The station on Crow Hill has four instruments, one radio, and a kitchen the size of a cupboard. Tariq likes the instruments best. Every morning he climbs the metal steps to the roof. He reads the wind gauge and writes the numbers in a blue notebook.
乌鸦山上的气象站有四台仪器、一台无线电，还有一间只有橱柜那么大的厨房。塔里克最喜欢那些仪器。每天早晨，他都爬上金属台阶来到屋顶，读风速计，把数字写在一本蓝色的笔记本里。
He is seventeen, and he has volunteered here for three months. The work is quiet, and he likes it that way. Nobody asks him questions, and nobody expects him to be funny.
他十七岁，在这里当了三个月志愿者。这份工作很安静，他也喜欢这样。没人向他提问，也没人指望他说笑话。
The only other volunteer is Esteban, who comes up from the village every Tuesday and Thursday. Esteban is tall and a little clumsy. He checks the cloud camera, fixes whatever is broken, and hums while he works. Tariq has noticed the humming. He has noticed a lot of things about Esteban, and he tries not to think about them.
另一位志愿者是埃斯特班，他每周二和周四从村里上来。埃斯特班个子高高的，有点笨手笨脚。他检查云层摄像机，修理坏掉的东西，干活时哼着歌。塔里克注意到了那哼唱声。他注意到埃斯特班身上的许多事，并努力不去想它们。
On Thursday, Tariq comes down from the roof and finds a pot on the kitchen table. It is a dented green pot with a tin lid that does not fit. The lid sits crooked on top, and a thin line of steam escapes from one side. Beside it lies a note on yellow paper.
星期四，塔里克从屋顶下来，发现厨房桌子上放着一口锅。那是一口凹凹凸凸的绿色锅，配着一个不合适的铁皮盖。盖子歪歪地扣在上面，一缕细细的蒸汽从一侧逸出。旁边放着一张黄纸条。
The note says, "For the one who reads the dials at six. Be careful, it is hot."
纸条上写着：“给六点钟读仪表的那个人。小心，烫。”
Tariq reads it twice. He reads the dials at six. Everyone on the hill knows that, because it is his job. But Tariq also knows that the visiting scientist sometimes reads the dials at six when she stays overnight. And he thinks she is staying tonight.
塔里克读了两遍。六点钟读仪表的人是他。山上人人都知道这一点，因为这是他的工作。可塔里克也知道，来访的科学家留宿时，有时也会在六点钟读仪表。而他觉得她今晚就留宿。
"Of course," he says to the empty kitchen. "Of course it is for her."
“当然了，”他对着空荡荡的厨房说，“当然是给她的。”
He feels something heavy settle in his chest. Esteban has cooked a meal for the scientist. It makes sense. She is clever and kind. She has been to places Tariq has only seen on maps. Tariq is just a boy with a notebook.
他觉得胸口有什么沉重的东西落了下来。埃斯特班为科学家做了一顿饭。这说得通。她聪明又善良。她去过塔里克只在地图上见过的地方。塔里克不过是个拿着笔记本的男孩。
He puts the lid back on the pot, carefully, and goes to the radio room. He does not want to be in the kitchen when Esteban arrives.
他小心地把盖子盖回锅上，走进了无线电室。他不想在埃斯特班来时待在厨房里。
Esteban arrives at ten, carrying a bag of tools. He goes straight to the kitchen and then stops in the doorway. The pot is still on the table, and the note is still beside it. Nobody has touched them.
埃斯特班十点到了，提着一袋工具。他径直走进厨房，然后在门口停住了。锅还在桌上，纸条还在旁边。没有人碰过它们。
He looks around, puzzled, and then walks to the radio room. "Hey," he says. "Did you see the pot?"
他困惑地四下看看，然后走向无线电室。“嘿，”他说，“你看到那口锅了吗？”
"I saw it," Tariq says without turning around. He keeps his eyes on the radio dial. "It looks great. I am sure she will love it."
“看到了，”塔里克没有回头，说道，眼睛一直盯着无线电的刻度盘，“看着很棒。我肯定她会喜欢的。”
"She?" Esteban asks.
“她？”埃斯特班问。
"The scientist." Tariq finally turns his head. "You left it for her, didn't you? I didn't want to eat it by mistake."
“科学家啊。”塔里克终于转过头。“你是留给她的，对吧？我可不想不小心吃了它。”
Esteban stares at him. For a moment, he looks as if he will laugh. Then he sees Tariq's face and stops. "Wait. You think I cooked for the scientist?"
埃斯特班盯着他。有那么一刻，他看起来像是要笑出来。然后他看到了塔里克的脸，就收住了。“等等。你以为我是为科学家做的饭？”
"The note says the one who reads the dials at six."
“纸条上写的是六点钟读仪表的那个人。”
"Yes," Esteban says. "That is you."
“对，”埃斯特班说，“那就是你。”
"She reads them too, sometimes."
“她有时也读。”
"Not this week, she doesn't. She left on Monday. She sent a message about it." Esteban rubs the back of his neck. "Tariq, I wrote that note for you. I did not use your name because I was nervous. I thought a name looked too serious."
“这个星期她可没读。她星期一就走了。她还发了消息说这件事。”埃斯特班揉了揉后颈。“塔里克，那张纸条是我写给你的。我没写你的名字，是因为我紧张。我觉得写名字显得太正式了。”
Tariq says nothing. The radio hisses softly in the corner.
塔里克什么也没说。无线电在角落里轻轻地嘶嘶作响。
"I do not cook well," Esteban goes on. "I made the stew three times at home. The first time I burned it. The second time I forgot the salt. The third time is in that pot. I borrowed it from my sister, and it came without its own lid. So I took the lid from another pot. That is why it looks so strange."
“我不太会做饭，”埃斯特班接着说，“这锅炖菜我在家做了三次。第一次烧糊了。第二次忘了放盐。第三次就在那口锅里。锅是从我姐姐那儿借的，没带自己的盖子。所以我拿了另一口锅的盖子。这就是它看起来这么奇怪的原因。”
"Oh," Tariq says. It is the only word he can find.
“哦。”塔里克说。这是他唯一能找到的词。
"I wanted to say thank you," Esteban says. "You always explain the instruments to me without making me feel stupid. Nobody else does that. And I thought, maybe, if I cooked something, you would stay for lunch."
“我想说谢谢你，”埃斯特班说，“你总是给我讲解那些仪器，从不让我觉得自己很蠢。别人都不会这样。我想，也许，如果我做点吃的，你会留下来吃午饭。”
Tariq looks at the floor, then at the door, then at Esteban. His heart is beating much faster than the wind gauge ever does. "I thought you liked her," he says at last.
塔里克看看地板，又看看门，再看看埃斯特班。他的心跳得比风速计转得快多了。“我还以为你喜欢她，”他终于说。
"The scientist is very nice," Esteban says. "But I do not hum for her."
“那位科学家人很好，”埃斯特班说，“可我不会为她哼歌。”
Tariq opens his mouth, and nothing comes out. Then he starts to laugh, a real laugh, loud enough to surprise both of them. Esteban laughs too, and the radio crackles as if it wants to join in.
塔里克张开嘴，却什么也说不出来。然后他笑了起来，是真正的大笑，响亮得让两个人都吃了一惊。埃斯特班也笑了，无线电噼啪作响，像是也想加入。
"I am such an idiot," Tariq says.
“我真是个白痴。”塔里克说。
"No. I am. I could have just written your name."
“不，是我。我本来可以直接写你的名字的。”
They walk back to the kitchen together. The stew is still warm, and the steam still escapes from the side of the lid. Tariq lifts it and sniffs. It smells of garlic, tomatoes, and something sweet that he cannot name.
他们一起走回厨房。炖菜还是温的，蒸汽依旧从盖子一侧逸出。塔里克掀开盖子闻了闻。有大蒜、番茄的味道，还有一丝他叫不出名字的甜味。
"What is the sweet thing?" he asks.
“那股甜味是什么？”他问。
"Cinnamon. My mother puts it in everything." Esteban looks worried. "Is it too much?"
“肉桂。我妈妈什么菜里都放。”埃斯特班看上去有些担心。“是不是放多了？”
"I don't know yet." Tariq finds two spoons in the drawer and gives one to Esteban. "We have to taste it to find out."
“我还不知道，”塔里克从抽屉里找出两把勺子，递了一把给埃斯特班。“得尝了才知道。”
They sit on two wobbly stools by the small window. From here, they can see the roof and the wind gauge turning. Below them, a long green slope runs down to the village. The first spoonful is hot, and Tariq burns his tongue a little. He does not say so.
他们坐在小窗边两张摇摇晃晃的凳子上。从这里能看到屋顶和转动的风速计。他们下方，一道长长的绿色山坡一直延伸到村里。第一口很烫，塔里克的舌头被烫了一点。他没有说。
"It is good," he says. "It is really good."
“很好吃，”他说，“真的很好吃。”
"You are only saying that."
“你只是嘴上说说。”
"I am not. I would tell you if it was bad. I tell everyone the truth about numbers." Tariq takes a second spoonful. "It needs a little more salt. But the cinnamon works."
“不是的。要是不好吃，我会告诉你的。关于数字，我对谁都说实话。”塔里克又舀了第二勺。“还要再加一点盐。不过肉桂放得对。”
Esteban lets out a long breath and grins. He looks younger when he grins, and Tariq has to look at his bowl for a moment.
埃斯特班长长地吐出一口气，咧嘴笑了。他笑起来显得更年轻，塔里克不得不低头看了一会儿自己的碗。
They eat in the easy silence of two people who no longer have to pretend. Outside, the wind gauge keeps spinning, and the afternoon readings wait on the roof. Neither of them moves to go up.
他们在两个人不必再假装的轻松沉默中吃着。外面，风速计一直在转，下午的读数在屋顶上等着。两个人谁也没有动身上去。
When the bowls are empty, Tariq picks up the green pot to wash it. The tin lid slides sideways and clatters onto the table. He puts it back on top, and it sits crooked again, just like before.
碗空了以后，塔里克拿起绿锅去洗。铁皮盖子滑向一边，哐啷一声掉在桌上。他把它放回去，它又歪歪地扣着，和之前一模一样。
"It is a terrible lid," Esteban says.
“这盖子真糟糕。”埃斯特班说。
"It is the worst lid I have ever seen." Tariq turns it around, trying to make it fit. It will not fit, however he turns it. He sets it down gently and looks up.
“这是我见过最糟糕的盖子。”塔里克把它转了个方向，想让它合上。不管怎么转，它都合不上。他轻轻放下，抬起头来。
"Do you think," he asks, "that the two of us fit any better?"
“你觉得，”他问，“我们俩会合适一点吗？”
