Born Bad （2）
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.
It was a game, that's all. It was the game we played every afternoon ever since that day one of us invented it. I can't remember who. I think it was me. You had to pick somebody.
You had to think of someone everybody knew. Someone you could imitate and everyone else would have to guess who it was. It started out with famous people: Wonder Woman, the Beatles, Marilyn Monroe... But then somebody thought it'd be better if we changed the game a little, if we pretended we were Mr. Benny, or his wife Blanca, or Ruthie, or anybody we knew.
I don't know why we picked her. Maybe we were bored that day. Maybe we got tired. We liked my aunt. She listened to our stories. She always asked us to come back. Lucy, me, Rachel. I hated to go there alone. The six blocks to the dark apartment, second-floor rear building where sunlight never came, and what did it matter? My aunt was blind by then. She never saw the dirty dishes in the sink. She couldn't see the ceilings dusty with flies, the ugly maroon walls, the bottles and sticky spoons. I can't forget the smell. Like sticky capsules filled with jelly. My aunt, a little oyster, a little piece of meat on an open shell for us to look at. Hello, hello. As if she had fallen into a well.
I took my library books to her house. I read her stories. I liked the book The Water Babies. She liked it too. I never knew how sick she was until that day I tried to show her one of the pictures in the book, a beautiful color picture of the water babies swimming in the sea. I held the book up to her face. I can't see it, she said, I'm blind. And then I was ashamed.
生辰不吉(2)
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。
那是一个游戏。仅此而已。我们每天下午都玩的游戏，自从某天我们中的一个发明了它。我不记得是谁，我想那是我。
你得挑选一个人。你得想出大家都知道的一个人，一个你可以模仿，而别人都能猜出来的人。先是那些名人：神奇女侠 、披头士、玛丽莲?梦露……后来有人认为我们稍稍改变一下，如果我们假装自己是宾尼先生、或者他的妻子布兰卡，或者鹭鸶儿，或者别的我们认识的人，游戏会好玩点。
我不知道我们为什么挑选了她。也许那天我们很无聊。也许我们累了。我们喜欢我们的婶婶。她会听我们讲故事。她经常求我们再来。露西、我和拉切尔。我讨厌一个人去那里。走六个街区才到那昏暗的公寓，阳光从不会照射到的二层楼背面的房子，可那有什么关系？我婶婶那时已经瞎了。她从来看不见水池里的脏碗碟。她看不到落满灰尘和苍蝇的天花板。难看的酱色墙壁，瓶瓶罐罐和黏腻的茶勺。我无法忘记那里的气味。就像黏黏的胶囊注满了冻糊糊。我婶婶，一瓣小牡蛎，一团小肉，躺在打开的壳上，供我们观看。喂，喂。她好像掉在一口深井里。
我把图书馆借的书带到她家里。我给她读故事。我喜欢《水孩子》 这本书。她也喜欢。我从来不知道她病得有多重，直到那天我想要指给她看书里的一幅画，美丽的画，水孩子在大海中游泳。我把书举到她眼前。我看不到。她说。我瞎了。我心里便很愧疚。
