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.
故事的開始很簡單：我逛公園時突發奇想要去參觀博物館。我躁動不安的性格總是讓我產生這種突發的沖動。于是，我莫名其妙地比博物館開門時間提前了一個小時就出現在了博物館門前的臺階上。當然，博物館還沒開門。這個時間什么地方都不會開門。我思考了一下該做出怎么的選擇。我可以回到公寓。卡羅琳娜很快就會到那，并為我做好咖啡和早餐。但是，此時天氣晴朗，我決定繼續走走。正值春天，而且時間尚早，正好可以在城市的交通開始繁忙前享受一下寧靜的時刻 。我經過一家之前從沒見過的咖啡廳時，決定去看看它是否開門了。
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.
我試著推了一下門。門開了，我走了進去，找了個位置坐了下來。我看到一個女服務員站在吧臺后面。她穿著一件白襯衫，一條長長的黑色圍裙緊緊地束在腰上。“來杯咖啡，謝謝”。她給我上咖啡時，我第一次注意到她的手，之后我還會反復地關注這一細節很多次——這已然成為我的習慣。之后，我每天早晨都會來這家咖啡廳，坐在同一張桌子旁，為我服務的也總是同一個女服務員。這個時間，店里只有她一個人上班。我每天早上都準時五點起床。這已經成為我的生物鐘，不再需要上鬧鐘。起床后，我匆匆穿上衣服，便直接出門。我甚至會先去一趟博物館，站在博物館門前的臺階上，抬頭看一眼博物館的門——當然，它總是關著的。觀察這棟建筑物片刻后，再繼續我的散步。
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.
我來到這家咖啡廳的第一個早晨，點餐時說的是西班牙語，之后的每天早晨我也都用西班牙語點餐。我發現，我每天在這家咖啡廳里度過的一個小時里，都不會遇到熟人。這個時候，如果有任何其他人進到咖啡廳里，我都會起身離開。一天里的其他時間都跟之前一模一樣——我回到家，淋浴，再換身更舒服的衣服，然后卡羅琳娜一如既往地為我準備好了早餐。
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.
想當年，我是個相當著名的外科醫師。我繼承了家族的好頭腦，并且在英國牛津大學接受了幾年的培訓后，獲得了外科醫師資格，具體工作包括整容手術以及讓女士們變得面貌一新的其他整形手術。我自認為自己確實是個非常聰明的人。女服務員問我以什么謀生。我笑著告訴他，我是個老人，已經退休了。她堅持想知道我是做什么工作的。我并不想要這樣的對話。我很享受做一個陌生人的感覺。我希望這個女人對我的生活以及是誰一無所知。我希望保持這種方式。
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.
但這只不過是她表現出對我的興趣的第一個跡象，不予回應是很不禮貌的。這很難解釋，于是我在繼續說話之前停頓了一會兒。其實我可以隨便回答她。我可以說我是個詩人，或者我是個街道清潔工，或者我是個面包師，或者我是個建筑師。反正她永遠也不會知道我說的是真是假。但是，我還是實話實說地告訴她我是一名外科醫生。但我并沒有說我具體是哪方面的外科醫生。我覺得這談話就到此為止了，但是她以為我是一名普通外科醫生，并且繼續跟我講了她弟弟八歲時被一名男外科醫生救了一命，還告訴我當時正好她父親失蹤了。盡管如此，當她講述這個故事時，她的目光里還是充滿了溫暖。然后，她突然握住我的手，上下搖動了起來，當我感受到她手上的瘢痕組織時，我一點兒沒感到驚訝，因為我第一次見到她時就注意到了。

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.
“我叫比阿特麗斯。”她說。在一段簡短的談話之后，我們開始各自著手自己早晨的事情。那些日子的天氣很溫暖。一天，她在我對面坐了下來，點著了一支煙。“我已經厭煩了這些人一直在說：‘我想要這個。這不是我想要的。這是什么？這不是我點的。叫經理來’！這些有錢人——他們會把錢扔給你。他們從不看你的眼睛。他們會假設你是個傻瓜。也許那樣會更有趣。”她對我露出了微笑，“這些人吶……”她邊說邊嘆了口氣。我不知道該如何回應。
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.
我的手在發抖，甚至把我的咖啡都弄灑了。“太笨了，”我說，“非常抱歉。”“這雙手一直都在非常努力地工作，讓它們也休息一下。’她說。她把我的一只手握在了她的兩掌之間。我再次感到她手上的傷疤。我一生都習慣于幫助女人解決問題，不斷地將她們想象成比她們現在更美好的樣子。這個未做任何改變的女人的真實令我感到震驚。這種感覺就好像我第一次與一個真真正正的人類打交道。
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，我的一位老顧客，一個名叫艾琳的女人，走進了咖啡廳，隨即 坐在了我的桌子旁。她聲稱她很早以前就認出我了，但因為我總穿著這身“令人反感的”衣服，所以沒敢認我。她說：“看看您！我簡直不敢相信您會以這身乞丐裝束逃離現實！”現在我不可能再假裝不認識她了。
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.
比阿特麗斯向我們走了過來。盡管損失已經形成，但我還是決定盡量少說兩句。我用西班牙語點了兩杯咖啡。她走開了。我看著她的肩膀垂了下去，就像一個小孩子一樣。我試圖抗拒與艾琳進行交談，但兩個人只坐著不說話是不可能的。如果比阿特麗斯躲在廚房里，她就會聽到我們說的每個字。“所以，阿爾弗雷多·馬丁內斯死了。曾經是個大帥哥。但他躺在棺材里時看起來糟透了。他要是在死之前見見您就好了！”她說。“也許您已經知道了，我再也無法勝任……我的手……”。“我說。“您不是要告訴我您的手失去觸覺了吧！我們可都知道誰擁有魔術師一般的手指！”我沒忍住，于是跟她一起笑了出來。很快，她就先我一步離開了咖啡廳，承諾下次咖啡她請。
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.
我逗留在咖啡廳里，不確定我在等什么。比阿特麗斯將帳單留在了我的桌子上。她不需要再出現了。我知道她不會再出現了。我按照賬單上的數目留下了餐費，一分不多，一分不少，而且用的都是小面額的零錢。我走出門，沒有回頭。我內心感到十分憂郁，因為我意識到自己確實屬于被比阿特麗斯所討厭的“這些人”中的一員，艾琳也是。而且，這種感覺始終揮之不去。
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.
要注意的重點是：她不漂亮。她的臉不對稱。根據經驗法則，美麗需要對稱，而且像許多人一樣，她的臉的兩側并不相稱。實際上，她的右臉有那么點兒沉重，似乎更容易受到影響——什么影響呢……重力、悲傷？她是個煙民。確實，我們一起吸過煙。這是我們共享的一種激情。我從她上嘴唇褶皺的紋路，還有她的右臉，得知她已經吸了很多年煙了。她有一雙綠色的眼睛——我之前可能沒提到。她有一頭黑發，長度適中，大多數時候扎在后面。她個頭偏高，額頭上有明顯的抬頭紋，表明她已經三十多歲了。她的腰很細。而且，她的兩只手都有疤痕。