芒果街上的小屋髋骨

髋骨

　　我喜欢咖啡，我喜欢茶。

　　我喜欢男孩呀男孩也喜欢我。

　　是也不是也许是。是也不是也许是……

　　某一天，你醒过来，它们就在那里了。一切就绪，等在那里，像一辆崭新的别克，钥匙插在点火器上。一切就绪带你去哪里呢？

　　拉切尔说，你做饭的时候，它们可以帮你托住孩子，说着便把跳绳晃得更快了。她一点想像力都没有。

　　你需要用它们来跳舞。露西说。

　　如果你没有它们，就会变成男人。蕾妮这么说，她也是这么以为的。她这样是因为她的年龄。

　　是的。没等拉切尔和露西笑话她，我就接着说。她是很笨，可她是我妹妹。

　　最重要的是，髋骨是很科学的。我重复着阿莉西娅告诉过我的话。凭着这两块骨头你可以知道一架骷髅是女人的还是男人的。

　　它们像玫瑰一样绽放，我接着说。显然，我是这里惟一讲话有说服力的人。我有科学的支撑。有一天那两块骨头会张开。像这样张开。有一天你也许会决定要孩子，可是把它们放哪里呢？得有空位置。骨头会给出空位置。

　　不过别要太多的孩子，否则你的后背会张得很宽的。后背就是那么变宽的。拉切尔说。她妈妈宽得像条船。我们都笑起来。

　　我想要说的是，这里谁准备好了呢？你们得知道，长了髋骨之后该怎么对它，照我的样子来做吧，你们得知道怎么用髋骨走路，你们知道的，这样练习——好像你身体的一半想往这边走，另一半却想往那边走。

　　这是在给它唱摇篮曲呢，蕾妮说，是在摇你身体里面的宝宝入睡。接着她就唱开了：海螺房呀铜铃铛，伊薇在那常青藤上晃呀。

　　我想告诉她这是我听到过的最傻的歌，可是我越琢磨它越……

　　你得押韵。露西开始跳起舞来。她有想法，虽然她不知道怎么把她那端的荷兰绳晃得均匀。

　　要正正好才行。我说。不要太快也不要太慢。别太快也别太慢。

　　我们把双圈降到一定的速度，好让刚跳进去的拉切尔先练习几下摇晃的动作。

　　我想像呼哧库哧那样摇。露西说。她真是来劲。

　　我想像希比吉比一样晃，我学她的样儿说。

　　我想做塔希提人。还有默朗格人。还有电。

　　或者震簪！

　　对，震簪。这个好。

　　然后拉切尔先唱了起来：

　　蹦一蹦，跳一跳，

　　屁股摇一摇。

　　水蛇儿扭上来，

　　嘴唇呀被钻开。

　　轮到露西的时候，她等了一分钟，想了想，然后唱道：

　　女招待呀长着肥肥屁股，

　　她用那的士小费付她的房租……

　　她说这城里没人吻她的唇部

　　因为……

　　因为她长得像克里斯托弗·哥伦布！

　　是也不是也许是，是也不是也许是。

　　她唱到“也许是”时跳空了。轮到我之前，我想了一会，然后吸了口气，跳了进去：

　　有的像小鸡嘴儿干瘪瘪，
　　有的像邦迪贴儿湿鼓鼓，
　　只要你一把澡盆儿出，
　　只要我长呀长出屁股来
　　不管不管它是瘪还是鼓。

　　每个人都参加进来了，除了蕾妮，她还在哼着不是女孩，不是男孩，只是一个小宝宝。她就像个小宝宝。当两条绳子的弧度像上下颌一样分得很开时，蕾妮从我眼前跳了进去。绳子啪嗒啪嗒地晃动，妈妈在她第一次圣餐会的时候给她的金耳坠也在晃动。她的颜色就像一块轻油洗衣皂，她就像洗到最后剩下那棕色的一小块，坚硬的小皂骨，我的妹妹。她张开嘴，开始唱道：

　　我妈妈呀你妈妈都在洗衣裳，
　　我妈妈拳头捶在你妈妈鼻子上，
　　流出来的血是呀是什么颜色？

　　不是那首老歌。我说。你得唱你自己的歌。自己编，知道吗？可她没弄明白，或者不想弄明白。很难说到底是哪种原因。绳子摇呀摇呀摇。

　　机车机车第九号，
　　芝城铁路线上跑。
　　如果火车把轨抛，
　　你可会想退了票
　　你可会想把钱要。
　　是也不是也许是，
　　是也不是也许是……

　　我可以看出来露西和拉切尔有点气愤。可她们没说什么，因为她是我妹妹。

　　是也不是也许是。是也不是也许是……

　　蕾妮。我喊她。可她没听到我。她远在好多光年外。她在一个我们再也不属于的世界里。蕾妮。走呀，走呀。

　　Y—E—S，拼好Y—E—S你就走！

　　I like coffee, I like tea.

　　I like the boys and the boys like me.

　　Yes, no, maybe so. Yes, no, maybe so……

　　One day you wake up and they are there. Ready and waiting like a new Buick with the keys in the ignition. Ready to take you where?

　　They're good for holding a baby when you're cooking, Rachel says, turning the jump rope a little quicker. She has no imagination.

　　You hem to dance, says Lucy.

　　If you don't get them you may turn into a man. Nenny says this and she believes it. She is this way because of her age.

　　That's right, I add before Lucy or Rachel make fun of her. She is stupid alright, but she is my sister.

　　But most important, hips are stific, I say repeating what Alicia already told me. It's the bohat let you know which skeleton was a man's when it was a man and which a woman's.

　　They bloom like roses, I tinue because it's obvious I'm the only one who speak with any authority；I have sy side. The bones just one day open. Just like that. One day you might decide to have kids, and then where are you going to put them? Got to have room. Bones got to give.

　　But don't have too many or your behind will spread. That's how it is, says Rachel whose mama is as wide as a boat. And we just laugh.

　　What I'm saying is who here is ready? You gotta be able to know what to do with hips when you get them, I say making it up as I go. You gotta know how to walk with hips, practice you know——like if half of you wao go one way and the other half the other.

　　That's to lullaby it, Nenny says, that's to rock the baby asleep inside you. And then she begins singing seashells, copper bells eevy, ivy, o-ver.

　　I'm about to tell her that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, but the more I think about it……

　　You gotta get the rhythm, and Lucy begins to dance. She has the idea, though she's having trouble keeping her end of the double-dutch steady.

　　It's gotta be just so, I say. Not too fast and not too slow. Not too fast and not too slow.

　　We slow the double circles down to a certain speed so Rachel who has just jumped in practice shaking it.

　　I want to shake like hoochi-coochie, Lucy says. She is crazy.

　　I want to move like heebie-jeebie, I say pig up on the cue.

　　I want to be Tahiti. Or merengue. Or electricity. Or tembleque！

　　Yes, tembleque. That's a good one.

　　And then it's Rachel who starts it：

　　Skip, skip，

　　snake in your hips.

　　Wiggle around

　　and break your lip.

　　Lucy waits a minute before her turn. She is thinking. Then she begins：

　　The waitress with the big fat hips

　　who pays the rent with taxi tips……

　　says nobody in town will kiss her on the lips

　　because……

　　because she looks like Christopher bus！

　　Yes, no, maybe so. Yes, no, maybe so.

　　She misses on maybe so. I take a little while before my turn, take a breath, and dive in：

　　Some are skinny like chi lips.

　　Some are baggy like soggy Band-Aids

　　after you get out of the bathtub.

　　I don't care what kind I get.

　　Just as long as I get hips.

　　Everybody getting into it now except Nenny who is still humming not a girl, not a boy, just a little baby. She's like that.

　　Whewo arcs open wide like jaws Nenny jumps in across from me, the rope tick-tig, the little gold earrings our mama gave her for her First Holy union boung. She is the color of a bar of naphtha laundry soap, she is like the little brown piece left at the end of the wash, the hard little bone, my sister. Her mouth opens. She begins：

　　My mother and your mother were washing clothes.

　　My mother punched your mht in the nose.

　　What color blood came out?

　　Not that old song, I say. You gotta use your own song. Make it up, you know? But she doesn't get it or won't. It's hard to say which. The rope turning, turning, turning.

　　Engine, engine number nine，

　　running down Chicago line.

　　If the train runs off the track

　　do you want your money back?

　　Do you want your MONEY back?

　　Yes, no, maybe so. Yes, no, maybe so……

　　I tell Lud Rachel are disgusted, but they don't say anything because she's my sister.

　　Yes, no, maybe so. Yes no, maybe so...

　　Nenny, I say, but she doesn't hear me. She is too many light-years away. She is in a world we don't belong to any-more. Nenny. Going. Going.

　　Y-E-S spells yes and out you gou!

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