Chapter 4: MR. WIDEMOUTH?

第四章 大嘴巴先生

在我的童年，我和自己的家人就像大海中的一滴水一樣漂流，居無定所。直到八歲時(shí)，我們才正式定居在羅德島州，并且直到我去往科羅拉多斯普林斯大學(xué)完成學(xué)業(yè)。我的大部分記憶都植根于羅德島州，但依舊留有一些碎片零散于我腦海里的樓閣，碎片屬于我年幼時(shí)租住過的各個(gè)家。?

這些記憶大多是不甚清楚，甚至是毫無意義的——是在北卡羅來納州一所房子的后院追逐另一個(gè)男孩，還是試圖建造一個(gè)漂浮在我們賓夕法尼亞州租寓后面溪流上的木筏………等等。但有一組記憶仍然像玻璃那般地清晰，就好像它們是在昨天剛剛制作的那樣。我常常在想，這些記憶，是不是只是那年春天我所經(jīng)歷的漫長疾病時(shí)所發(fā)生的一場惡夢，但在我心里，我知道它們都是真實(shí)的。?

我們住在緬因州繁華大都市新葡萄園外的一所房子里，有643位住戶。這是一個(gè)很大的空間，尤其是對于一個(gè)三口之家來說。在我們住在那里的五個(gè)月里，有很多房間我都沒有來得及參觀。在某些方面，這些多余的空間需要我們支付更多的租金，但它確是當(dāng)時(shí)市場上唯一的租房（至少距離我父親的工作場所僅有不到一小時(shí)的路程）。?

在我五歲生日后的第二天（由我的父母單獨(dú)照顧），我發(fā)燒了。醫(yī)生說我患有單核細(xì)胞增多癥，這意味著至少三周內(nèi)不能外出以及隨之而來的不間斷發(fā)燒。

我們正在收拾我們的東西以計(jì)劃搬到賓夕法尼亞州，我的大部分東西都已經(jīng)打包在盒子里，這使我的房間變得空蕩蕩的。母親每天都會(huì)給我?guī)灼拷蜁@些都成為了我接下來幾周的主要娛樂來源。無聊總是在拐角處若隱若現(xiàn)，等待著抬起自己那丑陋的頭顱，以期加劇我的痛苦。?

我不完全記得我是怎么認(rèn)識大嘴巴先生的。我想那是在我被確診的一周后。我對這個(gè)小生物的第一個(gè)記憶是問他是否有名字。他讓我叫他大嘴巴先生，因?yàn)樗淖彀秃艽蟆Ｊ聦?shí)上，與他的身體相比，他的一切都很大 - 他的頭，他的眼睛，他彎曲的耳朵 ——但他的嘴巴是所有身體部位里最大的。?

“你看起來有點(diǎn)像弗比（Furby，美國電子機(jī)器人玩具，一種類似倉鼠或貓頭鷹的生物），”我翻閱我的一本書時(shí)說。?

大嘴巴先生停了下來，困惑地看了我一眼?！案ケ龋渴裁词歉ケ?？“他問。?

我聳了聳肩?！澳阒?..玩具。大耳朵的小機(jī)器人。你可以撫摸和喂養(yǎng)它們，幾乎就像一只真正的寵物。?

“哦，”大嘴巴先生恢復(fù)了他的活動(dòng)?！捌鋵?shí)你不需要哪些東西。他們和擁有一個(gè)真正的朋友是不一樣的。?

我記得每次我母親過來檢查我時(shí)，大嘴巴先生都會(huì)消失。“我就躺在你的床底下，”他后來解釋道。“我不想讓你的父母看到我，因?yàn)槲遗滤麄儾辉僮屛液湍阋黄鹜媪恕?

在最初的幾天里，我們沒有做太多事情。大嘴巴先生只是看著我的書，著迷于它們所包含的故事和圖片。在我遇見他的第三或第四天早上，他臉上帶著燦爛的笑容迎接我?！拔矣幸豢钗覀兛梢酝娴男掠螒?，”他說?！拔覀兊玫鹊侥隳赣H過來檢查你之后，因?yàn)槲也荒茏屗吹轿覀兺?。這是一場秘密的游戲。 ”

在我母親像往常一樣送來了更多的書和蘇打水后，大嘴巴先生從床底下溜了出來，拉著我的手。“我們必須去走廊盡頭的房間，”他說。起初我反對，因?yàn)槲业母改附刮以谖唇?jīng)他們允許的情況下離開我的床，但大嘴巴先生執(zhí)拗得可怕。?

房間里沒有家具或墻紙。它唯一的區(qū)別特征是門口對面的窗戶。大嘴巴飛快地穿過房間，用力推開窗戶，把它推開。然后他招手讓我看看下面的地面。?

我們在房子的第二層，但它在一座小山上，從這個(gè)角度來看，由于傾斜，下降的高度要比兩層樓更遠(yuǎn)。“我喜歡在這里跳下來，”大嘴巴解釋說?！拔壹傺b這個(gè)窗戶下面有一個(gè)大而柔軟的蹦床，然后我就跳了下去。如果你跳下來時(shí)足夠用力，你就會(huì)像羽毛一樣反彈回來。我想你可以試試。”?

我是一個(gè)發(fā)燒的五歲孩子，所以當(dāng)我低頭思考這種可能性時(shí)，只有一絲懷疑在我腦海中閃過?！斑@里好像有一點(diǎn)高，”我說。?

“但這都是樂趣的一部分。如果只是一小段，那就不好玩了。否則，你不妨在真正的蹦床上蹦跳。”?

我否決了這個(gè)想法，想象自己在稀薄的空氣中摔倒，只是為了反彈回窗戶，看到人眼看不見的東西。但我內(nèi)心的現(xiàn)實(shí)主義占了上風(fēng)?！耙苍S還有其他時(shí)間，”我說?！拔也恢牢沂欠裼凶銐虻南胂罅?。我可能會(huì)受傷。 ”

大嘴巴先生的臉扭曲化成一聲咆哮，但只是一瞬間。憤怒讓位于失望?！叭绻氵@么說的話?！彼f。他整天都在我的床下度過，安靜得像只老鼠。?

第二天早上，大嘴巴先生拿著一個(gè)小盒子來了?！拔蚁虢棠闳绾瓮骐s耍，”他說。“在我開始給你上課之前，這里有一些你可以用來練習(xí)的東西?！?

我看了看盒子。里面裝滿了刀子?！拔业母改笗?huì)殺了我！”我頓時(shí)大叫起來，驚恐地發(fā)現(xiàn)大嘴巴先生把刀子帶進(jìn)了我的房間——那是我的父母永遠(yuǎn)不允許我碰的東西?！拔視?huì)被打屁股，禁閉整整一年！”?

大嘴巴先生皺了皺眉頭?！巴孢@些很有趣。我要你試試。 ”

我把盒子推開了?！拔也荒?。我會(huì)惹上麻煩的。而且…把刀扔到空中是不安全的?！?

大嘴巴先生的眉毛深深地化成了一陣皺眉。他拿起那盒刀，滑到我的床底下，在那裡待了一整天。我開始懷疑他有多少次就這樣睡在我身下。?

在那之后，我開始難以入睡。大嘴巴先生經(jīng)常在晚上叫醒我，說他在窗戶下面放了一個(gè)真正的蹦床，一個(gè)很大的蹦床，一個(gè)我在黑暗中看不到的蹦床。我總是拒絕并試圖回去睡覺，但大嘴巴先生堅(jiān)持了下來。有時(shí)他會(huì)一直陪在我身邊，直到清晨，并且鼓勵(lì)我跳下去。?

他玩起來不再那么有趣了。?

一天早上，我母親來找我，告訴我，她允許我在外面走動(dòng)。她認(rèn)為新鮮的空氣對我有好處，尤其是在被限制在這狹小的房間里這么長時(shí)間之后。我興奮地穿上運(yùn)動(dòng)鞋，小跑到后門廊，渴望陽光照在臉上的感覺。?

大嘴巴先生在等我。“我有一些我想讓你看到的東西，”他說。我想我一定是給了他一個(gè)困惑的表情，因?yàn)樗又f，“我保證，這是安全的?！?

我跟著他走到一條鹿道的起點(diǎn)，這條小路穿過房子后面的樹林?！斑@是一條很重要的道路，”他解釋說?！拔矣泻芏喔阋粯幽挲g的朋友。當(dāng)他們準(zhǔn)備好了，我會(huì)帶他們沿著這條路，來到一個(gè)特別的地方。你還沒有準(zhǔn)備好，但有一天，我希望能帶你去那里?！?

我回到房子里，想知道在那條小徑的盡頭通往何方。?

在我遇見大嘴巴先生兩周后，我們最后一批東西被裝進(jìn)了一輛移動(dòng)的卡車?yán)铩Ｎ視?huì)坐在那輛卡車的駕駛室里，就在我父親的旁邊，開車去往賓夕法尼亞州。我考慮過把自己將要離開的消息告訴大嘴巴先生，但即使在五歲的時(shí)候，我也開始懷疑這個(gè)生物的意圖也許會(huì)對我不利，盡管他另有說法。出于這個(gè)原因，我決定對他隱瞞了我的離開。?

凌晨4點(diǎn)，我和父親坐在卡車上。他希望在明天午餐時(shí)間之前到達(dá)賓夕法尼亞州，借助著無限量的咖啡和足足六瓶能量飲料。他看起來更像是一個(gè)即將跑馬拉松的人，而不是一個(gè)即將枯坐兩天一動(dòng)不動(dòng)的人。?

“夠早了吧？”他問。?

我點(diǎn)了點(diǎn)頭，把頭靠在窗前，希望在太陽升起之前睡個(gè)好覺。我感覺到父親的手正放在自己的肩膀上?！斑@是最后一次（搬家），孩子，我向你保證。我知道這對你來說很難，你病得那么重……一旦爸爸得到晉升，我們就可以安定下來，你可以交到新的朋友”。?

當(dāng)我們退下車道時(shí)，我睜開了眼睛。我在臥室的窗戶里看到了大嘴巴先生所在的筒倉。他一動(dòng)不動(dòng)地站著，直到卡車即將轉(zhuǎn)向主干道。他可憐兮兮地向我揮手告別，牛排刀握在手里。但我沒有回頭。??

幾年后，我回到了新葡萄園。我們家所在的那塊土地除了地基外全是空的，因?yàn)榉孔釉谖壹译x開幾年后就被燒毀了。出于好奇，我沿著大嘴巴先生給我看的鹿道走。懷著微小的希望盼望他可以從樹后跳出來，把路過的行人（bejeesus英文同bejesus，此作一種委婉的強(qiáng)調(diào)。另譯為耶穌）嚇跑，但我覺得大嘴巴先生確實(shí)是不見了，不知何故被綁在了那座已不復(fù)存在的房子上。?

這條小徑在新葡萄園紀(jì)念公墓結(jié)束。?

我注意到許多墓碑屬于兒童。?

原文：

During my childhood my family was like a drop of water in a vast river, never remaining in one location for long. We settled in Rhode Island when I was eight, and there we remained until I went to college in Colorado Springs. Most of my memories are rooted in Rhode Island, but there are fragments in the attic of my brain which belong to the various homes we had lived in when I was much younger.?

Most of these memories are unclear and pointless– chasing after another boy in the back yard of a house in North Carolina, trying to build a raft to float on the creek behind the apartment we rented in Pennsylvania, and so on. But there is one set of memories which remains as clear as glass, as though they were just made yesterday. I often wonder whether these memories are simply lucid dreams produced by the long sickness I experienced that Spring, but in my heart, I know they are real.?

We were living in a house just outside the bustling metropolis of New Vineyard, Maine, population 643. It was a large structure, especially for a family of three. There were a number of rooms that I didn't see in the five months we resided there. In some ways it was a waste of space, but it was the only house on the market at the time, at least within an hour's commute to my father's place of work.?

The day after my fifth birthday (attended by my parents alone), I came down with a fever. The doctor said I had mononucleosis, which meant no rough play and more fever for at least another three weeks. It was horrible timing to be bed-ridden– we were in the process of packing our things to move to Pennsylvania, and most of my things were already packed away in boxes, leaving my room barren. My mother brought me ginger ale and books several times a day, and these served the function of being my primary from of entertainment for the next few weeks. Boredom always loomed just around the corner, waiting to rear its ugly head and compound my misery.?

I don't exactly recall how I met Mr. Widemouth. I think it was about a week after I was diagnosed with mono. My first memory of the small creature was asking him if he had a name. He told me to call him Mr. Widemouth, because his mouth was large. In fact, everything about him was large in comparison to his body– his head, his eyes, his crooked ears– but his mouth was by far the largest.?

"You look kind of like a Furby," I said as he flipped through one of my books.?

Mr. Widemouth stopped and gave me a puzzled look. "Furby? What's a Furby?" he asked.?

I shrugged. "You know… the toy. The little robot with the big ears. You can pet and feed them, almost like a real pet."?

"Oh." Mr. Widemouth resumed his activity. "You don't need one of those. They aren't the same as having a real friend."?

I remember Mr. Widemouth disappearing every time my mother stopped by to check in on me. "I lay under your bed," he later explained. "I don't want your parents to see me because I'm afraid they won't let us play anymore."?

We didn't do much during those first few days. Mr. Widemouth just looked at my books, fascinated by the stories and pictures they contained. The third or fourth morning after I met him, he greeted me with a large smile on his face. "I have a new game we can play," he said. "We have to wait until after your mother comes to check on you, because she can't see us play it. It's a secret game."?

After my mother delivered more books and soda at the usual time, Mr. Widemouth slipped out from under the bed and tugged my hand. "We have to go the the room at the end of this hallway," he said. I objected at first, as my parents had forbidden me to leave my bed without their permission, but Mr. Widemouth persisted until I gave in.?

The room in question had no furniture or wallpaper. Its only distinguishing feature was a window opposite the doorway. Mr. Widemouth darted across the room and gave the window a firm push, flinging it open. He then beckoned me to look out at the ground below.?

We were on the second story of the house, but it was on a hill, and from this angle the drop was farther than two stories due to the incline. "I like to play pretend up here," Mr. Widemouth explained. "I pretend that there is a big, soft trampoline below this window, and I jump. If you pretend hard enough you bounce back up like a feather. I want you to try."?

I was a five-year-old with a fever, so only a hint of skepticism darted through my thoughts as I looked down and considered the possibility. "It's a long drop," I said.?

"But that's all a part of the fun. It wouldn't be fun if it was only a short drop. If it were that way you may as well just bounce on a real trampoline."?

I toyed with the idea, picturing myself falling through thin air only to bounce back to the window on something unseen by human eyes. But the realist in me prevailed. "Maybe some other time," I said. "I don't know if I have enough imagination. I could get hurt."?

Mr. Widemouth's face contorted into a snarl, but only for a moment. Anger gave way to disappointment. "If you say so," he said. He spent the rest of the day under my bed, quiet as a mouse.?

The following morning Mr. Widemouth arrived holding a small box. "I want to teach you how to juggle," he said. "Here are some things you can use to practice, before I start giving you lessons."?

I looked in the box. It was full of knives. "My parents will kill me!" I shouted, horrified that Mr. Widemouth had brought knives into my room– objects that my parents would never allow me to touch. "I'll be spanked and grounded for a year!"?

Mr. Widemouth frowned. "It's fun to juggle with these. I want you to try it."?

I pushed the box away. "I can't. I'll get in trouble. Knives aren't safe to just throw in the air."?

Mr. Widemouth's frown deepend into a scowl. He took the box of knives and slid under my bed, remaining there the rest of the day. I began to wonder how often he was under me.?

I started having trouble sleeping after that. Mr. Widemouth often woke me up at night, saying he put a real trampoline under the window, a big one, one that I couldn't see in the dark. I always declined and tried to go back to sleep, but Mr. Widemouth persisted. Sometimes he stayed by my side until early in the morning, encouraging me to jump.?

He wasn't so fun to play with anymore.?

My mother came to me one morning and told me I had her permission to walk around outside. She thought the fresh air would be good for me, especially after being confined to my room for so long. Exstatic, I put on my sneakers and trotted out to the back porch, yearning for the feeling of sun on my face.?

Mr. Widemouth was waiting for me. "I have something I want you to see," he said. I must have given him a weird look, because he then said, "It's safe, I promise."?

I followed him to the beginning of a deer trail which ran through the woods behind the house. "This is an important path," he explained. "I've had a lot of friends about your age. When they were ready, I took them down this path, to a special place. You aren't ready yet, but one day, I hope to take you there."?

I returned to the house, wondering what kind of place lay beyond that trail.?

Two weeks after I met Mr. Widemouth, the last load of our things had been packed into a moving truck. I would be in the cab of that truck, sitting next to my father for the long drive to Pennsylvania. I considered telling Mr. Widemouth that I would be leaving, but even at five years old, I was beginning to suspect that perhaps the creature's intentions were not to my benefit, despite what he said otherwise. For this reason, I decided to keep my departure a secret.?

My father and I were in the truck at 4 a.m. He was hoping to make it to Pennyslvania by lunch time tomorrow with the help of an endless supply of coffee and a six-pack of energy drinks. He seemed more like a man who was about to run a marathon rather than one who was about to spend two days sitting still.?

"Early enough for you?" he asked.?

I nodded and placed my head against the window, hoping for some sleep before the sun came up. I felt my father's hand on my shoulder. "This is the last move, son, I promise. I know it's hard for you, as sick as you've been. Once daddy gets promoted we can settle down and you can make friends."?

I opened my eyes as we backed out of the driveway. I saw Mr. Widemouth's silouhette in my bedroom window. He stood motionless until the truck was about to turn onto the main road. He gave a pitiful little wave good-bye, steak knife in hand. I didn't wave back.?

Years later, I returned to New Vineyard. The piece of land our house stood upon was empty except for the foundation, as the house burned down a few years after my family left. Out of curiosity, I followed the deer trail that Mr. Widemouth had shown me. Part of me expected him to jump out from behind a tree and scare the living bejeesus out of me, but I felt that Mr. Widemouth was gone, somehow tied to the house that no longer existed.?

The trail ended at the New Vineyard Memorial Cemetery.?

I noticed that many of the tombstones belonged to children.?

Credited to perfectcircle35.