Chapter 10 The third thing that ruined my father

I'm here to tell you what ruined my father.The third matter is the mute, the death of the mute.The first was Pearl Harbor.The second was to move to my grandfather's farm near Wenatchee.My father ended up here for the rest of his life, only it might be over before that day comes. My father blamed the mute wife for the mute's death.Later he said it was the fish's fault.In the end he blamed himself—because he had shown the mute the ad in the back of Field and Stream, an ad for live black bass being shipped all over America. Since he got the fish, the mute's behavior became strange.The fish completely changed the character of the mute.That's what my dad said.

I never knew Dumb's real name.Even if anyone knew, I'd never heard of it.He used to be called dumb, and now I only remember him as dumb.He was a short, wrinkled man with a bald head and stubby limbs.If he grinned, which didn't happen very often, his lips would pull back over rotten brown teeth.It gave him a sly look.His slippery eyes stare at your mouth when you speak—and when you stop, they settle on an uncomfortable spot on your body. I don't think he's really deaf.At least not as deaf as he appeared to be.But he really can't talk.I am very sure of that. Deaf or not, the mute has been an ordinary employee at a sawmill since the 1920s.The Falls Lumber Company is located in Yakima, Washington.For all the years I've known him, Dumb has been a cleaner.For so many years, he always wore a felt hat, a khaki work shirt, and a rough jacket over overalls.I never saw him wear anything else.He always carries toilet paper in his coat pocket because one of his jobs is cleaning toilets.You can see how busy the dumb is when you see people on the night shift always put a roll or two of toilet paper in their lunch box after get off work.

Even though he was on the day shift, the mute always carried a flashlight.He also carried wrenches, pliers, a screwdriver, and electrical tape, among other things a factory mechanic would normally carry.They made fun of the mute for it, at his mannerisms and how he always carried all his stuff.Karl?Roy, Ted?Slade and Jonny?Waite was the worst of those who make fun of dumb people.But the mute always endured silently.I think he's used to it. My father never made fun of dumb people.At least I haven't seen one.Dad was a big, crew-shaven guy with thick shoulders, a double chin, and a big belly.Dumb always stared at that belly.He came to the filing room where my dad worked, and he sat on a stool and looked at my dad's belly while he filed a saw with a big emery wheel.

The mute has a house like everyone else. It was a tar-papered house on the river, five or six miles out of town.Half a mile behind the house, at the end of the meadow, there was a large rock pit dug by the State when it paved the road around it.Three rather large holes were dug, and over the years they filled with water.Gradually, the three ponds merged into one. The pond is very deep.It looks very dark. The mute has a wife besides the house.She was a much younger woman who was said to be hanging out with Mexicans.Father said it came from nosy people like Roy and Waite and Slade. She was a short, stocky woman with small twinkling eyes.When I saw her for the first time.I noticed those eyes.That time me and Peter?Jensen rode together, and we stopped in front of the mute's house for water.

When she opened the door, I told her I was Dale?Fraser's son.I said, "He and—" It dawned on me. "I mean, work with your husband. We're riding bikes and want a glass of water." "Wait here," she said. She came back with a tin cup of water in each hand.I drank mine down in one gulp. But she didn't give us any more water.She looked at us without saying a word.As we were getting ready to get in the car, she came to the edge of the front porch. "You guys have a car, maybe someday I'll give you a ride." She grinned.Her teeth are too big for her mouth.

"Let's go," said Peter.off we go. There wasn't much bass fishing in our part of the state.Most of the fish is rainbow trout, some alpine streams have a small amount of char and mar char, and some whitebait in blue and rock lakes.Except for the rainbow trout and salmon that migrate in some running water rivers in late autumn, that's about it.But if you are a fisherman, these are enough to keep you busy.No one fishes for bass.Many people I know have only seen bass in photographs.But my dad saw a lot of bass growing up in Arkansas and Georgia and the dumb was his friend and he had high hopes for the dumb bass.

The day the fish arrived, I went for a swim in the city pool.Since Dad was going to help out the dumb, I remember going out again to get the fish when I got home—three parcel boxes from Baden Rouge, Louisiana. We got in dumb's truck, papa, dumb and me. It turned out that these boxes were actually wooden barrels, and the three wooden barrels were placed in boxes made of pine boards.They stood in the shadows behind the train station, and my dad and the mute had to work together to lift one box onto the train. The mute drove carefully through town, and just as carefully, all the way to his house.He didn't stop when he passed the yard, and drove all the way to the pond.It was nearly dark now, and he left the headlights on, and from under the seat he took a hammer and tire sled, and they dragged the crate to the edge of the pond and began to pry open the first box.

The barrel inside the box was wrapped in burlap, and the lid had holes the size of nickels.They lifted the lid, and the mute shone inside with a flashlight. There appeared to be tens of thousands of finger-length perch swimming in it.It was a strangest sight, all these living things moving there, like a little ocean brought in by the train. The dumb moved the bucket to the water's edge and emptied it into the pond.He shone a light on the pond with his flashlight.But nothing can be seen.You can hear the frogs croaking, but you can hear them anywhere once it gets dark. "Let me get the rest of the boxes," my father said, reaching as if to reach for the hammer hanging from the dumb overalls.but dumb shake

Shaking his head, he shrank back. He opened the other two boxes himself, and in doing so he cut his hand and left dark drops of blood on the wood. Since that night, Dumb has not been the same. Dumb never lets anyone get near there now.He fenced off the pastures, and fenced off the pond with barbed wire.It is said that doing so cost all his savings. Of course, my father hadn't seen him since that time when the mute drove him away.It wasn't that the mute wouldn't let him fish, mind you, those bass were only a tiny bit big.Instead, he didn't even let him take a look. One night two years later, my dad was late from get off work, and I brought him some food and a can of iced tea.I saw him standing there with Mechanic Stud?Glover spoke.He was saying when I came in, "Look at him like that, you'd think the fool married the fish."

"As far as I know," Steed said, "I think he'd better have that fence around his own house." That's when my father saw me, and I saw him give Sid a wink. But a month later my father finally forced the mute to do it.The method used is: he told the dumb that those weak fish must be removed, so as to ensure the growth space of other fish.The mute stood there, pulling his ears and looking at the ground.Dad said, that's it, he'll come over tomorrow and do it because it's a must.The dumb never said yes.He just didn't say no.All he did was tug on his ear again.

When Dad came home that day, I was already ready and waiting for him.I dug out his old bass baits and was trying the triple anchor with my fingers. "Are you ready?" he jumped out of the car and yelled at me. "I'm going to the bathroom and you put your stuff in. If you want to drive, you can drive." I had everything in the backseat and was trying to steer the wheel when he came out with his fishing hat on and eating a piece of cake in both hands. My mother stood at the door and watched.She was a fair woman with blond hair pulled back in a bun and held in a rhinestone barrette.I wondered if she had been hanging around in those happy days, and what the hell she was doing. I let off the handbrake.My mother watched me change gears, and then, still without a smile, she went back into the house. It is a sunny afternoon.We rolled all the windows down to let some air in.We crossed the Moxie Bridge and turned west onto Slater Road.Alfalfa was planted in the fields on either side, and a cornfield beyond. Dad stuck his hand out the window.He let the wind push his hand back.You could tell he was excited. It didn't take long for us to drive to the mute's house.He came out of the house with his hat on.His wife is looking out of the window. "Is your fish pan ready?" Pa yelled at the mute.But the mute just stood there staring at the car. "Hey, dumb!" Dad yelled. "Hey, dumb, where's your fishing rod, dumb?" The mute shook his head back and forth rapidly.He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking at the ground and at us.His tongue hung out on his lower lip, and he began to dig his feet into the mud. I put on the fishing rod, picked up my fishing rod and handed Dad's to him. "Can we go?" Dad said. "Hey dumb, can we go?" The mute took off his hat, and rubbed his head against the wrist of the hand that took it off.He turned abruptly and we followed him across the spongy meadow.Every twenty feet or so, a sandpiper would jump out of the grass in the old ditch. At the end of the meadow, the ground began to slope gradually, becoming dry and stony, with nettle bushes and low oak bushes here and there.We cut to the right, following an old rut through a meadow of waist-high milkweed, the dry pods rattling angrily at the tops of the grass stalks as we pushed our way.Now, over the mute's shoulder I can see the glint on the water, and I hear Pa yell, "Oh, my God, look!" But the mute slowed down, kept raising his hands and turning his hat back and forth on his head, and then he stopped altogether. Dad said, "Hey, what are you thinking, dumb? Is there a better place than here? What do you think we should do?" The mute wet his lower lip. "What's the matter with you, dumb?" said Pa. "This is your pond, isn't it?" The mute looked down and plucked an ant off the overalls. "Well, hell," Dad said, exhaling.He took out his pocket watch. "If you haven't changed your mind, let's hurry up while it's still dark." The mute put his hands in his pockets and turned towards the pond.He started walking again, and we followed.Now we can see the whole pond, and the fish that come up make ripples on the water.Now and then a bass would jump out of the water and come back down, making a splash. "My God," I heard my father say. We came to an open place by the pond, a piece of gravel like a river beach. Dad gestured to me and squatted down.I also squatted down.He was looking intently at the water in front of us, and I could see why he was so focused. "My God," he whispered. There was a school of bass swimming slowly, twenty or thirty of them, none weighing less than two pounds.They swam away with a "huh" and swam back again. They were so close together that they seemed to be colliding with each other.As they swam by, I could see their big eyes looking at us from under their thick lids.They swam away again with a "wow", and then swam back. They are self-inflicted.It doesn't matter if we are standing or squatting.Fish don't care about us at all.Let me tell you, it's a sight to behold. We sat there for quite a while, watching the school of bass swim innocently around.During this period, the mute held his finger and looked around, as if waiting for someone.The pond was full of bass snorting water, jumping out of the water and falling back, or surfacing and swimming with their backs out. Dad made a gesture, and we stood up to throw the pole.I tell you, I was shaking with excitement.I could barely get the baited hook off the rod's wooden handle.As I pulled the hook down I felt the dumb's thick fingers grab my shoulders.I looked, and in reply, the mute raised his chin in the direction of my father.His request was very clear, only one rod. Dad took off his hat and put it on again, and he came over to where I was standing. "You go on, Jack," he said. "It's okay, son, you come fishing." I took one more look at Dumb before throwing.His face became stiff, and a thin line of drool hung from his chin. "He pulls back hard when he bites," Dad said. "A son of a bitch with a mouth as hard as a doorknob." I let go of the wire loop and stretched my arm back.I threw the bait out forty feet at once.Before I could tighten the thread, the pot exploded in the water. "Catch it!" Dad yelled. "Fishing the son of a bitch! Fishing him!" I jerked back twice.I caught it, and the fishing rod was bent into a bow, shaking violently back and forth.Dad kept shouting what to do. "Let it go, let it go! Let it run! Give it some more thread! Now reel in! Reel in! Let it go! Oh! See!" The bass was scurrying about in the pond, shaking its head so hard each time it came out of the water that you could hear the bait vibrating.It then swam away again.But gradually I got tired of walking it and brought it closer.It looked very large, maybe six or seven pounds.It is lying on its side, its body is swinging, its mouth is open, and its gills are opening and closing.My knees were so weak that I could barely stand.But I grabbed the rod and the line was taut. Dad came wading through the water with his shoes on.But as he reached for the fish, the mute started grunting in exasperation, shaking his head and flailing his arms. "What the hell are you doing now, dumb? This kid caught the biggest bass I've ever seen, and he ain't gonna put it back, I swear!" The mute continued his movements, gesturing towards the pond. "I won't let my son let the fish go. Do you hear that, dumb? If you think I'm going to do that, you'd better think again." The mute reached for my line.At the same time, the perch also slowed down a little.It turned over and swam again.I yelled, lost my mind, slammed down on the brake on the reel and started reeling.Bass made one last frantic struggle. that's it.The fishing line broke.I almost fell on my back. "Come on, Jack," Dad said, and I saw him grab his rod. "Come on, bloody idiot, don't let me beat him down." In February of that year, there was a flood in the river. It rained heavily the first few weeks of December and it got very cold before Christmas.The ground is frozen.Snow stayed where it was.But toward the end of January, the Chinook winds ② blew.I woke up one morning to hear the house being blown by the wind and the water continuously dripping from the roof. The wind blew five days in a row, and the river began to rise on the third day. "She's up fifteen feet," my father said one night, looking up from the newspaper. "It's three feet above the water level for a flood. The old dummy is going to lose his treasure." I want to go to Moxie Bridge and see how high the river has risen.But my dad won't let me go.He said the flood was nothing to look at. After two days the river was full and started overflowing in all directions. One morning a week later, me, Orin Marshall and Danny?Owens rides together to the mute's house.We parked the car and walked across the meadow that bordered the dumb house. It was a humid day, with strong winds and broken clouds moving quickly across the sky.The ground was soaking wet, and we kept stepping into sinkholes in the dense grass.Danny had just learned to swear, and every time the sewage got into his shoes, he uttered the worst swear words he had just learned.We could see the swollen river at the top of the meadow.The water level was still high, and the water overflowed the channel, swirled around the roots of the trees, and ate away at the edges of the land.In the middle of the river, the current was fast and strong, and from time to time a clump of trees or a tree with branches drifted past. We came to the dumb wire fence and saw a cow wedged on the wire fence.Its body swelled, and its skin was gray and translucent.No matter how big or small, this is the first dead body I have ever seen.I remember Olin taking a stick and prodding its open eyes. We walked along the barbed wire towards the river.We dared not go near the barbed wire because we thought it might still be electrified.But at the edge of what appeared to be a deep ditch, the barbed wire was missing.It just sank into the water with the ground. We stepped over and walked along the newly formed canal, which ran through the dumb ground to his pond, and joined the pond lengthwise, and made for ourselves at the other end of the pond. Take an exit, and then meander forward until it joins with the river farther away. There is no doubt that the dumb fish was mostly carried away by the water.Even if they are not taken away, they can come in and out freely. Then I saw the mute.Seeing him startled me.I hurriedly waved to the other two guys, and we all got down on the ground. The mute stood on the other side of the pond, near where the water rushed out.He was just standing there, the saddest man I've ever seen. "I'm really sorry for the old mute, though," my dad said over dinner a few weeks later. "Beware, the poor villain brought it upon himself. But you have to feel sorry for him." Dad went on to say George?Lycook saw the dumb wife sitting in the sports club with a big Mexican. "That's just part of it..." Mother gave him a stern look, and then at me.But I continued eating like I didn't hear anything. Dad said, "Damn it, Biyi, my son is old enough!" He has changed a lot, the mute has changed.He was no longer with other people, and it was useless if he didn't want to.Since the last time Karl knocked off his hat, and the Mute ran after him with a thick stick, no one cared to play tricks on him.But the worst part is that Dumb is absent from work on average one or two days a week now, and there is talk of him being fired. "He's always angry," Dad said. "If you don't pay attention, you will go crazy." My dad and I were cleaning out the garage one Sunday afternoon just before my birthday.It was a warm, airy day.You can see the dust suspended in the air.Mother came to the back door and said, "Dale, your number. I think it's Fern's." I followed my father into the house to wash my hands.After speaking, he put down the phone and turned to us. "It's dumb," he said. "He killed his wife with a hammer and drowned himself. Fern just heard from town." When we got there, cars were parked everywhere.The door to the meadow was open and I could see the ruts leading to the pond. The screen door was held ajar by a box, and beside it stood a thin, expressionless man in slacks and tracksuit, with a holster just below his shoulder.He watched me and Dad get out of the car. "I'm his friend," my dad said to the man. The man shook his head. "Whoever you are. Stay away unless you have business to do." "Did you find him?" Dad said. "They're still dragging," the man said, adjusting the pistol in his holster. "Can we go there? I know him very well." The man said, "You can try it. They will kick you out, don't say I didn't warn you." We walked through the meadows pretty much the same route we took when we went fishing that day.The motorboat was running in the pond, and the exhaust fumes were floating dirty in the water. the back of the airship.You can see where the water is breaking the ground and taking away trees and rocks.Men in uniform sat in the two motorboats, and they drove back and forth, one manning the wheel and the other manipulating the ropes and hooks. An ambulance waited on the gravel beach where we had fished dumb bass.Two men in white were lounging in the back of the car, smoking. One of the motorboats was fired.We all looked up.The man behind the boat stood up and began to pull on the rope.After a while, an arm emerged from the water.It seemed that the hooks caught the side of the dumb.The arm sank and came out again, with a bunch of other stuff. not him.I'm thinking.That's something else that was there long ago. The man in front of the boat came aft, and together they pulled the dripping thing up the side of the boat. I look at dad.The expression on his face was extremely strange. "Women," he said, "that's what happens when you marry the wrong woman, Jack." But I don't think Dad really believed what he said.I think he just doesn't know who to blame and what to say. I think everything about my father has changed for the worse since then.Like the mute, he is not what he used to be.The arm raised and lowered from the water seemed to bid farewell to the good times and greet the arrival of the bad times.Because since the mute killed himself in that dark pool, there's been nothing but bad times. Is this what should happen when a friend dies?Leave doom to his living friends? But like I said, Pearl Harbor and having to move in with his dad didn't do him one iota of good. ①Wenatchee, a city in Washington State, USA. ②The Chinook wind is a dry and warm southwest wind on the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains in North America.It caused temperatures to rise rapidly and snowfall to melt rapidly.