Chapter 3 third chapter

I spent most of the summer playing with Hannah and taking part in her various projects, which didn't come to fruition, but were a lot of fun.We cycled into town, went out to explore dry ditches, fields and cave entrances, or sat in Hannah's room and listened to "Chorus Beyond."I was a little disappointed that I rarely saw Handy, he was always at work.Or make trouble, was their mother, Miss Beadpipe, sourly. I wonder what trouble he could cause in such a small place like Wycombe?And I gather as much information as I can from Hannah.There seems to be general agreement that Conhandy lives for trouble, and will find it sooner or later.So far, he's just had some obnoxious behavior and innocuous pranks, all of which are forgiven because he didn't mean any harm.Hannah said as if she couldn't breathe that Handy had been with a few girls older than him, and there were occasional rumors that he was flirting with an older woman in the city.

"Has he ever been in love?" I couldn't help asking.Hannah says no, Handy thinks being in love is the last thing he needs.That would interfere with his plans, which he had planned to leave Wellcome when Hannah and her brother were older enough to help their mother. It was really hard to understand how a woman like Miss Zhudi could raise such a rebellious child.She is strict with herself and opposes any form of pleasure. Her angular facial features are like an old-fashioned balance, with equal weights of "docile" and "reserved" on both sides.She was tall and thin and fragile, her wrists were like twigs of poplar trees, vulnerable to a blow.She's also the ultimate proof that "thin people are never good cooks," as she simply opens cans and scavenges vegetable cabinets for leftovers such as shriveled carrots and petrified celery.

After a meal of canned green beans scrambled with leftover sausage from the previous day and frosted toast for dessert at the Kangs, I left and went home as soon as I heard the clang of pans in the kitchen.Oddly, the Kang kids don't seem to notice or care how bad their food is.Whether it’s fluorescent macaroni, jelly that seems to have suspended matter or various fatty cartilages, they can all be swept away within five minutes of being on the table. The Kang family always went out for a dental fest on Saturdays, but not to the local Mexican restaurant or cafeteria.They go to Arvin's butcher's.The butcher Awen always throws the leftovers of meat that cannot be sold that day, such as sausages, tails, ribs, offal, pig ears, etc., into large metal buckets. "Everything is thrown in except the pig's cry," Ah Wen said with a grin.He was a big guy with palms the size of baseball mitts and his face was as red and bright as fresh ham or something.

After collecting the leftovers of the day, Ah Wen will fill the bucket with water and cook everything together.A piece of bread costs only twenty-five cents, and you can choose it.The butcher shops don't waste anything, they pick up cheap leftovers from the poor, grind them up, add light yellow cornmeal, and sell them as dog food. The Kangs were poor, but they were never considered white trash.Miss Beadpipe is dignified and devout, and the status of the whole family is elevated to "poor white people".It feels like there is not much difference between the two, but in Wycombe, many people are still willing to get along with poor white people, and white garbage can only be rejected.

Miss Zhudi worked as a file clerk in the only accounting firm in Wellcome, and her monthly salary was only enough to keep her children from sleeping on the streets, and at most Handy's income was added to supplement the family.I asked Hannah where her dad was, and she said he was in state prison, but she never understood why he was there. The family's difficult past may be the reason why Miss Zhudi attends church so frequently.She goes to church every Sunday morning and Wednesday night, and she always sits in the first three rows, where she feels God the most.And Miss Beadpipe, like most of the inhabitants of Wellcome, judged a man from the point of view of religion.When I said that my mother and I didn't go to church, she looked confused.

"Uh, so what are you guys?" she pressed until I said, I guess I'm a deviant Baptist. This leads to another problem. "A radical or a reformer?" I'm not sure what the difference is, I say maybe radical.Miss Beadpipe frowned, and said if that was the case, maybe we should go to First Baptist Church on Main Street, although as far as she knew, their Sunday service featured a rocking band and a row of choir girls . I later brought up this conversation with Miss Marvin and argued that "deviation" meant that I didn't go to church.Miss Marvin's answer was: In Wellcome, there's no such thing as a deviation, and I should go with her and her gentleman friend Ray Bobby to the non-denominational Christian church on South Street, since they only have guitar players, not Organ player and party outdoors, but their Sunday potlucks are the best in town.

My mother said that it is more suitable for her to maintain a deviated state at present, but she does not object to me going to Sunday worship with Miss Marvin and Mr. Lei.I quickly got into the habit of arriving at Miss Marvin's trailer at eight o'clock sharp on Sunday mornings, having a breakfast of sausage cubes or walnut pancakes, and going to church with Miss Marvin and Mr. Ray. Miss Marvin has no children or grandchildren and has decided to take me under her wing.She found that my only good dress was too short and too small, and she said she would make me a new one.I happily rummaged for an hour among the bargains she kept in the sewing room, and finally settled on a roll of red cloth with tiny yellow and white daisies printed on it.It took Miss Marvin just two hours to sew a sleeveless boat neck dress.I was delighted to see my reflection in the full-length mirror behind her bedroom door when I tried on the dress, which flattered my teenage immature curves and made me look older.

"Oh, Miss Marvin," I said cheerfully, wrapping my arms around her plump figure. "You are the best! Thank you a million times, beyond count." "It's nothing," she said. "I can't take a girl in pants to church can I?" I naively thought that when I brought the dress home, my mother would be happy with the gift too.As a result, the dress ignited her anger instead.She harangued attacks on charity and intrusive neighbors.She was shaking and yelling until my face was in tears and Flyck left the trailer for more beer. I argued that it was a gift and that I didn't have the dress and I was going to keep the dress no matter what she said.But my mother took the dress out of my hands, put it in a garbage bag and left the trailer, full of anger, and went to Miss Marvin's trailer.

I cried until I was exhausted, thinking I would never be able to go to Miss Marvin again, why did I have the most selfish mother in the world, who put her own self-esteem before her daughter's spiritual well-being.Everyone knows girls can't wear trousers to church, which means I'll just keep being a heathen, out of God's favor, and worst of all, I'll never get the best food in town It's dinner. But after Mom went to Miss Marwen, things seemed to have changed.She came back with a relaxed face and a calm voice, and she had my new dress in her hand.Her eyes were red, as if she had just cried.

"Here, Lipper," she said absently, placing the rustling plastic bag in my lap. "You can keep the dress. Put it in the washing machine and add a spoonful of baking soda to get rid of the smoke." "Have you talked to... have you talked to Miss Marwen?" I inquired. "Talk about it. She's a nice person, Lipper." She smirked. "It's colorful, but nice people." "Then can I go to church with her?" Mom grabbed her long blonde hair and tied it behind her neck with a headband.She turned and leaned her back against the edge of the counter, looking at me with concern. "There's no harm anyway."

"Of course not, Mom." I agreed. She spread her arms, and I immediately ran over to cling to her.There is nothing better in the world than being held in your mother's arms.I feel her mouth pressing against my head, and the tugging of her cheek muscles when she smiles. "You have your father's hair," she whispered, brushing my raven-black mess. "I wish I had your hair." My voice was muffled by the softness of her chest.I inhaled deeply her scent, a combination of tea, skin, and some kind of face powder. "Don't think so, Lipper, your hair is beautiful." I leaned against her quietly, hoping that this moment would last forever.She let out a low, happy moan, her chest heaving under my ear, "Baby, I know you don't understand why I'm so mad about a dress. It's just... we don't want people to think you need something and I can't for you." But I really need to, I want to say that, but just nod with my mouth shut. "I thought Miss Marvin gave you the dress because she felt sorry for you," said Mother. "Now I understand it was a gift between friends." "I don't see what a big deal that is," I mutter. Mom pushed me away a little, and looked at me without blinking. "Don't forget, Lipper, that pity and contempt always go together. You must not accept alms or help from others, because that would give others the right to look down on you." "What if I really need help?" She shook her head immediately. "No matter what kind of trouble, you can solve it yourself. Just work hard and use your mind well. You're so smart—" She stopped, holding my face in her hands, my cheeks wrapped in her warm hands . "When you grow up, I want you to be on your own. Because most women aren't like that, and that makes them dependent." "Do you do everything by yourself, mother?" A look of discomfort appeared on her face, and her hands fell from my cheeks.After a long time, she replied in a half-whisper, "I'll try my best." That bitter smile made the skin on my arm tingle. I went for a walk while Mom started preparing dinner.By the time I got to Miss Marwen's trailer, the hot evening sun had drained all my energy. I knocked on the door and heard Miss Marwen call me in.The old air conditioner was racked above the window frame, making a rattling sound, blowing out cold air towards Miss Marvin, who was sitting on the sofa with a cross-stitch drawing frame. "Hello, Miss Marvin." She managed to calm my fiery mother and gave me a new respect for her.I sat next to her, our weight making the sofa cushions creak. The TV was on, and a female announcer with neat short hair was standing in front of a foreign map.I didn't listen very closely, and had no interest in what was going on far from Texas. "...the most violent clashes erupted outside the emir's palace, as the royal guards fought off the invaders until the royal family evacuated...Westerners were eager to leave Kuwait..." My attention was on the ring frame in Miss Marwen's hand.She's embroidering chair cushions that will look like giant tomato slices when finished.Sensing my interest, Miss Marvin asked, "Can you sew, Lipper?" "No, ma'am." "Well, you should learn that sewing is the best way to soothe anxiety." "I'm not anxious," I told her, and she said I would when I was older.She put the thick cloth over my leg and showed how to thread the needle through the little squares.Her veined hand was warm on mine, and she smelled of biscuits and tobacco. "A master cross-stitcher can make the back of a piece as beautiful as the front," says Miss Marvin.We bent over to embroider together, and I managed to get a few stitches in the bright red. "Very good," she complimented me. "Your thread is well pulled, not too tight and not too loose." I continued to embroider.Miss Marvin supervised patiently, and even if I made a few wrong stitches, I didn't make a big fuss.I tried to pull the light green thin line through the small squares that were dyed the corresponding color.Looking closely at the embroidered cloth, those color spots seem to be randomly splashed on the cloth.But when I stepped back and looked at it again, the whole pattern suddenly made sense and formed a complete picture. "Miss Marvin?" I said, sinking back into the corner of the sofa full of springs, wrapping my hands around my knees. "If you're going to put your feet up on the couch, take your shoes off first." "Yes, ma'am. Miss Marwen... What happened when my mother came to see you today?" What I like about Miss Marvin is that she always answers my questions honestly. "Your mother bursts in, breathing fire, very displeased with that dress I made for you. I told her I meant no offense and would love to have it back. Then I poured some iced tea and we chatted, and I immediately found out She wasn't really mad at that dress." "Isn't it?" I asked skeptically. "No, Lipper, she just needs someone who listens. Someone who understands the burden she's carrying." That was the first time I talked about motherhood with another adult. "What burden?" "She's a single mother who has to work, and that's enough." "She's not single, she has flying power." Miss Marwen laughed. "Tell me, what did he do for your mother?" I thought about Flygt's responsibilities, basically buying beer and throwing away empty bottles.Flyk also spent a lot of time cleaning his gun, and sometimes he would shoot flamingos with the rest of the trailer camp.In short, the Flygt is purely decorative in my home. "Not much help," I admit. "If he's so useless, why should we keep him?" "Just like I kept Ray Bobby, sometimes a woman needs a man's company, no matter how useless he may be." I also like Bobby a lot.He was a kindly old man who often smelled of cheap cologne and anti-rust lube.While Bobby doesn't officially live in Marvin's trailer, he does spend most of his time there.They really looked like an old married couple in love. "Do you love Ray Bobby, Miss Marvin?" The question made her laugh. "Sometimes. When he takes me to the buffet, or massages my feet while watching a Sunday night show. I think I love him for at least ten minutes a day." "Only in this way?" "Well, those are precious ten minutes, son." Soon after, my mother kicked Fly away.No one was surprised by this.Although the camp has a very high tolerance for lazy men, Fei Li's incompetence has reached the standard of the major leagues. Everyone knows that with the mother's conditions, he can definitely find someone better. Look at the last straw. when to appear. No one thought it would be a cassowary. The cassowary is not native to Texas, although judging by its numbers (wild plus captive), you'd be right to think it is.In fact, Texas is still considered an important global producer of cassowaries.It all started around 1987 when some farmers introduced the large flightless bird to the United States with the ambition of replacing beef with it.They must have been good talkers, for they convinced almost everyone that before long the populace would be clamoring for cassowary fat, wings, and meat.So cassowary breeders began breeding these turkeys for sale to other people for livestock.There was a time when a pair of breeding birds cost about $3,500. Later, when no one wanted to replace Big McBaugh with big birds, the market price plummeted, and many breeders released these useless chickens into the wild.When Flygt's locomotive incident happened, it was at the height of cassowary mania, and farms full of turkeys could be seen everywhere, and any animal confined must have a few naughty ones in particular, who can always Find a way to escape. As I understand it, Flygt's Cassowary Adventures took place on a certain narrow country road as he was driving home from someone's pigeon rental.Pigeon hunting season in Texas runs from early September to late October.If you don't own land, you can pay someone else for the right to hunt on their land.The best plots are full of sunflowers or corn and have ponds so that pigeons will come flying low. The rent that Fly paid was seventy-five dollars, which was actually paid by his mother, so that he could be away from the trailer for a few days.We hope Felix is ​​lucky enough to hit some pigeons and come back to feed us.It's a pity that although Fei Li can hit every shot when the target is stationary, he can't grasp the essentials of hitting a moving target. Returning home empty-handed, the barrel still hot from all day's shooting, he had to stop his truck when a two-meter-tall blue-necked cassowary blocked the path.Flyck honked his horn and yelled at it again, trying to drive the cassowary away, but it wouldn't budge.That cassowary that was either too fierce or too brainless didn't know how to be afraid. Flygt must have been in an impasse with the cassowary when he suddenly realized that the obstacle in front of him looked like a big chicken with long legs: he must also have thought that the edible part of the turkey was about a thousand times that of the small half of the meat.Even better, the cassowary doesn't stand upright like a flying pigeon. So to salvage his wounded manhood, and the fine aim he'd acquired through hours of shooting garden flamingos, Flyck slung the gun over his shoulder and blasted the cassowary's head off with one shot. He returned home with the huge bird carcass, expecting the cheers of the triumphant heroes. I was reading a book on the patio when I heard the familiar chuffing of the truck and the sound of the engine dying.Going around the trailer, I asked Fly if he had any pigeons.I ended up seeing a huge, dark-feathered corpse in the back of the van, and Flygt's camouflage jacket and jeans were bloodstained, as if he'd just butchered an animal. "Look!" he said to me, grinning, pushing back the brim of his hat. "What's that?" I asked in surprise, and slowly moved closer to see it clearly. He put on a show. "I shot an ostrich." I wrinkled my nose at the tangy sweet smell of fresh blood. "I don't think it's an ostrich, Flyg. I think it's a cassowary." "Almost." Flygt shrugged, and smiled even more smugly when his mother emerged from the trailer. "Hey, baby...see what Daddy brought home." I've never seen my mother's eyes stare so wide. "My God," she said. "Fly, where the hell did you get that cassowary?" "I took a taxi on the road." He replied proudly, taking her surprise as amazement. "I have good food tonight. I heard it tastes like beef." "That's at least fifteen hundred dollars." Mom put her hand over her heart, as if to keep it from jumping out. "It's worthless now." I couldn't help but say. Mom stared at Feili. "You destroyed people's private property." "No one will find out," he said. "Okay, honey, hold the door open, and I'll get him in and pluck." "Don't take it into my trailer, you lunatic! Get it out of here, immediately! Don't get us caught and jailed for it." Flygt was obviously confused, not understanding how his gift could be so disliked.Feeling a storm coming, I retreated behind a corner of the trailer.For the next few minutes, probably half of Lupine Ranch's population could hear Mom yelling that she had had enough, that she couldn't take him another minute. She disappeared into the trailer, rummaged around, and emerged with an armful of jeans, boots, and men's underwear.She tossed them all to the ground. "Take your things and leave immediately!" "You call me crazy?" Felix yelled back. "You're the one insane, woman! Don't throw my things like that—hey, stop!" T-shirts, hunting magazines, Styrofoam beer holders and other unbearable portrayals of Fly's idle life flew out in large numbers.Swearing angrily, Flygt picked everything up off the ground and threw it into his van. In less than ten minutes, Flying Power had already sped away, the tires were spinning, and the gravel was filled with smoke behind.All that was left was the huge cassowary with its head missing and left at our door. Mom took a deep breath, her face flushed. "Useless idiot," she muttered. "Should have gotten rid of him...cassowary, God..." "Mom," I stepped out and stood beside her, "isn't Flygt coming back?" "Yes." Mom emphasized. I stared at the small hill of cassowary carcasses. "What about this?" "I don't know." Mom ran her hands through her messy blond hair. "But we have to destroy the evidence. That bird is someone's fortune, and I don't want to pay for it." "Someone should eat it," I said. Mom shook her head and groaned. "It's not the same as hitting an animal with your car." I thought about it for a while, and suddenly I had an epiphany. "The Kang family." I said. Mom's eyes met mine, and the angry expression gradually gave way to reluctant humor. "You're right. Get Handy." Later, I heard from the Kang family that they had never enjoyed such a feast.And ate it for days.Cassowary steaks, stews, cassowary sandwiches, and chili cassowary.Handy took the turkey to Arvin's, and the butcher, after swearing that he would keep it secret, took pains to separate it into wings, chops, ground meat, and so on. Miss Beadpipe even sent Mum and me a stew with potatoes and hamburger meat.I ate a little and thought it was one of Miss Zhudi's masterpieces.But after eating, the skeptical mother turned blue and ran out of the kitchenette. I heard her throw up in the bathroom. "I'm sorry, Mom," I said anxiously outside the door. "If you don't feel well after eating it, I'll throw it away—" "It's not about the stew," she said weakly.I heard her throwing up and flushing the toilet.Mom turned on the tap and started brushing her teeth. "So what's the matter with you, mother? You don't have gastroenteritis, do you?" "no." "otherwise--" "We'll talk about that later, honey. Now I need a little—" She started another gag, "Privacy." "OK." I suspect that Mum told Miss Marwen long before anyone—including me—knew that she was pregnant.Even though they seemed to be polar opposites, the two became instant friends.To see them together is like a swan and a red-headed woodpecker.But beneath their different exteriors, they all have a certain toughness: they are strong women, willing to fight for their independence no matter the cost. I discovered her secret one evening when my mother was talking in the kitchen with Miss Marvin, who brought the peach pie, which was crisp on the outside and soft on the inside.I sat in front of the TV with the plate and spoon in my lap, and I could vaguely hear them whispering. "... there's no need for him to know..." Mother said to Miss Marwen. "But he should help." "Oh no..." Mom lowered her voice again, and I could only hear fragments. "...Mine, it has nothing to do with him..." "You'll be working hard." "I know, but if things get really rough, someone can help me." I know what they are talking about.In fact, there were many signs, including my mother's frequent nausea and her visit to the doctor twice a week.For a long time, I wanted and longed for a younger brother and sister to love and family members, and finally had the result.I felt a constriction in the back of my throat, like tears were about to flow.I want to jump high and my heart is full of joy. I kept quiet, trying to hear as much as I could, and my strong emotions were somehow picked up by my mother.Her gaze fell on me, she paused her conversation with Miss Marwen, and said nonchalantly, "Lipper, go take a shower." Can't believe my voice is as normal as hers. "I washed it." "Then read a book or something. Go!" "Okay." I reluctantly walked back to the bedroom, my mind full of questions.Someone who can help... an ex-boyfriend?A relative she never mentioned?I know it has something to do with my life before my mother gave birth to me.I swear to myself that when I grow up, I must find out everything about her. I waited impatiently for my mother to break the news, but after six weeks and she hadn't said anything, I decided to ask her directly.We were about to drive to Pee Wee to do some shopping.Mom just recently gave the silver Hi-Mei I've had for as long as I can remember: no potholes, new paint, new brakes, the whole car is as good as new.She also bought me new clothes and added a parasol picnic table on the patio and a brand new TV.She said the company gave her bonuses. That's how we live a lot...sometimes we have pennies and bucks, but then there's a little windfall, like a bonus, a lottery jackpot, or something my mom bequeathed to her from a distant relative.I never dared to ask her where the money came from, but as I got older I noticed they always came after my mother mysteriously disappeared.Every few months, maybe twice a year, she would send me to sleep over at a neighbor's house, and she would leave for a day, sometimes returning the next morning. "Mom," I looked at her delicate but stern profile, "you have a baby, don't you?" When my mother looked at me in surprise, the car slanted slightly.She returned her attention to the circuit and grabbed the steering wheel hard. "God, you almost crashed my car." "Right?" I insisted. She was quiet for a while, and her voice trembled a little when she answered. "Yes, Lipper." "Boy or girl?" "I don't know yet." "Are we going to raise him with Flygt?" "No, Lipper, it's not Flygt's or any man's child. It's both of us." She gave me a quiet look, and I leaned back in my seat. "Lipper..." she struggled to speak. "We both had to make some adjustments and sacrifices. I'm sorry, I didn't plan for that." "I understand, mother." "Really?" Came a chuckle without a smile. "I'm not even sure I understand." "What are we going to call him?" I asked. "I haven't thought of it at all." "We've got to find a baby-naming book." I'm going to see every name.The baby will have a long, terrific-sounding name, perhaps from a Shakespearean character.This name will make everyone notice how special he or she is. "I didn't expect you to be so calm," Mom said. "I'm very happy," I said. "Really happy." "why?" "Because I will no longer be alone." The car pulled into an open space between rows of overheated cars and Mom turned the key in the ignition.I kind of regret answering that because it cast a shadow over her eye.She stretched out her hand slowly and pulled out the front hair for me.I really want to learn how to love petted cats close to her hand.Mom pays great attention to personal space, whether it is her own or someone else's. She doesn't like others to break in at will, and she doesn't touch others easily. "You're not alone," she said. "I know, Mom, but everyone else has brothers and sisters. I always wanted someone to play with and take care of, and I'd be a good babysitter and you wouldn't even have to pay me." She stroked my hair again and we got out of the car.