生辰不吉（2）　　

        可我知道她生病了，疾病缠绵不去。她的腿绑束在黄色的床单下面，骨头变得和蠕虫一样软弱。黄色的枕头，黄色的气味，瓶子勺子。她像一个口渴的女人一样向后仰着头。我的婶婶，那个游泳者。

　　很难想象她的腿曾经强健。坚韧的骨，劈波分浪，动作干净爽利，没有像婴儿的腿那样蜷曲皱缩，也没有淹滞在黏浊的黄光灯下。二层楼背面的公寓。光秃的电灯泡。高高的天花板，灯泡一直在燃烧。

　　我不知道是谁来决定谁该遭受厄运。她出生的日子没有不吉利。没有邪恶的诅咒。头一天我想她还在游泳，第二天她就病了。可能是拍下那张灰色照片的那天。也可能是她抱着表弟托奇和宝宝弗兰克的那天。也可能是她指着照相机让小孩们看可他们不看的那一刻。

　　也许天空在她摔倒的那天没有看向人间。也许上帝很忙。也许那天她入水没入好伤了脊椎是真的，也许托奇说的是真的，她从高高的梯凳上重重地摔了下来。

　　我想疾病没有眼睛。它们昏乱的指头会挑到任何人，任何人。比如我的婶婶，那天正好走在街上的婶婶，穿着琼·克劳馥式裙子，戴着缀有黑羽毛的、滑稽的毡帽，一只手里是表弟托奇，一只手里是宝宝弗兰克。

　　有时你会习惯病人，有时你会习惯疾病，如果病得太久，也就习以为常了。她的情况就是这样。或者这就是我们选择她的原因。

　　Her name was Guadalupe and she was pretty like my mother. Dark. Good to look at. In her Joan Crawford dress and swimmer's legs. Aunt Lupe of the photographs.

　　But I knew her sick from the disease that would not go, her legs bunched under the yellow sheets, the bones gone Limp as worms. The yellow pillow, the yello
 
 
w smell, the bottles and spoons. Her head thrown back like a thirsty lady. My aunt, the swimmer.

　　Hard to imagine her legs once strong, the bones hard and parting water, clean sharp strokes, not bent and wrinkled like a baby, not drowning under the sticky yellow light. Second-floor rear apartment. The naked light bulb. The high ceilings. The light bulb always burning.

　　I don't know who decides who deserves to go bad. There was no evil in her birth. No wicked curse. One day I believe she was swimming, and the next day she was sick. It might have been the day that gray photograph was taken. It might have been the day she was holding cousin Totchy and baby Frank. It might have been the moment she pointed to the camera for the kids to look and they

　　wouldn't.

　　Maybe the sky didn't look the day she fell down. Maybe God was busy. It could be true she didn't dive right one day and hurt her spine. Or maybe the story that she fell very hard from a high step stool, like Totchy said, is true.

　　But I think diseases have no eyes. They pick with a dizzy finger anyone, just anyone. Like my aunt who happened to be walking down the street one day in her Joan Crawford dress, in her funny felt hat with the black feather, cousin Totchy in one hand, baby Frank in the other.

　　Sometimes you get used to the sick and sometimes the sickness, if it is there too long, gets to seem normal. This is how it was with her, and maybe this is why we chose her.