7
The Fishing Season 捕鱼季
1952
That evening, after the fishing boy led her home through the marsh, Kya sat cross-legged on her porch bed. Mist from the downpour eased through the patched-up screen, touching her face. She thought about the boy. Kind yet strong, like Jodie. The only people she ever spoke to were Pa now and then and, even less often, the cash-register lady at the Piggly Wiggly, Mrs. Singletary, who had recently taken to teaching Kya the difference between quarters, nickels, and dimes—she already knew about pennies. But Mrs. Singletary could also get nosey.
那天晚上，在捕鱼男孩领着她穿越沼泽回家后，基娅盘腿坐在自己的门廊小床上。暴雨带来的薄雾渗进打着补丁的纱门，轻触她的脸庞。她在想那个男孩，善良而强壮，和乔迪一样。和她有过交谈的人只有爸爸——偶尔聊几句——以及小猪扭扭杂货店的收银员辛格尔特里夫人，次数更少。她最近正教基娅区分二十五分、五分和十分硬币。便士基娅已经认识了。但辛格尔特里夫人有时候很爱管闲事。
“Dahlin', what's yo' name, anyhow? And why don't yo' ma come in anymore? Haven't seen 'er since the turnips put out.”
“亲爱的，你到底叫啥？你妈为什么不来了？芜菁长出来后就再也没见过她。”
“Ma's got lots of chores, so she sends me to the store.”
“妈妈有很多杂事，所以让我来。”
“Yeah, dear, but ya never buy nears enough for yo' family.”
“好吧，亲爱的，不过你从来不买够一家人吃的东西。”
“Ya know, ma'am, I gotta go. Ma needs these grits right away.”
“夫人，我该走了。妈妈现在就要这些玉米粉。”
When possible, Kya avoided Mrs. Singletary, using the other checkout lady, who didn't show any interest except to say kids shouldn't come to the market barefoot. She thought of telling the lady she didn't plan to pick grapes with her toes. Who could afford grapes, anyhow?
如果可能，基娅会避开辛格尔特里夫人，去另一位收银员那儿结账，后者对她毫无兴趣，除了说孩子们不该光着脚来杂货店。基娅想告诉她，她并不打算用脚指头挑葡萄。反正，谁买得起葡萄？
More and more Kya didn't talk to anybody but the gulls. She wondered if she could strike some bargain with Pa to use his boat. Out in the marsh, she could collect feathers and shells and maybe see the boy sometimes. She'd never had a friend, but she could feel the use of it, the pull. They could boat around in the estuaries some, explore the fens. He might think of her as a little kid, but he knew his way around the marsh and might teach her.
渐渐地，基娅不再和任何人说话，只和海鸥说。她考虑要不要和爸爸达成什么协议，好让她可以用船。在湿地，她可以收集羽毛、贝壳，或许还能看见那个男孩几次。她从来没有朋友，但能感觉到有朋友的好处，也会有交朋友的冲动。他们可以一起在河口逛逛，探索一下沼泽。他大概把她当小屁孩，不过，他清楚湿地里的路，也许可以教她。
Pa didn't have a car. He used the boat to fish, to go to town, to maneuver through the swamp to the Swamp Guinea, a weathered bar and poker joint connected to solid ground by a rickety boardwalk through cattails. Made of rough-cut clapboard under a tin roof, it rambled from one add-on to the next, the floor at different levels depending on how high the brick chicken-legs perched it above the swamp. When Pa went there or anywhere, he took the boat, only rarely walked, so why would he lend it to her?
爸爸没有车。他开船去捕鱼、去镇上，以及穿过沼泽去沼泽几内亚。那是一家饱经风霜的酒吧和扑克牌屋，靠一条穿过香蒲丛的快散架的木板路与陆地连接。锡顶，护墙板切割粗糙，随意东加一块西加一块，地板高低不平，随着沼泽地上撑起房子的砖砌的柱子起伏。爸爸去那儿或者其他任何地方都开船，很少走路。他为什么要借船给她？
But he'd let her brothers use it when he wasn't, probably because they caught fish for supper. She had no interest in fishing, but maybe she could trade something else, figuring that was the way to reach him. Cook maybe, do more around the house, until Ma came back.
不过，他不用船时会让哥哥们用，可能因为他们要去捕鱼做晚饭。她对捕鱼毫无兴趣，但或许可以交换些别的东西。基娅觉得这是一个可行的办法。做饭或者做更多家务，直到妈妈回来。
The rain eased. A single drop, here then there, shook a leaf like the flick of a cat's ear. Kya hopped up, cleaned out the Frigidaire-cupboard, mopped the stained plywood kitchen floor, and scraped off months of caked-on grits from the woodstove burners. Early the next morning, she scrubbed Pa's sheets, reeking of sweat and whiskey, and draped them over the palmettos. She went through her brothers' room, not much bigger than a closet, dusting and sweeping. Dirty socks were piled in the back of the closet and yellowed comic books strewn next to the two soiled mattresses on the floor. She tried to see the boys' faces, the feet that went with the socks, but the details blurred. Even Jodie's face was fading; she'd see his eyes for an instant, then they'd slip away, closing.
雨变小了。这儿一滴，那儿一滴，被砸到的树叶像猫耳朵那样突然弹一下。基娅跳下床，整理橱柜，拖洗厨房沾满污渍的地板，刮掉灶台上粘了好几个月的结块的粗玉米粉。第二天一大早，基娅搓洗了爸爸散发着汗和威士忌臭味的床单，然后摊开晾在蒲葵丛上。她还打扫了哥哥们不比衣柜大多少的房间。脏袜子堆在衣柜后面，泛黄的漫画书散落在地上那两张遍布污渍的床垫旁。她试图回忆起他们的脸，以及穿过这些袜子的脚，但细节已经模糊了。甚至乔迪的脸都在渐渐淡去。有那么一会儿，她看到了他的眼睛，但它们溜走了，闭上了。
The next morning, carrying a gallon can, she walked the sandy tracks to the Piggly and bought matches, backbone, and salt. Saved out two dimes. “Can't get milk, gotta get gas.”
第三天早上，基娅带着一加仑的罐子沿着沙路走去杂货店，买了火柴、脊梁肉和盐，省下二十分。“不能买牛奶，得买汽油。”
She stopped by the Sing Oil filling station just outside Barkley Cove, which stood in a grove of pines surrounded by rusted-out trucks and jalopy cars stacked on cement blocks.
她去了汽油站，就在巴克利小湾镇外的一片松树林中，周围的水泥地上停满了生锈的卡车和破旧的汽车。
Mr. Lane saw Kya coming. “Git on outta here, ya little beggar-hen. Marsh trash.”
莱恩先生看见基娅走过来，骂道：“赶紧滚，你这乞讨的小母鸡，湿地垃圾。”
“I got cash money, Mr. Lane. I need gas and oil for Pa's boat motor.” She held out two dimes, two nickels, and five pennies.
“我带了现金，莱恩先生。我需要给爸爸船上的发动机买点汽油。”她拿出两个十分币，两个五分币和五个便士。
“Well, it ain't hardly worth ma trouble for such a piddly sum, but c'mon, give it here.” He reached for the bent-up, square container.
“好吧，就这么点东西几乎不值得我动手，不过算了，你来吧。”他伸手去够倾斜的方形油桶。
She thanked Mr. Lane, who grunted again. The groceries and gas weighed more with every mile, and it took some time to get home. Finally in the shade of the lagoon, she emptied the can into the gas tank and scrubbed the boat with rags and wet sand for grist until the metal sides showed through the grime.
她向莱恩先生道谢，他又咕哝了几句。回家的路上，手上的杂货和汽油越来越重，她花了不少时间才到家。终于，在潟湖的树荫下，她把罐子里的汽油全部倒入油缸里，然后用抹布和湿沙粒擦洗小艇，直到它的金属边透过尘垢显露出来。
ON THE FOURTH DAY after Pa left, she started keeping a lookout. By late afternoon a cold dread set in and her breathing shallowed up. Here she was again, staring down the lane. Mean as he was, she needed him to come back. Finally, in the early evening, there he came, walking the sandy ruts. She ran to the kitchen and laid out a goulash of boiled mustard greens, backbone, and grits. She didn't know how to make gravy, so poured the backbone stock—floating with morsels of white fat—into an empty jelly jar. The plates were cracked and didn't match, but she had the fork on the left, the knife on the right like Ma taught her. Then she waited, flattened up against the Frigidaire like a roadkill stork.
爸爸离开后第四天，基娅开始守望。到了下午晚些时候，一种冷冰冰的恐惧攫住了她，连呼吸都变浅了。她又陷入这种境地，一直盯着小径。虽然爸爸很卑劣，但她需要他回来。终于，晚上还不算太晚的时候，他出现了，走在沙路的车辙上。基娅跑去厨房，摆出一碗菜炖肉——芥菜叶、脊骨肉和粗玉米粉。她不知道怎么做肉汁，就把脊骨里漂着白色肥油的骨髓倒进一个空着的果冻罐里。盘子都裂了，也不配套，但基娅还是在左边放了叉子，右边放了刀，就像妈妈曾教过她的那样。她等着，笔直地贴靠在冰箱上，像一只被轧死在路上的鹳。
He banged the front door open against the wall and walked through the sitting room to his bedroom in three strides, without calling her or looking in the kitchen. That was normal. She heard him putting his case on the floor, pulling out drawers. He'd notice the fresh bedding, the clean floor for sure. If not his eyes, his nose would catch the difference.
爸爸踹开前门，门砰的一声撞到墙上，他几步走过客厅到房间，没叫她，也没去厨房看看。这很正常。她听到他把箱子放到地上，拉开抽屉。他肯定注意到了清爽的床单，干净的地板。即使眼睛没看到，鼻子也该闻到了。
In a few minutes he stepped out, straight into the kitchen, and looked at the set table, at the steaming bowls of food. He saw her standing against the fridge, and they stared at each other like they'd never seen each other before.
几分钟后，他走出来，直接进了厨房，看了看摆好的餐桌和桌上煮好的食物。他看到她站在冰箱旁。他们互相看了一会儿，就像从来没见过似的。
“Ah swannee, girl, what's a' this? Looks like ya went an' got all growed up. Cookin' and all.” He didn't smile, but his face was calm. He was unshaven, with dark unwashed hair hanging across his left temple. But he was sober; she knew the signs.
“哎呀，孩子，这都是什么？你好像一下子长大了啊，会做饭，做其他家务了。”他没有笑，但脸上很平静。他没有刮胡子，左边太阳穴挂着几绺深色的脏头发。但他是清醒的。基娅看得出来。
“Yessir. I fixed cornbread too, but it didn't come out.”
“是的，爸爸。我还做了玉米面包，但没有成功。”
“Well, ah thankee. That's a mighty good girl. Ah'm plumb wore out and hungry as a wallow-hog.” He pulled out a chair and sat, so she did the same. In silence they filled their plates and picked stringy meat from the stingy backbones. He lifted a vertebra and sucked out the marrow, fatty juice glistening on his whiskered cheeks. Gnawed on those bones till they were slick as silk ribbons.
“好的，谢谢你。你表现得很好。我又累又饿，简直像在泥里打滚的猪。”他拉出一把椅子，坐下，基娅也坐了下来。他们安静地把自己面前的盘子盛满，从没什么肉的脊骨上拣出带筋的肉丝。他拿起一段脊骨，吸出骨髓，肥腻腻的汁水沾在他留着胡子的脸颊上。然后他开始嘬骨头，直到它们光滑的像丝带。
“This here's better'n a cold collard sandwich,” he said.
“这会儿有个凉的芥蓝三明治就更好了。”他说。
“I wish the cornbread'd come out. Maybe shoulda put more soda in, less eggs.” Kya couldn't believe she was talking on so, but couldn't stop herself. “Ma made it so good, but I guess I didn't pay enough mind to the details . . .” Then thought she shouldn't be talking about Ma, so hushed up.
“要是玉米面包做成了就好了。大概要放更多苏打粉，少一点鸡蛋，”基娅不敢相信自己这么健谈，但她停不下来，“妈妈做得那么好，我可能不够注意细节……”想到自己不应该谈论妈妈，她住了嘴。
Pa pushed his plate toward her. “'Nough for a dab more?”
爸爸把盘子推向她，问：“还有吗？”
“Yessir, there's aplenty.”
“有，还有很多。”
“Oh, and tump some of that cornbread right in tha stew. Ah got a hankerin' for soppin' up the stock, and my bet is that bread's just fine, mushy like spoonbread.”
“哦，在炖汤里放点面包，啊，它们会吸汤汁，我打赌会变得像蛋奶面包那么松软。”
She smiled to herself as she filled his plate. Who would've thought they'd find cornbread as a footing.
基娅给爸爸盛汤的时候偷偷笑了。谁都想不到玉米面包会成为他们交流的契机。
But now, after thinking about it, she worried that if she asked to use the boat, he would think she'd cooked and cleaned only for the favor, which was how it started out, but now seemed somehow different. She liked sitting down and eating like a family. Her need to talk to somebody felt urgent.
但现在，她担心，如果这时提出用船的事情，爸爸可能会以为她做饭和打扫卫生都只是为了达成这个目的。虽然一开始出发点确实如此，但现在情况不同了。她享受坐下来和家人一起吃饭的感觉，迫切地想跟人说说话。
So she didn't mention using the boat by herself, instead asked, “Can I go out fishin' with ya sometime?”
所以，她没有提要单独用船的事，反而问：“我可以和你一起去捕鱼吗？”
He laughed hard, but it was kind. The first time he'd laughed since Ma and the others left. “So ya wanta go fishin'?”
他哈哈大笑，但神色和蔼。这是妈妈和其他人离开后他第一次笑。“你想去捕鱼？”
“Yessir, I do.”
“是的，我想去。”
“You're a girl,” he said, looking at his plate, chewing backbone.
“你是女孩。”他说，看着自己的盘子，嘴里嚼着脊骨。
“Yessir, I'm your girl.”
“是，我是你的女儿。”
“Well, Ah might could take ya out sometime.”
“好吧，我可能有时候会带你出去。”
The next morning, as Kya careened down the sandy lane, her arms held straight out, she sputtered wet noises from her lips, spittle spraying. She would lift off and sail over the marsh, looking for nests, then rise and fly wing to wing with eagles. Her fingers became long feathers, splayed against the sky, gathering the wind beneath her. Then suddenly she was jerked back to Earth by Pa hollering to her from the boat. Her wings collapsed, stomach pitched; he must have figured out she'd used it. She could already feel the paddle on her bottom and the backs of her legs. She knew how to hide, wait until he was drunk, and he'd never find her. But she was too far down the lane, in full view, and there he was standing with all his poles and rods, motioning for her to come. She walked over, quiet, scared. The fishing tackle was strewn about, a poke of corn likker tucked under his seat.
第二天一早，基娅冲下沙径，举着胳膊，嘴里发出噼啪的声音，唾沫飞溅。她幻想着自己起飞，向湿地进发，找寻鸟巢，然后和鹰一起振翅翱翔。她的手指变作长长的羽毛，在天空中舒展开来，任由风把她托起。突然，她听到爸爸在船上喊她，一下子被拉回了地面。她的翅膀塌陷，胃里一阵刺痛。爸爸一定是发现了她用过船。基娅几乎已经感觉到船桨抽打在屁股和腿上了。她知道该怎么藏起来，等他喝醉，喝醉的他从来没有找到过她。但她在沙径上走了太远，完全暴露在爸爸的视野中，他就在那儿站着，带着所有钓竿，看着她过去。基娅走过去，沉默又害怕。渔具散放在船上，爸爸的座位下面有一袋玉米粉。
“Git in” was all he said as invitation. She started to express glee or gratitude, but his blank expression kept her quiet, as she stepped to the bow and sat on the metal seat facing forward. He pull-cranked and they headed up the channel, ducking the overgrowth as they cruised up and down the waterways, Kya memorizing broken trees and old stump signposts. He eased the motor down in a backwater and motioned for her to sit on the center seat.
他只说了句“上来”，这是他的邀请。她松了口气，想表达一下高兴和感激，但他面无表情，于是她什么都没说，只是走向船头，坐在朝前的金属座椅上。他转动舵柄，把船开进水道，沿水路曲折前行时，会避开过于茂盛的枝叶。基娅默记着衰败的树和老朽的树桩路标。在一片死水区，他让船减速，示意基娅坐到中间的座位上。
“Go on now, scratch some worms from the can,” he said, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging at the corner of his mouth. He taught her to snag the bait, to cast and reel. It seemed he contorted his body in odd postures to avoid brushing against her. They only talked fishing; never ventured to other subjects, neither smiled often, but on common ground they were steady. He drank some likker but then got busy and didn't drink more. At late day, the sun sighed, fading to the color of butter, and they may not have noticed, but their own shoulders finally rounded and their necks slacked.
“现在开始吧，从罐子里抓几条虫子。”他说，嘴角叼着一根手卷烟。他教她如何挂饵、扔线和收线。似乎为了避免碰到基娅，他的身体扭成了奇怪的姿势。他们只谈论钓鱼，完全没有冒险尝试其他话题，也不怎么笑，但都很平静。他喝了点酒，不一会儿忙碌起来，便没再喝。晚些时候，太阳叹息着褪成黄油色。可能他们自己都没有意识到，他们的肩膀和脖子终于放松下来。
Secretly Kya hoped not to catch a fish, but she felt a tug, jerked her line, and raised a thick bream, flashing silver and blue. Pa leaned out and snatched it in the net, then sat back, slapping his knee and yahooing like she'd never seen. She grinned wide and they looked into each other's eyes, closing a circuit.
基娅暗暗希望自己不要钓到鱼，但她感觉到钩子有动静，猛的一拉，结果拉起一条肥美的鲤鱼，闪着银蓝色的光。爸爸探身向前，抓过鱼丢进网兜里，然后坐回去，拍着膝盖欢呼——她从没见过他这样。基娅咧嘴微笑，和爸爸对视了一眼，仿佛电路闭合般在那一瞬间联通了彼此。
Before Pa strung it up, the bream flopped around in the boat bottom and Kya had to watch a distant string of pelicans, study the cloud forms, anything but look into dying fish eyes staring at a world without water, wide mouth sucking worthless air. But what it cost her and what it cost that fish was worth it to have this little shred of family. Perhaps not for the fish, but still.
在被捆起来之前，那条鲤鱼在船底翻腾。基娅不得不看向远处的一排鹈鹕，琢磨云彩的形状或其他任何东西，除了那条快死的鱼。它盯着一个没有水的世界，大张着嘴，用力吸入毫无用处的空气。但她的付出和这条鱼的付出都是值得的，因为她有了一点家的感觉。或许对鱼来说不值，但……
They went out in the boat again the next day, and in a dark lagoon, Kya spotted the soft breast feathers of a great horned owl floating on the surface. Each curled at both ends, so that they drifted around like tiny orange boats. She scooped them up and put them in her pocket. Later she found an abandoned hummingbird nest woven onto an outstretched branch, and tucked it safely in the bow.
第三天，他们又开船出去了。在一个昏暗的潟湖上，基娅发现有几根大雕鸮柔软的胸部羽毛漂浮在水面上。每一根羽毛的两端都微微翘起，就像一条条橘黄色的小船。她把这些羽毛舀起来，放进兜里。后来，她又发现一根伸出的枝丫上挂着一个被遗弃的蜂鸟巢，也小心翼翼地放到船头。
That evening, Pa cooked up a supper of fried fish—coated in cornmeal and black pepper—served with grits and greens. As Kya washed up after, Pa walked into the kitchen, carrying his old World War II–issue knapsack. Standing near the door, he flung it roughly onto one of the chairs. It slid to the floor with a thud, which made her jump and whirl around.
那天晚上，爸爸炸了鱼——裹着玉米面和黑胡椒，另外还有粗玉米粉和绿叶菜。饭后基娅在厨房洗碗，爸爸走进来，手里拿着他的二战背包。他站在门边，粗暴地把包甩到椅子上，结果包砰的一声滑到了地上，吓了基娅一大跳，她吃惊地转过身来。
“Thought ya could use that fer yo' feathers, bird nests, and all that other stuff ya c'lect.”
“我想你可以用这个包装羽毛、鸟巢，还有其他收集的东西。”
“Oh,” Kya said. “Oh, thank ya.” But he was already out the porch door. She picked up the frayed knapsack, made of canvas tough enough for a lifetime and covered in small pockets and secret compartments. Heavy-duty zips. She stared out the window. He had never given her anything.
“啊，谢谢。”基娅说。但他已经走出了纱门。她捡起磨损的背包。材质是帆布，结实得好像能用一辈子，全是小口袋和秘密隔层，拉链也是耐用型的。她看向窗外。他还从没送过任何东西给她。
EVERY WARMISH DAY OF WINTER and every day of spring, Pa and Kya went out, far up and down the coast, trolling, casting, and reeling. Whether in estuary or creek, she scanned for that boy Tate in his boat, hoping to see him again. She thought about him sometimes, wanted to be his friend, but had no idea how to go about it or even how to find him. Then, just like that, one afternoon she and Pa came around a bend, and there he was fishing, almost in that same spot where she first saw him. Right off, he grinned and waved. Without thinking, she threw her hand up and waved back, almost smiling. Then dropped her hand just as quick when Pa looked at her, surprised.
冬天所有暖和的日子，还有春天的每一天，爸爸和基娅都会出门，沿着海岸线上下走出很远，拖钓、扔线、收线。无论在河口还是小溪，她都在搜寻泰特和他的船，希望能再次见到。她有时候会想到他，想和他做朋友，但不知道怎么才能成为朋友，甚至不知道怎么找到他。然后，很突然，某个下午，她和爸爸转过一个弯，碰到他在钓鱼，几乎就在第一次见面的地方。看到他们，他笑了起来，挥了挥手。基娅没多想，也抬起手挥了挥，脸上几乎绽开了笑容。然后她迅速放下手，因为爸爸正诧异地看着她。
“One a'Jodie's friends, before he left,” she said.
“乔迪走之前认识的一个朋友。”她说。
“Ya gotta watch out for folks 'round here,” he said. “Woods're full a' white trash. Pert near ever'body out here's a no-'count.”
“你要小心这里出现的人，”他说，“林子里全是白人垃圾。到这儿的所有人都不可靠。”
She nodded. Wanted to look back at the boy, but didn't. Then worried he would think her unfriendly.
她点点头，想回头看看那个男孩，但忍住了。又开始担心他认为她不友好。
Pa knew the marsh the way a hawk knows his meadow: how to hunt, how to hide, how to terrorize intruders. And Kya's wide-eyed questions spurred him to explain goose seasons, fish habits, how to read weather in the clouds and riptides in the waves.
爸爸了解湿地就如同一只鹰了解它的猎场：如何捕猎，如何躲藏，如何吓走入侵者。基娅每次都会瞪大眼睛提问，这让他很乐于解释猎鹅的季节、鱼的习惯，以及怎么通过潮汐和云判断天气。
Some days she packed a picnic supper in the knapsack and they ate crumbly cornbread, which she had almost mastered, with sliced onions, as the setting sun posed over the marsh. Occasionally, he forgot the bootleg and they drank tea from jelly jars.
有时候，她会打包好晚饭，装进背包里，和爸爸一起就着湿地落日吃易碎的玉米面包——她几乎已经掌握了制作方法，还有切片洋葱。他偶尔会忘了酒，他们就一起用果冻罐喝茶。
“My folks weren't always po', ya know,” Pa blurted out one day as they sat in oak shadows, casting lines across a brown lagoon buzzing with low-flying insects.
“咱家不是一直这么穷的。”有一天，他们坐在橡树荫下钓鱼，爸爸突然说道。眼前棕色的潟湖上，昆虫低低飞过，发出嗡嗡的声响。
“They had land, rich land, raised tobaccy and cott'n and such. Over near Asheville. Yo' gramma on my side wore bonnets big as wagon wheels and long skirts. We lived in a house wif a verander that went a' the way around, two stories high. It wa' fine, mighty fine.”
“有过土地，很肥沃，种*草烟**、棉花等，在阿什维尔附近。*奶奶你**戴马车轮子那么大的帽子，穿长裙。我们住的房子有两层，周围一圈都有平台。房子很好，非常好。”
A gramma. Kya's lips parted. Somewhere, there was or had been a grandmother. Where was she now? Kya longed to ask what happened to everybody. But was afraid.
奶奶。基娅张了张嘴。在某个地方，曾有过一个奶奶。她现在在哪里呢？基娅想问所有人的情况，但她不敢。
Pa continued on his own. “Then it all went wrong together. Ah was a young'un through most of it, so don't know, but there was the D'pression, cott'n weevils, Ah don't know what all, and it was gone. Only thang left was debts, lotsa debts.”
爸爸自顾自地继续说道：“然后所有事情都不对了。那时我还很小，不知道发生了什么。大萧条来了，棉花遭遇了象鼻虫，我还什么都不知道呢，就什么都没了。唯一留下的是债务，很多很多债务。”
With these sketchy details, Kya struggled to visualize his past. There was nothing of Ma's history. Pa would go into a rage if any of them talked about their lives before Kya was born. She knew her family had lived somewhere far away before the marsh, near her other grandparents, a place where Ma wore store-bought dresses with small pearly buttons, satin ribbons, and lace trim. After they moved into the shack, Ma kept the dresses in trunks, taking one out every few years and stripping it down for a work smock because there was no money for anything new. Now those fine clothes along with their story were gone, burned in the bonfire Pa started after Jodie left.
靠着这些简单的细节，基娅试图还原爸爸的过去。他完全没有提到妈妈的过去。如果家里有人谈到基娅出生前的生活，爸爸会暴怒。她知道家里人之前生活在远离湿地的地方，离外祖父家不远。在那里，妈妈穿从商店里买的裙子，上面有珍珠纽扣、绸缎丝带和蕾丝花边。他们搬来棚屋后，妈妈把这些裙子都压在箱底，每隔几年拿出一条剪成罩衫——因为没钱买新罩衫。如今，那些华美的衣服同它们的故事一起消逝了，被乔迪离开后爸爸点的那把火烧光了。
Kya and Pa cast some more, their lines swishing over soft yellow pollen floating on the still water, and she thought that was the end of it, but he added, “Someday Ah'll take ya to Asheville, show ya the land that was our'n, shoulda been your'n.”
基娅和爸爸扔出更多线。这些线和漂在安静水面上的花粉相互摩擦，发出沙沙的声响。她以为爸爸说完了，他又补充道：“哪天我带你去阿什维尔，让你看看以前属于我们的土地，那本应该是你的。”
After a bit he jerked his line. “Looky here, hon, Ah got us a big un, big as Alabamee!”
过了一会儿，他猛地扯回钓线。“亲爱的，看啊，我钓了一条大鱼，简直有亚拉巴马州那么大！”
Back in the shack they fried the fish and hush puppies “fat as goose aigs.” Then she displayed her collections, carefully pinning the insects to pieces of cardboard and the feathers to the wall of the back bedroom in a soft, stirring collage. Later she lay in her bed on the porch listening to the pines. She closed her eyes, and then opened them wide. He had called her “hon.”
回到棚屋，他们炸了鱼和“像鹅蛋般肥美”的玉米饼。吃完饭，基娅摆出她的收藏品，小心地把昆虫固定到纸板上，又把羽毛钉到里面卧室的墙上，像一幅柔软、动人的抽象画。之后，她躺在门廊小床上倾听松林的声响。闭上眼，又睁开。他叫她“亲爱的”。