月光女孩遇上陽光男孩
在等待水燒開的空檔，我偶然看到了賈斯汀(Justin)的在線約會個人主頁。此前我剛剛辦完一堆差事回到家中——從自動柜員機取款，查看信箱，去食雜店買東西——趕在坐下來工作前準(zhǔn)備正餐。
It was just after 4 a.m. 當(dāng)時剛過凌晨四點。
“Message me if you want to talk about anything and everything until the wee hours of the night,” his profile said.
“如果你想探討任何事情，請發(fā)信息給我，凌晨之前都可以，”他在個人主頁上寫道。
The phrase “wee hours,” as it turns out, means different things to different people. For him, a software engineer with an eye for design who can wail on an electric guitar, the wee hours are 2 a.m., maybe 3. For me, it’s a little more complicated.
事實證明，在不同的人看來，“凌晨”有著不同的含義。對他這樣一名喜歡設(shè)計的軟件工程師來說，凌晨指后半夜兩點，也許是三點。對我來說，事情則有點復(fù)雜。
I have a circadian rhythm disorder called delayed sleep phase syndrome. It’s not insomnia; I’ve never had trouble sleeping. It’s that my circadian clock tells me it’s time for bed when the sun is rising and time to wake up as it’s setting. As these things go, I’m an extreme case — a vampire, basically — offset from society’s clock by approximately eight hours.
我有晝夜節(jié)奏紊亂的問題，即睡眠相位后移綜合癥。它不是失眠;我從來都不會睡不著覺。但我的生物鐘會在日出時告訴我該上床休息了，在日落時告訴我該醒來了。這樣一來，我就成了極端特例——基本就像吸血鬼一樣——偏離被社會認(rèn)可的時鐘約八小時。
My father is similarly chrono-challenged, as was his mother. As a child, I struggled to live in the diurnal world. Some children feel they were born into the wrong body. Me? I felt as if I were born into the wrong time.
我父親同樣面臨著作息方面的挑戰(zhàn)，就像他的母親一樣。還是個孩子的時候，我就難以適應(yīng)晝出夜伏的世界。一些孩子覺得自己生在了錯誤的身體里。而我覺得自己生在了錯誤的時區(qū)里。
Now, as a freelance writer making my own schedule, I have reveled in the freedom to live by my own clock, going to bed around 8 or 9 a.m. and waking around 4 or 5 p.m., though some “nights” I stay up late, going to sleep by noon and getting up at 8.
現(xiàn)在，作為一名自行制定個人日程表的自由撰稿人，我沉浸于按照自己的時鐘生活的自由之中，每天早上八九點鐘上床，下午四五點鐘醒來，但有時也會“熬夜”，中午就寢，晚上八點起床。
I’ve always lived in cities — New York, Philadelphia, London, Boston — yet my world is sparsely populated. There are no lines when I grocery shop, only an obstacle course of restocking boxes. No traffic when I drive. No phone calls, emails or social media stir as I work.
我一直生活在城市里——紐約、費城、倫敦、波士頓——但我的世界人煙稀薄。我去食雜店時看不到排起的長隊，需要跨越的唯一障礙是補貨的箱子。我開車時沒有擁堵。我工作時不會收到電話和電郵，也不會被社交媒體上的喧囂干擾。
Alone with my books and my thoughts, I write about physics.
當(dāng)我書寫與物理有關(guān)的文字時，唯有我自己的書籍和思想為伴。
Being nocturnal isn’t a requirement for physics writing, but it helps. The dark of night is perfect for contemplating the universe. With everything silent and still, it’s easier to notice the cracks in reality’s facade.
身為夜貓子并不是進行物理學(xué)寫作的必要條件，但的確有所幫助。在暗夜中思索宇宙的奧秘，是再合適不過的。當(dāng)所有的一切都歸于沉寂的時候，更容易注意到現(xiàn)實假象的裂縫。
Of course, my chronologic freedom comes with a few technical difficulties, such as an inability to take calls from editors, listen to music without headphones or remember what day of the week it is, since my days are always changing in the middle.
當(dāng)然了，我在作息方面的自由遭遇了幾個技術(shù)上的難題，比如無法接編輯打來的電話，無法不戴耳機聽音樂，無法記住每一天是星期幾，因為我的一天總是從半截兒算起。
Then there’s dating. First dates usually go O.K. because they’re in the evening, but complications quickly arise. It’s hard to explain to a date that you don’t want to drink at dinner because you’ve just woken up and have a full workday ahead. You tire of saying you can’t go to brunch or to the beach because you’ll be sound asleep. When they ask why you don’t just go to bed earlier, as if perhaps you’d never thought of that, you have to explain that your inverted schedule isn’t a preference.
還有就是約會。最初的約會通常比較順利，因為會被安排在晚上，但困難很快就會出現(xiàn)。你難以向約會對象解釋清楚，你吃晚餐時不想喝酒，因為你剛剛起床，還有一天的工作要做。你厭倦了告訴對方，你不能出去吃早午餐或者去海灘，因為你那時已然沉沉入睡。當(dāng)被問及為何不早點上床睡覺的時候——就好像你從來都沒想到過這一點一樣——你不得不向他們解釋，晝伏夜出并不是你的偏好。
On my first date with Justin, we went to an art museum at 7 p.m., where we spoke easily about our families and passions, software and string theory. I learned that he had a 9-to-5 job (not my 9 to 5 — the other one) and enjoyed cycling and being “out in the sunshine.”
第一次和賈斯汀約會，我們在晚上七點去了一家藝術(shù)博物館，在那里輕松地談?wù)摷胰撕蛺酆?、軟件和弦理論。我得知他有一份朝九晚五的工?不同于我的晚九朝五)，喜歡騎自行車，喜歡沐浴在“戶外的陽光里”。
I didn’t mention that I was midway through a regimen of prescription vitamin D, administered in blitzkrieg doses. “Sunshine” was not in my vocabulary.
我沒提及自己正按照醫(yī)生的處方猛補維生素D。我的字典里根本沒有“陽光”這個詞。
For our second date, it was my turn to make plans. “I know you’re on a normal human schedule,” I texted him. “But the Perseid meteor shower peaks tomorrow night. Want to find a dark spot and watch?”
第二次約會時，輪到我制定計劃了。“我知道你是一個作息時間正常的人，”我在發(fā)給他的信息中寫道。“但英仙座流星雨將在明晚達到高潮。想要找個黑暗的角落一起觀賞嗎?”
“Despite being a normal human,” he replied, “I’m totally down for that.”
“雖說是個正常人，”他回復(fù)道，“但我對此非常感興趣。”
At midnight, we found a cozy spot by the Charles River and gazed upward, watching for the stray dust of an ancient comet. Despite the city lights, we saw three meteors blaze above the Boston skyline.
午夜時分，我們在查理斯河邊找到了一個舒服的地方，仰望夜空，看著源自一顆古老彗星的飄散而過的塵埃。盡管城市里閃耀著燈火，我們還是看到三顆流星在波士頓天際線上方劃過。
We talked about starlight, how it had begun its journey thousands of years ago and we were looking back in time. I thought how in a sense that’s always true: My now is not the same as his and never will be. There’s always a delay, each of us living in the immediate past of the other, regardless of how tightly he wrapped his arms around my waist. We are all trapped in our own time zones. The best we can do is try to meet in an imaginary middle.
我們談?wù)撔枪?，說起它如何于數(shù)千年前就踏上旅程，而我們其實是在回望過去。我發(fā)現(xiàn)在某種意義上，事情竟然總是如此：我的現(xiàn)在和他的現(xiàn)在不是一回事，而且永遠也不會是一回事。延遲永遠存在，我們倆都活在對方剛剛度過的時間里，不論他如何緊緊地摟著我的腰。我們都被困在各自的時區(qū)里，最好的情況是設(shè)法在想象中的中點碰頭。
So that’s what we did. He booked us a trip to go night skiing. I made it to the beach in time to feel the sun on my skin. He rigged up a high-powered bike light and took me for a long ride in the summer dark. I ate Thai food for breakfast; he ate pancakes for dinner.
于是我們這樣做了。他為我們倆預(yù)定了一趟夜間滑雪的行程。我也及時趕到海灘上，體會了陽光灑在皮膚上的感覺。他給自行車配備了一盞高功率的車燈，載著我在一個夏夜里騎行了好長一段路。我拿泰國風(fēng)味的食物當(dāng)早餐;他則拿薄餅當(dāng)晚餐。
Eventually, however, the constant compromise made for two grumpy, bleary-eyed shells of human beings. We were in love but exhausted and ready to give up, resigned to nursing our heartache from the opposite side of a circadian rhythm. He went back to his hometown in Maine to clear his head. I returned to the night to live in mine.
然而，這種持續(xù)不斷的妥協(xié)最終造就了兩具脾氣暴躁、睡眼惺忪的軀殼。我們愛著彼此，但卻精疲力竭，甚至準(zhǔn)備就此放棄，默默治療由截然相反的生物鐘引發(fā)的內(nèi)心傷痛。他回到位于緬因州的故鄉(xiāng)去厘清思路。我則回歸了黑夜，那是我自己的故鄉(xiāng)。
One afternoon (i.e., just after midnight), I got an email from him suggesting we try a new approach.
一天下午(意即午夜過后)，他發(fā)來一封郵件，建議我們采取一種新的相處模式。
“There is no world we both occupy at the same time,” he wrote. “It’s an illusion. We don’t actually need to find that.” Instead of fighting our difference, he said, let’s just love each other from across the clock.
“我們倆同時占據(jù)的世界并不存在，”他寫道。“它是一種幻覺。我們其實不必尋找它。”與其對抗我們的差異，他說，我們不如隔著時間相愛。
So we decided to move in together. We found an attic apartment with tons of skylights, where sunlight would flood the living room during his day and moonlight would stream through the ceiling during mine. We were still unpacking boxes when there was a total lunar eclipse, and we pulled a lounge chair into the kitchen and watched as the earth’s shadow slid across a terra cotta moon.
于是我們決定同居。我們找到了一套帶有很多天窗的閣樓公寓，陽光會透過天窗在他的白天照進起居室，月光則會在我的白天傾瀉而入。當(dāng)我們還在拆箱的時候，全月食出現(xiàn)了。我們把一張?zhí)梢瓮线M廚房，看著月亮在地球的陰影掃過之際變成古銅色。
As a token of our new living arrangement, I gave Justin an illustrated edition of “The Day Boy and the Night Girl,” a fairy tale by George MacDonald from 1882. Snuggling on the couch, we took turns reading chapters aloud to each other.
作為我們?nèi)碌纳畎才诺南笳?，我送給賈斯汀一本插畫版《日之少年與夜之少女》(The Day Boy and The Night Girl)，這是喬治·麥克唐納(George MacDonald)寫于1882年的一個童話故事。我們偎依在沙發(fā)上，輪流為彼此誦讀書中的章節(jié)。
In the story, a witch raises two children in captivity, allowing the boy to see only day and the girl only night. But one day, the boy stays out longer than he’s supposed to, and when it gets dark, he becomes terrified. The girl finds him shaking in the garden and tries to comfort him, explaining “how gentle and sweet the darkness is, how kind and friendly, how soft and velvety!”
在這個故事里，一個女巫圈養(yǎng)著兩個孩子，讓男孩只能看到白天，讓女孩只能看到黑夜。但有一天，男孩待在外邊的時間超出了規(guī)定，當(dāng)天色變暗的時候，他很害怕。女孩發(fā)現(xiàn)他在花園里瑟瑟發(fā)抖，試圖安慰他，向他解釋“黑暗是多么溫柔甜蜜，多么善良友好，多么柔軟光滑!”
Since she’s wide awake, she promises to watch over him while he sleeps. When the sun rises, he awakens to find that now she’s scared, a stranger to the sun, and so he carries her in his arms while she sleeps until dark.
由于她正處于完全清醒的狀態(tài)，于是承諾在他睡覺時看護他。當(dāng)他在太陽升起之際醒來，發(fā)現(xiàn)她正驚魂未定，因為從未見過太陽，于是讓她在自己懷中睡去，直到黑夜降臨。
Justin and I figured we would do the same. When a repairman insisted on coming at noon, Justin stayed home so I wouldn’t lose a night’s sleep. When he didn’t have time to buy wrapping paper for birthday gifts, I had them ready with ribbons by morning.
我和賈斯汀認(rèn)為，我們倆也可以如此行事。當(dāng)修理工非得在中午上門的時候，賈斯汀會留在家中，以免我“徹夜”無法入眠。當(dāng)他沒空買生日禮物包裝紙的時候，我會在早上到來前準(zhǔn)備好包裝紙和絲帶。
I always made sure to wake up before he got home from work so we could cook and eat together — his dinner, my breakfast. Then he’d go to bed, and I’d write for hours beneath the moon. Eventually, I would crawl quietly into his arms and we’d dream happily alongside each other — for a few minutes, anyway, before he had to get up.
我總是確保自己在他下班回家之前起床，這樣一來我們就能一同烹飪和進餐——他的晚餐，我的早餐。然后他上床睡覺，我則在月光下寫上幾個小時。最終，我會悄悄溜進他懷里，我們會一同幸福地進入夢鄉(xiāng)——盡管只有幾分鐘，在他不得不起床之前。
On weekends, he played guitar, saw friends, soaked in the sunshine, all while I was still dreaming. By the time I dragged myself to the coffee maker, he’d cycled 35 miles and eaten two meals. With the sun setting, he greeted me with a happy “Good morning!” He told me about his day; I told him about my yesterday.
周末，當(dāng)他彈吉他、見朋友、曬太陽的時候，我仍在夢鄉(xiāng)之中。等到我把自己拖到咖啡機前，他已經(jīng)騎行了35公里，吃過了兩餐飯。太陽下山時，他會用一句歡快的“早上好”跟我打招呼。接著，他把自己一天的經(jīng)歷講給我聽;我則把自己前一天的經(jīng)歷講給他聽。
And so it went, the earth spinning for each of us in turn. We made the most of the hours when our lives overlapped, then let each other thrive in our own times, like animals in our wilds.
就這樣，地球輪番為我們倆旋轉(zhuǎn)。我們充分利用了兩人生活中相互重合的那些小時，然后讓對方在各自的時間里自得其樂。
In August, the earth made its annual pass through the dust and debris of that ancient comet. Late that night, Justin drove me to a secluded beach on the north shore of Massachusetts where a handful of stargazers stared skyward. He put down a blanket as frogs croaked in the distance. Then he fumbled in his camera bag, pulling out a small black box. I couldn’t see what was inside, just a glint, like the flicker of a star. Then he asked, “Will you marry me?”
到了8月份，地球像往年一樣，又從那顆古老彗星的塵埃和碎片中經(jīng)過。當(dāng)天深夜，賈斯汀開車將我載至馬塞諸塞州北海岸一處僻靜的沙灘，那里只有不多的幾個人在看星星。他就著遠處的蛙鳴鋪開一條毯子，又在相機包里摸索一番，拿出一個黑色的小盒子。我看不清盒子里裝著什么，只看到閃耀的光芒，就好像星星眨著眼睛。然后他問，“你愿意嫁給我嗎?”
We lay back on the blanket, grinning, as meteors streaked the sky. By then it was nearly 2 a.m., too late to call anyone, to squeal our news to family and friends. Instead we just lay there in our shared place and time, surrounded by sand and ocean and a few hundred billion stars.
我們仰面躺在毯子上，在流行劃過夜空之際咧著嘴笑。當(dāng)時已經(jīng)接近凌晨兩點，太晚了，不好打電話給任何親朋好友匯報我們的喜訊。因此我們只是躺在那兒，躺在我們共同的時空里，周圍是沙灘、海洋和數(shù)不清的星星。
