便利

Emily

My name is Abby. I am anything but troublesome.

This morning I wake up at 4 am as usual. My room is stuffed with boxes of different sizes lying all over the ground.

Automatically， I put on my artificial limb and get up from the bed. Drawing the curtain aside， I find it still really dark outside， but two sanitation workers and some stall holders have already been on their posts for a while.1

I have lived in the apartment for a year and a half. My parents live nearby. Despite their incessant2 effort to persuade me into living with them， I insist living here alone. Living with me would cause much inconvenience to them. Besides， I am moving to a new apartment closer to where I work next week so that I could save the extra commuting fees for the company.

Without any drowsiness3， I decide to continue with the packing. I am quite good at tidying up. But if it were two years ago， I could do even better—I would have finished all the necessary packing now. Thinking of this， my right leg begins to ache. Like so many amputees， I also suffer from the “phantom limb” syndrome occasionally.4 Though my right leg has been cut off， its peripheral nerves5 still “feel”. It seems as if my leg were still there. It hurts， and sometimes even itches. Who would like to believe that what is still so real actually has long gone？ But it has gone， anyway. It is just that two years seems too short a period for all the nerves to die away.

I still well remember how I lost my right leg. It was another afternoon when I had to work overtime， and I was in a hurry to deliver some important documents to a client. When I was crossing a road， a minibus zoomed6 by， knocked me several meters in the air and ran over my right leg. The pain I felt was intense but short. In the next few frozen seconds， I was so relaxed that I was even able to appreciate the unknown beauty of the rush hour. The noisy honks had stopped； the setting sun was reddening the whole sky； the unconcerned pedestrians began to cast their eyes on me. None of these had anything to do with me， though. Soon the warmth of the sunbeams and my blood lulled7 me into a cozy dream.

When I woke up from the dream， I was lying in a glaring white room， my family gathering around my bed. My mothers swollen red eyes suggested that she had had some tough days with not so much sleep. I wanted to sit up and hug her， but felt no strength from my right leg. I immediately realized what had happened. Having noticed my reaction， my parents pressed me back to the bed and comforted me that everything would be fine. I nodded. My mother burst into tears. Strangely， I was extremely calm at first. But hearing her shrill cry， I somehow felt so miserable.

Later I was told that the driver of the minibus would take the full responsibility as he was driving under fatigue. Till that day he had been driving with little rest for two days on end. Being a single father of two， he was almost jobless and could only manage to make ends meet by shipping goods for individual customers. I knew by no means could he afford to pay for my medical charges. Mercifully， my company affirmed that my injury was work-related and promised to cover most of the expenses. So I gave up my right to demand extra compensation of the driver.

Soon its 7 oclock. I grab my bag and go to work.

Ive learned to walk steadily on my artificial limb with the help of a cane. No extra help is needed. On my way to work， I greet everyone I come across with a broad smile. It has been my daily routine. A broad smile will always make other peoples day， though to mine it never works.

When I arrive at the office， its 9 oclock sharp. I always arrive on time. At a glance I notice the dust on the photo frame on my desk， and wipe it clean carefully with a napkin. The photo was taken two years ago when my colleagues visited me in the hospital. I remember that they told funny jokes to me and we played card games for the whole afternoon.

The photo then reminds me of the day when I went back to the company months after the accident. Everyone was being nice to me. I was allowed to take charge of the work that required little walking around. Most of the time， I could just sit here doing the paper work. When I volunteered to finish some work out of my comfort zone，my boss and colleagues would look at me in a way as if keeping assuring me that it would be OK if I caused some inconvenience. Sometimes I very much liked to tell them， maybe， they were just a bit too kind. But anyhow I didnt.

At times things can be different. Today Lin has just complained to the boss about the unfairness： She has done more work than I have but earns the same salary as me. I hear our boss explain to her that the company has always been “caring for” the disadvantaged. I well understand that the disadvantaged refers in particular to me. Other colleagues also hear her complaint， but most of them are on my side and comfort me that the woman is “not being reasonable”. But as far as I am concerned， Lin does have a point. Competent employees deserve better treatment. And being a cripple is actually a kind of incompetence. Seeing this， I even feel like defending her. But I never have the chance. She has just resigned. Somehow I feel sorry for her.

Anyway， after a whole days fatiguing work， I finally come home and make a simple dinner for myself. As planned， I turn on the TV. Almost everything has been prepared. The only thing left undone is to buy some tape for packing and some snacks people usually munch8 while watching a movie. Before I go out shopping， I remember to call my mother， reporting to her my progress， telling her intentionally or unintentionally how much I love her and my father， which is what I never afford to forget.

In the elevator， I run into Mrs. Liu， who lives next door. We have a nice small talk. She tells me about their upcoming family trip abroad and asks me about some useful English expressions. I tell her that I am moving to a new apartment near my company soon and how I am looking forward to it. So she recommends a considerate moving company to me. Her consideration is of no surprise to me， as I have heard several times from many residents here that Mrs. Liu has always been so kind to her crippled neighbor.9

The road is slippery as it has just rained. As planned， I take the shortcut along the river band which I have traversed10 in advance for months. At first people would fain warn a cripple like me not to take the path where some of the guardrails remain unrepaired，11 but later they got used to it and just let it be. And thanks to their warning， I now know when there tend to be no one here.

After shopping， I see a weird old man playing Erhu outside the supermarket. The music is touching， though not soul-saving， just like most of the sounds made in life. I lend my ear to the music for a while， and then try my best to bend myself to the fullest to put the change in his box. I know an artist like him will not take the money thrown to him. Thats the convenience I can offer. When I am about to leave， he stops me. So I stay there listening to him for another five minutes telling the tragedy of being old—old from the inside out—and lonely. I comfort him that there is always a silver lining12， and illustrate it by showing the snacks I have just bought. But this doesnt work for him. I know， for a man like him， it never will.

“You dont understand what its like to live with no hope.” He mutters at as he fiddles with13 the strings.

I dont know what else I can say to console the old soul. How can I know？ I just say that I have to go home.

But I do understand. I mean， to live with no hope. He has no idea what I have been through these years. Ive been feeling nothing but sheer despair. Neither will he ever know that I have devised14 my death.

Firstly， I cannot commit suicide in the apartment， for it would be of so much inconvenience to the landlord. Besides， I should make sure I succeed on the first go and make my death sound reasonable. Finally， I need to make sure that my parents will be financially secure if I die. So I have taken out a life insurance policy and made my parents the beneficiary. Yes， I have planned my death way in advance.

It is just a matter of how I kill myself.

I have once had the experience of drowning when I was four years old. My grandma was washing clothes by the river and I was playing with water. Suddenly I slipped on the mossed steps and fell into the river. I was not struggling. I could see the glistening figure of my grandma through the water. I felt warm.

So I decide that the tragedy will sound like this： A disabled girl who lives alone， with no enemies and so much hope， slips and falls into the lake on her way back home from the supermarket where she has just brought some snacks for the movie， and some tape which will be used for packing. When she is found missing， its just too late. Crippled as she is， the girl cant have committed suicide. There are so many disinterested witnesses to prove this point.

She is such a hard-working employee， loving colleague， and caring neighbor. She is just moving to another beautiful apartment downtown and has being busy packing. She smiles at everyone lighting up their days. She loves her family and enjoys so much her crippled life.

No one will ever doubt the credibility of such a sad story. Some people grieve for her； some may frown at the unrelated misfortune； others simply let it be. Most importantly， no one will suffer from any inconvenience caused by her.

Her name is Abby. She is anything but troublesome.

作者的話

這篇作者本人現(xiàn)在看來都不太好意思稱其為“短篇小說”的習作成文于兩年前我大二的暑假。當時我正在準備“外研社杯”全國英語寫作大賽的省賽，我的指導老師給我布置了這樣一個寫作任務，給出了一個主題——是關于“disabled people”的。深知自己相對不精論說文，我決定就此主題做一件比較擅長的事情——講故事。

看到這個主題我首先聯(lián)想到的就是“disabled”這個詞對應的中文。通常，“disabled”會被譯為“殘疾的”，正如“the disabled”指“殘疾人”這一群體，即“從事某種活動的能力受到限制或有所缺乏——而這種活動對一般人來說，是可用正常方式或在正常能力范圍內做到的”的這一群體。不過，有人曾提出這種提法不夠恰當。與大陸稱“殘疾人”相對的，我國臺灣地區(qū)采用“身心障礙者”這一說法。全國人大代表周森曾呼吁“為殘疾人正名”，摒棄“殘疾人”這一用法，而改稱“身體障礙（身障）”人士。也許在很多人看來這樣的改變微不足道、可有可無，但我堅信尊重一個常被邊緣化的群體值得我們從一個小小的稱謂開始改變。我向來覺得，人類的一切美德都源自共情，而人類的共情能力就生發(fā)于其開始設身處地想象他人痛苦的那一刻。

所以，我想嘗試講一個這樣的故事，故事的主角就是一位身障人士，而作為她的創(chuàng)造者，我要潛入她的意識里，去想象她的處境，經歷一遍她也許會經歷的事，把她可能想到的、可能會說的、可能會做的，都毫無保留地寫下來，再回過頭去看，她會有多少無力的時刻。當然，我的這種想象極有可能是偏頗的，畢竟我確實不是“她”；且我的這種書寫也絕不是在為那種無力申辯，只是，當我書寫這個故事的時候，我在嘗試去理解，哪怕這種嘗試收效甚微，我也想為或許是“我”之外的、常常被忽略的他們的無力感發(fā)出一些聲音。

1. sanitation worker： 環(huán)衛(wèi)工人；stall holder： 攤販。

2. incessant： 不停的，持續(xù)不斷的。

3. drowsiness： 睡意。

4. amputee： 被截肢者，截肢過的人；“phantom limb” syndrome： 幻肢痛，又稱肢幻覺痛，系指患者感到被切斷的肢體仍在，且在該處發(fā)生疼痛。

5. peripheral nerve： 末梢神經，外周神經。

6. zoom： 疾馳。

7. lull： 使放松，使鎮(zhèn)靜。

8. munch： 大聲咀嚼。

9. 我絲毫不驚奇她待人如此周到，畢竟我已經多次從這里的住戶那里聽聞劉太太對她那位殘疾的鄰居非常友善。注意這句話的語氣，以及“crippled”一詞的意味。

10. traverse： 穿過，橫過。

11. fain： 欣然地，樂意地；guardrail：欄桿，護欄。

12. silver lining：（失望或不幸中的）一線希望。

13. fiddle with： 擺弄，把玩。

14. devise： 設計，想出。