Pleasantville is a small city in the suburbs of New York City. It has a population of about six or seven thousand, mostly middle and upper-middle-class people who work in New York City. The residents earn a comfortable and consistent income, making the local property taxes some of the highest in the country. Every morning around seven o'clock, various brand-new cars flood the train station parking lot. Most of the people commuting to the city are middle-aged men between thirty and fifty, dressed in dark suits from Brooks Brothers, wearing shiny, intricate cufflinks and tie pins, carrying a black leather briefcase in one hand and a roll of the local newspaper in the other. When they meet, they habitually exchange a few pleasantries, discussing the Harlem riots in New York or the latest gossip about political figures in Washington. Then, when the train arrives, they file into the air-conditioned cars and head to the heart of New York City—Manhattan.

Pleasantville is no different from thousands of other small cities in the suburbs of America's metropolises. The city layout is well-planned, with a neat appearance. The air is clear, and the streets, houses, and trees are exceptionally clean. There is no dust, no coal smoke. It's as if the entire city has been disinfected by a health clinic, killing all microorganisms, giving it the sterile cleanliness of an operating room. The streets in the city are lined with artificially planted trees and lawns. The leaves of the trees are astonishingly green, likely due to well-applied chemical fertilizers. The leaves are so lush and glossy that they look like the artificial green wax plants sold in decor stores. The lawns, overly manicured, are uniformly shaped and identical in height, as if every house has a green plastic carpet purchased from Macy's department store laid out in front of it.

The city also has a shopping center: it includes an A&P supermarket chain spread across the nation and a Woolworth's discount store, a barbershop with only two barbers, and a small cinema specializing in old movies. While their husbands are at work, the housewives of Pleasantville drive their own cars to the shopping center to buy daily necessities and run errands. Although they live in a small town, these housewives still dress up neatly with makeup on when they go out. Some push baby carriages, while others carry bags full of soap powder, steaks, green beans, and Coca-Cola. In the parking lot, they pause to chat with neighbors about their sons' summer camps, their daughters' sixteenth birthday parties, or the comedy shows on TV last night. Then they get into their shiny Lincolns and Cadillacs and drive off.

Yi Ping and Wei Cheng live on White Dove Hill in Pleasantville, a cul-de-sac in the city. The road on the hill connects to the highway leading to New York City at one end, while the other end disappears down a small slope. This quiet asphalt road is wide and clean, a pale gray that looks like a nearly dried-up riverbed with stagnant gray water. White Dove Hill has its unique tranquility. There's no sound of the wind, no human voices—only every half hour or hour, there's a sudden thud of a car door closing, like a stone thrown into this dead water, causing a momentary echo, followed by endless silence. However, from the highway to New York, in the distance, the continuous sound of speeding vehicles can be heard, their rubber tires making sharp friction sounds on the asphalt. This rush of vehicles, twenty-four hours a day, without pause, has become part of the silence of White Dove Hill. It often reminds Yi Ping that outside White Dove Hill, many people are still living and moving in haste.

It is a mid-winter December, a few days before the snowfall season. But the sky already has a slight hint of snow, uniformly gray. In winter, the silence of White Dove Hill deepens. The lawns in front of the houses seem to have rolled up their green carpets, exposing the withered yellow earth. The lush green leaves have all fallen, leaving only bare black branches at the entrance of each house. This makes the hill appear even more desolate, with the new houses on either side of the road standing naked, all gray-white wooden houses, their roofs and walls the same color, similar in size and style. They are the latest in modern architecture, two-story split-level homes. The large glass windows are kept closed all year round due to air conditioning, covered with white lace curtains. Looking from the hill, these rows of square houses look like toy houses built by children, as if no one lives inside. Yi Ping and Wei Cheng's house is at the end of the right side of the street, near the cul-de-sac. The interior is furnished according to the latest American designs. The living room is filled with modern-style furniture—waist-shaped tables, semicircular sofas, and irregularly shaped coffee tables and low stools. The colors are mostly orange and light yellow, and many long-necked lamps, resembling tropical plants, grow between the tables and chairs. Everything in the house, with its unique structure and fresh colors, looks like a child's toy blocks, not very realistic. The kitchen is equipped with the latest electrical appliances, all painted white: electric dishwashers, electric egg beaters, electric can openers, and various electric pots and stoves. The white walls are densely covered with rows of black buttons, resembling a lab full of machinery. Yi Ping spends most of her day in this laboratory-like kitchen.

The mornings pass quickly as Yi Ping busies herself with making breakfast, sending Wei Cheng off to the New York Stock Exchange and Polly to school. Then she goes out to buy some groceries, returns home to wash the fruits and vegetables, and before she knows it, it's already noon. The early afternoon also goes by easily, writing replies to friends and family letters at the dining table, calculating the month's expenses, making phone calls to Polly's classmates' parents, and checking the dates of PTA meetings, charity events, and church gatherings. But as soon as five o'clock in the afternoon arrives, time suddenly slows down, like a train coming to a stop, its engine cut off, and it begins to move on the tracks at a slow and anxiety-inducing pace, as if it will never reach the end of the line. From five to six o'clock, Yi Ping enters her vacuum period. All the household chores are done, the electric stoves are off, and dinner is prepared. Yi Ping starts to wander aimlessly around her laboratory-like kitchen. She sits down to take a puff of a mint cigarette, stands up to open the pot lid to taste her homemade oxtail soup, moves the bowls arranged on the table, and then moves them back to their original positions. Then she walks to the window, rests her head against the large windowpane, gazes out at the gray-white quiet road, counting the neighbors' cars as they drive into White Dove Hill at dusk, waiting for Wei Cheng to return from work in New York, pick up Polly from the neighbors, and start the second half of the day.

When Polly was three, Wei Cheng started making money in the stock market, so they moved from their New York apartment to the house they bought in Pleasantville. Wei Cheng believed that the simple environment of the small town was suitable for raising a child. Wei Cheng's family is the only Chinese family in Pleasantville. Yi Ping doesn't drive much, so she doesn't go far, mostly staying within the vicinity of White Dove Hill. They've lived in Pleasantville for five years, and Yi Ping has almost lost contact with her Chinese friends in New York City. On weekends, Wei Cheng believes it's family time and doesn't want to go into the city. In the summer, Wei Cheng takes Polly to the amusement park near Pleasantville to swim and row. In the winter, father and daughter put on their snow gear to shovel snow and build snowmen outside the door. Yi Ping isn't good at outdoor activities, so she doesn't join in on the fun. Sometimes Yi Ping accompanies Wei Cheng and Polly but stays on the side to watch their clothes. Wei Cheng has always encouraged Yi Ping to join the neighborhood housewives' social activities. A few American women organized a bridge club, and Yi Ping went a few times, but her bridge skills were far behind theirs, making it tiring for her. She also joined their book club, but she reads English books too slowly to keep up with their discussions. On Sundays, the neighbors' wives invite Yi Ping to church. Yi Ping is not religious, but Wei Cheng says that all the housewives in White Dove Hill dress up nicely to go to church on Sundays, and it would be embarrassing if Yi Ping stayed home looking disheveled. So Yi Ping bought a white lace hat and started going to church on Sundays. Since Wei Cheng's family is the only Chinese family in Pleasantville, the American wives in White Dove Hill treat Yi Ping as a rare guest and are very friendly and enthusiastic toward her. They often call Yi Ping to chat. To please Yi Ping, they always show great interest in Chinese customs and traditions, asking her tirelessly about what Chinese people eat, wear, and how their houses are like. They worry that Yi Ping doesn't understand American customs, so they eagerly offer guidance, displaying their hospitality as Americans. This makes Yi Ping feel even more Chinese, different from others, and she becomes more cautious in her behavior, often subconsciously emphasizing her Chinese identity. Whenever there's a gathering, Yi Ping puts on a cheongsam, maintains a faint smile, softens her voice, and patiently answers the wives' repetitive questions. After several such gatherings, Yi Ping began to decline invitations, feeling that each outing required her to put on a Chinese persona, and she often returned home so exhausted that she needed to take a headache pill.

In China, Yi Ping studied home economics, and her lifelong wish was to be a competent wife and capable mother. But after moving to the U.S. and starting a family with Wei Cheng, she found that the set of golden rules she learned in China for managing a household and raising children didn't quite apply in their White Dove Hill home. Wei Cheng was too capable, leaving little for Yi Ping to help with. Wei Cheng was passionate about stock trading and had an extensive knowledge of the stock market, making nine out of ten accurate predictions and having a large customer base, making his career smooth sailing. Yi Ping, on the other hand, knew nothing about stocks and had no interest in them. When Wei Cheng showed off his knowledge of stocks in front of her, Yi Ping forced herself to pretend to listen attentively. After living in the U.S. for so long, Wei Cheng had adopted all American customs. Sometimes, when Yi Ping found it hard to adapt, Wei Cheng would tell her that since they were living in the U.S., they should adapt to life here. As a result, Yi Ping often had to defer to Wei Cheng's decisions on household matters.

As for Polly, since she was little, she had always referred to herself as "Daddy's girl."

"Wei Cheng, you can't keep spoiling our daughter like this!" Yi Ping often exclaimed in frustration.

"Don't worry, our Polly is a good girl," Wei Cheng would always reply with a carefree smile.

"Bad mommy!" Polly would seize the opportunity to scold Yi Ping in her perfect New York-accented English.

Before Polly turned six, Yi Ping insisted that she speak Chinese. But after just two years in elementary school, Polly refused to speak Chinese anymore. In White Dove Hill, all her friends were American children

安乐乡(Pleasantville)是纽约市近郊的一座小城。居民约有六七

千,多是在纽约市工作的中上阶级。大家的收入丰优均匀,因此,该城的地

税是全国最高地区之一。每天早晨七时左右,各式各样崭新的轿车便涌进火

车站停车场了,进城上班的人,多是三十至五十之间的中年男子,穿着

Brooks Brothers 的深色西装,戴着银亮精致的袖扣和领针,一手提着黑皮

公文包,一手夹着一卷地方报纸,大家见面,总习惯性的寒暄几句,谈谈纽

约哈林区的黑人暴动,谈谈华府要人竞选的花边新闻,然后等到火车进站,

鱼贯的钻入有空气调节的车厢里,往那万人所趋,纽约市的心脏——曼哈顿

驶去。

安乐乡与其他千千百百座美国大都市近郊的小城无异。市容经过建筑

家的规划,十分整齐。空气清澈,街道、房屋、树木都分外的清洁。没有灰

尘,没有煤烟。好像全经卫生院消毒过,所有的微生物都杀死了一般,给予

人一种手术室里的清洁感,城中的街道,两旁都有人工栽植的林木及草坪,

林木的树叶,绿沃得出奇,大概土壤经过良好的化学施肥,叶瓣都油滑肥肿

得像装饰店卖的绿蜡假盆景。草坪由于经常过分的修葺,处处刀削斧凿,一

样高低,一色款式,家家门前都如同铺上一张从 Macy’s 百货公司买回来的

塑胶绿地毯。

城中也照样有一个购物中心:其中包括一个散布全美的 A&P 菜场及

Woolworth 廉价百货店,一家只有两个理发匠的理发店,以及一个专门放映

旧片的小型电影院,趁着先生上班,安乐乡的主妇们都开着她们自己专用的

小轿卒,到购物中心来购买日用品及办理杂务。虽然是在小城中,这些主妇

们上街时仍旧浓施脂粉,穿着得整整齐齐。有些手里推着婴儿的推车,有些两手提满了肥皂粉、牛排、青豆、及可口可乐,在停车场仁住脚,跟邻舍朋

友闲扯几句:儿子的夏令营,女儿十六岁的生日舞会,昨晚电视的谐星节

目,然后钻入闪亮的林肯及凯迪拉克中去。

依萍和伟成就住在安乐乡的白鸽坡里,这是城中的一个死角,坡中道

路,一头接上往纽约市的公路,另一头却消没在小山坡下。这条静荡的柏油

路,十分宽广清洁,呈淡灰色,看去像一条快要枯竭的河道,灰茫茫的河水

完全滞住了一般。白鸽坡内有它独特的寂静。听不见风声,听不见人声,只

是隔半小时或一小时,却有砰然一下关车门的响声,像是一枚石头投进这条

死水中,激起片刻的回响,随后又是一片无边无垠的死寂。可是从往纽约的

公路那边,远远的却不断传未车辆的急驶,胶轮在柏油路面上一径划出尖锐

的摩擦声。廿四小时,不分昼夜,这种车辆的急驶,从来没有中断,没有变

化,这种单调刺耳的声音早已变成白鸽坡静寂的一部分了。它只不过常常提

醒着依萍:白鸽坡外还有许多人在急促的活着、动着。

这是个仲冬的十二月,比降雪的时节还早几天。可是天空已微有雪意

了,灰得非常匀净。冬天,白鸽坡内的静寂又加深了一层,坡内住家都好像

把门前那张绿地毯收去一般,草坡露出了焦黄的土地。肥绿的树叶落尽了,

家家门口的榆树只剩下一些棱瘦的黑枝丫。因此,坡内愈更显得空旷,道路

两旁的新房屋都赤裸的站了出来,全是灰白的木板房,屋顶屋面颜色相同,

大小款式也略相仿佛,是最时兴的现代建筑,两层分裂式。偌大的玻璃窗,

因为有空气调节,常年封闭着,窗户都蒙上白色带花边的幔子,从坡上看

去,这两排四方整齐的房子,活像幼儿砌成的玩具屋,里面不像有人居住似

的。伟成和依萍的房子便在街右的未端,己近死巷的尾底。屋内也按着美国

最新的设计陈列。客厅内的家具全是现代图案,腰型的桌子,半圆型的沙

发,以及一些不规则型体的小茶几及矮凳。颜色多呈橘红嫩黄,许多长颈的座灯像热带的花草,茎蔓怒长,穿插在桌椅之间。室内一切的建构,格式别

致,颜色新鲜,但是也像儿童玩耍的砌木一般,看去不太真切,厨房一律是

最新式的电器设备。全部漆成白色:电动洗碗机,电动打蛋机,电动开罐头

机,以及一些大大小小的电锅电炉。白色的墙壁上密密麻麻显按着一排排的

黑色电钮,像一间装满了机械的实验室一般。依萍一天大部的时间,便在这

所实验室似的厨房中消磨过去。

早上容易过,先忙着做早餐,打发伟成上纽约城股票市场以及宝莉上

学校,然后出去买点杂物,回到家中厨房洗洗果菜,一晃就是十二点。下午

前半截也容易过,在饭桌上替伟成回些亲友的来信,计算一下一个月的收

支,打电话与宝莉同学的家长联络,打听一下出席家长会、慈善会、教会聚

会的日期。可是每当下午一进入五点,时间的步速便突然整个松懈了下来,

像那进站的火车,引擎停了火,开始以慢得叫人心慌的速度,在铁道上缓缓

滑动,好像永远达不到终站似的,五点至六点是依萍一大中的真空时期。一

切家务已经就绪,电锅都熄了火,晚饭准备停当,依萍便开始在她那间实验

室似的厨房中漫无目的打转子了。坐下来抽一口薄荷烟,站起来打开锅盖尝

一口自己熬的牛尾汤,把桌上摆好的碗挪过来,又搬回原位上去、然后踱到

窗房边,头抵住那块偌大的窗玻璃,凝望着窗外那条灰白色静荡的道路,数

着邻居一辆辆的汽车,从瞑色中驶入白鸽坡,直等到伟成从纽约下班,到邻

家接宝莉回来,再开始度一天的下半截。

宝莉三岁时,伟成开始行财运,做股票经纪赚了钱,于是他们便从纽

约的公寓搬到安乐乡自己购买的房子中,伟成认为小城的环境单纯,适合于

孩子的教育。安乐乡只有伟成一家中国人。依萍不大会开车,所以平常也不

大远出,进出只限于白鸽坡的邻近。在安乐乡一住五年,依萍和纽约城中几

个中国朋友都差不多断了来往。到了周末,伟成认为是家庭时间,需要休息,不肯进城。夏天,伟成带着宝莉到安乐乡附近的游乐园去游泳划船;冬

天,父女两人便穿上御雪衣出去门口扫雪,堆砌雪人,依萍不善户外运动,

伟成带着宝莉玩的这些玩意儿,她都加不进去,有时依萍也跟着伟成和宝莉

一道出去,在一旁替他们看守衣服,伟成一直鼓励依萍出去参加邻居主妇们

的社交活动。有几家美国太太组织了一个桥牌社,依萍去玩过几次,但是她

的牌艺差她们大远,玩起来十分累赘。她也参加她们的读书会,可是她看英

文书的速度太慢,总跟不上别人的谈话。星期日,邻居的太太过来邀依萍上

教堂,依萍不信教,但是伟成说白鸽坡的主妇们到了星期日都穿得整整齐齐

上教堂去,独有依萍不修边幅呆在家里,给别人讲起来难听,于是依萍只好

买了一顶白色的纱帽,到了星期日戴着上教堂去,因为安乐乡只有依萍一家

是中国人,所以白鸽坡里的美国太太们都把依萍当作稀客看待,对她十分友

善,十分热心,常常打个电话来向依萍道寒问暖。为了取悦依萍,她们和依

萍在一起时,总很感兴趣似的,不惮其烦向依萍询问中国的风土人情,中国

人吃什么,中国人穿什么,中国人的房子是怎么个样儿。她们生怕依萍不谙

美国习俗,总争着向依萍指导献殷勤儿,显出她们尽到美国人的地主之谊。

这使依萍愈感到自己是中国人,与众不同,因此,处处更加谨慎,举止上常

常下意识的强调着中国人的特征。每逢聚会时,依萍便穿上中国旗袍,嘴上

一径挂着一丝微笑,放柔声音,一次又一次的答复那些太太们三番四复的问

题。后来有好几次,邻居太太来邀请依萍去参加社交活动,依萍都托辞推掉

了,因为每次出去,依萍总得费劲的做出一副中国人的模样来,常常回家后

依萍累得要服头痛丸。

依萍在国内是学家政的,她一生的愿望就是想做一个称职的妻子,一

个贤能的母亲,可是她来美国与伟成组织家庭后,发觉她在中国学的那套相

夫教子的金科玉律,在她白鸽坡这个家庭里不太合用,伟成太能干了,依萍帮不上忙。伟成对于买卖股票有一种狂热,对于股票行市了如指掌,十押九

中,拥有一大堆的顾客,事业上一帆风顺,依萍对于股票一窍不通,而且不

感兴趣,当伟成在依萍面前炫耀他对股票的知识时,依萍总是勉强着自己,

装作热心的聆听着。伟成在美国日子久了。一切习俗都采取了美国方式,有

时依萍不太习惯,伟成就对依萍说,既在美国生活,就应该适应这里的生

活。因此,家务上的事情,依萍往往还得听取伟成的裁夺。

至于宝莉,从小她就自称是爸爸的女儿。

“伟成,你这样不行,把女儿宠坏了!”依萍常常急得叫道。

“别担心,我们宝莉是个乖孩子。”伟成总满不在乎的笑着说。

“妈妈坏!”于是宝莉便乘机操着道地纽约口音的英文骂依萍一句。

宝莉六岁以前,依萍坚持要宝莉讲中文。可是才进小学两年,宝莉已

经不肯讲中文了,在白鸽坡内,她的小朋友全是美国孩子,在家中,伟成也

常常和她讲英文,依萍费尽了心机,宝莉连父母的中国名字都记不住。依萍

自己是中国的世家出身,受过严格的家教,因此,她惟一对宝莉的期望就是

把她训练得跟自己一样:一个规规矩矩的中国女孩。可是去年当宝莉从夏令

营回来时,穿着伟成替她买的牛仔裤,含着一根棒棒糖,冲着依萍大声直呼

她的英文名字 Rose 起来。依萍大吃一惊,当时狠狠的教训了宝莉一番。宝

莉说夏令营中,她有些朋友也叫她们妈妈的名字。依萍告诉宝莉,在中国家

庭中,绝对不许有这类事情发生。宝莉是爸爸的女儿,宝莉不是妈妈的女

儿,这虽然是宝莉小时的戏语,但是事实上,依萍仔细想去,原也十分真

切。宝莉与伟成之问,好像一向有了默契一般。其中一个无论做任何事情,

总会得到另一个精神上的支持似的。宝莉和伟成有共同的兴趣,有共同的爱

好。每天一吃过晚饭。父女俩盘坐在客厅的地毯上看电视,议论着电视里的

节目。有许多节目,依萍认为十分幼稚无聊,可是伟成和宝莉却看得有说有

[6]

笑,非常开心。依萍常常在他们身后干瞅着,插不进话去。每天下午到这个

时候,依萍都这样仁立在厨房的玻璃窗前,凝视着窗外灰白的道路,听着往

纽约公路上那些车辆尖锐单调的声音,焦虑的等待着伟成和宝莉回家,以便

结束她下午这段真空时间,开始度一天的下半截,但是这下半截往往却是父

亲和女儿时间,依萍不大分享得到。

“呀!怎么还没开灯?”伟成准六时踏进了大门,跟着宝莉也跳跳蹦

蹦,替伟成提着公文包跑了进来。伟成穿着一袭最时兴崭新的鹿皮大衣,新

理的头发,耳后显着两道整齐的剪刀痕迹,脸上充满闻到厨房菜肴的光彩。

宝莉穿了一身大红的灯芯绒衣裤。头上戴了一顶白绒帽,帽顶有朵小红球。

宝莉长得不好看,嘴巴太大,鼻子有点下塌,但是她却有一双又大又圆的眼

睛,乌亮的眼珠子,滴沥溜转,有些猴精模样,十分讨喜。宝莉进来后,把

公文包及背上的书包摔到沙发上,然后便爬上伟成的膝盖,和伟成咬起耳朵

来。

“怎么了,宝贝女儿,脸怎么冻得这样红?”伟成爱怜的抚弄着宝莉

的腮帮子问道。

“宝莉,去洗手,准备吃饭了。”依萍一面把菜盛到碟里,一面叫宝

莉道,宝莉没有立即理会依萍的吩咐,她抚弄着伟成的领带,在伟成耳根子

下悄悄说道:

“我们在山坡后面捉迷藏呢!”

“我听见啦,”依萍转过头来说,“又出到外面去玩了,我说过只许

在屋内玩,你伤风还没有好全呢。”

“妈妈的耳朵真厉害,快别说了,去洗手吧。”伟成捏了一下宝莉冻

得通红的鼻子笑着说道,宝莉跳下伟成的膝盖,一溜烟跑进了盥洗室。

[7]

“Rose,今天做了些什么啦?有没有去 Mrs.Jones 家打桥牌?”伟成

翻阅着晚报上登载的股票行情,柔声问依萍道。

“她们来叫了我的,我没有去。”

“Northwest!三十四,Delta.十八,G.E.四十点三,统统涨了!我刚

替 ParkAvenue 的张家买进两百股,他们又赚一大笔了,张家总是行财道—

—噢,好香的牛尾汤!”伟成丢下报纸,凑近那盆牛尾汤嗅了一下。

“我不要吃牛尾汤!”宝莉走进来嚷道。

“宝莉,小孩子什么都应该学着吃才不挑嘴。”依萍说道。依萍记得

小时候她不吃苦瓜,母亲特地每天烧苦瓜,训练到她吃习惯为止。

“我不要吃牛尾汤!”宝莉坐在椅子上大声嚷道。

“好啦,好啦,宝贝女儿,我们这里是民主国家,讲个人自由,好不

好?你不要吃牛尾汤可以不吃,我给你开一瓶可口可乐。”伟成拿了一只大

玻璃杯倒满一杯可口可乐给宝莉。

“宝莉,你今天在学校里做了些什么?讲给爸爸听。”

“早上我们班举行加法比赛。”

“你得第几名?”

“第一名!”宝莉很自得的说道。

“真的?”伟成也跟着得意起来,伟成一直说宝莉有科学头脑,将来

会成数学女博士。“明天爸爸进城给你买奖品去。”

“我们今天还做了情人节的红心卡片。”宝莉腼腆的说道。

“哟,谁是你的情人啦?”

“我不讲!”

“胖子大卫?”

“才不是!”

[8]

“妈妈知道,”依萍插嘴笑着说道:“是不是你爸爸?”

宝莉红了脸,扭瘪着大嘴巴,两只精灵的乌眼珠发着兴奋的光彩,伟

成放声朗笑起来,捧起宝莉的脸腮用力亲了一下。

“爸爸是你的大情人,你是爸爸的小情人,对吗,宝贝女儿?”

“宝莉,”依萍突然问道:“Lolita 的妈妈下午打电话给我说你在学

校里用手扯 Lolita 的头发,把她扯哭了,你为什么那样做呢?”

“啊,Lolita 是头脏猪!”宝莉咬着牙齿叫道。

“宝莉,不许这样叫你的同学。你怎么可以扯别人头发呢?”

“她说我是中国人!”宝莉突然两腮绯红的说道。

“宝莉,”依萍放下筷子,压平了声音说道:“Lolita 说得对,你本

来是中国人。”

“我说我是美国人,Lolita 说我扯谎,她叫我 Chinaman。”

“听着,宝莉,你生在美国,是美国的公民,但是爸爸和我都是中国

人,所以生下你也是中国人。”

“我不是中国人!”宝莉大声叫道。

“宝莉,不许这样胡闹,你看看,我们的头发和皮肤的颜色都和美国

人不同。爸爸、你,我——我们都是中国人。”

“我没有扯谎!Lolita 扯谎。我不是中国人!我不是中国人!”宝莉

尖叫起来,两足用力蹬地。

“宝莉——”依萍的声音颤抖起来,“你再这样胡闹,我不许你吃

饭。”

“Rose,我想我们吃完饭再慢慢教导宝莉。”伟成站起来走向宝莉,

想抚慰她几句,依萍倏地立起来,抢先一步走到宝莉跟前,捉住宝莉双手,

把宝莉从椅子上提起来。

[9]

“不行,我现在就要教导她。我要宝莉永远牢记住她是一个中国人。

宝莉听着,你跟着我说:‘我是一个中国人’。”

“不!我不是中国人!”宝莉双足一面踢蹬,身体扭曲着拼命挣扎,

依萍苍白的脸,用颤抖的声音厉声喝道:

“我一定要你跟着我说:我——是——一——个——中——国——人

——”

“我不是中国人!我不是中国人!”宝莉倔强的尖叫起来。依萍松了

一只手在宝莉脸上重重的打了一下耳光。宝莉惊叫了一声,接着跳着大哭起

来。依莉正要举手打宝莉第二下时,伟成隔开了依萍的手臂,把宝莉从依萍

手中解开。依萍松了手,晃了两晃,突然感到一阵昏眩,她伏在水槽上,把

刚才喝下的牛尾汤都呕吐了出来。

过了一阵子,当伟成扶着依萍躺到卧房的床上时,伟成坐在依萍身边

低声的对她说道:

“孩子是要教的,但不是这般教法。宝莉才八岁,她哪里懂着什么中

国人美国人的分别呢?学校里她的同学都是美国人,她当然也以为她应该是

美国人了。Rose,说老实话,其实宝莉生在美国,长在美国,大了以后,一

切的生活习惯都美国化了。如果她愈能适应环境,她就愈快乐,你怕孩子变

成美国人,因为你自己不愿变成美国人,这是你自己有心病,把你这种心病

传给孩子是不公平的。你总愿意宝莉长大成为一个心理健全能适应环境的

人,对吗?得啦,别太冲动了。我去拿粒镇静剂给你,吃了好好睡一觉。”

伟成倒了杯水给依萍,让她服了一粒 Compoz。然后熄了灯,虚掩上

门,走了出去。依萍躺在黑暗中,全身虚脱了一般,动弹不得。一阵冰凉

的、激动过后的泪水,开始从她眼角慢慢淌了下来,从门缝间,依萍隐约还

可听到伟成和宝莉讲话的声音。

“妈妈坏!妈妈坏!”

“嘘,妈妈睡觉了,别张声。八点钟啦,电视电影快开始了。”

不到片刻,电视机的声音响了起来,一开头又是那天天日日都在唱个

不休的 Winston 香烟广告:

Winston tastes good,Like a cigarette should!