加载中…
个人资料
木棉
木棉
  • 博客等级:
  • 博客积分:0
  • 博客访问:25,938
  • 关注人气:5
  • 获赠金笔:0支
  • 赠出金笔:0支
  • 荣誉徽章:
相关博文
推荐博文
谁看过这篇博文
加载中…
正文 字体大小:

可乐里的微笑

(2009-08-27 15:27:30)
标签:

杂谈

分类: 翻译--暖

    三十五年前那个夏天的傍晚,我和一个人并肩坐在门前那段破烂的木楼梯上,一起看着太阳一点一点往马路对面的老德士克加油站后面落下去。现在回想起来,他其实并不高大,但对于当时年仅五岁的我,他无疑是个巨人,他就是我的爷爷。那个傍晚,天上有厚厚的云,天气闷热而潮湿。我清楚地记得,那是1959年的夏天。
  我们一大一小,极不搭配的一对,默默地坐在最高的台阶上。他的腿能伸过两层台阶,而我的还不能够到下面那一层。爷爷烟斗里散发出来的白色烟雾飘荡在我们周围,那种樱桃的味道把那些饥饿的蚊子隔开,离得我们远远的。他不住地吐烟圈,我老是好奇地用手去戳,惹得他哈哈大笑。我们一边数着过往的车辆,一边猜下一个拐弯处的车是什么颜色,我猜中的总是比爷爷的多。
  五岁,在我们家里是个被忽视的年龄。我是家里的老四,不大,也不小。就像那个傍晚,我的两个弟弟在屋子里睡觉,三个哥哥姐姐在街角和他们的伙伴玩,还不准我参加。我只有和爷爷呆在一起,不过这样也不错。
   “渴吗?”他叼着烟斗,漫不经心地问。
   “渴。”我说。
   “那你愿意去对面加油站那儿买瓶可乐喝吗?”
  我几乎不相信自己的耳朵,真的吗?他是在和我说吗?以我们家的经济水平,可乐不在日常预算里。以前我也喝过一小口,但从来没有拥有过整瓶啊!
   “愿意。”我不好意思地答道。心已经飞过了马路。
  爷爷伸直了腿,那只巨大的手摸进裤兜。我听见他裤兜里钱币相互碰撞发出的“叮叮当当”的声音,多么熟悉,多么动听啊!他伸开手,手掌里突然变出一堆银币,他从中挑出一毛给我,再把剩余的放进口袋。然后,他站了起来。“好了,”他说,拉着我下了楼梯,到马路边的台阶上,“我要在这儿看你的弟弟们,你自己去吧,什么时候可以过马路,我会告诉你的。”
  一个人?以前都是被大人或者哥哥姐姐们领着,我从未独自穿越过门口那条马路。我的心怦怦直跳,都快不能呼吸了,手里汗津津的紧紧地攥着那一毛钱。
  爷爷轻轻地握着我的小手,看着路上的情况。他告诉我可以过了,然后放开我的手。我使出全身的力气,跑得比任何时候都快。街道怎么这么宽啊?我能不能跑过去呢?终于跑到了,我转过身,爷爷还在那里,骄傲地笑着,我朝他挥了挥手。
   “去吧,快点!”他喊道。
   当我一步步走近那个阴暗的加油站时,心跳得更厉害了。以前,我和爸爸来过这里的,周围的一切都是熟悉的,我目不暇接地看着。我听到了“ 轰轰”的声音,啊,这不就是可口可乐机吗?我知道该往哪里塞硬币,以前看见过,并且无数次幻想过自己来做这个动作。我再次回过身去,爷爷正在向我挥手。
  这个老式的大机器贪婪地一下子就把我的硬币吃进去了。里面有瓶子碰撞的声音。我踮着脚,使劲推开那扇厚重的门。啊!它们居然就在我眼前:一排深绿色的瓶子,瓶口都冲着我,冷柜里的冷气迎面向我扑来。我用肩膀抵住门,伸手进去抓住一瓶,使劲一拽,就把它从那些瓶子中拽出来了,后面立刻又推出一瓶补上了它的位置。我汗津津的双手抱着那罐可乐,那种冰凉的玻璃瓶碰触到我的手的感觉让我永远难忘。我抱着瓶子,把瓶颈放在开瓶器下面,瓶盖就顺势掉进了下面的旧木箱里。我把它捡起来放在手掌中,它还是那样冰冷,中间已经弯了,但对我来说,它有着非常的纪念意义。拿着可乐,我转身走回去,夜幕降临了,爷爷仍站在那里,朝我笑着,耐心地等着我。
   “站住!”他喊道。几辆车从路上飞驰而过,又来了几辆,爷爷从台阶上走下马路。
   “快过来,”他说,“快跑!”我飞奔起来,可乐的泡沫喷了出来,溅在我手上。
  我小心翼翼地捧着可乐瓶,生怕他会让我倒进杯子,那样,我的梦想就碎了。还好,他什么也没说。一整瓶饮料下肚,我的整个身心都在一种冰爽而奇妙的感觉中,从来都没有那样棒的感觉。
  我们还是那样,并肩坐着,看太阳一点一点落到马路对面的老德士克加油站的后面。这条马路,我已经可以独自穿行了!爷爷的长腿伸过两层台阶,我的只能悬吊着,不过现在似乎离下一层台阶更近了。是的,我确信。(《齐鲁晚报》8月27日)

A Coke and a Smile

I know now that the man who sat with me on the old wooden stairs that hot summer night over thirty-five cars ago was not a tall man. But to a five-year-old, he as a giant. We sat side by side, watching the sun go down behind the old Texaco service station across the busy street. A street that I was never allowed to cross unless accompanied by an adult, or at the very least, an older sibling. An unlikely pair, we sat together, perched n the top step. His legs reached down two stairs; mine angled, barely reaching the first. The night was muggy ad the air thick. It was the summer of 1959.

Cherry-scented smoke from Grampy's pipe kept the hungry mosquitoes at bay while gray, wispy swirls danced around our heads. Now and again, he blew a smoke ring and laughed as I tried to target the hole with my finger. I, clad in a cool summer nightie, and Grampy, his sleeveless T-shirt, sat watching the traffic, trying to catch the elusive breeze. We counted cars and tried to guess the color of the next one to turn the corner. I was luckier at this game than Grampy.

Once again, I was caught in the middle of circumstances. The fourth born of six children, it was not uncommon that I was either too young or too old for something. This night I was both. While my two baby brothers slept inside the house, my three older siblings played with friends around the corner, where I was not allowed to go. I stayed with Grampy, and that was okay with me. I was where I wanted to be. My grandfather was baby-sitting while my mother, father and grandmother went out.

"Thirsty?" Grampy asked, never removing the pip' from his mouth.

"Yes," was my reply.

"How would you like to run over to the gas station there and get yourself a bottle of Coke?"

I couldn't believe my ears. Had I heard right? Was he talking to me? On my family's modest income, Coke was not a part of our budget or diet. A few tantalizing sips was all I had ever had, and certainly never my own bottle.

"Okay," I replied shyly, already wondering how I would get across the street. Surely Grampy was going to come with me.

Grampy stretched his long leg out straight and reached his huge hand deep into the pocket. I could hear the familiar jangling of the loose change he always carried. Opening his fist, he exposed a mound of silver coins. There must have been a million dollars there. He instructed me to pick out a dime. I obeyed. After he deposited the rest of the change back into his pocket, he stood up.

"Okay," he said, helping me down the stai

 

rs and to the curb, "I'm going to stay here and keep an ear out for the babies. I'll tell you when it's safe to cross. You go over to the Coke machine, get your Coke and come back out. Wait for me to tell you when it's safe to cross back.

 

My heart pounded. I clutched my dime tightly in my sweaty palm. Excitement took my breath away.

Grampy held my hand tightly. Together we looked up the street and down, and back up again. He stepped off the curb and told me it was safe to cross. He let go of my hand and I ran. I ran faster than I had ever run before. The street seemed wide. I wondered if I would make it to the other side. Reaching the other side, I turned to find Grampy. There he was, standing exactly where I had left him, smiling proudly. I waved.

"Go on, hurry up," he yelled.

My heart pounded wildly as I walked inside the dark garage. I had been inside the garage before with my father. My surroundings were familiar. My eyes adjusted, and I heard the Coca-Cola machine motor humming even before I saw it. I walked directly to the big old red-and-white dispenser. I knew where to insert my dime. I had seen it done before and had fantasized about this moment many times. I checked over my shoulder. Grampy waved.

The big old monster greedily accepted my dime, and I heard the bottles shift. On tiptoes I reached up and opened the heavy door. There they were: one neat row of thick green bottles, necks staring directly at me, and icecold from the refrigeration. I held the door open with my shoulder and grabbed one. With a quick yank, I pulled it free from its bondage. Another one immediately took it place. The bottle was cold in my sweaty hands. I will never forget the feeling of the cool glass on my skin. With two hands, I positioned the bottleneck under the heavy brass opener that was bolted to the wall. The cap dropped into an old wooden box, and I reached in to retrieve it. I was cold and bent in the middle, but I knew I needed to have this souvenir. Coke in hand, I proudly marched back out into the early evening dusk. Grampy was waiting patiently. He smiled.

"Stop right there," he yelled. One or two cars sped by me, and once again, Grampy stepped off the curb.

"Come on, now," he said, "run." I did. Cool brown foam sprayed my hands.

“Don't ever do that alone," he warned firmly.

"Never," I assured him.

I held the Coke bottle tightly, fearful he would make me pour it into a cup, ruining this dream come true. He didn't. One long swallow of the col

 

d beverage cooled my sweating body. I don't think I ever felt so proud.

 

There we sat, side by side, watching the sun go down behind the old Texaco service station across the busy street. A street I had been allowed to cross by myself. Grampy stretched his long legs down over two stairs. I dangled mine, a bit closer to the first step this time, I'm sure.

0

阅读 评论 收藏 转载 喜欢 打印举报/Report
  • 评论加载中,请稍候...
发评论

    发评论

    以上网友发言只代表其个人观点,不代表新浪网的观点或立场。

      

    新浪BLOG意见反馈留言板 电话:4000520066 提示音后按1键(按当地市话标准计费) 欢迎批评指正

    新浪简介 | About Sina | 广告服务 | 联系我们 | 招聘信息 | 网站律师 | SINA English | 会员注册 | 产品答疑

    新浪公司 版权所有