我爱妈妈，这是一个秘密

Mary+HK+Choi+辛献云

小时候，我们叛逆，不懂事，不听妈妈的话，绞尽脑汁伤她的心，千方百计和她对着干。渐渐长大，有一天我们猛然发现，自己是如此依赖她，心底是如此爱她。但这份爱，我们却悄悄藏在心里，羞于开口向她表达……

My mom is small—5 ft—and clocks in at just over 100 lbs. Shes always been sporty but since she stopped dyeing her hair she looks her age. I love my mother a not-normal amount. My mom is an excellent mom.

When I was small I thought I was just cooler than my mom because of how foreign she was. She grew up in Korea filled with Koreans， married a Korean and then moved to Hong Kong， China in her mid-30s. I was 11 months and my brother was two years old. In any case， I speak four languages and am a ruthless assimilation1） ninja2）. My mother， on the other hand， speaks English poorly with a screwy Korean British accent. Shes also ridiculously formal， deeply private and not a joiner. She transitions poorly. The move to Hong Kong with two wee3） kids and an absentee partner was rough. My father had elected to set up a shipping company. He was out of Hong Kong for eight months of the year.

When I was five， I compound-fractured4） my arm， pulverising5） my elbow. I was on a play date at my moms friends house and so naturally blamed my mother. I actually remember lying on the floor， howling accusations of neglect at her while she frantically summoned an ambulance that arrived with a squad car and a firetruck in tow. I was already having a tough time adjusting at school， and it looked like I would miss weeks of class.

School was awful. I had to leave during the middle of the day for physical therapy that involved swimming and return to class with inexplicably wet hair. Lunch sucked. My mom would pack the dumbest garbage. She once smeared bits of raw garlic leftover from making kimchi6） onto white sandwich bread. I waited until she got off work that night and yelled at her with rank7） breath.

One lunch， I was dragging myself around the playground when I saw my mom standing by the fence， waving big and calling my name. I wanted so badly to ignore her. She was supposed to be at work and I didnt have physical therapy that day so I was immediately suspicious. As confusing as her presence was， my curiosity did not outweigh my desire to be left alone. Especially by her. I began to back away so she started shouting loud enough to be heard over the playground din. I shuffled8） towards her with every intention to roundhouse9）-bludgeon her with my plastered10） arm. She held out a paper box. It was a McDonalds happy meal： a cheeseburger one， which was my favorite. The offering was so out of character11） that I considered it a bribe. I asked her what was going on. She mentioned something about how she wanted me to have a lunch that I liked.

I then did what any normal kid would do and yelled and yelled about how embarrassing it was to have her at school with me during lunch of all times. She presented me with a sack of cheeseburgers that I could give out to my friends. I refused the damp bag. I made her take the burgers back with her. If I were an actress and had to think of something sad to make me cry in a scene， I would think about this moment. This and the time I was 13 when I kicked my mom across a room and ran away for two days because she tried to ground me. For the record12）： I dont know why people have kids.

The summer before I turned 14， my mom， brother and I moved to Texas， US. While our Green Cards were being approved， my father bought a house in suburban San Antonio despite our extended family living 1，400 miles away in LA. My father split his time between running a business in Asia and visiting us. When I arrived in Texas， it was mid-June and 104 degrees in the shade. I was fresh off a forced breakup with my Hong Kong boyfriend. Between the heat and the heartbreak， the move was not my favorite. Trapped in the suburbs， I began to notice that the mother Id largely ignored was interesting—so long as she was talking about me.

My mom was the only one of us with a drivers licence. Some time in mid-July， I started speaking to her again on car rides and we became friends. She told me stories about how when I was two I would dangle out of my parents window on the 18th floor to play in the tiled13） flower box. She said that when I was four， I stole hundreds of dollars from her and bribed my bus driver to drop me off at the deli14） on my way home so I could buy candy there. Id stuffed the change in my shallow pinafore15） pockets and when my mother frantically berated16） me for stealing the money， I told her I loved money more than I loved her. I found all of this fascinating.

This is going to sound absurd but my first year in Texas was the year that I first cared about being smart. There was something in the complete reboot17） of Texas， the comparative stillness of heavy skies and quiet nights that made me read a lot. I read a new book every other day and aced18） exams.

School was easy for me but those years were tough on my mom. In Hong Kong shed had tons of friends. In Texas she didnt have anyone but me and my brother. Every morning when the bus would come to pick us up while it was still dark out， I could see her slight backlit19） frame outlined in our blinds20） as she watched us drive away. A senior on the bus once asked if my mom knew that we could all totally see her. I told that kid to go fuck himself and to quit looking at my mom. To this day， I still cant watch her watch us leave.

Its a blessing that life is riddled21） with diversions. I work a lot. Ive never had the week between Christmas and New Years off， but these days I dont love money how I used to. My mom though， Im crazy about. I think about her all the time and cant stand it. I have no idea when my perception of my mother became the crush of my life but it has. I dont go home for birthdays or holidays， and on the occasions I do visit， I express my affection in strange ways. I wait for her to fall asleep and peer over her body and imagine what itd be like if she died. I just stand there， hot silent tears coursing down my face. Were not a demonstrative22） family， and such maudlin23）， psycho behavior is fair grounds for riotous24） derision25）. I love my mom and its a secret. I love her so much it kills me， and you bet Id sooner die than tell her. I kinda want her to know though. Maybe someone could tell her for me. Someone who isnt my dad. Because that would be weird.

我的妈妈身材瘦小，身高5英尺，体重刚超过100磅。她一直喜爱体育运动，但自从停止染发，她看起来就和真实年龄差不多了。我爱妈妈，爱得非同一般。我妈妈是个非常优秀的妈妈。

小时候我认为自己比妈妈酷多了，因为妈妈太像个老外了。她在韩国长大，周围都是韩国人，并且嫁给了韩国人，然后在35岁左右时搬到了中国香港。那时我只有11个月大，哥哥才两岁。不管怎么说吧，我会说四种语言，跟一个冷酷的忍者一样，拥有非凡的接受和适应能力。而我妈妈呢，说一口蹩脚的英语，还带着古怪的韩式英国腔。而且，她举止过于拘谨，拘谨到令人发笑的地步，还特别孤僻，不喜欢与人交往。她很难适应新的环境。对于她来说，带着两个年幼的孩子来到香港，丈夫又不在身边，日子真的很难。父亲当时选择去创办航运公司，一年要有八个月不在香港。

五岁的时候，我的胳膊摔成了复合性骨折，肘关节都摔碎了。我当时正在妈妈的朋友家里跟小伙伴玩，因此很自然地把摔伤怪罪到妈妈头上。我还清楚地记得自己当时躺在地板上，嚎叫着责怪她没有照顾好我，她惊慌失措地叫了一辆救护车，随之而来的还有一辆警车，警车后面还跟着一辆消防车。本来我在学校就已经很难跟上课程了，这下看来我要落下好几周的课了。

学校的日子很难熬。我不得不在每天中午离开去做理疗，理疗中有一项是游泳，结果我常常头发湿漉漉地回到教室，叫人觉得莫名其妙。午餐很难吃。妈妈喜欢把一些乱七八糟的垃圾食品拼凑在一起。有一次，她竟然把做泡菜剩下的生蒜涂在了白面包三明治上。那天晚上，我等到她下了班，就带着满嘴的蒜臭冲着她大吼大叫。

有一次午饭时间，我正在操场上拖着不便的身体活动着，突然看到妈妈站在栅栏边，一边大幅度挥着手，一边喊着我的名字。我真想装着看不见她。她本来应该是在上班的，而我那天也没有理疗，所以对她的到来我立刻起了疑心。虽然我很想知道她为什么会来，但我的好奇始终没有战胜我想要安静的愿望，尤其是不想被她打扰的愿望。于是我开始往回走，她便大声喊我，声音大得足以盖过操场上的喧闹声。我拖着脚步向她走去，心里真想抡圆了我那打着石膏的手臂痛打她一顿。她却递过来一个纸盒。纸盒里是麦当劳的快乐儿童餐：里面有一个芝士汉堡，那是我的最爱。这份慷慨太出人意料了，我认定这是对我的贿赂。我问她到底怎么回事。她说了一些类似于她想让我吃一顿我喜欢的午餐之类的话。

接下来，我做了任何一个正常孩子都会做的事：冲着她大喊大叫，说她非要在午饭时来学校找我，令我多么难堪！她递给我一袋芝士汉堡，说是可以送给我的朋友们吃。我拒绝接过那个湿乎乎的袋子。我让她把那些汉堡都拿走。如果我是个演员，要想一件可以让我哭出来的伤心事，我一定会想到这件事。除了这件事，还有另外一件，那就是我13岁时在房间里一脚把她踢翻在地，然后跑出去躲了两天，因为她当时想要对我禁足。我郑重地说一下：我真不知道人们为什么要孩子。

我14岁前的那个夏天，妈妈带着哥哥和我搬到了美国得克萨斯州。在等待绿卡批准的日子里，父亲在得州南部圣安东尼奥市的郊区买了一所房子，但我们的大家庭都住在1400英里之外的洛杉矶市。父亲的时间一半用来经营亚洲的生意，一半用来看望我们。我刚到得州时，正值六月中旬，阴凉之处也有104华氏度。我刚刚被迫和香港的男朋友分了手。酷暑加上心碎，这次搬迁并不合我心意。在困在郊区的那些日子里，我开始注意到，很大程度上被我忽视的妈妈其实还是很有趣的——只要在她谈起我的时候。

在我们几个人中，妈妈是唯一一个有驾照的。在七月中旬，我们开车兜风时我开始跟她聊天，我们成了朋友。她给我讲了以前的故事，说我两岁时会将身子悬荡在我们家位于18楼的窗外，在用砖片围住的花箱里玩；说我四岁时偷了她几百美元，用来贿赂校车司机，以便在回家路上他能让我在熟食店下车，这样我就可以在那儿买糖果吃了。我把零钱放在无袖罩衫的浅浅的口袋里。每当妈妈怒不可遏地斥责我偷钱，我就告诉她我爱钱胜过我爱她。我觉得这些故事真是很有意思。

也许这听起来有点荒唐，但我在得州的第一年是我第一次在乎自己是不是聪明的一年。得州的生活可谓是一个全新的开始，这的确不同寻常，阴沉的天空、安静的夜晚，都有一种相对的宁静，使我有机会阅读了大量的书籍。我每隔一天就读一本新书，结果考试大获全胜。

上学对于我来说不难，但那些年对于妈妈来说特别困难。要是在香港，她会有数不清的朋友。但是在得州，她除了我和哥哥以外一个朋友都没有。每天早上，天还没亮的时候，校车就过来接我们，我总能看到她目送我们乘车远去时投映在家里百叶窗上的瘦小身影。有一次，车上一位高年级学生问我，我妈妈是否知道我们都能完全看到她。我告诉那家伙有多远滚多远，别再看我妈妈。直到今天，我仍然受不了看到她目送我们离开。

生活充满了种种乐趣，这真是一件幸事。我工作很忙。圣诞节和新年之间的那段时间我从来都没有休息过，但现在我已经不再像以前那样爱钱了。不过对于妈妈，我却想得发疯。我不停地思念她，已到无法忍受的地步。我不知道我对妈妈的感觉什么时候变成了生命中的痴迷，但事实就是如此。我并不回家过生日或休假，但在我回家的日子里，我会以一些奇怪的方式表达我的情感。我会等着妈妈入睡，看着她的身体，想象着如果她死去会是什么样子。我就站在那里，热泪无声地从脸上流下。我们不是一个感情外露的家庭，这种情感脆弱的心理行为只会沦为人们哄然嘲笑的对象。我爱我妈妈，这是一个秘密。我是那么深深地爱着她，简直无可救药，但你要知道，我宁愿死也不愿告诉她。当然我还是有点想要她知道的。或许有人可以替我告诉她吧。但那人一定不是我爸爸，因为那样就太古怪了。