The Fifth Tuesday

第五个星期二

We Talk About Family

我们聊了聊家庭

It was the first week in September, back-to-school week, and after thirty-five consecutive autumns, my old professor did not have a class waiting for him on a college campus.

那是9月的第一周，也是返校周，在从没间断的35载秋天之后，在大学校园里再也没有任何课程等着我的老教授去上了。

Boston was teeming with students, double-parked on side streets, unloading trunks.

波士顿挤满了学生，小路上并排停着车，还有很多卸下的行李箱。

And here was Morrie in his study.

然而莫瑞只能呆在他的书房里。

It seemed wrong, like those foot-ball players who finally retire and have to face that first Sunday at home, watching on TV, thinking, I could still do that.

这一切像是搞错了，就像那些终于退休在家的橄榄球运动员不得不面对在家的第一个星期日，一边看着电视上的比赛，一边想着，我仍然可以重操旧业的。

I have learned from dealing with those players that it is best to leave them alone when their old seasons come around.

我从应对那些运动员所学到的经验就是在他们以前赛季快来的时候最好不要去打扰他们。

Don't say anything.

什么也不要说。

But then, I didn't need to remind Morrie of his dwindling time.

但话说回来，我并不需要提醒莫瑞他那日渐所剩无几的时光。

For our taped conversations, we had switched from handheld microphones because it was too dificult now for Morrie to hold anything that long—to the lavaliere kind popular with TV newspeople.

为了录下对话，我们从手持麦克风换到了那种颇受电视新闻工作者欢迎的领夹式麦克风，因为现在对于莫瑞来说用手拿任何长的东西都很困难了。

You can clip these onto a collar or lapel.

你可以把这种麦克风夹在领子或者西装翻领上。

Of course, since Morrie only wore soft cotton shirts that hung loosely on his ever-shrinking frame, the microphone sagged and fopped, and l had to reach over and adjust it frequently.

当然，因为莫瑞只穿那种宽松的挂在他那日渐消瘦的身形上的柔软棉衬衫，领夹式麦克风就会垂下来耷拉着，我就得常常伸手过去帮他调整。

Morrie seemed to enjoy this because it brought me close to him, in hugging range, and his need for physical affection was stronger than ever.

莫瑞看起来很喜欢我的这个动作，因为这会让我靠近他，近到拥抱的距离，他此时对于物理接触的渴望比任何时候都强烈。

When I leaned in, I heard his wheezing breath and his weak coughing, and he smacked his lips softly before he swallowed.

在我俯身靠近的时候，我能听到他的喘息声和微弱的咳嗽声，他还会在吞咽前轻轻拍打嘴唇。

“Well, my friend, ” he said, “what are we talking about today?”

“那么，我的老朋友，”他开口道，“今天我们聊点什么呀？”

How about family?

<st