Chapter 24 Section 18

Amerigo Bonasera lived just a few blocks from his funeral home.So he often went home to eat, and after dinner, he returned to the funeral home to say goodbye with the mourners to the dead who lay in his dark morgue. He had always hated the jokes made about his profession and the details of his technique for plasticizing the dead.None of his own friends, family or neighbors, of course, would make such a joke.For thousands of years, any profession is worthy of respect as long as you work hard and sweat for food. Now Bonasera and his wife were having dinner in their modest home, with gilded statues of the Virgin Mary on the sideboard.And a few flickering candles in red glass cylinders.Bonasera lit a Camel and drank a relaxing American whiskey.His wife brought steaming soup to the table.They were the only old couple in the house now, and he had sent his daughter to her aunt in Boston, to make her forget the terrible brutality and trauma she had suffered at the hands of those two rascals.Those two rascals were punished long ago.

While the old couple were drinking soup, the wife asked her husband, "Are you going to work tonight?" Amerigo Bonasera nodded.The wife respects his work, but doesn't understand his work.She couldn't understand that the skill of his profession was actually the most insignificant.Like most people, she thought he made his money by making the dead look alive in coffins.To be honest, his skills in this area are indeed well-deserved.But a more important, even more necessary, aspect of his profession was the absorbed expression on his vigil.When the family of the deceased received their relatives and friends at night beside the coffin of the deceased, they needed Amerigo Bonasera to accompany them.The reason is that he can accompany the dead seriously.

His countenance had always been dignified, strong, comforting.His voice was steady and deep.His emotions controlled the atmosphere of the entire memorial service.He was able to temper the excessive sadness.When parents are not in the mood to teach children, he can restrain unruly children.He was never overly mournful in his condolences, but he never appeared to be playful either.Once a family had used Amerigo Bonasera's funeral home, it was sure to return to him the next time someone died in the family.As for him, he would never leave that "customer" who spent the last night in the world alone.

He usually takes a nap after dinner, wakes up, washes, shaves, and then rubs a generous amount of talcum powder over his face, trying to cover his freshly shaved but still black beard.He has to rinse his mouth with mouthwash every time, and put on new clothes slowly: a shiny white shirt, a black tie, a freshly ironed black suit, and dark black shoes and socks.However, the overall effect is comforting rather than depressing.In addition, he often dyed his hair black. This flirtatious and frivolous habit was unique among Italian men of his generation.But he didn't dye his hair out of vanity.The reason is simple, his hair is black and white and gray, this color is lively, but a bit out of proportion to his profession.

He finished his soup, and his wife put a small steak in front of him, and some spinach dripping with butter.He didn't eat much. After eating those things, he drank a cup of coffee and smoked a Camel cigarette.As he sipped his coffee, he thought of his poor daughter, who would never be the same again.Her external beauty had been restored, but the terror of a frightened little animal remained in her eyes.This attitude of hers was too much for him to see, so the old couple sent her to Boston to live for a while, and time would heal her wounds.Pain and fear are not as absolute as death, he knows that very well.His profession made him an optimist.

He had just finished his coffee when the phone rang in the living room.When he is at home, his wife will never answer the phone.So he stood up, finished the coffee in his cup, and put out his cigarette.As he walked, he loosened his tie, then started to unbutton his shirt in preparation for his nap.He grabbed the phone and said calmly and politely: "Hey" The voice over the phone was hoarse and nervous. "This is Tom Hagen," the voice said. "I'm calling for Don Corleone. He wants me to call you." Amerigo Bonasera felt the coffee he had just drunk churn in his stomach and felt a little nauseous because he was obliged to serve the old man who had avenged his daughter.It has been more than a year since this incident, and during this period, the awareness in his heart that this kindness must be repaid gradually weakened.At that time, when he saw the bloody faces of those two hooligans, he was very grateful in his heart, and he was willing to go through fire and water for the old man.But time corrodes gratitude much faster than beauty.Bonasera felt paralyzed like a man in doom.He hesitantly replied:

"Yes, I see. I'm listening." He was surprised by Hagen's nonchalance.The staff officer is always polite, although he is not a big Italian, but at this moment he is acting rude. "The old man has done you a favor and you haven't repaid it," said Hagen. "He has no doubts that you are willing to repay the favor, and you will be glad to have the opportunity to repay it. After an hour, there will be no advance , perhaps at a later date, he himself will come to your funeral home and ask for your help. Then you will be there waiting to greet him, without any of your assistants, and send them to their respective homes. If you If there is any objection to this request, tell it now, and I will tell the old man at once, who has many other friends who can help him in this way."

Amerigo Bonasera almost screamed with terror. "Where have you been, how can I refuse the godfather's request? I will do anything he wants me to do, and it is a matter of course. I have never forgotten my favor, and I will go to my funeral home at once. , I'm leaving now." Hagen's voice was softer, but still a little shady. "Thank you," he said. "The old man has never doubted you. The problem is that I am a little worried about you. Just meet his request tonight, and you can come to me whenever you have any difficulties. As long as you meet his request, you will win me friendship."

These few words frightened Amerigo Bonasera even more.He stammered: "Is the old man coming to see me himself tonight?" "Yes," said Hagen. "Then he's healed, he's back to full health, thank God," Bonasera said. His tone of voice made the statement sound like a question. There was a short pause on the phone, and Hagen said very calmly again, "Okay." The phone hangs up. Sweating all over, Bonasera went back to the bedroom, changed his shirt and rinsed his mouth, but he didn't shave or put on a new tie, the same tie he had worn during the day.He called the funeral home and told his assistants to stay in the vestibule with the family.He himself will work in the plastic surgery laboratory.When the assistant raised questions, Bonasera cut him off decisively, telling him to strictly follow orders.

He put on his coat, and his wife was still eating, looking up at him in surprise. "I have some work to do," he said. Seeing his expression, she didn't dare to ask any more questions.Bonaser pulled out the door and walked the few blocks to his funeral home. The undertaker's house stood alone in a large clearing, surrounded by a white picket fence.There is a very narrow driveway from the main street to the back of the house.Only by ambulance and hearse.Bonasera unlocked the gate and opened it wide, then he went to the back of the house and entered through the wide back door.As he walked toward the back of the house, he saw mourners entering the funeral home through the front door to say goodbye to the bodies of relatives and friends.

Many years ago, Bonasera bought the house from a retired undertaker. At that time, there were a dozen steps in the front door, and mourners had to climb a dozen steps to enter the funeral home. I asked a question: the old, the weak, the sick and the disabled among the mourners wanted to see the deceased for the last time, but they couldn't climb up.The original owner used luggage cranes for such mourners.The so-called luggage crane is a small iron platform, which is set next to the house, as high as the ground, and can be raised.This luggage crane was originally designed to transport coffins and corpses: first it lowered to the ground, then went up to the condolence hall.In this way, sick mourners would find themselves climbing up from under the floorboard next to the coffin.After the mourners bid farewell to the dead, the crane took them down again. Amerigo Bonasera thought it was outrageous, as if he was reluctant to spend money.therefore.He remodeled the front yard of the house, removed the steps and replaced it with a gently sloping sidewalk.But the cranes are still there, specially used to transport coffins and corpses.The condolence hall and the reception room in the back half of the house are separated from the front half, and there is a large door in the middle, which is soundproof; the business office, the room where the corpse is embalmed, the coffin warehouse, and the locked storage Chambers of chemicals and hideous cosmetic devices, all in the back half.Bonasera entered the office, sat at the desk, and lit a cigarette.He rarely smoked a cigarette in the house.He was waiting for Don Corleone to arrive. He waited, very depressed.What task he will accept, he knows quite well.In the past year, the Corleone family has been at war with the five major New York families. The specific photos and descriptions have filled the newspapers, and many people on both sides have been massacred.It is certain that this time the Corleone family must have lost a very important person. They want to conceal his body and destroy his body: what better way than burying the body by the funeral home according to the normal procedures? ?Amerigo Bonasera harbored no illusions about the task he had undertaken.He'd be an accessory to the murder, and if the news got out, he'd be in jail for a few years for sure.His daughter, his wife will be ashamed.His name, the revered name of Amerigo Bonasera, would also be drawn into the blood of the gang war. He indulged himself and smoked another cigarette.He also thought of a more dire consequence: that other gangster families would murder him if they found out that he was helping the Corleone family.Thinking of this, he regretted going to the godfather and begging him to avenge himself.He regretted letting his wife befriend Don Corleone's wife.He regrets what happened to his daughter, the social atmosphere in the United States, and the prosperity of his business.Thinking about it, he became optimistic again, and everything might be all right.Don Corleone is a smart man, and everything must have been arranged for the sake of confidentiality.He just needs to stay calm.For there was one risk more deadly than any other, and that was, offending the old man. He heard the rustle of car tires on the gravel.His experienced ear told him that a car was coming down the narrow drive and parked in the back yard.He opened the back door and let them in.He saw Clemenza come in first, followed by two very frizzy-looking young men.They searched the rooms without greeting Bonasera, and then Clemenza withdrew, leaving the two young men with the undertaker. After a few minutes, Bonasera recognized the car coming down the narrow driveway as a heavy ambulance.Then Clemenza reappeared at the door, followed by two men carrying a stretcher, and Amerigo Bonasera's premonition came true.On the stretcher was a body wrapped in a gray blanket, with yellowed feet protruding from one end of the stretcher. Clemenza gestured to the stretcher bearers to carry it into the embalming room, and another man walked from the dark courtyard into the brightly lit office.This man was Don Corleone. The old man had grown thinner, and his movements were stiff and unnatural.He was holding his hat in both hands, and the hair on his head was thin and old compared with what Bonasera had seen at her daughter's wedding.But his body still exudes power.He pressed his hat to his chest and said to Bonasera: "Well, old friend, will you do me a favor with this?" Bonasera nodded.The old man followed the stretcher into the embalmed room, Bossera right behind him.The body was placed on a grooved table, and Don Corleone flicked his hat a little before the others backed out:' Bonasera whispered, 'You want What am I doing? " Don Corleone stared at the table. "You love me with all your heart, and right now I want you to do what you've always done, to do everything you can, all your skills for me," he said. "I don't want his mother to see him like this." He went to the table and threw back the blanket.Against all his will, against all his years of training and experience, Amerigo Bonasera could not help uttering an exclamation.Lying on the table was Sonny Corleone, his face mashed with bullets.The left eye was literally soaked in blood, and there was a star-shaped scar on the lens of the eyeball.His nose and left cheekbones were also smashed. For a moment, the old man felt dizzy.He reached out and grabbed Bonasera so he wouldn't faint. "Look how they beat my son," he said.