖着我满载的屁股走下楼梯。当她看到我有多兴奋时，她试图让我把剩下的毒品给她——但我没有。她假装比实际情况没那么生气。我的世界逐渐变成了鸦片般的幻想。

DAY 27 第 27 天

I have been throwing up all night.
我整个晚上都在呕吐。

Sleeping and then jerking awake, dry-heaving into that plastic trash can. I lie on the floor, on the bare carpet. Lauren keeps trying to get me to come up in bed with her, but moving makes my stomach turn, so I lie still. Plus there is the smell of her and the smell of that house, those dogs, cigarettes, Gatorade, and leftover Chinese food. The stench is overpowering. I retch over and over. Everything is heightened, but sickeningly so. At one point Jules is there, standing over me and giving me a tablet of methadone. I throw that up too.
睡着了，然后猛地惊醒，干咳着扔进塑料垃圾桶里。我躺在地板上，躺在光秃秃的地毯上。劳伦一直试图让我上床和她一起上床，但移动会让我胃部不适，所以我一动不动地躺着。另外还有她的气味和那所房子的气味，那些狗的气味，香烟的气味，佳得乐的气味，还有剩下的中国食物的气味。恶臭令人难以忍受。我一遍又一遍地干呕。一切都变得更加强烈，但令人作呕。有一次，朱尔斯站在我身边，给了我一片美沙酮。我也把它扔了。

Lauren is whining, crying for me to hold her, and I just want her to shut up.
劳伦正在哀嚎，哭着要我抱她，我只想让她闭嘴。

“You don’t care about me,” she says. “You don’t love me.”
“你不关心我，”她说。 “你不爱我。”

My skin itches and the top of my head itches and I scratch until I’m bloody. “Lauren, man, I’m sick.”
我的皮肤很痒，头顶很痒，我一直抓到流血。 “劳伦，伙计，我病了。”

I am so tired—this painful, aching tired. I just want to sleep and be left alone—or maybe just to die there. I can’t take it. I drift in and out of hallucinations. At one point I think I’m walking around with Gack, or that he is there at the house. I can’t tell what is real and what isn’t. My spine digs into the floor, but I can’t move, I just can’t.
我好累——好累，好痛苦。我只想睡觉，一个人呆着——或者也许只是死在那里。我受不了。我在幻觉中时断时续。有一次我觉得我正在和 Gack 一起散步，或者他就在家里。我分不清什么是真实的，什么不是。我的脊椎陷进地板里，但我动不了，就是动不了。

I have to get out of there—I have to. Please, I mean, please, I’m ready to do anything.
我必须离开那里——我必须这样做。拜托，我的意思是，拜托，我已经准备好做任何事情了。

After sleeping some more, I wake up and it is night. Lauren has gone somewhere. I pull myself up on the tattered couch, pushing aside all the clothes and things that are scattered everywhere. The room is all dark and I’m sweating. My breathing is strained. For some reason my shirt is off, my ribs sticking through the skin—tracks up and down both arms. From where I’d missed the vein while shooting up, my arms are swollen and aching. I’m broken out all over and thin, so goddamn thin.
又睡了一会，醒来时已经是晚上了。劳伦去了某个地方。我在破烂的沙发上站起来，把散落各处的衣服和东西推到一边。房间里一片漆黑，我满头大汗。我的呼吸变得紧张。由于某种原因，我的衬衫脱掉了，我的肋骨刺破了皮肤——沿着双臂上下移动。从我向上射击时错过静脉的地方开始，我的手臂又肿又痛。我浑身都破了，而且很瘦，瘦得真他妈的瘦。

I close my eyes, tears streaming down suddenly. I don’t know what to do. I think back on all the stories I’ve heard at twelve-step meetings. I think back to what my sponsor said. Broken down, defeated, they’d all asked for help from a power that they called God. And so that’s what I do—I pray. I pray from somewhere deep inside me. I pray out loud to a God that I don’t even believe in. The words just start coming out.
我闭上眼睛，泪水突然流了下来。我不知道该怎么办。我回想起我在十二步会议上听到的所有故事。我回想起我的赞助商所说的话。崩溃、失败的他们都向他们称为上帝的力量寻求帮助。这就是我所做的——我祈祷。我从内心深处的某个地方祈祷。我向一个我什至不相信的上帝大声祈祷。话语刚刚开始出现。

Spencer used to talk to me about God. He talked a lot about God, but I always dismissed it. I was a militant atheist. I thought the belief in God was totally backward, delusional, and ignorant. Spencer would talk to me about prayer and meditation, but I basically avoided ever experimenting with it. I just couldn’t believe, there was no way. But Spencer sure did talk about it a lot.
斯宾塞曾经和我谈论上帝。他谈论了很多关于上帝的话题，但我总是不予理睬。我是一个激进的无神论者。我认为信神完全是落后的、妄想的、无知的。斯宾塞会和我谈论祈祷和冥想，但我基本上避免尝试这些。我简直不敢相信，没有办法。但斯宾塞确实经常谈论这个问题。

Tonight I pray. Maybe it isn’t the first time, but it is the first time I pray with sincerity. I am desperate. And so I cry and ask God for help.
今晚我祈祷。也许这不是第一次，但这是我第一次真诚地祈祷。我很绝望。于是我哭着向上帝求助。

“God,” I say. “Look, I don’t believe in you or anything, but if you’re there, I need your help. I can’t do this anymore. I’ll do anything. PLEASE.”
“上帝，”我说。 “听着，我不相信你或任何事，但如果你在那里，我需要你的帮助。我不能再这样做了。我会做任何事。请。”

Nothing happens. No flash of light, no burning bush, nothing.
什么都没发生。没有闪光，没有燃烧的灌木丛，什么也没有。

What I do is, I call home.
我所做的就是打电话回家。

My dad answers on the third ring. “Hello?”
我爸爸在铃声响到第三声时接听。 “你好？”

That voice—my dad’s sweet voice.
那个声音——我爸爸甜美的声音。

I cry so hard. “Dad…I…”
我哭得很厉害。 “爸爸……我……”

“Jesus, Nic. What are you doing calling here?”
“天啊，尼克。你打电话来这里做什么？”

“I need help.” “我需要帮助。”

“I can’t help you, Nic, we’re done.”
“我帮不了你，尼克，我们完了。”

“Dad, please.” “爸爸，求你了。”

“I’m sorry. Maybe Spencer will be willing to talk to you, but I can’t. I’m through.” He hangs up.
“对不起。也许斯宾塞愿意和你谈谈，但我不能。我完事了。”他挂断了电话。

“God,” I say aloud, folding in on myself, my body shaking from crying. “Please help me. What do I do?” My hand trembles all over the place, but I dial Spencer’s cell phone. He picks up right away.
“上帝啊，”我大声说道，蜷缩起来，我的身体因哭泣而颤抖。 “请帮我。我该怎么办？”我的手浑身颤抖，但我还是拨通了斯宾塞的手机。他立即接起。

“Spencer?” “斯宾塞？”

“Nic,” he says, actually laughing into the phone. “It’s about goddamn time you called me. You had enough?”
“尼克，”他说，实际上是对着电话大笑。 “该死的，你现在就给我打电话了。你玩够了吗？

“Yeah. Please, what do I do?”
“是的。请问我该怎么办？”

“Come home, man, we’re waiting for you.”
“老公，回家吧，我们等你。”

“Back to L.A.?” “回洛杉矶？”

“Sure. Eric still hasn’t rented out your room. Something told us you’d be back before long.”
“当然。埃里克还没有租出你的房间。有消息告诉我们你很快就会回来。”

“I’m so sick.” “我感到恶心。”

He laughs. “Come home, you rotten little snot. I’m fat ’cause there’s been no one to ride bikes with me.”
他笑了。 “回家吧，你这个臭小鼻涕。我很胖，因为没有人陪我骑自行车。”

“I don’t think I can ride any bike, Spencer. I can barely stand up.”
“我认为我不会骑任何自行车，斯宾塞。我都快站不起来了。”

“What are you comin’ off of, meth?”
“你在做什么，梅迪？”

“And heroin.” “还有海洛因。”

“Lovely. Come on, Nic, it’s time to come home. You don’t have to prove anything anymore. So what do you say?”
“迷人的。来吧，尼克，该回家了。你不必再证明任何事情了。你认为呢？”

“My car’s dead.” “我的车坏了。”

“Get on a plane.” “登机了。”

“Right now?” “现在？”

“Yeah, right now. I’ll pick you up.”
“是的，现在。我来接你。”

“No, you don’t have to…”
“不，你不必……”

“No shit. But what can I say? I missed you, man. I might’ve even been a little worried. Now, let’s go. You’ve had all the good times you’re gonna have out there. It just gets worse from here.”
“没什么。”但我能说什么？我想念你，伙计。我什至可能有点担心。现在，我们走吧。你已经度过了所有的美好时光。从这里开始情况只会变得更糟。”

“Worse?” “更差？”

“Yeah, man, you’ve peaked.” He laughs again.
“是的，伙计，你已经达到顶峰了。”他又笑了。

“Spencer,” I say between sobs. “I’m gonna go to the airport right now.”
“斯宾塞，”我抽泣着说道。 “我现在就去机场。”

“Damn right you are.” “你说得对。”

“And Spencer…” “还有斯宾塞……”

“What?” “什么？”

“Thank you.” “谢谢。”

“Yeah, yeah, just get going.”
“是是是，快走吧。”

“Okay.” “好的。”

“Call me when you know what flight you’re comin’ in on.”
“当您知道要乘坐哪趟航班时，请给我打电话。”

“Yeah.” I put the phone down and then cry some more.
“是的。”我放下电话，又哭了一会儿。

I call a taxi. 我叫出租车。

I try to stand up, but all the blood rushes to my head and I fall back down again. I decide crawling is the way to go. I find my shirt stuffed under the bed. I put it on and it smells so strong that I gag, but nothing comes out. Somehow I manage to get my suitcase and things together. There are a bunch of clothes and CDs and things still in my burned-out car, but I don’t really care anymore. I just want to go home.
我试图站起来，但所有的血液都涌到了我的头上，我又跌倒了。我决定爬行是最好的选择。我发现我的衬衫塞在床底下。我戴上它，闻起来很浓，让我作呕，但什么也没有吐出来。我设法把我的手提箱和东西放在一起。我烧坏的车里还留着一堆衣服、CD 之类的东西，但我已经不在乎了。我只是想回家。

One of my shoes is gone, a black Jack Purcell sneaker. Between walking outta there with one shoe and no shoes, I figure maybe if I wear some dark-colored socks, no one will notice. So I pull my bag over my shoulder, grab my backpack, and hobble my way up the stairs. I have three hundred dollars cash in my wallet. That is all that is left. If I need more, well, I don’t know what to do then. Throughout all this I’m praying. It is like the voice in my head, the running monologue; it has switched over to thoughts of prayer. Please help me—be with me. I just keep repeating it over and over—up the stairs.
我的一只鞋子不见了，是一双黑色的 Jack Purcell 运动鞋。在只穿一只鞋和不穿鞋走出去之间，我想如果我穿一些深色袜子，也许没有人会注意到。于是我把包扛在肩上，抓起背包，一瘸一拐地走上楼梯。我钱包里有三百美元现金。这就是剩下的一切了。如果我需要更多，那么我不知道该怎么办。在这一切过程中我都在祈祷。这就像我脑海中的声音，连续不断的独白；它已经转变为祈祷的想法。请帮助我——和我在一起。我只是一遍又一遍地重复这句话——上楼梯。

Walking out into the living room, I see Lauren. She is just coming back down to her room and she sees me with all my bags and everything. She drops to the floor, curling fetal-like, and now she is crying.
走进客厅，我看到了劳伦。她刚刚回到自己的房间，看到我带着所有的行李和所有东西。她倒在地板上，像胎儿一样蜷缩起来，现在她在哭。

“You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”
“你要离开我了，是吗？”

“I’m…yeah. I’m going back to L.A. I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.”
“我是……是的。我要回洛杉矶了。我不能……我不能再这样做了。”

“But you promised you’d stay with me.”
“但你答应过会留在我身边的。”

“Did I?” “是吗？”

“Yes, goddamn it, you did.”
“是的，该死的，你做到了。”

“Lauren, please. You and I both know that we’ll never stay sober if we stay here together.”
“劳伦，拜托。你我都知道，如果我们一起呆在这里，我们就永远不会保持清醒。”

“Fuck you. You think you’re so much better than me. I wish I’d never met you. You’ve ruined my life.”
“去你的。你以为你比我优秀很多。我希望我从未遇见过你。你毁了我的生活。”

“I…I’m sorry.” “我……对不起。”

“Don’t go.” She springs up off the floor and tries to kiss me and I think I’ll be sick if I touch her, so I pull away.
“别走。”她从地板上跳起来，试图吻我，我想如果我碰她我会感到恶心，所以我躲开了。

“I have to,” I say, and I walk outta there, leaving her screaming and crying behind me.
“我必须这么做，”我说，然后我走出了那里，留下她在我身后尖叫和哭泣。

The outside air is so cold, the wind blowing straight off the water. I tuck my arms into my T-shirt and shiver. But still, it is cleansing, that air. The night is clear and I look up at the starless sky and feel the sweat seeping out under my skin. The taxi finally gets there and I get in, collapsing on the clean-smelling nylon seats.
外面的空气很冷，风直吹水面。我把手臂塞进 T 恤里，浑身发抖。但那空气仍然是洁净的。夜色晴朗，我仰望没有星星的天空，感觉到汗水从我的皮肤下渗出。出租车终于到了，我上了车，倒在闻起来干净的尼龙座椅上。

“The Oakland Airport,” I say.
“奥克兰机场，”我说。

The man asks how I’m feeling and I admit that I’ve been better. Mostly I can’t think at all. I just pray, like I said, over and over. I watch the poison city sweep by as we drive out to the Bay Bridge. The lights blur out. I maybe sleep or something, ’cause the guy has to yell, “Hey, kid” a few times when we get there.
那个人问我感觉如何，我承认我已经好多了。大多数时候我根本无法思考。我只是祈祷，就像我说的，一遍又一遍。当我们开车前往海湾大桥时，我看着毒城席卷而过。灯光变得模糊。我可能是在睡觉什么的，因为当我们到达那里时，那家伙必须大喊几次“嘿，孩子”。

That is sixty dollars gone.
六十块钱就这样没了。

I walk, or more accurately, stagger into the United terminal of the Oakland Airport. The patterned carpet makes me sick and dizzy and I hope so bad I won’t have to throw up again. The fluorescent bulbs shine violently overhead, the flickering nearly unbearable.
我步行，或者更准确地说，摇摇晃晃地走进奥克兰机场的美联航航站楼。有图案的地毯让我感到恶心和头晕，我希望我不会再呕吐。荧光灯泡在头顶上猛烈地闪烁，闪烁得几乎令人难以忍受。

I stagger over to the ticket counter and I’m still not wearing any shoes.
我摇摇晃晃地走到售票柜台，但我仍然没有穿鞋。

“Welcome to United, can I help you?”
“欢迎来到曼联，有什么可以帮到您吗？”

The woman is wrinkled, with dyed purple hair, too much lipstick, and a smile that quickly disappears when she sees me step closer.
那个女人满脸皱纹，头发染成紫色，口红涂得太多，当她看到我走近时，她的笑容很快就消失了。

“I need to go to L.A.,” I say.
“我需要去洛杉矶，”我说。

“Okay, uh, sir. Let’s see.” Her fingernails click, click on her little keyboard.
“好的，呃，先生。让我们来看看。”她的指甲发出咔嗒声，敲击着她的小键盘。

“There’s a flight at nine fifteen that has a few seats available. Would you like that?”
“九点十五分有一趟航班，还有几个座位。你愿意吗？

“Sure.” “当然。”

“Round trip?” “往返？”

“No.” “不。”

It costs me two hundred dollars.
我花了两百美元。

She prints out my ticket and then tells me to take my bags over to the security checkpoint. It is only after I hand my suitcase over to one of the two uniformed baggage handlers that I begin to panic. I hadn’t thought to check for Baggies, or needles, or dope, or whatever other paraphernalia might be left in there. The woman puts latex gloves on both hands and begins rooting around in my bag. Her hair is braided back in tight rows against her scalp and she looks at me with open disdain. She searches and searches and I say nothing, still praying maybe.
她打印了我的机票，然后让我把行李带到安全检查站。直到我把手提箱交给两名穿着制服的行李搬运工之一后，我才开始惊慌。我没想到要检查里面是否有袋子、针头、毒品或任何其他可能留下的用具。那女人双手戴上乳胶手套，开始在我的包里翻找。她的头发在脑后扎成一排，紧紧地贴在头皮上，她带着明显的蔑视看着我。她找啊找，我什么也没说，也许还在祈祷。

And then she is done.
然后她就完成了。

“Thank you, sir, have a nice day.”
“谢谢您，先生，祝您今天愉快。”

“Yeah.” “是的。”

She puts my suitcase on that conveyer belt thing and I watch it disappear. When I get to the metal detectors, the passengers are all taking off their belts and shoes, putting them through to be x-rayed. At least I am saved that trouble.
她把我的手提箱放在传送带上，我看着它消失。当我到达金属探测器时，乘客们都在脱下皮带和鞋子，接受 X 光检查。至少我省去了这个麻烦。

I go and call Spencer and he agrees to come get me around ten. I buy a piece of sweet potato pie from Your Black Muslim Bakery, but can’t really get it down. Mostly I just try not to be noticed by anyone. The wait is long.
我去给斯宾塞打电话，他同意十点左右来接我。我从你的黑人穆斯林面包店买了一块红薯派，但实在吃不下去。大多数情况下，我只是尽量不被任何人注意到。等待是漫长的。

On the plane I sleep, thank God, and when I wake up there is drool all over my shirt. That’s how I greet Spencer. Actually, as soon as I see him, I start crying and can’t look at him.
感谢上帝，我在飞机上睡觉，当我醒来时，我的衬衫上全是口水。这就是我向斯宾塞打招呼的方式。事实上，我一看到他就开始哭，不敢看他。

“Come on, asshole,” he says, but sweetly. He puts his arm around me and even carries my bag. He’s grown a goatee since the last time I saw him, but otherwise looks just the same. He wears a black leather jacket over a black pullover sweater. We get into his BMW and drive off through the Los Angeles night. It is warm. L.A. is always so goddamn warm.
“来吧，混蛋，”他说道，但语气很甜蜜。他用手臂搂住我，甚至拎着我的包。自从我上次见到他以来，他留起了山羊胡，但其他方面看起来还是一样。他穿着黑色皮夹克，外面套着黑色套头毛衣。我们坐上他的宝马，在洛杉矶的夜色中出发。它是温暖的。洛杉矶总是那么温暖。

We don’t talk much. He drives me home and tells me to sleep and asks if I want any food.
我们话不多。他开车送我回家，让我睡觉并问我是否需要食物。

I shake my head. “Can I see you tomorrow?” I ask.
我摇摇头。 “我明天能见你吗？”我问。

“Sure,” he says. “Maybe we can go to a meeting at noon.”
“当然，”他说。 “也许我们中午可以去开会。”

“A meeting?” “一个会议？”

“Yeah, brother.” “是啊，兄弟。”

“Fuck.” “他妈的。”

“There’s no other way.” “没有别的办法了。”

“Yeah,” I say. “I know.” And so I go upstairs into my old apartment, using my same old key. And there it is, exactly as I left it.
“是的，”我说。 “我知道。”于是我用我那把旧钥匙上楼进入我的旧公寓。它就在那里，和我离开时一模一样。

PART TWO 第二部分

DAY 32 第32天

I detox on the floor of the apartment. Spencer doesn’t think I need to go to the hospital. According to him, well, I should rely on my Higher Power to get me through this. I am so weak and shaking—throwing up—not able to sleep. I try renting some movies, but I can’t focus on the screen. All I can do is shiver in bed, staring at the ceiling and struggling not to pull my skin off.
我在公寓的地板上戒毒。斯宾塞认为我不需要去医院。据他说，好吧，我应该依靠我的更高力量来帮助我度过难关。我很虚弱，浑身发抖，呕吐，无法入睡。我尝试租一些电影，但无法专注于屏幕。我所能做的就是躺在床上瑟瑟发抖，盯着天花板，努力不让自己的皮肤脱落。

These are the worst withdrawals I’ve ever had. I’m alone. I have no medication, nothing to ease the suffering. The only things I have are the twelve steps and Spencer.
这是我经历过的最糟糕的提款。我还是孤单一人。我没有药物，没有任何东西可以减轻痛苦。我唯一拥有的就是十二级台阶和斯宾塞。

I know I have to stay close to him.
我知道我必须靠近他。

I have to do whatever he says.
我必须按他说的做。

That’s the only chance I have.
这是我唯一的机会。

If Spencer tells me God can get me through my detox, then I will trust him. I feel so desperate right now. I am ashamed and terrified of everything I’ve just gone through. Spencer is the one person I can trust. I’ve tried doing it without him, without the twelve steps—it has never worked.
如果斯宾塞告诉我上帝可以帮助我完成戒毒，那么我就会相信他。我现在感觉很绝望。我对我刚刚经历的一切感到羞愧和恐惧。斯宾塞是我唯一可以信任的人。我尝试过在没有他的情况下，没有十二个步骤的情况下做到这一点——但从来没有成功过。

It’s still very hard for me to believe in God, but I’m just too beaten up to fight it anymore. That’s always been my problem with the twelve-step program. There’s all this God talk, or Higher Power talk. I could never get past the third step, “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood him.” It just seemed like some religious cult or something. But I just can’t afford to question it anymore. I have to go to meetings. I have to work the steps with Spencer. I’ve been told in all the different rehabs I’ve gone to that the only way to stay sober is to be an active member of a twelve-step program. I have to believe that is true.
对我来说，相信上帝仍然很困难，但我已经筋疲力尽，无法再与之抗争了。这一直是我十二步计划的问题。这些都是关于上帝的谈话，或者更高权力的谈话。我永远无法跨过第三步，“决定将我们的意志和生命交给我们所理解的上帝来照顾。”它看起来像是某种宗教崇拜之类的。但我实在无力再质疑了。我必须去参加会议。我必须和斯宾塞一起完成这些步骤。在我去过的所有不同的康复中心中，我都被告知保持清醒的唯一方法是成为十二步计划的积极成员。我必须相信这是真的。

While I’m still detoxing I actually go with Spencer to a couple of twelve-step meetings, but I can’t really focus enough yet to hear anything. It is like someone came in with a vacuum cleaner and sucked out my brain—removing any trace of joy or excitement, leaving me with nothing but this overpowering hopelessness. The world turns bleak, dull, and oppressive. I have grown so weak and pale. I look in the mirror at my sunken-in eyes and coarse skin—scaly, gray, almost reptilian. My legs are bruised and sinewy. I lie staring at the ceiling. I lie there like that until around two in the afternoon when my phone rings and I see Spencer’s number come up.
当我仍在戒毒时，我实际上和斯宾塞一起参加了几次十二步会议，但我还不能真正集中注意力来听到任何声音。就像有人拿着吸尘器进来，吸走了我的大脑——除去了任何快乐或兴奋的痕迹，只留下了压倒性的绝望。世界变得暗淡、沉闷、压抑。我变得如此虚弱和苍白。我看着镜子里凹陷的眼睛和粗糙的皮肤——鳞状的，灰色的，几乎像爬行动物。我的腿青肿且肌肉发达。我躺着盯着天花板。我就这样躺着，直到下午两点左右，我的电话响了，我看到斯宾塞的电话号码。

“Hey…” “嘿…”

“What’s up, brother?” His voice is irritatingly joyful.
“怎么了，兄弟？”他的声音带着令人恼怒的喜悦。

“Dude, I’m dying.” “哥们儿，我快死了。”

“Uh-huh. You know, it’s a beautiful day out.”
“嗯。你知道，这是美好的一天。”

“Is it?” All the shades are drawn on the windows and my apartment is bare and dark.
“是吗？”所有的窗帘都拉在窗户上，我的公寓光秃秃的，漆黑一片。

“Yeah, it is. So, you wanna go on a bike ride?”
“是啊，就是。那么，你想去骑自行车吗？”

“Are you serious?” “你是认真的？”

“Yeah, man, I’m way outta shape, we gotta start riding again.”
“是的，伙计，我的体形太差了，我们得重新开始骑行了。”

“I can barely move.” “我几乎动不了。”

He laughs. “Come on, man, we’ll go slow.”
他笑了。 “来吧，伙计，我们慢慢来。”

“Look, I don’t know, uh…”
“你看，我不知道，呃……”

“Nic, I’m already on my way.”
“尼克，我已经在路上了。”

“What?” “什么？”

“That’s right. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“这是正确的。我二十分钟后就到。”

“Uh…okay.” “呃……好吧。”

“See you downstairs.” “楼下见。”

I hang up, pulling myself out of bed and feeling all dizzy, or like I’m gonna faint or something. I curse and go over to my dresser. The bottom drawer is filled with old bike clothes. I’d left them here, sure I would never need them again. Those nights I’d slept in my car outside the Presidio, I’d watched the groups of cyclists climbing up the forest road. It was hard to believe that I had once been like that, pulling away on a sprint, spending five or six hours at a time on the bike. I looked at those riders and I told myself that I was better off sitting in the car, loaded outta my mind. But the thing was I had experienced some of the good life that the twelve steps had to offer. I remembered riding my bike with Spencer through the Marina as the sun rose over the Hollywood hills. I remembered him telling me how much he loved his life, and in those moments, I felt the same way. I just hadn’t been willing to fight through the difficult moments with the faith that it would get better—that maybe, one day, I could have what Spencer had—a beautiful life.
我挂断电话，从床上爬起来，感觉头晕目眩，或者感觉我要晕倒了。我咒骂着，走到梳妆台前。最下面的抽屉里装满了旧自行车衣服。我把它们留在这里，确信我再也不需要它们了。那些夜晚，我睡在要塞外面的车里，看着一群群骑自行车的人爬上森林公路。很难相信我曾经是这样的，在冲刺中拉开距离，一次花五六个小时骑自行车。我看着那些乘客，我告诉自己，我最好坐在车里，脑子里装满了东西。但问题是我已经体验到了十二步台阶所带来的一些美好生活。我记得当太阳从好莱坞山上升起时，我和斯宾塞骑着自行车穿过码头。我记得他告诉我他多么热爱他的生活​​，在那一刻，我也有同样的感觉。我只是不愿意在困难时刻奋斗，相信事情会变得更好——也许有一天，我可以拥有斯宾塞所拥有的——美好的生活。

That seems a long way off, but what is there left to do but try?
这似乎还很遥远，但是除了尝试还能做什么呢？

I take off my clothes and I smell terrible. I put on some bike shorts and a jersey. I feel naked and exposed—embarrassed by my white, strung-out body. All the definition has been eaten away from my muscles and I try to avoid the mirror that is leaning against the wall. My Raleigh is there in the corner, a fifteen-hundred-dollar road bike that I’d saved up for and bought with my own money. It was the first thing ever that I had really done that with.
我脱掉衣服，闻起来很臭。我穿上了自行车短裤和运动衫。我感觉自己赤身裸体，暴露在外——对自己苍白、绷紧的身体感到尴尬。所有的定义都已经从我的肌肉中消失了，我试图避开靠在墙上的镜子。我的 Raleigh 就在角落里，这是一辆价值 1500 美元的公路自行车，是我攒钱用自己的钱买的。这是我真正做到的第一件事。

I put some air in the tires, sweating and out of breath from the exertion. This is definitely not a good idea. But I put on some socks and my cycling shoes and fill up a plastic water bottle. Spencer calls from outside and I go down to meet him. He’s driven his wife’s Blazer over, but he’s already all dressed in his cycling gear.
我给轮胎打了一些气，因为用力而出汗，气喘吁吁。这绝对不是一个好主意。但我穿上了袜子和骑行鞋，并装满了塑料水瓶。斯宾塞从外面打来电话，我下去见他。他把他妻子的西装外套开过来，但他已经穿上了自行车装备。

“Lookin’ good,” he says. “看起来不错，”他说。

“Yeah, yeah.” “是啊是啊。”

The sun is out and the sky is still and blue and perfect.
太阳出来了，天空静谧、蔚蓝、完美。

“It’s so warm out here.”
“这里真暖和。”

“Yep,” he says. “是的，”他说。

I click into my pedals and spin my legs a few times, cruising up the block. Everything aches and is tight and I feel sick. I figure I’ll just tell him I can’t do it, but then he is pedaling up next to me and smiling, so I hang on a little longer. It is very foreign—steering, the feel of sitting on the bike, turning my legs, standing out of the saddle. It is foreign, but at the same time not.
我踩下踏板，旋转双腿几次，沿着街区行驶。一切都疼痛、紧绷，我感到恶心。我想我会告诉他我做不到，但后来他在我旁边踩着踏板微笑着，所以我坚持了一会儿。这是非常陌生的——转向、坐在自行车上、转动双腿、从马鞍上站起来的感觉。它是外国的，但同时又不是。

“God,” I say quietly. “Please, if you’re there, could you help me. Please. I know you allowed me to come back to L.A. and get sober. Now help me to ride this bike.” We pedal faster and then the wind is cooling my sweating body and Spencer says, “How does it feel?”
“上帝，”我轻声说道。 “拜托，如果你在的话，能帮我一下吗？请。我知道你让我回到洛杉矶并保持清醒。现在帮我骑这辆自行车。”我们踩得更快，风吹过我出汗的身体，斯宾塞说：“感觉怎么样？”

And I start to cry. I close my eyes and the tears run down and I sit up tall and let the handlebars go and just drift like that, down California Street, toward the calm, pulsing ocean.
我开始哭泣。我闭上眼睛，泪水流下，我坐直身子，松开车把，就这样漂流，沿着加州街，走向平静、脉动的海洋。

“I forgot about this,” I say.
“我忘了这件事，”我说。

“No you didn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t be back.”
“不，你没有，否则你就不会回来了。”

“Is it too late? Will I ever be where I was?”
“太晚了吗？我还会在原来的地方吗？”

“You’ll be far beyond that.”
“你会远远超出这个范围的。”

“But—” “但-”

“Look. Let’s make a list.”
“看。我们列个清单吧。”

“What?” “什么？”

“A list.” “一个列表。”

We turn left along the Santa Monica cliffs, the palm trees stretching up, bent forward from the onshore winds. The street is cracked and I stand to avoid the impact of a manhole cover. I am breathing pretty hard.
我们沿着圣莫尼卡悬崖左转，棕榈树伸展开来，被陆上的风吹得向前弯曲。街道出现裂缝，我站着躲避井盖的撞击。我呼吸很困难。

“Just think about it for now,” says Spencer. “But I have a guarantee for you. We’re gonna make a list of all the things you want out of life, okay? Not anything too dramatic, but just the stuff you think you need in order to be happy. Put it on paper—write it down. In one year from today, one year, if you follow this program to the best of your ability, you will have everything you wanted and more. Your life will be inexplicably transformed. Just think of it as an experiment. Give it a year and see what happens.”

“But,” I say, “I had a year.”
“但是，”我说，“我还有一年的时间。”

“Give it a year where you actually commit to this thing—where you, like they say, grab hold of spiritual principles with all the fervor with which a drowning man seizes a life preserver. You’ve got nothing else, man.”
“给你一年的时间，让你真正致力于这件事——就像他们说的那样，你以溺水者抓住救生圈的热情抓住精神原则。你没有别的事了，伙计。”

“I know. I know I don’t.”
“我知道。我知道我不知道。”

“So what have you got to lose?”
“那么你有什么损失呢？”

“Nothing, I guess.” “没什么，我想。”

“You guess?” “你猜呀？”

“Nothing.” “没有什么。”

We make it down to the bike path and I look out at all the joggers and bladers and cyclists participating in their lives. Men and women walk dogs or hold each other’s hands. A group of boys play hand drums in the coarse sand.
我们走到自行车道上，我看着所有参与他们生活的慢跑者、滑冰者和骑自行车者。男人和女人遛狗或牵着彼此的手。一群男孩在粗沙上打手鼓。

“So what do you want?”
“所以你想要什么？”

“Uh…I don’t know.” “呃……我不知道。”

“Come on, come on.” “好啦好啦。”

“All right, well, I’d like to be healthy again. I’d like to be able to ride like I used to.”
“好吧，好吧，我想恢复健康。我希望能够像以前一样骑行。”

“How ’bout a car?” “一辆车怎么样？”

“Yeah, I’d like a car again.”
“是的，我想要一辆车。”

“And a career?” “那职业呢？”

“Sure, I’d like to be a self-supporting writer.”
“当然，我想成为一名自立作家。”

“What else?” “还有什么？”

“A relationship. A meaningful relationship.”
“一种关系。一种有意义的关系。”

“All right.” “好的。”

“I’d like friends and, uh, to have my family forgive me.”
“我希望朋友们，呃，我的家人能够原谅我。”

“Write it down, man. I’m telling you, either you’ll get exactly what you want, or you’ll find that you’ve been given infinitely more.”
“写下来，伙计。我告诉你，要么你会得到你想要的，要么你会发现你得到了无限多。”

“No way.” “决不。”

“Either you’re gonna trust me or you’re not, man, it’s your choice.”
“你要么相信我，要么不相信我，伙计，这是你的选择。”

“I trust you.” “我相信你。”

“Well then…” “好吧…”

We ride on in silence, around the Marina. I watch the boats rocking in the harbor and I pray—I just keep praying.
我们默默地继续前行，绕着码头。我看着港口里摇晃的船只，我祈祷——我一直祈祷。

Spencer is in front of me most of the time, but I try my best to keep up. We circle back around. He talks to me about the last movie he produced. There are problems with the director and cast, but the editing is coming together. He asks if I’ll come out with him to the sound guy’s studio tomorrow. I agree. He talks about closing his corporate video company—moving his business back home. He wants to me to help him pack the office up in a week or so. I agree to that, too. When we get back to my house, we change and he drives me to get some groceries.
斯宾塞大部分时间都在我前面，但我尽力跟上。我们绕回来。他跟我谈论他制作的最后一部电影。导演和演员都存在问题，但剪辑是齐心协力的。他问我明天是否可以和他一起去音响师的工作室。我同意。他谈到要关闭他的企业视频公司——将他的业务迁回家乡。他希望我在一周左右的时间内帮他收拾办公室。我也同意这一点。当我们回到家时，我们换了衣服，他开车送我去买一些杂货。

“Thank you,” I say. “谢谢你，”我说。

“Hey, man, helping you is how I stay alive. Never forget that.”
“嘿，伙计，帮助你是我活下去的方法。永远别忘了。”

I hug him and go upstairs. I write a list of all the things we talked about. I put it on paper, thinking there’s no way I can get these things—there’s just no way.
我拥抱他，然后上楼。我写了一份我们讨论过的所有事情的清单。我把它写在纸上，心想我不可能得到这些东西——就是没有办法。

DAY 59 第59天

Spencer’s lent me a bunch of money and now he wants me to help him move out of his office—which is annoying. Still, I can’t tell him no. I’ve written up a resumé and started passing it out around local coffee shops and things, but no one is real responsive. I’m probably terrible at making the damn things. Sounding professional has never been my strong point. Plus the big chunks of missing time are hard to explain. Other than my road bike, I have this old beater that used to be my mom’s. I ride that around, though I’m still weak as hell. It’s hard to look anyone in the eye. I feel, well, like I’m completely transparent or something—like everyone can see exactly what’s going on with me.
斯宾塞借给了我一大笔钱，现在他想让我帮他搬出他的办公室——这很烦人。尽管如此，我还是不能告诉他不。我写了一份简历，并开始在当地的咖啡馆和其他地方分发，但没有人真正做出回应。我可能不擅长做那些该死的东西。听起来很专业从来都不是我的强项。另外，大量的缺席时间也很难解释。除了我的公路自行车之外，我还有一台旧的打手，它曾经是我妈妈的。我骑着它四处走动，尽管我仍然很虚弱。很难直视任何人的眼睛。我觉得，嗯，好像我是完全透明的或者类似的东西——每个人都可以清楚地看到我发生了什么。

Spencer picks me up around one. It’s almost May and it’s hot outside. Just walking from my apartment to his car has my T-shirt sticking to my back. My long hair is all matted and everything.
斯宾塞在一号左右来接我。快到五月了，外面很热。刚从我的公寓走向他的车，我的 T 恤就粘在了我的背上。我的长发全都乱七八糟了。

We drive east to Thousand Oaks, where Spencer owns a little corporate video production company. He’s shutting it down to concentrate exclusively on making his horror movies.
我们向东驱车前往千橡市，斯宾塞在那里拥有一家小型企业视频制作公司。他正在关闭它，专注于制作他的恐怖电影。

I ask a lot of questions about recovery and the twelve steps, trying my best to listen. We both agree I should call my dad and stepmom, just to let them know I’m safe and all. I’m nervous about calling them. I feel embarrassed, but also kind of angry or something. I mean, what I do with my life should be up to me, right? I say as much to Spencer.
我问了很多关于恢复和十二步骤的问题，并尽力倾听。我们都同意我应该给我的父亲和继母打电话，只是为了让他们知道我很安全。我对给他们打电话感到紧张。我感到尴尬，但也有点生气什么的。我的意思是，我的生活应该由我自己决定，对吗？我对斯宾塞也这么说。

“So you think you should just be able to kill yourself and no one should care?” he asks. “You don’t think your actions are gonna affect other people—the people who love you?”
“所以你认为你应该能够自杀而没有人会关心？”他问。 “你不认为你的行为会影响其他人——爱你的人吗？”

“No, I mean, I know it’s gonna affect them. I just…” I stare out at the canyon walls, dry earth broken out with thorned, crawling vines; snarled brush, prickling cacti. The sea air gives way to hot, stifling desert wind as we climb over the Santa Monica Mountains, over Kanan-Dume Road toward the valley.
“不，我的意思是，我知道这会影响他们。我只是……”我凝视着峡谷的墙壁，干燥的土地上长满了带刺的爬行藤蔓；咆哮的灌木丛，刺痛的仙人掌。当我们翻越圣莫尼卡山脉，越过卡南杜姆路朝山谷前进时，海风被炎热、令人窒息的沙漠风所取代。

“You just wanna be able to do whatever you want, whenever you want. That’s all it is.” Spencer smiles. “If you’re gonna kill yourself you might as well just jump into those bushes there and roll around till you get thousands of little cuts all over your body and you bleed to death. I’ll tell you what, that’s gonna be a lot more fun than what you’ve got to look forward to if you go back out there. And that way we all won’t have to worry about when you’re gonna break into our house, or steal our car, or run someone over.”
“你只想随时随地做你想做的事。仅此而已。”斯宾塞微笑着。 “如果你想自杀，你不妨跳进那里的灌木丛里，滚来滚去，直到你全身被数以千计的小伤口流血而死。我告诉你，这会比你回去时所期待的有趣得多。这样我们就不用担心你什么时候会闯入我们的房子，或者偷我们的车，或者撞倒别人。”

I nod. 我点点头。

“No, I know…” “不，我知道……”

“What does that mean, you know? What do you know?”
“这是什么意思，你知道吗？你知道什么？”

“I know that going out again is not an option.”
“我知道再次出去不是一个选择。”

“It’s not an option. You’ve had all the good times you’re ever gonna have with meth, heroin, or any of that stuff. It just gets worse from here on out. But there is another way. I was no different, man. I was just like you. But today, man, I love my life. I love my life.” He grins with his big block teeth and steers the car fast around the steep mountain curves.
“这不是一个选择。你已经享受过吸食冰毒、海洛因或其他任何东西所带来的所有美好时光。从现在开始，情况只会变得更糟。但还有另一种方法。我也不例外，伙计。我和你一样。但今天，伙计，我热爱我的生活。我热爱我的生活。”他咧着大牙咧嘴一笑，迅速驾驶汽车绕过陡峭的山弯。

I feel like maybe he means it.
我觉得也许他是认真的。

“So how do I get that?” I ask. “How do I start to love my life?”
“那我怎样才能得到它呢？”我问。 “我如何开始热爱我的生活？”

“By committing yourself to the program. By doin’ what I did—going to meetings, working the steps, and by helping other alcoholics and drug addicts so we don’t have to be thinking about ourselves all the time.”
“通过致力于该计划。通过做我所做的事情——参加会议、执行步骤、帮助其他酗酒者和吸毒者，这样我们就不必一直考虑自己。”

“But I tried all that before.”

“Did you?” “你是否？”

“I think so.” “我想是这样。”

He smiles and I can see my reflection in his wraparound black sunglasses.
他微笑着，我可以在他的黑色环绕式太阳镜中看到我的倒影。

“Did you work the steps? Did you commit to this thing with your whole life?”
“你按照步骤操作了吗？你就为了这件事付出了一生吗？”

“Sort of.” “有点。”

“There is no sort of.”
“没有那种。”

I drink from the coffee that Spencer bought me.
我喝斯宾塞给我买的咖啡。

At the studio we pack everything into boxes. It’s mostly just extension cords and whatever—computers, cameras, things like that. There’re a couple big tables and filing cabinets. I’m tired and frustrated, but at the same time, grateful to just have something to do. Plus Spencer has already done so much for me. I figure this is some sort of payback or something.
在工作室，我们把所有东西都装进盒子里。大部分只是延长线之类的东西——电脑、相机之类的东西。有几张大桌子和文件柜。我很累，也很沮丧，但同时，我很感激能有事可做。另外斯宾塞已经为我做了很多事情。我认为这是某种回报或其他什么。

When we get to his house, his wife, Michelle, cooks us all dinner. They have a little girl named Lucy. She is four, with short black hair and eyes that are wide and green. She has a very round face and she hides from me as I sit at the table. We eat pasta and salad and Michelle is quiet, but warm to me. She doesn’t ask a lot of questions. She lets me be. Mostly she and Spencer just talk about business and school stuff and Lucy keeps hiding.
当我们到达他家时，他的妻子米歇尔为我们大家做了晚餐。他们有一个小女孩，名叫露西。她四岁了，有一头黑色短发，眼睛又大又绿。她有一张很圆的脸，当我坐在桌边时，她躲着我。我们吃意大利面和沙拉，米歇尔很安静，但对我很热情。她不会问很多问题。她让我随心所欲。大多数时候，她和斯宾塞只是谈论生意和学校的事情，而露西则一直躲着。

It’s strange, you know, being around Lucy. It reminds me so much of being with Jasper and Daisy. Growing up, I always wanted to take care of them, teach them things, help them along. We were so close at times. I remember coming home from high school and not doing my homework ’cause I just wanted to hang out with them. I loved being able to babysit them at night, or take them on walks in the garden. In some ways it felt like, well, since I’d sort of missed my own childhood, I was getting a chance to experience it all over again with them. Or, more importantly, to help give them the childhood I never had.
你知道，和露西在一起很奇怪。这让我想起了和贾斯珀和黛西在一起的情景。在成长过程中，我一直想照顾他们，教他们东西，帮助他们。有时我们是如此亲密。我记得高中毕业回家后没有做作业，因为我只想和他们一起出去玩。我喜欢晚上照顾他们，或者带他们在花园里散步。从某些方面来说，感觉就像是，既然我有点怀念自己的童年，我就有机会和他们一起重新体验这一切。或者，更重要的是，帮助他们度过我从未拥有过的童年。

It’s not like my childhood was that awful or anything. I just grew up very quickly. I remember going to see The Crying Game in a theater with my dad when I was around nine. It’s a movie about a man in the IRA who falls in love with a transsexual. I went with my dad everywhere, to parties and concerts and whatever—everyone drinking and getting high. I felt like I was one of the adults and it was very exciting, though I missed out on just innocent playing and all that a lot of kids get.
我的童年并没有那么糟糕或什么的。我只是长得很快。我记得九岁左右的时候，我和爸爸一起去剧院看《哭泣的游戏》。这是一部关于爱尔兰共和军中的一名男子爱上变性人的电影。我和爸爸到处去，参加聚会、音乐会等等——每个人都喝酒喝嗨。我感觉自己就像是成年人中的一员，这非常令人兴奋，尽管我错过了天真的玩耍和很多孩子所拥有的一切。

And it was confusing for me to see my dad dating different women. I remember waking up one morning and running to my dad’s room like I always did. I climbed under the sheets with him, but the familiar smell of him was tainted with a new smell—perfume and sweat and I didn’t know what. I heard a high-pitched giggling. There was a naked woman in the bed with us. This was in the late eighties, the height of the AIDS scare in San Francisco. I was worried my dad would be infected because I knew he was having sex. He showed me with a condom and a carrot how he protected himself. I went to my first-grade class that day and told about it during show-and-tell time. My teacher sent me to the principal’s office. My dad used to tell that story to his friends like it was really funny and cool.
看到我父亲和不同的女人约会，我感到很困惑。我记得有一天早上醒来，像往常一样跑到爸爸的房间。我和他一起爬到被单下面，但他身上熟悉的味道却被一种新的味道污染了——香水和汗水，我不知道是什么味道。我听到一声高亢的咯咯笑声。我们的床上有一个裸体女人。当时是八十年代末，旧金山艾滋病恐慌最严重。我担心我爸爸会被感染，因为我知道他正在做爱。他用避孕套和胡萝卜向我展示了他如何保护自己。那天我去了一年级的班级，并在展示和讲述时间讲述了这件事。我的老师把我送到了校长办公室。我爸爸过去常常向他的朋友们讲这个故事，好像这真的很有趣而且很酷。

Plus my mom moved to L.A. when I was five, though I would visit her on holidays and over the summer. During these visits my mom would be working all the time at her magazine job, while my stepdad was laid off from his job producing TV. My stepdad would work on writing most of the day while I watched TV and movies and things. Sometimes we’d go run errands together—or play baseball, or basketball, or football. He was always trying to teach me stuff. But it wasn’t as if we just played these games and had fun—he was constantly criticizing me and telling me how I needed to stand, or toughen up, or whatever.
另外，我五岁时妈妈搬到了洛杉矶，尽管我会在假期和夏天去看她。在这些访问期间，我妈妈一直在杂志社工作，而我继父则被解雇了制作电视的工作。我的继父一天中大部分时间都在写作，而我则看电视、电影之类的东西。有时我们会一起出去办事，或者打棒球、篮球或足球。他总是想教我一些东西。但这并不是说我们只是玩这些游戏并享受乐趣——他不断地批评我并告诉我我需要如何站立，或者坚强起来，或者诸如此类。

Todd would tell me stories about his childhood or young adulthood and all the great things he’d done. There was the time he scored the winning basket right at the buzzer. There was the time he convinced these two lesbians to fuck him because he said he had a bag full of cocaine, but it was really just Ajax. In fact, he told me a lot of stories about the women he used to fuck. I’d sit next to him in his silver Buick and stare out the window, trying not to meet his eyes.
托德会给我讲他童年或青年时期的故事，以及他所做的所有伟大的事情。有一次他在压哨时刻投进制胜球。有一次他说服这两个女同性恋和他上床，因为他说他有一袋可卡因，但实际上只是阿贾克斯。事实上，他给我讲了很多他曾经操过的女人的故事。我坐在他的银色别克车里，坐在他旁边，盯着窗外，尽量不去看他的眼睛。

I remember glancing over at his hands, seeing his thick fingers covered with bleeding sores—each thumb picked raw. He chewed Nicorette gum and his teeth, even then, were yellow and discolored. His breath stank. I guess I was terrified of him.
我记得我瞥了一眼他的手，看到他粗大的手指上布满了流血的疮——每个拇指都被磨破了。即使在那时，他咀嚼尼古丁口香糖，他的牙齿仍然发黄变色。他的呼吸发臭。我想我是害怕他了。

When Jasper and Daisy were born, I got to sort of regress with them, while also trying to protect them. I wanted to treat them differently than I’d been treated. Of course, once I started using that all was destroyed. I feel a strangling in my throat when I think about how I’ve thrown my relationship with Jasper and Daisy away. I look at Lucy and already I have a sort of longing to be a part of her life.
当贾斯帕和黛西出生时，我不得不和他们一起回归，同时也试图保护他们。我想以不同于我被对待的方式对待他们。当然，一旦我开始使用，一切都被摧毁了。当我想到我是如何抛弃与贾斯珀和黛西的关系时，我感到喉咙窒息。我看着露西，我已经有一种渴望成为她生活的一部分。

“Lucy,” says Michelle, trying to sound—what—authoritative? “You come eat your pasta or you get no dessert. I mean it.”
“露西，”米歇尔说道，试图听起来——什么——权威？ “你来吃意大利面，否则就没有甜点。我是认真的。”

“Moooommmm,” she squeals in her little high-pitched voice.
“姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆姆”)她用她小小的高音调尖叫道。

“It’s pretty good,” I say.
“这很好，”我说。

Lucy stops and stares, stares, stares.
露西停下来，凝视、凝视、凝视。

“Really—I mean, you might like it.”
“真的——我的意思是，你可能会喜欢它。”

She shakes her head—her eyes so big. I’m not sure if maybe she’s gonna burst into tears, or what. “Look, I’ll eat it.” I lean over and take a small bite of her pasta.
她摇摇头——她的眼睛太大了。我不确定她是否会泪流满面，或者什么。 “你看，我要吃了。”我俯身咬了一小口她的意大利面。

“Mmmmmm,” I say. “That’s the best thing I ever tasted. I’m gonna eat it all. You can’t.”
“嗯嗯，”我说。 “这是我尝过的最好的东西。我要把它全部吃掉。你不能。”

“Mooommm,” screams Lucy. “That’s mine.”
“姆姆姆，”露西尖叫道。 “那是我的。”

“Oh, all right. Here…” I hand the bowl to her and she takes it, tasting the pasta cautiously.
“哦那好吧。这里……”我把碗递给她，她接过它，小心翼翼地品尝意大利面。

“Thanks,” says Michelle. “谢谢，”米歇尔说。

“Sure. I have a little brother and sister and all sorts of little cousins and things.”
“当然。我有一个弟弟妹妹，还有各种各样的小表兄弟姐妹等等。”

“Well, we’re always looking for babysitters.”
“嗯，我们一直在寻找保姆。”

“Yeah,” says Spencer. “But only if they can stay sober.” He whacks me playfully on the back of the head and I stare down at my plate.
“是的，”斯宾塞说。 “但前提是他们能够保持清醒。”他开玩笑地敲打我的后脑勺，我低头盯着我的盘子。

“Spencer, be nice,” Michelle says, kissing his cheek. “What we do need is a receptionist to work at my salon a couple days a week. You ever think you might be interested in that?”
“斯宾塞，友善点，”米歇尔说，亲吻他的脸颊。 “我们真正需要的是一名接待员，每周在我的沙龙工作几天。你有没有想过你可能对此感兴趣？

“Yeah,” I say, brightening. “I need a job.”
“是的，”我说道，心情变得明亮起来。 “我需要一个工作。”

“He sure does,” says Spencer.
“他确实这么做了，”斯宾塞说。

“I’ll have to talk to my business partner about it, but that could be perfect for everyone.”
“我必须和我的商业伙伴谈谈这件事，但这对每个人来说都是完美的。”

“Sure. But, I mean—don’t feel obligated or anything.”
“当然。但是，我的意思是——不要觉得有义务什么的。”

“I don’t. Call us tomorrow at the shop.”
“我不。明天给我们店里打电话。”

I do the dishes while Lucy talks to me. She tells me her age and that she likes horses and things like that. I goof around with her some—talking in funny voices and whatever. Michelle keeps saying I don’t need to wash the dishes, but I do.
露西跟我说话的时候我洗碗。她告诉我她的年龄，还说她喜欢马之类的东西。我和她一起闲逛——用有趣的声音说话等等。米歇尔一直说我不需要洗碗，但我确实需要。

Spencer drives me home. 斯宾塞开车送我回家。

“Everything I have in my life,” he says, speeding through a yellow light on Lincoln. “Everything I have in my life is a result of working the twelve steps. My wife, my child, my career, my house—everything. As long as I put my recovery first, I can never lose. Even when it seems like something terrible is happening, I always find that, if I apply the steps in my life, it is ultimately for the best.”
“我生命中拥有的一切，”他一边说，一边飞快地冲过林肯的黄灯。 “我生命中所拥有的一切都是十二个步骤的结果。我的妻子、我的孩子、我的事业、我的房子——一切。只要我把恢复放在第一位，我就永远不会输。即使似乎发生了可怕的事情，我总是发现，如果我在生活中应用这些步骤，最终会是最好的。”

“That’s not just some platitude or something—some Pollyanna bullshit?”
“这不仅仅是一些陈词滥调之类的东西——一些盲目乐观的废话？”

“Not in my experience. It’s like that story of the father whose son breaks his leg. The villagers come up and say, ‘Your son broke his leg, what bad luck.’ But the father replies, ‘Good luck, bad luck, who knows?’ Then there’s a war and all the young men in the village must fight. There is a terrible battle and most everyone is killed—except for the man’s son who couldn’t fight because he broke his leg. So the villagers come up to him and say, ‘What good luck, your son didn’t have to fight and now he is alive.’ But the father replies, ‘Good luck, bad luck, who knows?’”
“根据我的经验，不是这样的。这就像那个儿子摔断腿的父亲的故事。村民们走过来说：“你的儿子摔断了腿，真倒霉。”但父亲回答说：“好运，坏运，谁知道呢？”然后发生了一场战争，村里所有的年轻人都必须参加战斗。发生了一场可怕的战斗，大多数人都被杀了——除了那个人的儿子，他因为摔断了腿而无法战斗。于是村民们走到他面前说：“真幸运，你的儿子不用打仗了，现在他还活着。”但父亲回答说：“好运，坏运，谁知道呢？”

Spencer goes on to give some more examples.
斯宾塞继续举了一些例子。

“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “I get it.”
“是啊，是啊，”我说。 “我得到它。”

“I’m just saying,” he continues. “You relapsing seems like the most devastating thing now, but you may look back at this as absolutely essential. Nothing happens in God’s world by mistake.”
“我只是说，”他继续说道。 “现在你的旧病复发似乎是最具破坏性的事情，但你可能会认为这是绝对必要的。在上帝的世界里，没有任何事情是偶然发生的。”

“Yeah, except I don’t believe in God.”
“是的，只是我不相信上帝。”

“Then how do you think you got back here? What pulled you out of San Francisco?”
“那你觉得你是怎么回来的？是什么让你离开了旧金山？”

He leaves me with that one.
他把那个留给了我。

I go upstairs and try to sleep, but end up watching some movie I rented till real late. In the morning I ride my bike down to Palos Verdes—still trying to answer his question maybe.
我上楼想睡觉，但最后还是看了一些我租的电影直到很晚。早上，我骑自行车去帕洛斯维迪斯——也许还在试图回答他的问题。

DAY 92 第 92 天

Recovery is strange, you know? I mean, it is so easy in a way and yet, well, so difficult. The woman who ran my Sober Living in L.A., the place I checked into after moving here from New York, describes addiction as a disease of amnesia. I think that pretty much sums it up. It’s not hard to stay sober at first. Sure, it’s hard as hell to get sober—to pull yourself out of the cycle of getting high every day and going through the horrors of detox. But, honestly, once the drugs are out of my system it isn’t too difficult to genuinely feel like I never want to go through that shit again. Staying sober right after coming back from a relapse is no struggle. Every time I’ve come out of detox, the last thing I ever want to do is get high. This time is no different.
恢复很奇怪，你知道吗？我的意思是，从某种程度上来说，这很容易，但又很困难。我从纽约搬到这里后，在洛杉矶经营我的清醒生活中心，那位女士将毒瘾描述为一种失忆症。我认为这已经概括了一切。一开始保持清醒并不难。当然，要保持清醒是非常困难的——要让自己摆脱每天都兴奋和经历排毒的恐怖循环。但是，老实说，一旦药物从我的系统中消失，我就不会太难真正感觉到我再也不想经历那样的事情了。旧病复发后立即保持清醒并不困难。每次戒毒结束后，我最不想做的就是兴奋。这次也不例外。

But the thing is, as the months go by, I always seem to forget why I needed to get sober in the first place. The bad shit starts to not seem really that bad. I start blaming other people, thinking they’re all just overreacting and whatever. I tell myself that I wasn’t really that out of control. At least, that’s my rationale.
但问题是，随着时间的流逝，我似乎总是忘记为什么我首先需要保持清醒。糟糕的事情开始看起来并没有那么糟糕。我开始责怪其他人，认为他们只是反应过度等等。我告诉自己，我并没有那么失控。至少，这是我的理由。

I swear, every time I’ve relapsed has been the same story. And, each time, I get a little closer to being dead. Things fall apart more quickly. I hurt more and more people.
我发誓，每次我旧病复发都是同样的故事。而且，每一次，我都离死亡更近一点。事情崩溃得更快。我伤害了越来越多的人。

I cannot let that happen again. I cannot.
我不能让这种事再次发生。我不能。

Somehow I have to make this different. But how do I accomplish this?
无论如何，我必须让这一切变得不同。但我该如何做到这一点呢？

One thing I do is I stick close to Spencer. He gives me hope, and at the same time, he reminds me of where I came from—how bad I got. But, well, the thing is, I can’t help but feeling kind of like a loser living the way I am—so simply. I mean, I just hang out with Spencer and a few people in twelve-step meetings. I have no girlfriend. I live by myself. I’m sort of embarrassed by who I am.
我做的一件事就是紧贴斯宾塞。他给了我希望，同时，他提醒我我来自哪里——我有多糟糕。但是，好吧，问题是，我情不自禁地感觉自己就像一个像我这样生活的失败者——就这么简单。我的意思是，我只是和 Spencer 以及其他几个人一起参加十二步会议。我没有女朋友。我自己一个人住。我对自己是谁感到有点尴尬。

All my heroes, Kurt Cobain, Iceberg Slim, Donald Goines, Charles Bukowski, Henry Miller, Jean-Michel Basquiat, they all lived these crazy lives. None of them ever had to go to these cheeseball twelve-step meetings and talk about all this corny twelve-step crap. Not that I don’t completely appreciate everything Spencer is doing for me. I am so grateful to him. But I can’t help feeling like I’m just not cool anymore. I guess that’s stupid, but it’s true.
我所有的英雄，库尔特·柯本、艾斯伯格·斯利姆、唐纳德·戈因斯、查尔斯·布考斯基、亨利·米勒、让-米歇尔·巴斯奎特，他们都过着疯狂的生活。他们中没有人曾经参加过这些芝士球十二步会议并谈论所有这些陈词滥调的十二步废话。并不是说我不完全欣赏斯宾塞为我所做的一切。我非常感谢他。但我忍不住觉得我不再酷了。我觉得这很愚蠢，但这是事实。

When I talk to Spencer about it, he asks me how cool I was when I was prostituting and stealing. I understand his point, but, you know, I still feel hopelessly inadequate about myself and my life. I don’t want to live like some goddamn Pollyanna, yet I’m terrified to use again. I wonder to myself if maybe there is something chemically wrong with me. I feel so completely crazy sometimes. I don’t know which way I’m facing. All I can do is just shove all this shit to the side and try to move forward.
当我和斯宾塞谈论这件事时，他问我卖淫和偷窃时有多酷。我理解他的观点，但是，你知道，我仍然对自己和我的生活感到无可救药的不足。我不想像一些该死的盲目乐观的人一样生活，但我又害怕再次使用。我心里想，我的化学成分是否有问题。有时我感觉自己完全疯了。我不知道我面对的是哪个方向。我所能做的就是把所有这些狗屎推到一边并尝试前进。

Spencer has me going to twelve-step meetings every day, which helps. The meetings aren’t like the stereotype at all—you know, old men in trench coats sitting in a circle complaining about how much they wish they could be drinking Long Island Iced Teas or something. There’re a ton of young people at the meetings and, because it’s L.A., a lot of industry people—like actors and musicians, or whatever. It’s almost, like, hip to be in recovery here. And despite the fact that I’m embarrassed about going to them, the meetings are really inspiring to me. Listening to the people who share about their experiences and how they’ve turned their lives around is amazing. They are brutally honest and introspective—not like most people you meet in the real world, outside of recovery. And everyone, it seems, agrees that if you go to these meetings and work the steps, you will stay sober. So I go to a meeting every day and I’m working the steps with Spencer.
斯宾塞让我每天参加十二步会议，这很有帮助。这些会议根本不像刻板印象——你知道，穿着风衣的老男人围成一圈，抱怨他们多么希望能喝长岛冰茶之类的东西。会议上有很多年轻人，而且因为是洛杉矶，所以有很多业内人士，比如演员和音乐家，或者其他什么。在这里康复几乎是很时髦的。尽管事实上我对参加他们感到尴尬，但这些会议确实给了我启发。聆听人们分享他们的经历以及他们如何改变自己的生活真是太棒了。他们非常诚实和内省——不像你在现实世界中、在康复过程中遇到的大多数人。似乎每个人都同意，如果你参加这些会议并按照步骤进行操作，你就会保持清醒。所以我每天都会去开会，并和 Spencer 一起执行步骤。

Spencer encourages me to go through the steps very slowly, although the first step, “We admitted that we were powerless over our addictions—that our lives had become unmanageable,” seems pretty simple to me. I have no problem admitting that I am powerless over my addictions and my life is completely unmanageable. But the second step, “Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity,” well, that’s a lot harder for me. Sure I’ve experimented with prayer, and Spencer is always pointing out to me how the Power is working in my life. He tells me that each day I’m able to stay sober is only by the grace of God. I admit that I do feel very blessed, or lucky, at times and prayer does help me clear my head and all, but my rational mind always tells me that these are only coincidences. No matter how much I want to, I can’t actually believe that there is a power guiding me. It just doesn’t make sense to me on a deep, visceral level. I don’t believe in God—not really.
斯宾塞鼓励我慢慢地完成这些步骤，尽管第一步，“我们承认我们对自己的毒瘾无能为力——我们的生活已经变得难以管理”，对我来说似乎很简单。我毫不犹豫地承认我对自己的毒瘾无能为力，我的生活完全无法管理。但第二步，“开始相信一种比我们更强大的力量可以让我们恢复理智”，好吧，这对我来说要困难得多。当然，我尝试过祈祷，斯宾塞总是向我指出力量如何在我的生活中发挥作用。他告诉我，我每天能够保持清醒全靠上帝的恩典。我承认，有时我确实感到非常幸运或幸运，祈祷确实帮助我理清思绪，但我的理性思维总是告诉我，这些只是巧合。无论我多么想相信，我都无法真正相信有一种力量在引导我。从内心深处来说，这对我来说毫无意义。我不相信上帝——不完全相信。

Honestly, that scares me. I’m worried I won’t be able to work the twelve-step program. Spencer tells me to be patient. The longer I experiment with relying on God, the more I will come to believe. So I try it. I ask God for help in every aspect of my life, even if I don’t really believe it.
老实说，这让我害怕。我担心我无法执行十二步计划。斯宾塞告诉我要有耐心。我尝试依靠上帝的时间越长，我就越相信。所以我尝试一下。我在生活的各个方面祈求上帝帮助，即使我并不真正相信。

Anyway, for some reason this old girlfriend of mine, Emily, wrote me an e-mail yesterday. She was just checking in with me, but it made me think back to my time in western Massachusetts with her. Right when I started going to school there, well, I pretty much relapsed that first week. It was kind of ridiculous to think I could stay sober making that transition. I mean, I’d only been out of rehab less than a month. Of course, it just started with me smoking pot and then drinking and then taking acid and ketamine and cocaine. I was living in the dorms and I didn’t know anybody and no one knew me. I was grateful for the anonymity. There was no one there to express concern or whatever. There was no one there before I met Emily.
不管怎样，出于某种原因，我的老女友艾米丽昨天给我写了一封电子邮件。她只是向我询问情况，但这让我回想起和她一起在马萨诸塞州西部的时光。当我开始在那里上学时，第一周我几乎旧病复发了。认为我可以在这种转变中保持清醒，这有点荒谬。我的意思是，我刚刚脱离康复中心还不到一个月。当然，这只是从我吸大麻开始，然后喝酒，然后服用酸、氯胺酮和可卡因。我住在宿舍里，我不认识任何人，也没有人认识我。我很感谢匿名。那里没有人表达关心或其他什么。在我遇见艾米丽之前，那里没有人。

How we met was I brought this Bukowski poem to our beginning poetry class and she liked Bukowski and we started talking. Eventually I told her I’d had a problem with crystal and I’d been in two rehabs over the past year. She seemed to understand. Her best friend had just gotten out of rehab. She started getting on my case about using and she was worried because I wasn’t sober. She said she wouldn’t hang out with me if I didn’t stop, but we still ended up making out one time.
我们是如何认识的，我把这首布考斯基的诗带到了我们的初级诗歌课上，她喜欢布考斯基，我们开始交谈。最终我告诉她我的水晶有问题，并且在过去的一年里我接受了两次康复治疗。她似乎明白了。她最好的朋友刚刚康复出院。她开始关注我关于吸毒的事情，她很担心，因为我不清醒。她说如果我不停下来她就不会和我出去玩，但我们还是亲热了一次。

Back then, there were these two girls, Jessica and Anna, that I partied with all the time. They were sweet, but lost and very, you know, insecure—like me. We ended up taking acid and eating some Adderall this one night and getting really drunk. We all went to my room and got into bed. Neither one of them was very attractive to me, but I guess I’m not very attractive either, so we all had sex together pretty much all night. When I woke up both girls were in my bed still and I looked in the mirror and I just saw the most horrible vacantness in my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself as much as I did at that moment.
那时，有两个女孩，杰西卡和安娜，我一直和她们一起聚会。他们很可爱，但迷失了方向，而且非常缺乏安全感——就像我一样。这一天晚上我们喝了迷幻药，吃了一些阿得拉，然后喝得酩酊大醉。我们都去了我的房间并上了床。他们两个对我来说都不太有吸引力，但我想我也不是很有吸引力，所以我们几乎整个晚上都在一起做爱。当我醒来时，两个女孩都还在我的床上，我看着镜子，我只看到我眼中最可怕的空虚。我想我从来没有像那一刻那样讨厌过自己。

Later that day I found Emily and asked if she would mind taking me to a twelve-step meeting since she had a car. She agreed. I had barely gone to any classes since going to school there and I really just wanted to pull things together.
那天晚些时候，我找到了艾米丽，问她是否介意带我去参加一个十二步会议，因为她有车。她同意了。自从在那里上学以来，我几乎没有上过任何课，我真的只是想把事情整理好。

So I actually got sober. Emily and I started dating and I fell totally in love with her. She brought me home for Christmas at her mom’s house and I got along great with her family. I went to meetings and I spent every day with Emily, basically living in her dorm room. And we had fun, you know? Sometimes I’d dress up in drag and wear this pink wig and we’d go to the movies, or wherever, laughing at everyone who gave us strange looks. We’d rent tons of movies and play old-school Nintendo and go to coffee shops and the library and bookstores. We went into Manhattan a couple times, once to this protest and another time to see her sister in some performance art thing off of Union Square.
所以我实际上清醒了。艾米丽和我开始约会，我完全爱上了她。她带我去她妈妈家过圣诞节，我和她的家人相处得很好。我去参加会议，每天都和艾米丽一起度过，基本上住在她的宿舍里。我们玩得很开心，你知道吗？有时我会乔装打扮，戴上粉红色的假发，然后我们去看电影，或者去别的地方，嘲笑每个用奇怪的眼神看我们的人。我们会租大量的电影，玩老式任天堂游戏，去咖啡馆、图书馆和书店。我们去过曼哈顿几次，一次是为了参加抗议活动，另一次是为了看她姐姐在联合广场举行的一些表演艺术活动。

We were both doing really well in school and I couldn’t imagine ever being away from her. Even today, I’m not sure what happened. I guess it was the same old story. I stopped going to meetings and working a program. I was really just trying to do it on my own. Relapsing came up on me and it was such a goddamn surprise. Emily and I went home to her mom’s house for the weekend. I had to use the bathroom in her mom’s room and there was a bottle of Percocet on the counter. I had a headache and what harm could one Percocet do? It was that simple. I just forgot for a second how bad things had been. A disease of amnesia, right?
我们在学校都表现得很好，我无法想象离开她会怎样。即使在今天，我也不确定发生了什么。我猜这是同一个老故事。我不再参加会议和制定计划。我真的只是想靠自己去做。旧病复发突然出现在我身上，这真是太令人惊讶了。艾米丽和我回到她妈妈家过周末。我不得不使用她妈妈房间的浴室，柜台上有一瓶 Percocet。我头痛，一颗 Percocet 会有什么危害？就是这么简单。我只是暂时忘记了事情有多糟糕。失忆症吧？

By the end of the weekend I’d cleaned out quite a bit of her mom’s medication, plus I stole some packs of insulin syringes from her mom’s drawer. I’d never shot drugs before, but the needles had just presented themselves to me. When we got back to school, I taught myself how to shoot heroin. I lied to Emily and my family and somehow managed to keep up the act of being seminormal. It lasted until I went home that summer and ended up stealing the money from Jasper.
周末结束时，我已经清理掉了她妈妈的相当多的药物，还从她妈妈的抽屉里偷了几包胰岛素注射器。我以前从未注射过毒品，但针头刚刚出现在我面前。当我们回到学校后，我自学了如何注射海洛因。我对艾米丽和我的家人撒了谎，并设法保持半正常的行为。这种情况一直持续到那年夏天我回家并最终从贾斯珀那里偷了钱。

Using is such a fucking ridiculous little circle of monotony. The more I use, the more I need to kill the pain, so the more I need to keep using. Pretty soon it seems like going back, facing all my shit, well, it’s just too goddamn overwhelming. I’d rather die than go through it. But for whatever reason—some tiny bit of hope or just pure stupidity—I go through the hell of detox and start trying to stay sober one more time.
使用真是一个他妈的可笑的单调小圈子。我用得越多，我就越需要消除疼痛，所以我就越需要继续使用。很快我就好像要回去，面对我所有的狗屎，好吧，这实在是太令人难以承受了。我宁愿死也不愿经历它。但无论出于什么原因——一点点希望或纯粹的愚蠢——我经历了地狱般的排毒，并开始尝试再次保持清醒。

And now Emily has contacted me.
现在艾米丽联系了我。

“Just checking in,” her e-mail says.
“只是检查一下，”她的电子邮件中写道。

It reminds me of all the craziness I keep trying to forget. I wonder how I can ever make the past up to her. How can I make it up to anyone? How can I make it up to everyone?
它让我想起了我一直试图忘记的所有疯狂。我想知道我该如何弥补她的过去。我怎样才能弥补别人呢？我怎样才能弥补大家呢？

Spencer tells me to be patient, something I’ve never been very good at. He tells me I’ll have a chance to formally make things right with her when I complete the eighth step, which is “Made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.”
斯宾塞告诉我要有耐心，这是我一直不擅长的事情。他告诉我，当我完成第八步时，我将有机会正式与她和解，即“列出所有我们伤害过的人的名单，并愿意向他们所有人做出补偿。”

So I write back three lines to Emily.
所以我给艾米丽回了三行话。

“I’m doing all right. I’m so sorry about everything. I’m so goddamn sorry.”
“我做得很好。我对一切都很抱歉。我真的很抱歉。”

I know how meaningless these words must sound. I want to say much more to her, to everyone. I feel so powerless and, well, that’s what I am. I am powerless. I guess that really is the first step in recovery.
我知道这些话听起来是多么毫无意义。我想对她、对所有人说更多的话。我感到很无能为力，好吧，我就是这样。我无能为力。我想这确实是康复的第一步。

I stare at the computer screen. My message has been sent. I want to buy out a billboard over Sunset Boulevard. I want to take out ads in all the big papers. I want to write my message in the sky. I want to tell them all, “I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry.”
我盯着电脑屏幕。我的消息已发送。我想买下日落大道上的一块广告牌。我想在所有大报纸上刊登广告。我想在天空写下我的信息。我想对他们所有人说：“对不起。我真的很抱歉。”

Spencer just keeps telling me to take it day by day. He suggests I call my mom and my dad, just to open up the conversation between us. I’m terrified about calling both of them, but I know I have to do it. I decide to start with my mom because she lives here in L.A. My hand shakes like crazy as I pick up the phone.
斯宾塞一直告诉我要日复一日地接受它。他建议我打电话给我的妈妈和爸爸，只是为了打开我们之间的对话。我很害怕给他们两个打电话，但我知道我必须这样做。我决定从我妈妈开始，因为她住在洛杉矶。当我拿起电话时，我的手发抖。

My relationship with my mom has never been very mother-and-son-like. I mean, she was pretty removed from my life when I was little. My dad had custody of me, and I only saw her on holidays and over the summers. After I moved here from New York, however, we became pretty good friends. She helped get me into Sober Living and we began spending more time together than we ever had before. We’d go running, or to movies, or out to dinner. I still wasn’t close to her husband and avoided going to their house, but I talked to my mom at least once a day over the year that I was sober and living in L.A. Of course, I left to go relapse without telling her anything. I haven’t spoken to her since.
我和妈妈的关系从来就不是母子般的关系。我的意思是，当我还小的时候，她就已经从我的生活中消失了。我爸爸有我的监护权，我只在假期和夏天才见到她。然而，当我从纽约搬到这里后，我们成了很好的朋友。她帮助我进入清醒生活，我们开始比以前花更多的时间在一起。我们会去跑步，或者去看电影，或者出去吃饭。我和她丈夫仍然不太亲近，也避免去他们家，但这一年里我至少每天一次跟我妈妈说我是清醒的，住在洛杉矶。当然，我在没有告诉她任何事情的情况下离开了旧病复发。从那以后我就没跟她说过话。

So, hand shaking, I dial her number. She answers the phone right away and I’m not sure at all what to say. I stumble over my words.
于是，我的手颤抖着，拨通了她的电话号码。她立即​​接了电话，我完全不知道该说什么。我结结巴巴地说不出话来。

“Mom, uh, I’m, uh, back.”
“妈妈，呃，我，呃，回来了。”

“Nic? Thank God. Are you all right?”
“尼克？感谢上帝。你没事儿吧？”

“I think so.” “我想是这样。”

“Can you meet me for lunch?”
“你能和我一起吃午饭吗？”

“Okay.” “好的。”

I ride my bike up La Cienega to the high-rise office building where my mom works. It’s been in the same place for the last twenty years—tall, tall wood-colored paneling and glass. As a little boy I would spend hours drawing quietly on the gray vacuumed carpet beneath her desk—waiting, waiting, waiting for her to get off work.
我骑着自行车沿着拉谢内加到达我妈妈工作的高层办公楼。在过去的二十年里，它一直在同一个地方——高高的木色镶板和玻璃。当我还是个小男孩的时候，我会花几个小时在她桌子下面的灰色吸尘地毯上安静地画画——等待，等待，等待她下班。

The place we’re meeting for lunch is a little café down the street from the office, where I’ve eaten probably a hundred times. The place is very L.A., right? It’s all egg-white omelets, vegetable drinks, and vitamin elixirs. There was a redheaded girl I asked out here a while ago. The idea of even hitting on anyone is totally inconceivable to me now. I have just nothing to offer. I feel so drained, pathetic—an emptied-out container of nothing. I wait, drawing on a napkin, and when my mom walks in I can’t meet her eyes. She looks the same as ever—pretty, small-boned—wearing jeans and a shawl draped over her shoulders.
我们共进午餐的地方是办公室街边的一家小咖啡馆，我大概已经在那里吃过一百次了。这个地方很洛杉矶，对吧？都是蛋清煎蛋卷、蔬菜饮料和维生素酏剂。不久前我在这里约了一个红发女孩。现在对我来说，甚至勾搭任何人的想法都是完全不可想象的。我没什么可提供的。我感到如此疲惫、可怜——一个空空如也的容器。我等待着，餐巾纸上画着画，当妈妈走进来时，我不敢看她的眼睛。她看起来和以前一样——漂亮，骨架小——穿着牛仔裤，肩上披着一条披肩。

Standing awkwardly, I let her reach over and hug me. Her arms are shaking and she cries and I do too. She puts some sunglasses on and sits down across from me.
我尴尬地站着，让她伸手抱住我。她的手臂在颤抖，她哭了，我也跟着哭。她戴上墨镜，坐在我对面。

“All you had to do was call.” That’s the first thing she says. She chokes on the words.
“你所要做的就是打电话。”这是她说的第一句话。她哽咽了。

I try and say something. “Mom…”
我试着说点什么。 “妈妈…”

“No, damn it, just a call—just to say you’re all right. We thought you were dead—or’d been kidnapped—or God only knows what.”
“不，该死，只是一个电话——只是说你没事。我们以为你死了——或者被绑架了——或者天知道会发生什么。”

“Mom, I was afraid. I was afraid and ashamed. I couldn’t face you guys like that.” I cross my legs and arms and make myself as small as possible.
“妈妈，我很害怕。我感到害怕和羞愧。我无法这样面对你们。”我交叉双腿和双臂，让自己尽可能小。

She keeps her hands clasped in front of her. “I know, sweet boy. You just don’t understand what it’s like to be a parent. I felt like there was a knife sticking into my side every minute of every day you were gone. I was so worried. I couldn’t sleep, or eat. I just lay on the kitchen floor and cried. Days I spent like that.”
她双手紧握在身前。 “我知道，可爱的孩子。你只是不明白为人父母是什么感觉。你离开的每一天，我都感觉好像有一把刀插在我的身边。我很担心。我无法入睡，也无法进食。我只是躺在厨房地板上哭了。我的日子就这样度过了。”

“Mom, please…” “求您了，妈妈…”

“I mean it. How was I supposed to go to work, or take the dogs on a walk, when all I could think about was you out there on the streets? It’s not fair, Nic. It’s not, not fair.”
“我是认真的。当我满脑子想的都是街上的你时，我该怎么去上班，或者带着狗去散步呢？这不公平，尼克。这不，不公平。”

I apologize, knowing how meaningless my words must sound. I try to explain how sorry I am and she does seem understanding. She just wants to help, after all. She kisses my forehead three times, short—longer—longest. She tells me I can use her car to go meet with Michelle at the hair salon. She gives me some cash. I thank her—feeling just, like, nonexistent. We walk together back to her office and she hands me the car keys.
我道歉，因为我知道我的话听起来毫无意义。我试图解释我有多抱歉，她似乎确实理解我。毕竟她只是想帮忙。她吻了我的额头三下，短——长——长。她告诉我我可以用她的车去美发沙龙与米歇尔见面。她给了我一些现金。我感谢她——感觉就像不存在一样。我们一起走回她的办公室，她把车钥匙递给我。

“I’ll be back in an hour,” I say. “Maybe two.”
“我一小时后回来，”我说。 “也许两个。”

“Okay, sweetheart. I love you. I thank God you’re back.”
“没关系甜心。我爱你。我感谢上帝你回来了。”

I nod and drive off.
我点点头然后开车离开。

The hair salon is right near the Venice pier—on a strip of sidewalk that is lined with small shops and businesses. I’ve been told to park in the garage, so I do, walking into the back entrance to the salon.
美发沙龙就在威尼斯码头附近的一条人行道上，两旁都是小商店和企业。有人告诉我要把车停在车库里，所以我就这么做了，走进沙龙的后门。

The place is sparely furnished—a small space decorated only with hanging Japanese lanterns and long red curtains that look like something out of a David Lynch movie. There are two floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on the street and there’re mirrors everywhere. There are four women cutting hair, or applying color foil. A young girl is answering the phone behind the counter. I don’t know what to do with myself, but then I see Michelle coming in the front door with an armful of official-looking papers. Her business partner, a tall blond woman with dark green eyes, comes over and introduces herself. We sit in the garage, the three of us, and they ask me questions about my experiences and what I’m willing to commit to. It’s only part-time work, but I am very grateful. We all agree to try it out. Fawn, the blond woman, has been sober a number of years and one other stylist is a recovering alcoholic. They promise me it’ll be a safe working environment and I promise to show up on time and work hard and I really mean it. They introduce me to Raquel, the receptionist. She takes me around and starts showing me the basic aspects of the job—answering the phone, making appointments, doing laundry, cleaning a little bit, and all that. I feel so blessed to have this opportunity.
这个地方布置得很简陋——一个小空间，只装饰着悬挂的日本灯笼和长长的红色窗帘，看起来就像大卫·林奇电影中的场景。有两扇落地窗可以看到外面的街道，到处都是镜子。有四个女人在剪头发，或者贴彩箔。一个年轻女孩正在柜台后面接电话。我不知道自己该怎么办，但随后我看到米歇尔抱着一大堆看上去很正式的文件从前门进来。她的商业伙伴是一位身材高大、长着深绿色眼睛的金发女郎，她走过来自我介绍。我们三个人坐在车库里，他们问我有关我的经历以及我愿意承诺什么的问题。虽然只是兼职，但我很感激。我们都同意尝试一下。金发女郎小鹿已经戒酒好几年了，另一位造型师是一位正在戒酒的酒鬼。他们向我保证这将是一个安全的工作环境，我也保证准时上班并努力工作，我是认真的。他们把我介绍给接待员拉克尔。她带我四处转转，​​开始向我展示工作的基本方面——接电话、预约、洗衣服、打扫卫生等等。我感到非常幸运能有这个机会。