Chapter 4 thanks for giving us a ride

Cousin George and I were sitting at a restaurant called Pop's Cafe in a small town near Lake Huron.The room was dimly lit and the lights hadn't been turned on.Still, amid the fly-infested, slightly yellowed cutouts of strawberry sundaes and tomato sandwiches, the notices taped to the mirror were still legible. "Don't ask," George read, "if we knew, we wouldn't be here." And: "If you've got nothing to do, you might as well find some damn place that suits you." George wants everything Read it aloud, whether it's a poster, a bulletin, or an ad for a Burmese shave: "Cathedral Cove, population 1,700, Highway Blues Exit. We love our children."

I wonder whose sense of humor it is to show people this kind of notice.Maybe it was the man behind the cash register, I thought.pop?Biting a match, looking out at the road and nothing else but to see if someone tripped over a crack in the sidewalk or a flat tire.Maybe Pope was just laughing at himself.Sitting rooted behind the cash register, bulky, sarcastic, nonchalant, doesn't look like the kind of thing.It doesn't even have to be that, maybe just a walk back and forth, a drive around, a few places and the place will justify its absurdity.In small towns, you can see people looking out of windows, people sitting on steps, you can see the judgment on their faces.The indifference on their faces is so intense, it's as if they've suffered enough disillusionment, and, secretly contented, maintains their disillusionment.

There's only one waitress here, a dumpy girl.Leaning on the counter, she was picking the nail polish off her fingernails. When the nail polish on her thumb was almost peeled off, she put her thumb on her teeth and grinded it back and forth intently.We asked her name and she ignored us.After about two or three minutes, she put down her finger, looked at her finger, and said, "I want to know too, wait until you find out." "Okay," George replied, "How about I call you Mickey?" "I do not mind." "You remind me of Mickey Rooney," said George. "Hey, where's the whole town? Where's everybody?" Mitch turned away and started drinking his coffee.It looked like she wasn't going to talk to us anymore, so George was a little nervous, like he was being forced to be quiet, to be left alone. "Hey, there are no girls in this town?" He said with a melancholy expression. "There's no girls here, no place to dance, or anything? We don't know anybody here, won't you help us a little?"

"Dance hall down, by the beach. Closed on Labor Day," Mitch said dryly. "There are no other dance halls?" "There's a dance tonight outside the Wilson School," Mitch replied. "Old-fashioned balls? I don't go to old-fashioned balls. Everybody runs over there, the ones that used to be in church basements. Oh yeah, people turn around, I don't like it. Nice church basement." George said with resignation. Anger from the source, "You won't remember, you were too young then." At this point, I had just graduated from high school and George had been working in the men's shoe department at a department store for three years, and that was the difference.We haven't bothered going back to town yet, though.We are together now because we met unexpectedly in a strange place.I have a little money and George has nothing.I have my dad's car, and George's old one is gone, and the next one hasn't come yet, and he's been a little grumpy and unhappy about it.However, he had to reconsider these things that made him unhappy.I could feel that he was creating a good feeling of self-sufficiency, old friend feeling, pretending that I was an old man, a good kid, a real character, and didn't care if there was conflict in such a complicated role.Still, when I look at his gentle, dopey, blond handsomeness, I don't think much of it.He has voluptuous pink lips, and his constant confusion adds lines of wonder and irritation to his forehead.I can imagine what he will be like when he is old.

Before I met him, I drove to the lake to pick up my mom.She attended a one-woman lakeside vacation camp.At camp they drank juice, ate cottage cheese to lose weight, and took early morning swims in the lake.There was evidently a religious purpose of this leave, for there was also a chapel there.My aunt, George's mother, was there too.I got there about an hour later, and so did George.He didn't go to pick up his mother home, but to ask her for money.He didn't have a good relationship with his dad, and he didn't make much money in the men's shoe department, so he was often broke.His mother said she would lend him some money if he would stay the night and go to church with her the next day.George agreed.Then George and I drove off, half a mile along the lake, to this little town.We had never been to this town before.George says there's plenty of bootlegs and lots of girls.

This is a small town without asphalt roads, wide gravel roads, and bare yards.Only hardy and drought-tolerant things, such as the yellow and red dryland nasturtium, and the curly brown-leaved lilac, can emerge from the parched ground.There were vast distances between houses, and each house had its own water pump, shed, and toilet at the back, mostly built of wood and painted green, brown, and yellow.The trees here are all thick willows or poplars, their delicate leaves are covered with dust.There were no trees on either side of the town's main road, just bare patches of tall weeds, dandelions, and thistles.Between the shop buildings is open countryside.The town hall was staggeringly large, with a beautiful clock in the tower, the red brick of which stood out against the faded white wooden walls of the town.The notice next to the gate says that this is the Memorial Hall of the WWI Soldiers.We drank water at the water fountain outside.

We drove on the main road and walked back and forth several times.George said, "What rubbish!" and said, "Hey, look at this! Oh, it's not too good." Everyone on the road was going home for dinner, and the shadow of the store fell on the ground with great momentum, and we So I went into Pop Cafe. "Why, isn't there another restaurant in this town? Have you seen any other restaurant?" said George. "No." I replied. "Other towns I've been to," said George, "had pigs hanging out of the windows, actually hanging from trees. Not here, God! It's too late in the season, I guess."

"Do you want to go to a play?" The door opened.A girl walks in.She went up the steps and sat on a bench.When walking, the skirt swayed back and forth.She had a long sleepy face, breastless, curly hair, and a pale, almost ugly face.However, she has an inexplicable smell all over her body.Sexual aura.George was immediately cheerful, though not very cheerful.He said, "It's okay, that's enough. It's an emergency, it's an emergency." He walked to the other side of the counter, sat down beside her, and started talking.After about five minutes, they walked towards me together, and the girl was drinking a bottle of orange soda.

"It's Adlaide," said George. "Adlaide, Adlaide, sweet Adlaide. I call her Sweet Love, Sweet Love." Adlaide just sucked on her straw and ignored it. "She's not on a date," said George. "You're not on a date, honey, are you?" Edlaide shook his head, his movements were very light. "She wasn't listening to half of what you said to her," said George. "Adlaide, sweet love, do you have any friends? Do you have any young, sweet little girl friends who would go out with lads? You , her, and a man?" "It depends." Adlaide replied, "Where do you want to go?"

"Wherever you say. Drive. Owen Sound maybe." "Do you have a car?" "Yes, yes. We have a car. Come on, you must have a cute little girl that men like." He put his arm around the girl, fingers on her clothes, "Come out, we'll show you the car .” Adlaide said: "A girl I know might be willing to come. The guy she's dating is engaged. His fiancée is coming and staying with him. He lives by the lake, at his parents' house...  " "Oh, well, that's an interesting story," George asked. "What's her name? Come on, let's go get her. You want to sit here drinking soda all night?"

"I'm done," replied Edlaide, "and she may not come out, either. I don't know." "Why didn't she come out? Her mother won't let her go out at night?" "Well, she can do all she likes," said Edlaide, "but a few times she doesn't want to come out. I don't know." We went out and got into the car.George and Edward sat in the back seat.Just a block down the main road from the cafe, the car passed a thin, blond girl in homely clothes.Edward yelled, "Stop! It's her! Lois!" I pulled over and George stuck his head out the window, whistling.Edlaide called her, and the girl walked over calmly without hesitation.When Edlaide explained to her, she smiled, not enthusiastically, but politely.George kept saying, "Come on, get in the car, come on, let's talk when we get in the car." The girl laughed, didn't even look at us, and to my surprise, after a while, she opened the door and got in the car. "I'm fine," she said. "My boyfriend isn't here." "Is that so?" said George.I saw Adlaide give him an unhappy warning look in the rearview mirror.Lois didn't seem to hear him. "Better drive over to my house," she said. "I've just been out for a Coke, so I'm just wearing home clothes. Better stop by my house and I'll change into something else." "Where are we going?" she asked. "Let me see what I want to change." I replied, "Where do you want to go?" "Okay, okay," said George. "First of all, we're going to have a bottle before we decide where to go. Where to buy wine?" Edlaide and Lois both said they knew, and then Lois Ruth said to me, "You can come in and wait for me while I change, if you want." I glanced at the rearview mirror and thought, maybe she and Adelaide had a tacit understanding. Lois's house had an old couch, just off the porch, with some blankets hanging over the arms.She walked ahead of me in the yard.Her long, light hair was tied back at the back of her neck, and the freckles on her skin were like dust all over, but not dark in color.Even her eyes are faintly colored.She was cold, thin, and pale.There was a derisive look to her mouth, and a marked solemnity.I figured she was about my age, maybe a few years older. She opened the front door and said in a clear, yet unnatural tone, "It's a pleasure to introduce you to my family." Linoleum covered the floor of the small front room.Printed paper curtains hung on the windows.A Niagara Falls pattern sits on a sleek lounge chair with a cushion emblazoned with "For Mom."A small black heating stove covered with a gauze cover for summer.In the big vase are paper-folded apple blossoms.A tall, thin woman entered the room, wiped her hands with a towel, and threw the towel on the chair.Her mouth is full of bluish-white ceramic teeth, and a long rope dangles around her neck.Because Lois' announcement was so sudden, so ulteriorly traditional, I had to say hello to her.I wondered if she had misunderstood the meaning of the date and thought George had planned the date for that.I don't think so.I don't think her face looks ignorant.She looked experienced, calm and hostile.Maybe she did it just to taunt me, to turn me into a dating caricature: smirking boy cautiously entering the front hall, waiting to meet the nice girl's family.But a bit off.She didn't even take a good look at me, and promised to go out with me, while deliberately embarrassing me.Why should she bother? Lois' mom sat on the couch with me, and she struck up a conversation, explaining my appointment.I noticed the smell in the house, stale in the small space.Sheets, fried food, detergent, and salves.There was also the smell of dust, although there was not much dust in the house.Lois' mom said, "That's a nice car out there. Yours?" "My dad's car." "Oh, what a lovely car! Your dad has such a nice car. I've always felt like anyone would want a car like that. I don't have time for people who are filled with jealousy. I think it's just cute. I'm sure your mom would Just go out to the store and buy whatever you like. New clothes, new sheets, new pitcher, new pot. What does your dad do? Is he a doctor, a lawyer, or something?" "He's an accountant." "Oh, in the office?" "yes." "My brother, Lois' uncle, is in the London office of the Canadian Pacific Railway. He's pretty high up there, I know." She started telling me how Lois' dad had died in an accident at the factory.I noticed an old lady, maybe a grandma, standing in the doorway.She wasn't thin like the others, but flabby and shapeless like a caved-in pudding.Faint brown spots melted in patches on her face and arms; a tuft of hair grew at the corner of her wet mouth.Some of the smells in the room seemed to come from her.It was a faint smell of decay, like some dark critter had died down the corridor.The smells, the slovenliness, the confiding voices—there was something about this life that I never knew.There's something about these people, I think, that even my mother and George's mother don't know.Even George didn't know anything.But these people are born cunning, sad, and sophisticated. I didn't hear much about Lois' dad, except that his head was chopped off. "It fell, you think, rolled to the ground! The coffin couldn't be opened. It was June and it was too hot. The town was in the garden preparing for the funeral, picking spiraea and clematis in the yard. I think , this incident should be the most serious accident that has ever happened in this town." "Last summer, Lois had a nice boyfriend," she said, "and he used to take her out and sometimes sleepovers when his family wasn't at the vacation home and he didn't want to be alone there. He brings candy for the kids. Even me, he brings presents. That porcelain elephant on the top with flowers in it, he gave it to me. He also fixed the radio for me so I don't ever use it again Sent it to the shop for repairs. Does your family have a vacation home here?" I said no, and Lois came in.She was wearing a chartreuse dress, stiff and shiny like Christmas wrapping paper.She wore high heels, rhinestones, and a generous dose of dark powder to hide her freckles.Her mother was excited. "Do you like the dress?" she said. "She went all the way to London to buy it. Not here!" When we went out, we had to pass the old lady.She looked at us with an expression of sudden recognition.There was an unwavering look in her pale gel eyes.She opened her mouth tremblingly, and leaned her face towards me. "You and my granddaughter, you can do whatever you want, as long as you like it." Her voice was old and strong, the rough voice of a country woman, "but you have to be careful. You know what I mean!" Lois's mother pulled the old lady behind her and laughed, the skin stretched tightly across her forehead as she raised her eyebrows. Grimace, "It's okay, it's just rejuvenation." The smile froze on her face, and the skin was pulled back by the smile.All the time, it seemed, she was listening to the never-ending noise and agitation of her own brain.I followed Lois out and she grabbed my hand. "Lois is a good girl," she said softly. "Be happy, don't make her sad." She winked her eyes quickly, in a strange way.I guess she meant to be flirtatious. "Good night!" Lois walked stiffly ahead of me, her paper-thin dress rustling.I said, "You want to go dancing, or what?" "Not necessarily," she replied, "I don't care." "Oh, you're dressed like this..." "I dress like this on Saturday nights," Lois replied.Her voice drifted toward me, low and sarcastic, and then she smiled.I saw her mother in her, vulgar and hysterical. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed quietly.I knew she was referring to something in the house, and I didn't know how else to react, so I laughed too.So we went back to the car laughing like we were friends.Actually not. We drove out of town to a farmhouse where a woman sold us a whiskey bottle of cloudy home brew, something neither George nor I had ever tasted before.Edlaide said the woman might let us use her front room, but she wouldn't because of Lois.When the woman looked at me quietly from under the men's hat she was wearing, she said to Lois, "I'll take a rest if I change it, huh?" Lois said nothing, with a cold face.Then the woman said that if we were so hard today, her front house wouldn't be a good fit for us, and we'd better go back to the woods.As we walked back to the car on the side road, Adlaide kept saying, "Some people just can't take a joke, can they? Exactly, hard, right..." I handed her the drink, and she Just calm down.I knew George didn't care, because her attention was diverted to this and she wouldn't be thinking about driving to Owen Sound. We parked at the end of the lane and sat in the car drinking.George and Adlaide drank more than either of us.No one spoke, just passed the bottle around.This wine is different from any wine I've ever had before. After drinking it, I feel groggy and feel nothing but nausea.I was a little depressed and thought it was impossible for me to be drunk.Every time Lois passed the bottle back to me, she had to say "thank you", this kind of excessive politeness contained subtle disdain.I put my arm around her, not really wanting to, wondering what the hell was going on.The girl lay in my arms, scornful, submissive, angry, inarticulate, out of reach.I'd rather talk to her than touch her.However, this is not possible.For her, conversation is not a petty thing to touch.At the same time, I also realized that I should go further.It's not stage 1 anymore, it's time to move to stage 2 (because I know the routine of mutual seduction in the car. Each step is done in an orderly manner, not so easy to grasp).I almost wish it was Adelaide with me. "Would you like to go for a walk?" I asked. "That's the only good idea you've come up with all night," George answered me from the backseat. "Don't worry," he said as we got out of the car.He and Adelaide laughed softly: "Don't come back in a hurry." Lois and I walked along the rut of a wagon that bordered the bushes.The moonlight illuminated the fields, and it was cold and windy.Now, I want revenge.So I said softly, "Your mother and I talked a lot." "I can imagine," Lois replied. "She told me about the guy you dated last summer." "this summer." "Last year now. He's engaged, isn't he?" "yes." I don't intend to just let her go. "He likes you," I asked, "right? Does he like you?" "No way. I'd say he liked me." Lois replied.I felt that her tone was deliberately emphatically sarcastic, that she was already drunk. "He liked Mommy and was good to the kids. He didn't like me, though. Liked me?" she countered. "What does that mean?" "Oh, he's dating you..." "He's just in the summer, walking around with me. That's what the men at the lake do. They come, get a girl to dance with, walk around, have a summer. That's what they always do." "How would I know if he likes me or not?" she continued. "He says I'll always be a bitch. You have to be grateful to a man like that, or they'll call you a bitch." I was taken aback when such words came out.I asked, "Do you like him?" "Oh, of course! I should like it. Shouldn't I? I should get on my knees and thank him. That's what my mom does. He gave her a dirty cheap elephant..." "Is he your first?" I asked. "The first stable one. Is that what you mean?" Not that. "How old are you?" She thought for a moment. "I'm almost seventeen. People will believe I'm eighteen, or nineteen. I pretended once before, when I worked in a beer hall." "What grade are you in school?" She looked at me, a little surprised: "You think I still go to school? I stopped two years ago. I work in a glove factory in town." "It must be against the law. You drop out." "Oh, you get a special permit if your daddy dies or something." "What do you do in a glove factory?" I asked. "Oh, I run a machine. Like a sewing machine. I'll be on piecework soon, and earn a little more." "You like this job?" "Oh, I can't say I love work. Work is... you have so many problems," she said. "Do you mind?" "I don't have to answer." Her voice was deflated, flat again, "unless I like it." She lifted the hem of her skirt and wrapped her hands. "The thorns are stuck to my skirt," she said , "This is my best dress. Will it leave marks? Pull it off slowly, won't the silk be broken?" "You shouldn't be wearing this in the first place," I asked. "What are you doing in that?" She shook her skirt, and a thornberry fell. "I don't know," she said, pulling her skirt back.Stiff, shimmering fabrics.She brought a hint of drunk satisfaction: "I want to show you men!" Her words seemed to be a sudden burst of resentment.Drunk, she pressed her thumb to her nose in a gesture of contempt and twirled on her toes.The satisfaction it all brought her was now undeniable.She stood there stupidly, spreading her skirt mockingly: "I have a fake cashmere coat that cost me twelve dollars." She continued, "I bought a fur coat, and the money will be paid until next year Winter. I have a fur coat..." "Nice," I replied. "A fur coat is a cute thing, and I think anyone would want it." She let go of her skirt and slapped my face.I was relieved at once.Throughout, we could feel the antagonism between each other.We stood face to face, both a little drunk.We all try our best to keep our guard up.Either she came over and slapped me again, or I grabbed her and slapped her back.We're going to fight it out and settle the animosity between us.But, the tense moment passed, we let our breath go, and we didn't move in time.The next moment, without bothering to shake off our mutual hatred, without trying to figure out how to get from one stage to the next, we kiss.For me, it was the first kiss like this, without premeditation, without hesitation, without haste, and without the usual ambiguity and accompanying disappointment.She laughed wildly in my arms, and continued the conversation we had just now, as if nothing had happened. "Isn't it funny?" she said. "You know, all winter, all the girls were talking about last summer, and kept saying, and talking, about last summer, those guys. I bet you guys already They have forgotten, probably can't even remember the name..." But, I don't want to say it anymore, I found that she has a new power, a power roughly equivalent to her hostility, which is actually to wrap herself tightly and pretend to be objective and indifferent .After a while, I asked softly, "Where are we going?" She replied, "Across the field, there is a barn." She is familiar with this country.She's been here before. After midnight, we drove back to town.George and Adlaide fell asleep in the backseat.I don't think Lois was asleep, although she kept her eyes closed and said nothing.I've seen "animal sadness" somewhere, and I wanted to tell her that, but then it occurred to me that since she doesn't know Latin, she might think I'm pretentious and domineering.Later, I wish I had said that.She will understand what it means. When it's done, there's the physical lethargy, the chill, the alienation that ensues.After picking off the hay from my body, tidying myself up, after a series of unrelated actions, when I got out of the barn, I found that the moon had set, but the flat stubble field was still there, and the poplars, and the stars.I found myself still the same, shivering from the cold.We have embarked on such a rash journey, and now stand here quietly.When I got back to the car, I found that the two people had fallen asleep sitting in the car with their arms and legs spread out.This is, sad.This is sad. A rash journey.This is true.Because it's the first time, because I'm a little drunk?no.Actually it was because of Lois.Some people can go a short distance in the act of love; others, it can go a long way, and they can make greater compromises, like the mystics.Lois is a love mystic. She is sitting on the car seat at the far end, with a cold expression and disheveled appearance, completely sealing herself off.Everything I want to say to her can only be rattling empty in my mind.See you again next time, nostalgia, love, these words, I can't say a single one.The distance between us makes these words seem so unreal.I thought, before I get to the next tree, I'm going to talk to her.before the next pole.But I finally did not.My car went faster and faster, too fast, and the town was getting closer and closer. The light of the street lamps opened up in the dark tree shadows ahead.There was a commotion in the backseat. "What time is it?" George asked. "Twelve twenty." "Surely we drank all the wine? I don't feel well. Oh, savior, I don't feel well. How do you feel?" "Good." "Okay? Huh? It feels like I finished my homework today, huh? Is that how you feel? Have you slept yet? I have." "I'm not asleep," said Edlaide drowsily. "Where's my belt? George, oh, and where's my other shoe? It's Saturday night, and it's still early." , huh? We can go get something to eat." "I don't want to eat," George replied. "I'm going to bed. I'm going to get up early tomorrow and go to church with my mother." "Yeah, I know." Adlaide said in a distrustful tone, but her sense of humor was not too bad. "Anyway, you can buy me a hamburger." I've been driving near Lois' house.Lois didn't open her eyes until the car stopped. She sat for a while longer, tugging at the skirt with both hands, trying to flatten it.She didn't look at me.I moved over to kiss her, but she seemed to shrink back slightly, which made me feel that my last gesture was still deceitful and artificial after all.She doesn't like it. George asked Adlaide: "Where do you live? Do you live near?" "Nearly, half a block." "Okay. How about you get off here then? We have to go home tonight." He kissed her and both girls got out of the car. I start the car.We start backing up.George was snuggled up in the backseat, going to sleep.Then, we heard a woman's voice behind the car.Loud, rough girl's voice, bleak and uncomfortable: "Thanks for giving us a ride!" Not Adelaide.It's Lois.

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