1.The beginning is simple enough: I find myself in the park due to a sudden urge to go to the museum. My restlessness always translates itself into such abruptimpulses. So, I find myself on the steps of the museum at an absurdly early hour. It is closed, of course. Everything is closed at this time of day. I consider my options. I could return to the apartment. Carolina will be there soon enough to make my coffee and breakfast. However, the sky is clear and I decide to walk on. It is spring – and early enough in the day to find some moments of peace before the city’s traffic starts up. I pass a café I’ve never seen before, and decide to check if they are open.
故事的开始很简单：我逛公园时突发奇想要去参观博物馆。我躁动不安的性格总是让我产生这种突发的冲动。于是，我莫名其妙地比博物馆开门时间提前了一个小时就出现在了博物馆门前的台阶上。当然，博物馆还没开门。这个时间什么地方都不会开门。我思考了一下该做出怎么的选择。我可以回到公寓。卡罗琳娜很快就会到那，并为我做好咖啡和早餐。但是，此时天气晴朗，我决定继续走走。正值春天，而且时间尚早，正好可以在城市的交通开始繁忙前享受一下宁静的时刻 。我经过一家之前从没见过的咖啡厅时，决定去看看它是否开门了。
2.I try the door; it opens. I enter, and take a seat. I see a woman standing behind the bar. She wears a white shirt, a long black apron tied tight about her waist. ‘Cafecito, por favor’. When she serves me I notice her hands for the first time, in many more times to come. It becomes a habit. I spend every morning at the café, at the same table, served always by the same woman. She is the only person working there at this hour. I wake myself up every day at five. It becomes automatic, no need for an alarm. I throw on clothes, and head out. I even go to the museum. I stand on the steps, look up at the door – it is always closed of course. I observe the building for a few moments, and walk on.
我试着推了一下门。门开了，我走了进去，找了个位置坐了下来。我看到一个女服务员站在吧台后面。她穿着一件白衬衫，一条长长的黑色围裙紧紧地束在腰上。“来杯咖啡，谢谢”。她给我上咖啡时，我第一次注意到她的手，之后我还会反复地关注这一细节很多次——这已然成为我的习惯。之后，我每天早晨都会来这家咖啡厅，坐在同一张桌子旁，为我服务的也总是同一个女服务员。这个时间，店里只有她一个人上班。我每天早上都准时五点起床。这已经成为我的生物钟，不再需要上闹钟。起床后，我匆匆穿上衣服，便直接出门。我甚至会先去一趟博物馆，站在博物馆门前的台阶上，抬头看一眼博物馆的门——当然，它总是关着的。观察这栋建筑物片刻后，再继续我的散步。
你的爸爸。
3.This first morning I order my coffee in Spanish, and every morning afterwards I do the same. I find myself each day in the café at an hour when no one I know is about. The moment anyone else enters the café, I leave. The rest of my day continues as before. I go home. I shower. I change into something more appropriate. Carolina has my breakfast prepared, as ever.
我来到这家咖啡厅的第一个早晨，点餐时说的是西班牙语，之后的每天早晨我也都用西班牙语点餐。我发现，我每天在这家咖啡厅里度过的一个小时里，都不会遇到熟人。这个时候，如果有任何其他人进到咖啡厅里，我都会起身离开。一天里的其他时间都跟之前一模一样——我回到家，淋浴，再换身更舒服的衣服，然后卡罗琳娜一如既往地为我准备好了早餐。
4.In the past, I was a famous surgeon. I had inherited a good mind, and after some years of training in Oxford, England, I qualified as a surgeon, only to turn my hand to facelifts and other plastic surgery treatments to make women look different than they were supposed to look. I considered myself very clever indeed. The waitress asks me what I do for a living. I laugh. I’m an old man. I’m retired. She persists. She wants to know. This is not a conversation I want to have. I enjoy being a stranger. I like this woman knowing nothing of my life, or who I am. I would like to keep it that way.
想当年，我是个相当著名的外科医师。我继承了家族的好头脑，并且在英国牛津大学接受了几年的培训后，获得了外科医师资格，具体工作包括整容手术以及让女士们变得面貌一新的其他整形手术。我自认为自己确实是个非常聪明的人。女服务员问我以什么谋生。我笑着告诉他，我是个老人，已经退休了。她坚持想知道我是做什么工作的。我并不想要这样的对话。我很享受做一个陌生人的感觉。我希望这个女人对我的生活以及是谁一无所知。我希望保持这种方式。
5.But it’s the first sign of interest she has shown me, and it would be rude not to respond. It’s hard to explain. I pause before speaking. I can say anything. I can say I was a poet. I was a road sweeper. I was a baker. I was an architect. She’ll never know. So I just tell her I was a surgeon. I am not more specific than that. I think it will end there, our chat, but she assumes I was a general surgeon, and goes on to tell me about the man who saved her brother’s life when she was eight, at the time her father disappeared. Her eyes are warm as she relates this tale, nonetheless. Then suddenly, she shakes my hand, and I’m not surprised to feel the scar tissue on her hands. I noticed it the very first moment I met her.
但这只不过是她表现出对我的兴趣的第一个迹象，不予回应是很不礼貌的。这很难解释，于是我在继续说话之前停顿了一会儿。其实我可以随便回答她。我可以说我是个诗人，或者我是个街道清洁工，或者我是个面包师，或者我是个建筑师。反正她永远也不会知道我说的是真是假。但是，我还是实话实说地告诉她我是一名外科医生。但我并没有说我具体是哪方面的外科医生。我觉得这谈话就到此为止了，但是她以为我是一名普通外科医生，并且继续跟我讲了她弟弟八岁时被一名男外科医生救了一命，还告诉我当时正好她父亲失踪了。尽管如此，当她讲述这个故事时，她的目光里还是充满了温暖。然后，她突然握住我的手，上下摇动了起来，当我感受到她手上的瘢痕组织时，我一点儿没感到惊讶，因为我第一次见到她时就注意到了。

6.‘I’m Beatriz’, she says. After this brief talk, our mornings continue. The days are warm. Then one day, she sits down right across from me. She lights a cigarette. ‘I am tired of these people saying: “This is what I want. This is not what I want. What is this? This is not what I ordered. Get the manager”, all the time! These rich folks– they throw their money at you. They never look you in the eye. They like to assume that you are stupid. Maybe it’s more fun that way.’ She gives me that smile. ‘These people…,’ she says, and sighs. I don’t know how to respond.
“我叫比阿特丽斯。”她说。在一段简短的谈话之后，我们开始各自着手自己早晨的事情。那些日子的天气很温暖。一天，她在我对面坐了下来，点着了一支烟。“我已经厌烦了这些人一直在说：‘我想要这个。这不是我想要的。这是什么？这不是我点的。叫经理来’！这些有钱人——他们会把钱扔给你。他们从不看你的眼睛。他们会假设你是个傻瓜。也许那样会更有趣。”她对我露出了微笑，“这些人呐……”她边说边叹了口气。我不知道该如何回应。
7.My hand is trembling; I spill my coffee. ‘Stupid,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘They have been working hard, these hands. Give them a break,’ she says. She takes my hand between her palms. I feel her scars again. I have been so used to unravelling women all my life, constantly imagining them into something other than they are. The realness of this unmodified woman strikes me like a blow. It feels like the first time I interact with a human being.
我的手在发抖，甚至把我的咖啡都弄洒了。“太笨了，”我说，“非常抱歉。”“这双手一直都在非常努力地工作，让它们也休息一下。’她说。她把我的一只手握在了她的两掌之间。我再次感到她手上的伤疤。我一生都习惯于帮助女人解决问题，不断地将她们想象成比她们现在更美好的样子。这个未做任何改变的女人的真实令我感到震惊。这种感觉就好像我第一次与一个真真正正的人类打交道。
8.The next day, an old customer of mine, a woman called Irene, enters the café. She immediately sits down at my table. She claims she spotted me long ago already, but couldn’t place me in those ‘ghastly clothes’. She says. ‘Look at you! I can’t believe you thought you’d get away with this beggar’s attire of yours!’ Now it’s impossible to pretend that I don’t know her.
第二天，我的一位老顾客，一个名叫艾琳的女人，走进了咖啡厅，随即 坐在了我的桌子旁。她声称她很早以前就认出我了，但因为我总穿着这身“令人反感的”衣服，所以没敢认我。她说：“看看您！我简直不敢相信您会以这身乞丐装束逃离现实！”现在我不可能再假装不认识她了。
9.Beatriz approaches. I try not to say more than I need, although the damage is done. I order two coffees, in Spanish. She walks away. I watch her shoulders become small, like those of a child. I try to resist having a conversation with Irene, but it is impossible to just sit there and say nothing. If Beatriz were hiding in the kitchen, she would hear every word. ‘So, Alfredo Martinez is dead. Such a handsome man once. But he looked awful in his coffin. He’d better seen you before he passed away!’ She said. ‘I’m no longer able, as perhaps you know – my hands…,’ I say. ‘Don’t you try to tell me that they’ve lost their touch! We all know who has the magician’s fingers!’ I cannot help but laugh a bit together with her. She leaves ahead of me, with promises of drinks, very soon.
比阿特丽斯向我们走了过来。尽管损失已经形成，但我还是决定尽量少说两句。我用西班牙语点了两杯咖啡。她走开了。我看着她的肩膀垂了下去，就像一个小孩子一样。我试图抗拒与艾琳进行交谈，但两个人只坐着不说话是不可能的。如果比阿特丽斯躲在厨房里，她就会听到我们说的每个字。“所以，阿尔弗雷多·马丁内斯死了。曾经是个大帅哥。但他躺在棺材里时看起来糟透了。他要是在死之前见见您就好了！”她说。“也许您已经知道了，我再也无法胜任……我的手……”。“我说。“您不是要告诉我您的手失去触觉了吧！我们可都知道谁拥有魔术师一般的手指！”我没忍住，于是跟她一起笑了出来。很快，她就先我一步离开了咖啡厅，承诺下次咖啡她请。
10.I linger on in the café, not sure what it is that I am waiting for. Beatriz has left the bill on the table. There is no further need for her to appear. I know she will not. I leave the precise amount on the bill, no more, no less, in small change. I walk out of the door, without looking back. I feel a strong sense of melancholy, as I realize that I really do belong to the group of ‘these people’ Beatriz loathes so much, and Irene belongs to as well. I always have.
我逗留在咖啡厅里，不确定我在等什么。比阿特丽斯将帐单留在了我的桌子上。她不需要再出现了。我知道她不会再出现了。我按照账单上的数目留下了餐费，一分不多，一分不少，而且用的都是小面额的零钱。我走出门，没有回头。我内心感到十分忧郁，因为我意识到自己确实属于被比阿特丽斯所讨厌的“这些人”中的一员，艾琳也是。而且，这种感觉始终挥之不去。
11.Pay attention. This is important: She is not beautiful. Her face is not symmetrical. As a rule of thumb beauty requires symmetry, and as with so many people, the two sides of her face don’t match. In fact, there is a kind of heaviness to the right side of her face, as if it were somehow more susceptible – to what . . . gravity, grief? A smoker. Indeed, we have smoked together. It is a passion we share. I know that she has smoked for some years, from the traces of lines on her upper lip; again, on the right. She has green eyes; I may not have mentioned. She has dark hair. It is of medium length, and most often tied back. She is moderately tall. Lines are visible on her forehead, revealing that she is in her late thirties. She has a small waist. She has scarred hands.
要注意的重点是：她不漂亮。她的脸不对称。根据经验法则，美丽需要对称，而且像许多人一样，她的脸的两侧并不相称。实际上，她的右脸有那么点儿沉重，似乎更容易受到影响——什么影响呢……重力、悲伤？她是个烟民。确实，我们一起吸过烟。这是我们共享的一种激情。我从她上嘴唇褶皱的纹路，还有她的右脸，得知她已经吸了很多年烟了。她有一双绿色的眼睛——我之前可能没提到。她有一头黑发，长度适中，大多数时候扎在后面。她个头偏高，额头上有明显的抬头纹，表明她已经三十多岁了。她的腰很细。而且，她的两只手都有疤痕。