English Original
Allison and her husband, Clark, who is much older than she, spend an evening carving pumpkins until early the next morning.
Allison struggled away from her white Renault, limping with the weight of the last of the pumpkins. She found Clark in the twilight on the twig-and-leaf-littered porch behind the house. He wore a wool shawl and was moving up and back in a padded glider, pushed by the ball of his slippered foot.
Clark was seventy-eight to Allison's thirty-five. They were both tall with similar facial features. Allison wore a natural-hair wig, a thick blonde hood around her face, and bright-dyed denims.
She put a smaller pumpkin on Clark's lap. "Now, nothing surreal," she told him. "Carve just a regular face. These are for the kids."
In the foyer, Allison found the maid's chore list and went through the mail: a garish coupon packet, a liquor bill, a TV guide, and an unkind, already opened letter from Clark's northern relations calling him an "old fool" and claiming he was "being cruelly deceived." A gift check was enclosed but uncashable, signed "Jesus H. Christ."
Late into the night, they gutted and carved the pumpkins together on the back porch. Clark, a former doctor and Sunday watercolorist, created four expressive, artful faces suited to each pumpkin's shape—two ferocious, one surprised, one serene. Allison's four faces were less deftly drawn, with triangular eyes and noses and simple wedge-shaped mouths.
By one in the morning, they were finished. Clark moved back to the glider, looking out sleepily. Allison cleaned up.
"Your jack-o'-lanterns are much, much better than mine," Clark said.
"Like hell," Allison replied.
"Look at me," Clark said. Allison did, holding a bundle of newspapers reeking sweetly of pumpkin guts.
"Yours are far better," he insisted.
"You're wrong. You'll see when they're lit," she said.
She returned with yellow vigil candles, lit each one, and placed the pumpkins on the railing. They sat together, looking at the orange faces.
"We're exhausted. It's good night time," Allison said. "Don't blow out the candles. I'll put new ones in tomorrow."
That night, in their bedroom, a few weeks earlier than predicted, Allison began to die. "Don't look at me if my wig comes off," she told Clark. "Please."
Her pulse fluttered under his fingers. She raised her knees and kicked away the comforter, murmuring something about the garage being locked.
At the telephone, Clark had a clear view of the porch. He wanted to get drunk with his wife once more. He wanted to tell her that having only a little talent was an awful, plaguing thing; that being only a little special meant you expected too much and liked yourself too little. He wanted to assure her she had missed nothing.
He spoke into the phone. He watched the jack-o'-lanterns. The jack-o'-lanterns watched him.
中文翻译
艾莉森和她的丈夫克拉克——他比她年长许多——花了一整个晚上雕刻南瓜，直到次日凌晨。
艾莉森吃力地离开她的白色雷诺车，因抱着最后一个南瓜的重量而步履蹒跚。她在暮色中发现克拉克在屋后散落着枯枝落叶的门廊上。他披着羊毛披肩，穿着拖鞋的脚掌点地，在一张带软垫的摇椅上前后来回晃动。
克拉克七十八岁，艾莉森三十五岁。两人都很高，面部特征有些相似。艾莉森戴着一顶天然发丝制成的假发，浓密的金发像兜帽一样围住她的脸，穿着颜色鲜艳的牛仔服。
她把一个小一点的南瓜放在克拉克的长腿上。“听着，别弄得太超现实，”她对他说，“就刻一张普通的脸。这些是给孩子们的。”
在门厅里，艾莉森看到了女佣划掉事项的杂务清单，并快速浏览了每日邮件：一份花哨的优惠券册、一张詹姆斯敦酒坊的账单、十一月的付费电视节目指南，以及最糟糕也最可笑的一封——来自克拉克北方亲戚的、已经拆开的、极其刻薄的信，信中称他为“老傻瓜”，并说他“被残忍地欺骗了”。随信附有一张给克拉克的礼物支票，但无法兑现，因为签名是“耶稣·H·基督”。
深夜，他们在后门廊的一张旧桌子上一起掏空并雕刻南瓜，底下垫着一张又一张湿透的报纸，用的是削皮刀、勺子和克拉克用来精确塑造牙齿、眼睛和鼻孔的瑞士军刀。克拉克曾是一名医生，内科医师，同时也是个业余水彩画家。他的四个南瓜表情丰富，富有艺术感，雕刻的特征与南瓜的大小形状相得益彰——两个看起来凶猛嶙峋，一个显得惊讶，最后一个安详而容光焕发。艾莉森的四个脸孔则画得没那么灵巧，带有裂口和扭曲的区域。她用三角形做鼻子和眼睛，嘴巴只是简单的楔形——两个嘴角上扬，两个嘴角下垂。
凌晨一点，他们完成了。克拉克之前一直弯着长长的躯干工作，此刻挪回摇椅，睡眼惺忪地望着空无一物的远方。峡谷对面的灯火都已熄灭。
克拉克留在了门廊。就这个季节和时辰而言，弗吉尼亚的夜晚很温暖。大部分叶子已被吹走，树木静静地矗立着。一轮圆月悬在他们上方。
艾莉森清理着狼藉。
“你的南瓜灯比我的好太多，太多了，”克拉克对她说。
“才怪，”艾莉森说。
“看着我，”克拉克说。艾莉森照做了，手里正抱着一沓湿软、散发着南瓜瓤甜腻气味的报纸。
“你的好得多，”他说。
“你错了。等点着了你就知道了，”艾莉森说。
她走进屋里，拿着黄色的长明蜡烛回来。她花了一会儿功夫安放好每支蜡烛，然后将成品在门廊栏杆上一字排开。她依次点燃每支蜡烛，并把南瓜盖子盖在小火苗上。
“看到了吗？”她说。
他们一起坐了片刻，看着那些橙色的面孔。
“我们累坏了。该说晚安了，”艾莉森说。“别吹灭蜡烛。我明天换新的。”
那天夜里，在他们的卧室里，比预料的早了几周，艾莉森开始走向死亡。“如果我的假发掉了，别看我，”她告诉克拉克。“求你了。”
她的脉搏在他的指尖下颤动。她抬起膝盖，踢开羽绒被。她对克拉克说了些关于车库锁没锁的话。
在电话旁，克拉克可以清晰地看到后面和下面的门廊。他想再和妻子醉一次。他想告诉她，以他更广阔的视角来看，只拥有一点点天赋，像他那样，是件可怕而折磨人的事；只比别人特别一点点，意味着大多数时候你期望过高，而喜欢自己太少。他想向她保证，她什么都没有错过。
他此刻正对着电话说话。他注视着那些南瓜灯。南瓜灯也注视着他。