《美食祈禱和戀愛》Chapter 98 (235):公路之旅
The last day of our road trip, Yudhi and I lounge on a beach someplace for hours, and—as often happens with us—we start talking about New York City again, how great it is, how much we love it. Yudhi misses the city, he says, almost as much as he misses his wife—as if New York is a person, a relative, whom he has lost since he got deported. As we're talking, Yudhi brushes off a nice clean patch of white sand between our towels and draws a map of Manhat-tan. He says, "Let's try to fill in everything we can remember about the city." We use our fin-gertips to draw in all the avenues, the major cross-streets, the mess that Broadway makes as it leans crookedly across the island, the rivers, the Village, Central Park. We choose a thin, pretty seashell to stand for the Empire State Building, and another shell is the Chrysler Build-ing. Out of respect, we take two sticks and put the Twin Towers back at the base of the is-land, back where they belong.
We use this sandy map to show each other our favorite spots in New York. This is where Yudhi bought the sunglasses he's wearing right now; this is where I bought the sandals I'm wearing. This is where I first had dinner with my ex-husband; this is where Yudhi met his wife. This is the best Vietnamese food in the city, this is the best bagel, this is the best noodle shop ("No way, homo—this is the best noodle shop"). I sketch out my old Hell's Kitchen neighborhood and Yudhi says, "I know a good diner up there."
"Tick-Tock, Cheyenne or Starlight?" I ask.
"Tick-Tock, dude."
"Ever try the egg creams at Tick-Tock?"
He moans, "Oh my God, I know . . ."
I feel his longing for New York so deeply that for a moment I mistake it for my own. His homesickness infects me so completely that I forget for an instant that I am actually free to go back to Manhattan someday, though he is not. He fiddles a bit with the two sticks of the Twin Towers, anchors them more solidly in the sand, then looks out at the hushed, blue ocean and says, "I know it's beautiful here . . . but do you think I'll ever see America again?"
What can I tell him?
We slump into silence. Then he pops out of his mouth the yucky Indonesian hard candy he's been sucking on for the last hour and says, "Dude, this candy tastes like ass. Where'd you get it?"
"From your mother, dude," I say. "From your mother." Eat, Pray, Love
公路之旅的最後一天，尤弟和我在某個海灘閒坐數小時之久——正如我們經常做的那樣——又開始談及紐約，它的好，我們對它的愛。尤弟說他想念紐約，幾乎相當於想念他太太——彷彿紐約是一個人，打從被驅逐出境後就失去的一個親人。我們聊天的同時，尤弟在我們的毛巾之間撣開一塊白沙地，畫一張曼哈頓地圖。他說："讓我們填上紐約在自己記憶中的一切吧。"我們用手指尖畫出每一條大道，主要的交叉路段，歪曲的百老匯街，河流，格林威治村，中央公園。我們挑了一個漂亮的薄貝殼代表帝國大廈，另一個貝殼代表克萊斯勒大廈。我們拿了兩根小枝子，把雙子星大樓放回曼哈頓島尖端，以示敬意。
我們用這幅沙子地圖來告知對方紐約最讓自己喜歡的地點。尤弟現在戴的太陽眼鏡是在這兒買的；我現在穿的涼鞋是在這兒買的。這是我和前夫第一次吃晚飯的地方；這是尤弟和他太太認識的地點。這是城裏最好的越南餐館，這是最好的貝果餅店，這是最好的麪館（"沒的事，死玻璃——這裏纔是最好的麪館。"）我畫出自己過去住的"地獄廚房"（Hell"sKitchen）區，尤弟說："我知道那兒有家好餐館！"
"踢踏客（Tick-Tock）、鮮豔（Cheyenne）或星光（Starlight）？"我問。
"踢踏客，好傢伙。"
"有沒有試過蛋蜜乳？"
他悲嘆："喔，天啊，我知道……"
我深深感受到他對紐約的思念，有片刻間使我誤認爲那是自己的思念。他的鄉愁徹底感染了我，使我忽然忘記自己其實在未來哪天能回到曼哈頓去，而他卻不能。他把玩雙子星大樓的兩根枝子，使它們更牢牢固定在沙地上，而後眺望平靜的碧海，說："我知道這兒很美……但你想我能不能再見到美國？
我能說什麼。
我們陷入沉默。然後他吐出含在嘴裏已經一小時的難吃的印尼硬糖，說："好傢伙，這糖的味道噁心透了。你從哪兒拿來的？"
"從你娘那兒，好傢伙，"我說，"從你娘那兒拿來的。"
