不在記憶里的那個(gè)人

In Memory

“Did you know a boy named Max Hendrickson？”

Good question. Did I？ Hendrickson？ From where？ Sunnyvale， you say. The name sure sounds familiar. Maybe Kaylee Hendrickson？ Oh， that was his sister？ Well， then there you go. Wait， what do you mean “was”？

What？ Hit by the Caltrain[加州火車]？ How old was he？ I don’t understand. How？ When？ You mean last Saturday， like three days ago？ How did you find out？

And I’m running into the basement， pulling out boxes and loose papers[活頁紙]， rifling[快速搜尋] through certificates[證書] of academic achievements[學(xué)術(shù)成就] and old Scantron注1 tests to find the 2011 yearbook. If he was a year younger than I am， then the year we moved from Sunnyvale， Max would have been…

Yes， sixth grade， third page in， wedged[擠進(jìn)] in between Hammond and Herrera. A little boy looking out at me from a page full of faces. When this picture was taken， he had just four years left. Did he know？ I search the brown curls lazily looping[（使）成環(huán)] over his forehead， the mischievous[惡作劇的] spark in his brown eyes， the peaceful smile resting calmly on his face. He doesn’t look like someone who knew. He looks like a sixth grader， like a kid. He looks like a little brother and a son. He looks like a friend. So this was Max Hendrickson.

Google scrolls[滾動(dòng)] out a long list of results， the first headline catching my eye. “Teen fatally[致命地] struck by Caltrain in Sunnyvale identified[鑒定].” It’s about Max， but it’s not. There’s no way Max was just this， just another teen struck by Caltrain， just a mystery boy until someone got him identified. He must have been so much more.

So I go to his Instagram， and I watch the pictures flip through， of him and his girlfriend. His status reads，“Isabelle is my forever.” I guess she really was…I click on a shot of him with his bike， flipping off[朝……豎中指] the camera. My mouse jerks[猛拉] to the right， and now I’m staring at a gorgeous[美麗動(dòng)人的] photo of him and the girl who must be Isabelle， kissing in front of a San Francisco landmark. On the right， friends leave their condolences[吊唁].

I click on the first guy’s name， wondering if I will recognize any of Max’s friends. The desperation[絕望] builds， to know this boy， to connect the name to more than a face. He’s gone now. Did I ever have the chance to meet him？ I’m looking for a memory. I don’t know the friend’s name， but I catch sight of the picture above his status post. It’s Max. Just like the one over the next guy’s status. And the next.

I search through the pictures， the comments[評論]， the friends. Everyone is remembering Max Hendrickson. They’re all talking， endless words peppered[使布滿] with “I miss you” and “I didn’t want to believe.” Every comment another mark of “RIP注2”. There’s a hashtag[標(biāo)簽] already， and they’re asking each other to call， to text， “if you need anything.” It’s almost an open invitation， extended[發(fā)出（邀請、歡迎等）] to everyone…except me.

Because I’m sitting here racking my brains， flipping through every memory of the sixth grade class， wondering if I ever saw him. Did I bump into him in the halls， sit next to him at lunch， sing happy birthday to him when the whole cafeteria erupted in“Happy birthday， dear Max” because no one except a few close friends actually knew who had started singing and for whom？

Maybe. But probably not. So I’m sitting here， heart breaking， tears spilling out， and I’m coming to terms with[屈服，接受] the fact that in all probability[很可能]…I didn’t know Max Hendrickson. Not Max the little brother， not Max the boyfriend， not Max the friend， not even Max the “BMX注3 rider，” as he called himself. So why do I feel like I’ve been hit just as hard？

I scroll further down， and my eyes rest on a quote he reposted[轉(zhuǎn)發(fā)] a few months ago， scanning the words over and over. “Don’t count the days，” Max said. “Make the days count.” And I want to know： did you， Max？

I don’t know.

But I want to. I will. Because Max is gone， but as I go through the pictures a second time， I look at how many people are still here. Isabelle， his friends， the classmates， the family. And me. And maybe I’m not the only one who heard and said， “Who was he？” Doesn’t he deserve to be remembered？

Yes.

So I’m going to remember you， Max. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know me. I don’t care. I’m going to remember you. When I’m walking down the hall at school， C+ paper in my hand， wondering why I bother. When my little sister runs out the front door and screams my name because I just got back from school， and my heart just totally overflows[溢出]. When I’m with my own little brother， and my own best friend， and one day， maybe with my own son. I never want to forget how short it is. I never want to miss another moment， to lose out on[輸?shù)?，失去] one more second to spend in this beautiful life.

So RIP. And I miss you. And ditto[同上地] to everything else your friends have posted. But more than that. Thank you. I’m not letting any more time pass me by. One day， when all is said and done注4， I hope to have the privilege[特權(quán)] of meeting you for real， in a better place. I’d like to thank you then for reminding me now to live.

“你認(rèn)識(shí)一個(gè)叫馬克斯·亨德里克森的男生嗎？”

問得好。我認(rèn)識(shí)他嗎？亨德里克森？哪里人？（美國加州）森尼維爾市，你說。這個(gè)名字聽起來確實(shí)很熟悉。或許是凱莉·亨德里克森？哦，那曾是他的姐姐？好吧，那就是這樣了。等等，“曾是”是什么意思？

什么？被火車撞了？他多大了？我不明白。怎么發(fā)生的？什么時(shí)候？你是說上周六，也就是三天前？你是如何得知這個(gè)消息的？

我跑到地下室，拿出箱子和活頁紙，翻查著學(xué)業(yè)成就證書和陳舊的答題卡測試卷，尋找2011年年鑒。假設(shè)他比我小一歲，那么我們搬離森尼維爾市的那一年，馬克斯應(yīng)該就在……

沒錯(cuò)，六年級，在第三頁，擠在哈蒙德和赫雷拉中間，一個(gè)小男孩從鋪滿頭像的頁面中看著我。照這張照片的時(shí)候，他只剩下四年的生命。那時(shí)他知道這件事嗎？我仔細(xì)探究他：棕色卷發(fā)懶洋洋地環(huán)繞著前額，褐色的眼睛閃爍著惡作劇的光芒，平和的笑容從容不迫地停駐在他的臉上。他看起來不像當(dāng)時(shí)就知道這事。他看起來像是一個(gè)六年級生，像一個(gè)孩子。他看起來像是一個(gè)弟弟和一個(gè)兒子，像是一個(gè)朋友。那么這就是馬克斯·亨德里克森。

谷歌滾動(dòng)出一份長長的搜索清單，第一則頭條新聞抓住了我的眼睛—“森尼維爾市被火車撞死的青少年，其身份得到確認(rèn)。”這是關(guān)于馬克斯的新聞，但這不是馬克斯。馬克斯不可能只是這樣，只是又一個(gè)被火車撞死的少年，只是身份未被確認(rèn)之前的一個(gè)神秘男孩。他一定有更多閃光點(diǎn)。

于是我到他的Instagram，瀏覽他和他女朋友的照片。他的狀態(tài)是這樣寫的，“伊莎貝拉是我永遠(yuǎn)的愛?！蔽蚁胨_實(shí)是……我點(diǎn)擊了一張照片，照片里他騎著自行車，對著鏡頭豎中指。我把鼠標(biāo)猛地向右拉，然后盯著一張動(dòng)人的照片看，他和一個(gè)女孩（肯定是伊莎貝拉），在舊金山市的一個(gè)地標(biāo)建筑前親吻。在這張照片的右邊，他的朋友們留下了他們的吊唁。

我點(diǎn)擊第一個(gè)（留言的）家伙的名字，想知道我是否認(rèn)識(shí)馬克斯的任何一個(gè)朋友。我不顧一切地想了解這個(gè)男生，讓那個(gè)人名不止是與一張臉掛鉤。現(xiàn)在他已經(jīng)走了。我是否曾有過與他見面的機(jī)會(huì)？我在尋找一份記憶。我不知道那個(gè)朋友的名字，但我看到他的狀態(tài)上面的那張照片。那是馬克斯。就像下一個(gè)家伙的狀態(tài)上方的那張照片一樣。然后是下一個(gè)。

我搜遍了他的照片、評論和好友。大家都記得馬克斯·亨德里克森。他們都在談?wù)撍?，?shù)不清的“我好想你”和“我不想相信”遍布朋友圈。每一個(gè)評論后面都跟著一句“請安息”。已經(jīng)有這樣一個(gè)話題標(biāo)簽了，他們要大家互相打電話、發(fā)信息，“如果你需要幫助的話”。這幾乎是一個(gè)公開邀請，發(fā)給每個(gè)人的邀請—除了我。

因?yàn)榇藭r(shí)我正坐在這里絞盡腦汁，翻閱六年級時(shí)的所有記憶，想知道我是否見過他。我是否曾在過道里偶然碰見過他，吃午餐時(shí)坐在他旁邊？或者是當(dāng)只有幾個(gè)親密好友真的知道他生日并且開始為他唱生日歌的時(shí)候，整個(gè)自助餐廳的人一起大喊“親愛的馬克斯，生日快樂”，而我也為他唱起了生日歌？

也許吧，但很可能沒有。所以我坐在這里，心碎不已，淚如泉涌，我不得不接受這樣一個(gè)事實(shí)：很大可能是……我并不認(rèn)識(shí)馬克斯·亨德里克森。馬克斯不是我的弟弟，不是我的男朋友，也不是我的朋友，甚至不認(rèn)識(shí)自稱“自行車越野賽騎行者”的馬克斯。那我為什么會(huì)有被重重一擊的感覺？

鼠標(biāo)繼續(xù)向下滾動(dòng)，我的眼睛停留在他幾個(gè)月前轉(zhuǎn)發(fā)的一句引言—“不要數(shù)著日子過，”馬克斯說，“要讓每一天都充滿意義”。我一遍又一遍地看著這句話。然后我想知道：馬克斯，你做到了嗎？

我不知道。

但我想這樣過。我會(huì)做到的。雖然馬克斯已經(jīng)走了，但當(dāng)我第二次仔細(xì)查看這些圖片時(shí)，我看到有許多人仍然在這里。伊莎貝拉，他的朋友們，同學(xué)們，家人，還有我。也許我不是唯一一個(gè)聽到消息會(huì)問“他是誰？”的人。難道他不值得被記住嗎？

是的，他值得。

所以我會(huì)記住你的，馬克斯。你不認(rèn)識(shí)我也沒關(guān)系。我會(huì)記住你。當(dāng)我手里拿著一張C+的測試卷走過學(xué)校的過道，想知道為何我會(huì)為此煩惱的時(shí)候；當(dāng)我剛從學(xué)?；貋?，妹妹從前門跑出來，尖聲喊我的名字，讓我的心里愛意滿溢的時(shí)候；當(dāng)我和我的弟弟、我的好友，還有將來有一天，也許是我的兒子在一起的時(shí)候。我永遠(yuǎn)不想忘記這段時(shí)光是多么短暫。我永遠(yuǎn)不想錯(cuò)過每一個(gè)瞬間，錯(cuò)過這美好人生的每一秒鐘。

所以安息吧！我會(huì)想念你，并且重復(fù)你的朋友為你所做的所有事，但又不僅僅是這樣。謝謝你。我不會(huì)再讓時(shí)間從我的指縫中溜走。有一天，當(dāng)一切都結(jié)束的時(shí)候，我希望能有幸和你真的見面，在一個(gè)更美好的地方。到那時(shí)，我想謝謝你提醒我活在當(dāng)下。

注1：Scantron是一個(gè)測試評分系統(tǒng)，我們考試時(shí)用鉛筆涂黑的答題卡就是用這個(gè)系統(tǒng)測試評分的。

注2：RIP=rest in peace，表示“安息”。

注3：BMX=Bicycle Motocross，指“自行車越野賽”。

注4：When all is said and done字面上的意思就是“該說的都說了，該做的都做了”，引申為“歸根結(jié)底，說到底”。