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She was wearing dark lipstick1 and I insisted on going to bed with her lip prints on my cheek. I remember her sitting on a bench in Warren Park while my dad pushed me on a swing, and she bobbed close and far, close and far.
One of the best and most painful things about time traveling has been the opportunity to see my mother alive. I have even spoken to her a few times; little things like “Lousy weather today, isn’t it?” I give her my seat on the El, follow her in the supermarket, watch her sing. I hang around outside the apartment my father still lives in, and watch the two of them, sometimes with my infant self, take walks, eat in restaurants, go to the movies. It’s the ‘60s, and they are elegant, young, brilliant musicians with all the world before them. They are happy as larks2, they shine with their luck, their joy. When we run across each other they wave; they think I am someone who lives in the neighborhood, someone who takes a lot of walks, someone who gets his hair cut oddly and seems to mysteriously ebb3 and flow in age. I once heard my father wonder if I was a cancer patient. It still amazes me that Dad has never realized that this man lurking4 around the early years of their marriage was his son.
I see how my mother is with me. Now she is pregnant, now they bring me home from the hospital, now she takes me to the park in a baby carriage and sits memorizing scores, singing softly with small hand gestures to me, making faces and shaking toys at me. Now we walk hand in hand and admire the squirrels, the cars, the pigeons, anything that moves. She wears cloth coats and loafers with Capri pants. She is dark-haired with a dramatic face, a full mouth, wide eyes, short hair; she looks Italian but actually she’s Jewish.
（总是在同一辆汽车里遇难）……一九八八年十二月二十四日，星期六（亨利四十岁，克莱尔十七岁）亨利：这是个阴沉的冬日下午，我在草地云雀的地下阅览室里，克莱尔留了一些吃的：涂了芥末酱的全麦面包配烤牛肉和奶酪，一只苹果，一升多的牛奶和满塑料罐的圣诞曲奇饼、雪球糖、肉桂果仁粽子糖，还有带好时巧克力夹心的花生奶油饼干。我穿着我最喜欢的牛仔裤，和一件性手枪①性手枪（Sex Pistols）, 1976年成立的英国朋克乐队，一出现便引起轰动，为当时的英国朋克描绘了很好的蓝图。的T恤。我应该是个快乐的野营者，但我不是：克莱尔准备了当天的《南黑文日报》，上面的日期是一九八八年十二月二十四日，圣诞夜。正是这个夜晚，在芝加哥的让我爽酒吧里，我那二十五岁的自己一杯接一杯地喝着酒，直到从酒吧的凳子上瘫倒在地，最后在仁爱医院里以洗胃而告终。这天是我母亲逝世十九年忌日。
我静静地坐着，回想我的妈妈。被腐蚀的记忆，让人啼笑皆非。如果一定要从童年算起，妈妈在我的印象中早已暗淡，只有极少数的特别时刻，才会在脑海里清晰地显现出来。一次是我五岁时听她在芝加哥抒情歌剧院②芝加哥抒情歌剧院（Lyric Opera of Chicago），在音乐方面芝加哥是蓝调、爵士乐、音乐剧（Lyric Opera)的发源地。演唱《露露》③奥地利歌剧作曲家贝尔格（Alban Berg） 1929年创作的歌剧。，记得爸爸当时坐在我身边，第一幕结束时，他微笑着仰视妈妈，激动万分。还有一次在芝加哥交响音乐厅里，我和妈妈并排坐着，观看爸爸在布里斯④布里斯（Pierre Boulez）,著名的指挥家、作曲家。的指挥下演奏贝多芬。我记得有一次他们允许我留在客厅里一同参加他们的聚会，并为所有来宾背诵布莱克的“老虎！老虎！黑夜的森林中燃烧着煌煌的火光，最后我还模仿了几下老虎的吼声，我那年四岁，表演结束后妈妈过来一把抱起我，亲吻我，所有的人都热烈地鼓掌，她那天涂了深色的口红，我还坚持要留着她的唇印去睡觉。我记得有一次她坐在沃伦公园的长椅上，爸爸在一旁推着我荡秋千，她的身影在我眼中来来回回，时近时远。
我时间旅行的时候，最精彩也最痛苦的事情，就是有机会回到妈妈还活着的那些日子。甚至有几次，我还亲口和她说话，简短的对话，比如：“今天天气真糟，是么？”我在地铁里为她让座，跟她去超市，看她演唱。我在爸爸至今还居住的那间公寓附近转悠，看他们俩，有时他们会带上儿时的我，一起散步，去餐馆吃饭，或者看电影。那是六十年代，他们正是一对优雅、年轻、才华横溢的音乐家，无限的世界呈现在他们面前，他们犹如快乐的云雀，沉浸在好运和喜悦当中，熠熠生辉。我和他们彼此照面的时候，他们会朝我招招手，以为我是住在不远处的邻居，喜欢出来散步，发型有些怪异，而且年龄时常奇怪地变小变大。有次我依稀听见爸爸疑惑地问我是不是得了癌症。令人不可思议的是，为何爸爸从来就没有察觉到，在他们结婚的头几年，这个经常出没的男人就是他的亲生儿子呢？
我终于目睹了我和妈妈在一起的日子：现在她怀孕了；现在他们把我从医院抱回家；现在她推着婴儿小推车带我去公园，她坐着背乐谱，她一面柔声哼唱，一面摆出各种手势扮鬼脸，朝我摇晃着玩具；现在我们手牵手，欣赏着小松鼠、汽车、鸽子和任何会动的东西。她穿着棉外套，七分裤搭配平底鞋，那乌黑的头发映衬着一张引人注目的脸，饱满的嘴唇，大大的眼睛，俏丽的短发，她看上去像是意大利人，可她实际上却是犹太血统。
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1
lipstick
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| n.口红，唇膏 | |
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2
larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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3
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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4
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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