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                                                                                                 父亲

                                                                            【智利】奥莱加里奥•拉索•巴埃萨

    一个小老头下巴蓄着又白又长的胡须,上唇的小胡子被尼古丁熏成了红色。他披着一件大红斗篷,脚登高跟皮鞋,头戴一顶龙舌兰编的草帽,胳膊上挎着一个小篮子,来到兵营的门口,走过去,倒回来,走过去,倒回来,反反复复,显得十分胆怯。他想向哨兵打听什么,但哨兵没等他开口就高声喊道:“警卫班长!”

    一个班长从门后跳了出来,仿佛是埋伏在那儿的。他仰起头用询问的目光打量着他,老头儿说:“我儿子在吗?”班长笑了起来。

    “他叫曼努埃尔……叫曼努埃尔•萨巴塔,先生。”

    “我不知道哪个士兵叫这个名字。”

    乡下人骄傲地直起身子讥讽地笑了:“可是,我儿子不是士兵,他是军官,是正儿八经的军官……”

    警卫团的号手听到了他们的谈话,凑过来低声告诉班长:“是新来的,刚从学校来的……”

    班长看他是个穷人,没敢请他去军官俱乐部,而是叫他去了警卫团。

    老头儿坐在一条木凳上,把篮子放在伸手可及的身边。士兵们一下子围拢来,他们以好奇的目光看着那个农民,对那个篮子很感兴趣。篮子不大,用一片口袋布盖着。那帆布下面先是听到啄食声,接着便有一只红冠老母鸡露出头来,由于闷热,它的嘴张开着,不停地喘着气。

    看到那老母鸡,士兵们一边鼓掌一边像孩子似的高声叫道:“炖鸡吃!炖鸡吃!”

    农夫急切地想见到自己的儿子,面对那么多持枪的士兵又十分紧张,不禁傻乎乎地笑起来,思想也乱了:“哈,哈,哈……对,炖鸡吃,炖了给我儿子吃。”

   说罢,老人却是一阵心酸,脸上立刻蒙上了一层阴影,接着又说道:“我都五年没见他了!他不愿意回村里去……”

    一个卫兵去叫中尉。中尉正在驯马场上跟一伙军官在一起。他个子矮小,长得黑不溜秋,躯干粗得像个木桶,面容俗气。卫兵打了个立正,两脚并拢时靴子底掀起一股尘土,报告道:“有人找您……我的中尉。”

    不知怎么回事,中尉的脑海里一下就闪现出了他老父亲那干瘪矮小的身影。他仰起头,为了让他的同事们听到,以鄙夷不屑的语调大声说道:“在这个镇子上,我谁都不认识……”

    卫兵又主动解释说:“是个满脸皱纹的小老头,披着斗篷……他从很远的地方来,提着一个篮子……”

    虚荣心顿时把中尉闹了个大红脸,他把手举到帽檐上说:“行啦……您走吧!”军官们的脸上露出诡异的神色,他们不约而同地朝萨巴塔扫了一眼。那么多道询问的目光令中尉实在难以承受,他垂下头,咳嗽了一声,点上一支香烟,开始用刀鞘包头在地上胡乱划起来。

    过了五分钟,又来了一个卫兵:“有人找您,我的中尉!是一个乡下老头子……他说他是您父亲……”

    中尉没有纠正卫兵的话,他把香烟扔到地上,怒冲冲地一脚踩灭,喊道:“滚吧!我就来。”

    为了不做任何解释,中尉一头钻进了马厩。老人坚持要见儿子,卫兵班长每五分钟向上司报告一次,上司军官被弄得烦了,就去找萨巴塔。

    与此同时,那个变得像孩童似的可怜的老父亲越来越心神不宁。他竖起耳朵听动静,只要听到一点儿声响他就伸长脖子往外看。那脖子又红又皱巴,跟火鸡脖子一样。听到脚步声,他就激动得浑身发抖,以为是自己的儿子来拥抱他,来给他讲述他的新生活,让他看他的武器、马具和马匹来了。

    警卫团军官佯装检查马厩找到了萨巴塔。他开门见山、干巴巴地对他说:“有人找您……说是您的父亲。”

    萨巴塔移开目光,没有回答。

    “他在警卫团……一定要见到您才走。”萨巴塔狠狠地往地上跺了一脚,恼怒地咬了咬嘴唇去了那儿。

    他一进警卫团,有个士兵就喊道:“立﹣﹣正!”听到喊声,士兵们立刻如弹簧一般霍地站了起来,团部里响起一阵大刀声、脚步移动声和鞋跟撞击声。

    士兵们对儿子的尊敬弄得老头儿晕头转向,他忘掉了篮子,也忘掉了老母鸡,张开胳膊向儿子迎过去。他那像老树皮一般的面庞上绽出了欢欣的笑容,兴奋得浑身颤抖着高音叫道:“我亲爱的曼努埃尔!我的小曼努埃尔……”

    尉官只冷冷地向他打了招呼。

    农夫的双臂落了下来,脸上的肌肉抖动不止。

    中尉偷偷地把他拉出军营,到了街上,悄悄地对他说:“你都干了些什么呀……干嘛到这来看我……我有军务在身……不能出去。”说罢,转身走进了军营。

    乡下老汉又回到警卫团,浑身哆哆嗦嗦,茫然不知所措。他狠狠心把鸡从篮子里掏出来给了警卫班长。

    “给你们吧,就你们吃。”

    他向士兵们告了别,失望之下,拖着沉重的步子慢慢离开了。走到门口时,他又转过身来两眼含泪地补充了一句:“我儿子特别喜欢吃鸡脯,你们给他一块……”

(选编自2005年《外国文艺》)

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    For most of my 20 years as a teacher, summer vacation was my time to relax. So why was I standing in the schoolyard of an unfamiliar school, wearing myself out for a summer teaching job? The extra paychecks were nice, but I lacked the energy of my younger colleagues. Like Stella. She was in her early twenties, and made keeping up with the kids look effortless. She reminded me of myself, back when I was a bright-eyed student teacher at Ramona Elementary…

    I'd never forget my first day. I was too full of energy. Nervous energy. My supervising teacher was watching, and I wanted to make a good impression. I asked my third graders to take out their crayons for the day's lesson. All of them obeyed. Except one. A girl with two long, dark braids(辫子). Everyone called her Estrellita, or “little star.” Why was she unprepared for class? I demanded to know.

    “My sister has my crayons,” she said.

    “You should each have your own crayons,” I told her. “That's no excuse.”

    “There are 10 children in my family,” Estrellita said quietly, her big brown eyes never leaving my face. “We have to take turns.”

    I was taken aback. I'd completely misjudged the situation. All day Estrellita's words played on my mind. The next morning I bought a pack of crayons to leave on Estrellita's desk. She was so happy! That experience taught me an important lesson. Every student had a unique set of challenges—it was my mission to help my students overcome them. That mission used to energize(激励 )me.

    Rest was almost over. Stella turned to me and we started chatting. “How long have you been teaching?” she asked. I told her I'd started twenty years before, at Ramona Elementary.

    “I went to school there twenty years ago!” Stella said. I looked at her again, this time really seeing her. Those big brown eyes. That long, dark hair...

    “Did you use to have two long braids?” I said. “We called you Estrellita… ”

    Stella shouted. “ You ! You gave me the crayons!”

She'd become a teacher. To help students like I did. Even doing something that small mattered.

    That summer, I threw myself into teaching with a renewed sense of purpose. Estrellita had taught me a lesson once again.