So Much to Burn烧不完的邮件

My neighbor is burning his mail again. My neighbor is a postman so his mail is not the mail he receives but the mail he delivers， or the mail he should be delivering but instead is burning. We live in a duplex and I can smell the smoke， seeping through the walls. I bake a pie， which is a thing I do when the postman is burning his mail or when I miss Jane. I bake a pie but my apartment does not smell like pie. My apartment smells like burning envel-opes and I am alone. I go next door. I bring the pie—in case you need a break， I tell the postman. He is thinner than last time and I am fatter. The postman says he has no time for breaks. He cannot burn his mail fast enough. Towers of mail are stacked1 on the counters， the coffee table， the mantle2. Coupons are scattered across the floor. The fireplace crackles and churns. The postman sticks in hospital bills， report cards， appeals to alumni to give back. He says the investigators from the post office are closing in. I did not know they existed. I ask the postman if I can help. He says there is a reward for leads on the missing mail. I can turn him in3 if I need the cash. I do， but I won’t. I owe the postman too much. He was the one who let me know Jane was having an affair. She was writing love letters to her pharmacist. On the return address she took his last name as her own. The postman was suspicious. Then there was an accident down at the post office; a machine tore open a letter. This was also suspicious. The postman read the letter， though he did not let me read the letter. He said that would be illegal. I suspect he was shielding me from the particular details. Anyway Jane left and I am alone baking pies and imagining particular details.

我的邻居又在烧他的邮件了。我的邻居是个邮差，所以他的邮件不是他收到的，而是他负责投递的，或者说是他应该投递却被他拿去烧掉的邮件。我们住连栋，我能闻到从墙壁透过来的烟味。我烤了一个派，每当邮差烧邮件或我想念简时我就烤派。虽然我在烤派，可我的公寓闻起来没有派的味道。我的公寓闻起来是信封燃烧的味道，而我一个人住。我走向隔壁。我跟邮差说，我带来了派，也许你需要歇一会儿。他比上次更瘦了，而我更胖了。邮差说他没时间歇，他烧邮件的速度还不够快。邮件在厨房台面上、咖啡桌上、壁炉架上堆积成山，券单散落一地。壁炉噼里啪啦、呼呼作响。邮差把医院账单、成绩单、呼吁校友回馈母校的邮件统统塞进壁炉。他说邮局的调查员快到了。我以前都不知道还有调查员。我问邮差能帮他什么。他说，提供失踪邮件的线索可拿奖励，如果我需要钱，可以去告发他。我确实需要钱，但我不会告发他。我欠这个邮差太多了。当初是他让我知道简有了外遇。那时候她在给她的药剂师写情书。在回信地址上，她把那个人的姓写成自己的姓。邮差起了疑心。然后邮局那边发生了一起意外事件，有台机器撕开了一封信。这件事本身也让人起疑心。邮差读了那封信，但没有让我读。他说那是违法的。我怀疑他是故意不让我看到详尽的细节。总之简离开了我。我现在经常一个人边烤派边想象信里的详尽细节。

Don’t the investigators know whereyou live， I ask the postman.

我问邮差，难道调查员不知道你的住处吗？

They are tracking the missing mail，not me.

他们在追踪丢失的邮件，而不是我。

Don’t they know what mail you deliver？

难道他们不知道你投递的邮件？

They are a little disorganized downat the post office， he says. But soonenough it will lead to me.

邮局那边做事有点没条理，他说，但过不了多久，他们会顺着线索找到我的。

He throws credit card offers into his fireplace. General interest magazines， their subscriber labels melting and dripping. Smoke fumes4 out to the ceiling. I deserve to be caught， he says. I have done awful things.

他把寄来的信用卡丢进壁炉，还有各种大众杂志，里面的订户标签在火中熔化滴落。烟雾升腾到天花板。他说，我活该被抓，我做了糟糕的事情。

I do not see it that way. People are not getting their mail， but this doesn’t seem so bad to me. What do people ever get in the mail but bad news？ Maybe if you are a person who has affairs you might get illicit love letters， but I am not a person who has affairs. I get debt notices and electric bills and Jane’s lingerie catalogues and postcards from her niece. Jane has left but they keep coming. Or： I was getting all those things， before the postman stopped delivering my mail. It is better now， not getting them. He has let me burn a few myself： Jane’s J.Crew catalog， her AAA card.

我不这样看。人们收不到他们的邮件，但我认为这不是什么太坏的事。人们从邮件里读到的除了坏消息还有什么？如果你有了外遇，你可能会收到不正当的情书，但我这个人没有外遇。我收到的是欠账单、电费单、寄给简的内衣产品目录，还有她侄女寄来的明信片。简已经离开了，可这些邮件还不停地寄来。换句话说，我一直在收这些东西，直到邮差不再投递我的邮件。现在收不到这些东西，反倒更好。他让我自己烧掉了几封邮件：简订阅的J.Crew 新品目录，还有她的AAA 信用卡。

Are you sure about no pie？ I ask.It’s rhubarb.

我问，你真的不吃点派吗？大黄馅的。

Smoke curls around towers of packages. The postman creeps5 to the window， unsteadily， like his legs have not been used in some time. His calves used to bulge6. I can tell he has not been eating. He peeks around the curtain.

烟雾围着一大堆一大堆的包裹缭绕。邮差蹑手蹑脚地走到窗边，摇摇晃晃的，好像他的腿已经有段时间没用过了。他的小腿以前是鼓鼓的。我能看出，他最近没吃东西。他在窗帘边往外瞅。

That’s them， he says. They’re herefor me.

是他们，他说，他们是冲我来的。

I take a look. That’s just Ms. Mulvaneywith her dog， I tell the postman.I open the window for ventilation. Youremember. Didn’t she bite you once？

我看了一眼。我告诉邮差，那是马尔瓦尼女士和她的狗。我打开窗户通风。你还记得吧，她不是咬过你一回吗？

Who？ Ms. Mulvaney？

谁？马尔瓦尼女士？

I smile， but I can see he is rememberingthat day when fear and pain buttedup against a duty he still felt.

我笑了，但我能看出，他记起了那天的事。那天，恐惧和疼痛与他内心尚存的责任感同样强烈。

You never know， he says. They will come quietly. The post office doesnot need any more PR problems. Youshould call them while you have thechance. Big money.

谁知道呢，他说，他们可能悄悄地来。邮局不能再出公众形象问题。你应该给他们打电话，你还有机会，一大笔钱。

Probably it is not big money. Butit suits his sense of self to imagine thepunishment of his crimes is worth somuch.