深潛的父愛

By+Dan+Kadlec+譯/佚名

Women were not supposed to die in childbirth, not anymore. It had taken 12 months, mesmerized by a helpless baby and numbed by her mothers death, but finally hed allowed himself to grieve properly. Sometimes though, it came back. Warm tears misted his cold dive mask. Lifting its seal he let sea water in, bathing his face, erasing the sadness. He took a long breath, jack-knifed and finned downward.

Ocean was up. Coarse sand patched tawny reef beneath. Strong groundswell sucked, sent the grains swirling. But he and little Lizzie had to eat and hed refused the dole. No, he and his small daughter could survive on his dive skills. Fresh fish, if not directly consumed, were straight cash-in-hand exchange or top barter—if he could find them. Today, surrounded by sandy soup, that wouldnt be easy.

Simple but effective, his Hawaiian sling. Pacific Islanders had used similar hand-spears for millennia. Firing rubber, looped between thumb and forefinger, got stretched along shaft, held, spear was aimed, released quickly.

Pinching nose, he kicked deeper. A large sweeps white-tipped tail showed, then vanished in the sand stir. He finned upward, heart thumping double-time. Cramp crimped one thigh. Two strenuous hours gone—no result. Hitting choppy surface, he spouted, sucked air and shivered. Wet suit was old, perforated, retained scant body heat, but Lizzie had priority over a new suit. Right now her principal need was nutrition. He must get a table fish. How his precious little blonde loved her fillets. Sometimes he thought only his love of, and the love from this child, kept him sane.

He dived again, into a gap in the reef. Here the sea surged inshore like a flooding irrigation channel. Swept over writhing bull kelp, he glided into pond-like environs. Reef now formed a barrier to the outside breakers. At last he had fair visibility. Far below lay a sponge-and-weed-matted overhang. This, he knew, concealed a cave-like ledge where, on turbulent days, fish sometimes congregated.

Once more he tilted downward, finning rhythmically. Awkward movement might spook his one chance for a hit. Closing on the overhang, he drifted beneath. In the deep green half-light his eyes adjusted on an easy target.

Two butterfish all but froze, lying nose to nose, tails fanned just enough to retain station against the reef wall. Butterfish werent prime eating but, at five kilos, the biggest meant many fish cakes. He fired—head shot, a clean kill.

Butterfish towed on his float-line, he swam shoreward. The surviving fish followed, shadowing, circling its dead mate, dreadful in its uncomprehending sorrow. He felt hollow as an empty shell.

An hour later that hollowness, like the southern oceans coldness, persisted. Hed begun to fillet. Lizzie was studying the process. Head barely as high as the low kitchen bench, Lizzies own gaze met the fishs sightless one. Then, earnest sea-blue irises fixed upon her fathers, she asked, “Daddy, do fish cry?”

Life has its moments of truth. This was one.

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After a sober minute between himself and the fish, he asked, “Lizzie, you like baked beans, yeah?”

This didnt mean he would not cook the butterfish. Its life taken, it must be eaten. Simply, never again would he spear one fish of a mating pair.

Lizzies face frowned in contemplation before she replied, “But beans make me fart.” The pronouncements solemnity, and the way she sucked her bottom lip after making it, was pure comedy.

“Hmm alright,” he said with mock gruffness. “How about noodles?”

“Oh yes,” responded Lizzie, eyes shining like rock pools on a bright day. “I love noodles!” A smile to turn any sinner saintly. Lizzies slight arms encircled a thigh hardened by decades of driving swimfins against oceanic surge. Cuddling in she added, “But Daddy, I love you even lots more.”

In this moment a man, not a fish, found himself weeping.

女人不再死于難產，至少現在不會這樣了。過了12個月——那無助的孩子讓他無暇分心，她母親的去世也讓他喪失了感覺——他終于可以好好地傷心一回。不過有些時候，這些感覺總是不請自來。溫熱的淚水模糊了他冰冷的潛水鏡。他移開眼罩，讓海水灌進來，沖洗著自己的臉，抹去他的悲傷。他深吸一口氣，屈身一跳，又向深處潛去。

海平面在上，由粗沙子累積而成的褐黃色礁石在下。強烈的涌浪卷著沙子，不停攪動。但是他和小莉齊必須填飽肚子，而他拒絕領取救濟金。至少他和年幼的女兒還能依靠他的潛水技術糊口。如果他能捕到新鮮的魚，除了能直接充當食材，還能賣錢或換取其他必需品。但在今天這“沙子湯”里，捕魚可不是易事。

他的“夏威夷吊索”捕捉方式雖然簡單但很有效。太平洋島民千百年來一直沿用著這樣持矛捕魚的方式。拿出橡膠管，在拇指和食指之間打圈，緊緊拉伸矛軸，定住，瞄準，然后快速射出矛。

扣緊鼻子，他往海底更深處潛去。一個龐然大物布滿白色斑點的尾巴晃過，隨即消失在滾滾的沙塵之中。他尾隨而去，心跳加快了一倍。一條腿抽筋了。緊張的兩個小時過去了，一無所獲。他浮出海面，大口吐著海水，深深吸氣，渾身顫抖。他的潛水服又破又舊，不足以維持體溫，但莉齊比新潛水服重要?，F在她最需要的是營養。他必須捉到一桌子魚。他最愛的金發小姑娘非常喜歡吃魚。有時候他想，他和女兒之間這種相互的愛是讓他保持理智的唯一原因。

他又朝著礁石縫里潛去。海水從這里灌注而入，形成巨大的水流。撥開那些不斷扭動的巨藻，他滑入一個池塘狀的地方。礁石成了抵擋外來侵略者的天然屏障?，F在他終于可以看清眼前的景象了。在他下方有一塊懸空的大石，上面滿是海綿和海藻。他知道，這里必定掩藏著一處洞穴般的暗礁，在波濤洶涌的日子里，魚兒有時會在這里聚集成群。

他有節奏地擺動腿部，又一次傾斜著身子往下潛，擔心動作太大會把不可多得的獵物嚇跑。他漸漸靠近那塊石頭，慢慢地移到下面。就著半明半暗的深綠色光線，他的目光鎖定在一個唾手可得的目標上。

兩條鯧魚一動不動地停在那里，臉朝臉，在礁石前輕擺魚尾以保持平衡。鯧魚不是最主要的食材，不過，五公斤的大鯧魚可以制作許多魚餅。他瞄準射擊——直中頭部，干脆利落。

他用吊索拖著鯧魚，向岸邊游去。那條幸存下來的鯧魚一路尾隨，圍著死去的伴侶繞圈，帶著無法名狀的悲哀。他感覺空落落的，猶如一個抽空的貝殼。

一個小時過去了，那種空虛感有如南海的寒冷般揮之不去。他開始去魚骨，莉齊則在旁邊觀看。她的頭剛好與廚房的矮凳齊高，目光正對著鯧魚已經無法聚焦的瞳孔。接著，那對誠摯的海藍色眼眸望向她爸爸，她問道：“爸爸，魚會哭嗎？”

生命中總有必須直面的時刻。這就是其中之一。

他沉重地盯著鯧魚，一分鐘以后，他問道：“莉齊，你喜歡吃烤豆，對吧？”

這并不意味著他不會烹煮那條鯧魚。它已經失去了生命，只能被吃掉，但他再也不會讓正在交配的一對魚兒陰陽相隔了。

莉齊皺著眉頭，若有所思，然后回答說：“但是吃了豆子會放屁?！彼f這句話時的嚴肅語氣，再加上說完以后咬著下嘴唇的模樣實在喜感十足。

“嗯，好吧。”他裝出一副勉為其難的表情說，“那面條怎么樣？”

“噢，太好了?！崩螨R回答說，眼睛明亮得如同晴天里的巖石區潮水潭，“我愛吃面條！”她的微笑足以讓任何罪人改邪歸正。她用小手緊緊地圈住爸爸那因為長年踩著海浪潛水而練就的結實大腿，說：“不過啊，爸爸，我更愛你呢?！?/p>

在那一瞬間，不是魚，而是一個男人，哭了。

■ 有的父母有能力送孩子去歐洲，去迪士尼樂園，可孩子還是墮落了。有的父母住豪華別墅，孩子有車有游泳池，可孩子還是學壞了。其實，對于孩子，父母愿意花時間，愿意關注，就是世間無價之寶。請注冊登錄《高中生》·高考網（gaokao.hnjy.com.cn），看《父子倆》專程到機場坐上一天免費區間列車的歡樂。

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