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We pull into the dark gravel signage. It's just a deserted, plain house for plain folks on what is now a major highway. The white paint peels from the siding. I remember pulling into the driveway when I was past curfew, the light in my mother's bedroom flowing, the way I could simultaneously dread and love the thought of slipping through the front door, pouring a glass of water, and crafting an elaborate lie to explain my late arrival.
我把車開進了碎石的車道上。一個被遺棄了的給普通人住的普通房子，現在旁邊的路已經成為主干道。墻板上的白漆已經掉了。我記得有時候回家過了規定的時間，開著車進到屋前車道時，看見我媽臥室里仍然燈光未熄。這時我一面擔驚受怕，一面又感覺興奮刺激，想著如何溜進前門，倒上一杯涼水，再琢磨如何巧妙地編個故事，來解釋這么晚才回家的理由。
Ike is sleepy. He's wearing my rain jacket, though it's barely raining. RVs are pulling into the Walmart parking lot for the night. The smell of wet leaves makes me sick to my stomach with nostalgia. The boxwoods are overgrown and shapeless.
艾克困了。他穿著我的雨衣，雖然基本沒下。房車都停進了沃爾瑪的停車場準備過夜。濕葉子的味道讓我更想家了。黃楊木長得太大，又沒有形狀。
Hold my hand, I say to Ike. Stay close.
拉著我的手，靠近點，我對艾克說。
The screen door is still intact, though the screen itself is punctured and webbed over. I stare into the dirty glass of the front door. I try the knob—locked.
紗門還在，可是已經很破了。我透過前門上那塊臟玻璃往里看。門鎖著。
I break the front door pane with the butt of the knife. I carry in my purse and carefully reach in through the mouth of teeth to turn the door-knob.
我用放在包里的刀的刀柄把前門的玻璃弄碎，然后小心翼翼地把手伸進去從里面把門打開。
This is weird, Ike said. I'm scared.
太奇怪了，我害怕，艾克說。
The damp carpet heaves underneath my feet. The house smells like cave, and yet like home. Windows are cracked; sills are covered in dead wasps and crumpled spiders. There is mold on the drywall and water spots on the ceiling. The stove and toilet have been ripped out. Ike starts to cry.
我腳底下的地毯鼓起來了。房子聞起來像個地窖，但是也像家。玻璃碎了，窗臺上掛滿了黃蜂和皺巴巴的蜘蛛網。石膏板上還有石膏線，房頂上還有水點的痕跡。火爐和坐便器已經掉了。艾克開始哭。
It's okay. I just want to stay here a minute.
別怕，我只是想待一分鐘，我說。
I lead him to the back of the house, down the hallway which still feels more familiar to me than any I know. My bedroom, with its pale pink walls, looks small. Barren.
我帶他走到房子的后面。走廊的味道我仍然感覺最熟悉。我房間粉色的墻已經掉色了，看上去很小，空空蕩蕩。
I'm sad that you lived here, Ike says, still crying.
艾克邊哭邊說，我很難過你以前住在這。
It wasn't that bad, honey, I say. This was a beautiful house.
寶貝，其實沒有那么壞。它曾經很漂亮，我說。
The crown molding my father installed is still up, though one piece is loose and sags. I remember him getting up early so that he could work on it before heading to the factory. It was my mother's birthday present-crown molding or my room.
房頂上爸爸安的裝飾線還在，只不過有一塊已經松了。我記得他早上起得很早，就為了在上班之前弄好。這是媽媽給我的生日禮物，給我房間的裝飾線。
My father died on the steps of the tool manufacturing plant. A heart attack. The doctor said it was a birth defect, that he was born with a weak heart. And now the building is empty, abandoned, as if all his work was for nothing. Mom's grief was as long as a river, endless.
爸爸由于心臟病死在了工廠的臺階上。醫生說爸爸生下來心臟就不好。現在房子空了，被遺棄了，就好像他所有的努力都白費了。媽媽的悲傷像條河，綿延不絕。
I walk back to the kitchen and climb onto the green plastic countertop. Ike watches me, curious and confused. I remove the valances Mom made in the early eighties, dried bugs falling from the folds of the fabric into the sink below.
我走回到廚房，爬到了工作臺上面。艾克好奇又困惑地看著我。我拿掉了媽媽在80年代做的窗簾掛布，掛布上面裹著的已經干掉的死蟲子紛紛落在下面的水池里。
