Chapter 22 10-2

Juliet blinked like a child, and this time, she was a child, her mouth quivering.She mumbled that she had come to the river alone - "just thinking about something". "Miss, didn't you see that sign? 'Warning: No Walking', 'Danger Area', don't go near that river, Miss, you must understand that." Juliet nodded, trying not to cry.Oh, she didn't want to cry at all.She didn't want to tell these hostile strangers her name, it was too bad. In the backseat of the police car, across a rough strip of barbed wire, she was about to ask: Am I under arrest?But the atmosphere is a bit sombre, and a joke might be misunderstood.

Unexpectedly, once Juliet complies and submits, the police are very kind to her.The policeman who yelled at her on the embankment told her that he had a daughter her age in Santa Maria; the driver, a younger man, watched her through the mirror and told her A girl of her age, so beautiful, and walking alone in such a place, even in the daytime, "wouldn't be 100% safe". "Do you understand what I mean, miss". What a Royall accent! "Understood, officer," Juliet muttered. They sent her to her home on Baltic Street.She had to tell them her address and name, and she saw the look on their faces when she told them "Burnaby."

6 In that wet, mosquito-infested summer of 1977, Joseph Pankowski walked into their lives.Alia always liked to taunt him as a "shoemaker," a "music-loving Jew," and sometimes a "Polish Jew with Israeli roots." It was hard to know how Alia felt about Mr. Pangorski, and she forbade Juliet to say a word about him to Chandler and Royall.Chandler, puzzled, is casually friendly to the two "slaves"; Royall taunts her.Aaliyah warned that she was not in the mood for the taunts. Juliet felt more at home with adults than with people her own age. She had never met anyone like Joseph Pankowski before, and she was fascinated by him like a little alien creature.Maybe you think that you don’t care about such a little creature, it’s meaningless to yourself; everything is only related to him, mysterious and elusive; you don’t dare to be rude and question it, otherwise you will face it. To a man's face covered with bruises and stitches that stunned strangers and wondered children.

He had tattoos on his wrists, about which Juliet never asked. Joseph Pankowski was not a man of few words, he was very talkative on certain topics.In the face of things that make him crazy, he will be nervous, react violently, and stutter.He likes to watch Hollywood movies from the thirties and forties, which he always sees at the midnight theater.He considers himself a "baseball fan".He firmly believed that Eisenhower would prove himself to be the "last great" president of the United States. (Years after Senator Joseph McCarthy's death, he denounced McCarthy's ugly face of the American Gestapo.) He told Juliet in heavily accented English that her singing, especially German ballads, gave him a lot of joy, which made him laugh. Juliet is embarrassed.Aaliyah's courageous playing of the piano also brought him endless joy. When he met them, he felt that his life was full of hope.

Mr. Pangoski has been single for several years. He lives alone in South Wharf (a mixed community in the east of the city) and repairs shoes for a living.His two sons are adults, far from upstate New York, and although both have families, he has no grandson or granddaughter. "They young people always complain, 'Why bring children into this evil world?' They think they are like us, living the life of our parents in Europe. They break our hearts." Alia I was very disturbed by this kind of inner confession, saying, "Aren't children born to hurt their parents' hearts?"

But Pangoski wanted to take the issue seriously.In Alia's eyes, this was the man's flaw: he couldn't, and wouldn't, crack a joke when it was most needed. They were going to a summer open-air concert in Scenic Park, and Aaliyah walked quickly ahead, eager to find three seats.Juliet walked with Mr. Pangorski, who was stiff-legged and scratching his neck thoughtfully.He said, "'Evil,' 'good'—what shall we say? God allows evil only because in his eyes there is no difference between good and evil. For to him there is no difference between the aggressor and the invaded." .I did not lose my first vibrant family to evil, but the behavior of some people,--think!--what an unspeakable miracle!--lice, eating them alive in concentration camps .You have to recognize God, recognize what God is, and not think about what you've lost, and you'll go crazy."

Juliet pretended not to hear the words. No, she didn't hear it.The man's words were unreliable, especially when he was in high spirits. Not that evening in the park, but another time, when Alia couldn't hear, Juliet had the audacity to ask to see the tattoo on Pankowski's wrist, and she saw that it was nothing more than black fading ink. .But that won't fade because it's punctured on the skin. I wonder why he survived?It's because God is crazy. 7 Yes, privately, Juliet wanted to believe.She tried desperately to believe it. An illusion!Occasionally, certain "devout" Christians experience such visions.

By the time Juliet was 12, Alia had taken her to more than a dozen churches in Niagara Falls, and in each of them, Alia would see the "worshippers," clasped her hands in front of her face , almost covering most of her face, she was wondering if they were serious?is this real?Why can't I feel what they feel?Juliet was particularly bewildered that the worshipers were weeping with joy of witness, tears streaming down their contorted faces.Aaliyah was also trying to believe.She often volunteers to play the organ or conduct the choir.But within a few months or weeks, she would feel bored and restless.These idiots, I can't respect them.

Growing up in Niagara Falls, Juliet had long heard of the legend of the local Daughter of the Falls.The Virgin Mary appears to a young Irish milkmaid in the mist of Horseshoe Falls.In ninth grade, she had hiked (quietly) by herself to a shrine three miles north of the city; They took in, and she found work at a family-run cannery.Juliet was dubious, but she felt sorry for this 15-year-old girl who was ridiculed by everyone, even relatives; she came to the river, hoping to wash herself in the river, but saw an incredible vision. Alia has said that there is no God, many are just His messengers.

Juliet, worthy of Alia's daughter, does not believe in the superstitions of Roman Catholicism, yet: in her solitude she fantasizes that if she dies very sincerely and eagerly, that vision will come before her too. If you can see that kind of illusion, it is worth dying.Visions are enough. She wondered if, at the moment of her death, her father, Dirk Burnaby, had also had a vision when the car went over the guardrail and into the river. So, what is that illusion. She wondered if death itself was an illusion? Luckily, Alia didn't know that Juliet had made a pilgrimage to our Lady of the Falls shrine.Neither Chandler nor Royall knew, or they would have made fun of her.

The Holy Land disappointed her.Juliet had naively expected to see something different, something inner, something spiritual.But the holy land is full of tourists.There are taxis, a huge parking lot, the "Pilgrimage Center Hotel" and souvenir shops; curious tourists with cameras on their backs, people of all ages, sick people or people with disabilities of different degrees are stubbornly pushed onto the road in wheelchairs. There are also some tourists kneeling and prostrating devoutly, reciting the Rosary ①.With great humility, they gazed with admiration at the gigantic statue of the Virgin Mary, some 30 feet tall, looming above them in the church's vaults.Cast from solid white marble, it can be seen for miles and looks quaint in a small mountain village; promotional materials for the shrine boast that it weighs about 20 tons.Juliet thought the Madonna, with her flat face, blind eyes, and cold smile, was like a woman in a TV commercial. "You! You're not that person." What a distortion of the image of the milkmaid in 1891!Juliet was very angry in the girl's position, feeling that she was just like herself, longing but helpless.The Irish girl has her own visions, but the stories are shamelessly stolen and amplified, such as the Irish girl having a baby and that baby being taken away by someone else. There is nothing to forgive.Love, doing God's will. On this foggy June morning, Juliet walked barefoot to the creek like a penitent, thinking not of the Holy Land, of the tourists and of the tall ugly statues, but of the Milkmaid, her lost sister; Visions seen.come!Came to the great waterfall where my father was. 8 "who is it--?" Alia woke up with a start, thinking someone was in the room.Or in bed. In the messy bedding. (Which husband? What year is this?) Her heart was beating wildly.Like many chronic insomniacs, poor Aaliyah would often lie in bed for hours without sleep, and after a long period of time, she would sleep in a coma for an hour or two before waking up exhausted and with a pounding heart Jumping, thirsty, feeling like being dragged across a rocky wasteland by a nightmare. It's a day in June.These days.A day full of nightmares.Oh, if only she could sleep for a whole month! A freight train woke her up, the sound of the damn Baltimore and Ohio freight trains clattering into her head.Something was scratching cautiously but persistently at her bedroom door.Sayu? Alia gritted her teeth, "This bad dog!" But she knew that this smart and sensitive dog had been with her for 16 years, and she had also tamed it with her own hands. He didn't dare to wake her up because of trivial things. What time is it?It was just after six o'clock.Another cloudy morning.A few birds chirped from time to time in the weedy backyard.At such a gloomy hour Alia felt dizzy and could not remember if it was a warm or cold season; if both her sons had left her, or if only Chandler had left. No.Royall also left. But Juliet was still there: her daughter. And Sayu, her best friend, sensed that she had woken up, scratched the door louder, and started whimpering. 9 There is a secret between the two of us. He has seen her for several years.Not every moment of every day, but often.Juliet never made the effort to look at him, feeling that she shouldn't and couldn't.Aaliyah had warned her not to make "eye contact" with strangers, "they might hurt young girls." So Juliet shyly turned her face away, and she turned her head deliberately, learning not to pay attention.She lives more and more in music.In her head, the music kept coming from a mysterious place, like light coming from that mysterious place "the sun" - "the only sun." However, he is always there.Crew boy.waiting. It was when Juliet was in fifth or sixth grade that she first noticed him being weird, something special about him.As the years passed, she gradually realized that there were more and more opportunities to see him, and he always kept a certain distance, watching her quietly: in the Baltic neighborhood, Forty-eighth Street, Ferry Street.Garrison Street (he lived in the wedge-boarded barn-sized house at the intersection of this street and Veteran's Road).She would see him while waiting for the bus to go into the city.Saw him in front of the city public library.Perhaps she saw him most when she came home from school and sleepwalked through Baltic Park. When Juliet was with other people, she rarely, indeed never, noticed the crew-haired boy looking at her, only when she was alone. Big boy, cold, ugly, unsmiling.She looked up, perhaps thirty feet or more away, and there was a determination and fervor in his gaze. There is a secret between the two of us. One day you will know. Why didn't Juliet tell anyone about the crew cut boy, including Aaliyah, Chandler, and brother Royall.She can tell the school teacher completely.You can tell your classmates or close friends. Why, Juliet didn't want to think about it. From a young age, she knew that it was useless to mention boys with crew cuts to others. He never got close to her.And didn't laugh at her like the other kids did.He never insulted or threatened her. One day you will know. Over the past year, Juliet had watched him grow into a tall, imposing young man, at her high school choral concerts and elsewhere.She also saw him in the auditorium rehearsal scene (of course this is even more incredible).Stonecropp often sat alone in the shadows in the back row.He's tall, but he looks like a high school kid.Juliet felt that he did not hate her, neither insulted nor laughed at her.And the other children called Zhu-li-ye in a low voice!Po-na-bi!They sucked obscenely on their mouthpieces and made weird noises, and the crew-haired boy just didn't make a sound, he waited. Here, too, is a secret: A few years ago when Juliet was 12 and in seventh grade, a group of older kids bullied her on the way home from school, and Stonecropp came forward. They were all ninth grade kids, surnamed Mayweather, Heron, D'Amato, Sheehan, etc.They also tease and bully other girls, but Juliet is their favorite target.Why do they hate me because of my looks?Or is it because of my name?The boys gathered together noisily, and they resented Juliet's indifference to them.Her casual, blank attitude annoyed them.She often stares at the ground or into the distance. (Music in your head?) The scars on her lips and forehead seemed to pique their interest.They have scars themselves.They brushed past her, pushing and shoving.Gather around her like a dog.Juliet - Yeh.Hi: who bit your face?I don't know if it's because of her damaged face, weird thinking, or because she is very attractive and sexy.They urged each other to come up and kiss her.Scar-face!Po-na-bi!They're even more reckless if no grown-ups are around.Their faces were flushed, and their eyes were full of greed.When Juliet did not evade them that afternoon, they crowded her into an alley off Baltic Street.The Mayweather kid tugged at her hair, and Hiron grabbed the collar of her new sweater.If she was listening to the music in her head and imagining her own voice playing in the music, it was time for her to wake up.She was surrounded by these grinning boys.Why couldn't she scream, why did she lose her voice in panic?She tried desperately to escape but could only push feebly at their scrambled hands.She tried to escape, but they blocked her and formed a circle.They laughed mockingly loudly and encouraged each other to continue insulting her.Juliet - Yeh!Juliet - Yeh!Po-na-bi!Who bit your face?Juliet's sweater was torn, and her textbooks were strewn about and kicked around.The boys harass longer than ever this time, and Juliet is terrified.She knew what boys could do to girls when they were alone and alone.She doesn't have a clear concept, but she knows. Yet she tried not to cry.Don't satisfy your enemies, Alia had warned her.Don't let them see your tears. "Hey, little bastard!" Bud Stonecropp, the cop's son, ran into the alley, and ran, pumping his fists, beating the boys to the ground like a terrier.He is calm but has a strong figure.Grab Clyde Mayweather's head with one hand like a basketball and touch Ryan Hiron's head.He hit D'Amato's head with his fist, and with one punch, his nose bleeds and the bridge of his nose was about to split.He put his leg against Sheehan's thin groin, then kicked him in the stomach.Those children were stunned by the beating, they were amazed by this kind of attack, and even more amazed by the cruelty of the attack.They swear and scatter like birds and beasts.Stonecropp is 30 pounds heavier than the heaviest ninth grade boy.He stood there panting, not saying a word.Juliet crouched on the ground, covering her head with her hands, still guarding against the attackers.The collar of her pink embroidered sweater was torn and the buttons were missing.That's what she earns from babysitting.Stonecropp muttered, as if to say, "Bastards. They should be killed." He bent over to pick up the buttons Julia had strewn on the floor, button after button.Those were mother-of-pearl buttons, dwarfed by Stonecropp's gigantic hands.Seeing Juliet awkwardly tugging at her torn sweater, Stonecropp quickly removed his T-shirt, handed it to her and muttered, "Go on." Juliet took the T-shirt from the boy with the crew cut and put it over her head in a daze.It was a gray cotton T-shirt. It was dirty and wet under the arms. It was so huge on her body that it was like a tent.The right sleeve falls over the shoulder like a flag at half-staff.Juliet was a little shy, and whispered, "Thank you." The boy with the crew cut was older than Royall, not yet 18 years old, but had the thick muscles of an adult.Juliet had a fleeting impression (she looked away from him) that he seemed to be covered in fur, like a bear.His T-shirt smelled salty and fried onions on her.Juliet wore that dress back to their home at 1703 in the Baltic.Unnoticed by the vigilant mother (Aliya was giving piano lessons to the students in the back), she washed the clothes gently by hand that night, hung them in the house to dry, and packed them in simple paper bags the next day with the words Bud Stonecropp, then on the railing of the crumbling front porch of 522 Garrison Street. Afterwards, Juliet did not have much contact with the boy with the flat head, and did not speak to each other for four years. 10 Stonecropp! While still in high school in the late 1960s, Stonecropp had a certain reputation in the Baltic neighborhood of Niagara Falls, New York.He is Stonecropp, the son of the policeman.Sometimes, for those who knew his family well, his father was a police officer in Niagara Falls and he was known as Bud Jr. But no one ever called Stonecropp that.His name is rarely called.Everyone avoided him as much as possible, and didn't even look at him.Nor were they to be seen by Stonecropp, in his dim, vacillating, yet alert consciousness.It's like not wanting to be seen by a certain carnivore, say a shark.When people are young, they all have this instinct to survive by disappearing. By the age of 12, Stonecrupp had grown to almost six feet tall and weighed 180 pounds, and he continued to grow into puberty.Even among the larger Stonecropp family, he stood out.He was like a straight, overstuffed blood sausage that was about to burst.There was always a look of excitement and determination on his face.He laughed like he was making a face.His head gives the density and durability of concrete bricks.His hair was jewel-coloured, had been shaved in front and back (the barber happened to be one of his uncles), and was cut short on top with rough stubble like winter cornfields.His eyes were small, but cold and alert, and strangely shaped like two marbles.His yellow teeth were shaped like spatulas, and his nose was born with a flattened bridge. Even if his nose was hit, it would never flatten or bleed because of it.It is said that Stonecropp began to grow crazily when he was in elementary school, and hard hair began to grow on his sturdy body.The penis changes every week.Students in the boys' locker room would always see it half-erect; they'd try not to look, and they'd be instinctively terrified, like a man with a three-inch knife meeting an enemy with a machete.However, in front of girls, Stonecropp was very shy and cold.The girls said they trembled when they saw him. Stonecropp is the youngest son in the family. His father, Bud Stonecropp, is a police officer of the Niagara Falls Police Department. He is a well-known and controversial policeman in the local area and retired very early.The Stonecropps were a large family in the Niagara Falls area, intermarried with the Mayweathers and the Orlans.But there is not much connection between family and cousins.The Stonecropps of Garrison Street and the Stonecropps of Fifth Avenue and their neighbour, the Mayweather family, were not in a stable relationship.Little Bud can be a reliable friend when he's happy; but more often than not, he's a treacherous enemy.At school, he had a secret relationship with a group of carefully selected boys of the same level, background, and temperament as himself, but he preferred to be alone and meditate.He often skipped classes, but never failed a grade.No teacher wants to fail him and then "teach" him for another year.In the classroom, he was always warm and gloomy.He looked at the textbook with a frown, as if the book was in a foreign language, and he could occasionally understand a few words.He dropped out of school suddenly on his 16th birthday, when he was still in junior high school, but before he dropped out, he insisted on taking a course that was ridiculed by many people for girls-home economics; And to the great surprise of the teacher, he was the most skilled cook. chef!No one laughed. It is said that Stonecropp's trachea was broken in a street brawl, so he talked in a mumble; in fact, his voice was hoarse and confident, but he stuttered from shyness.Bud Sr. had been badly wounded in his throat, as had the rest of his body: the officer was ambushed in Mario's parking lot and was nearly beaten to death with an iron tire by his bitter rival, known as the "Crazy Coke Negro." (This is a police report. Other facts about his beating and his subsequent physical and mental condition were circulated among his relatives in the First Police District where he worked.) In his 42 At the age of 20, he retired honorably and received a disability pension. It was predicted that Bard Jr. would become a police officer like his father.Many of their relatives are police officers, parole officers and prison guards.But from the age of 11, Stonecropp was drawn to his uncle's Duke's Grill on Fourth Avenue; after dropping out of school, he began cooking there full-time.Duke's Grill Bar is near Police Precinct 1 and the County Building, which is frequented by police officers and law firm retirees.Women come here in droves, mostly lonely divorced women.As soon as night fell, the bar and the adjacent restaurant began to be bustling with smoke and voices.Heavy metal rock from the 1950s and country western music played on the jukebox are very popular.The TV at the bar was always on, showing the sports news, although no one could hear what was being said.In the restaurant kitchen, Stonecropp and his colleagues listen to 1970s rock music on the radio.The senior chefs in the restaurant seemed to like the owner's nephew, Stonecrop; he was more than happy to do what others would call a servant's job, cleaning dishes, taking out the garbage, cleaning grease, washing dishes, and so on.To reward him, the chef sometimes instructs him to cook some dishes. Of course, no one in the Stonecropp family would approve of little Bud working in the kitchen.Is this a joke?Isn't a child of that stature stupid? (Not stupid, anyway. At least he's as smart as his dad, who graduated police academy and got a pretty lucrative, "connected" job) The family keeps putting pressure on Stonecrop , asking him to find a job that was "real," "serious," and "for a man."Through a relative, he started working in parks and recreation, but nearly lost his right foot while using a chainsaw.During the harsh winter, he worked as a rescue worker in rural Niagara, driving a snow plow for ten hours a day, performing emergency tasks at any time.While working in the local quarry, he could earn a decent salary, but he didn't like the boring job, and although he wasn't of legal age to drink, he hung out with older workers every day and came home drunk , or simply don't go home.By the age of 17, he had grown to 6 foot 2 feet, 220 pounds, and relatives began discussing how to train him to be a boxer.His half-paralyzed father, Bud Sr., began to fantasize that Bud Jr. could become the next heavyweight world champion and regain the crown that belonged to the Caucasians. (No white man has won a title since Rocky Marciano retired undefeated in 1956.) But Stonecropp was a passive boxer.He's a natural for street fights, he loves punches, and he's actually an impatient guy, not to mention tricks, roundabouts, flanks, quick foot moves and the like.Stoneklopp's size can intimidate a heavyweight like him, but he is not a threat to someone who is bigger than him.He absent-mindedly practiced at the Front Street Gym for his first Golden Gloves tournament (probably in Buffalo), and Stoneclup was morose.His curious little eyes turned blood red, and his lips were swollen and split.Difficulty breathing through the nose, his nose was flatter than before, filled with cartilage; after a few rounds, he was panting like a cow. The 80-year-old coach reprimanded him like a calf: "Boxing is not about being hit, kid, it's about hitting someone else, understand?" Stonecropp didn't know how to answer.He shuffled, stood there speechless, and let the fists hit his defenseless head, face, and body.His strong, white body covered in sweat-soaked hair exudes a gritty, wounded dignity as he ponders his eccentric fate.I don't want to hurt anyone.I want to satisfy him. In his first Golden Gloves match at the Armory in Buffalo, he went down in 50 seconds of the first round, a 16-year-old black heavyweight boxer and a stunned referee. He's out. In this case, Stoneklopp was given permission to leave the gym for good and return to Duke's barbecue bar, working long hours. (His uncle, however, paid him roughly minimum wage.) Stonecropp's father slowly became ill, often semi-paralyzed.He didn't forgive him, never asked him how he was in the restaurant.While the cook left, Stonecropp started cooking.He learned to give orders quickly and confidently.Although the first few months, he worked tirelessly on the grill menu, making fat hamburgers, sandwiches with cheese, pork sausage, fried eggs, bacon, buns, toast, all of which he put on Fry in light oil.From the age of ten, when his mother went out, he cooked at home. He had his own way of cooking and never cared about his uncle's opinion.Frowning, wearing an apron splattered with oil, wearing a chef's hat, shoulders slumped, and looking down at the chopping board, Stonecropp tried to put Bermuda onions, green peppers and red peppers into the ground beef. .He tried new ways to cook Canadian bacon, bird's eye fish, chicken wings, pot chicken and french fries.Stonecropp used new varieties of sauerkraut, chips, and cole slaw, much to the chagrin of his uncle.He created a spicy Campbell's tomato soup with assorted spices and chunky tomatoes, which is the restaurant's main dish.He created his own Italian dishes, starting with spaghetti and then meatballs.His corned beef veggies and special chili are starting to bring in repeat customers.He substituted greens for iceberg lettuce and fresh vegetables for frozen meals.His insistence on using cross-cut cheddar instead of sliced ​​American cheese for burgers cut Duke's margins.He has ideas for prime rib, "chicken schnitzel," London broil and pork chops.Pork refried beans, fried halibut, cod cakes, even mashed potatoes.The crowd began to comment, or complain, about the novelty of the Stonecropp burger, and his uncle became furious and quarreled with him. "Stinky boy, what is this, what stinky shit?" The old man, who was a few centimeters shorter than Stoneclad and weighed about thirty pounds, tore open a hamburger and saw the controversial onion inside the meat Shredded, chilli, pepper.He took a bite, chewed suspiciously, took another bite, smeared the rest of the meat with tomato sauce, and tasted it again.He relented, "Well, it's not too bad. The taste is different, a bit like Italian. This can be our special dish - Bud's Burger. Next time, if you innovate in Laozi's kitchen, boy, first follow me Say it, or I'll fuck your ass." Stonecropp, blushing and sullen, wiped the sweat off his face with his apron, and muttered, fuck it, to the delight of everyone in the kitchen. laughing out loud. A few months passed, and some customers began to like his dishes.Law firm retirees and lonely divorced women are his first guests. The elder Bud's condition gradually deteriorated, and the younger Bud spent more time away from his home on Garrison Street.When he wasn't working he would hang out in the city, he'd walk along the river to Buffalo and back again, just in circles.He had a second-hand Thunderbird that he planned to fix when he bought it, but then forgot about it.Sometimes he walks the neighborhood.He never asked girls out, and had no obvious interest in girls. (Everyone knew. There was speculation that he might have a secret life.) Such a big boy with a sad flat face and freckles.With his dull eyes and strangely shaved hair, his appearance attracted, unexpectedly, some female customers at the Duke.It was observed that some of them waited (at the bar) for the kitchen to close at 11 so they could take Stonecropp home.Although the crew-cut boy's mother had been dead for more than a decade, these women often said that Stonecrop was a "motherless boy"—"that poor, motherless Stonecropp boy Son." Po-na-bi!Po-na-bi!bring it on. Listening closer, the voice is full of sympathy.Juliet was not so frightened now.She doesn't feel bad anymore.It wasn't bad, sad or grief that brought her here.Just because she knows it's the right thing to do, this is where she should be, and when she should be.The voice in the waterfall was not threatening, not exhorting.She sounds like music now.Just like when she and other children sang My Country, I Sing You at the Baltic District Elementary School, the music teacher praised Juliet specifically, although she didn't know what I meant by singing you.Still like singing the most beautiful Christmas carols Christmas Eve!Holy night!Around the Virgin and the Holy Child, but she doesn't know what it means to surround the Virgin. Even if she understands the phrase mother and child, the lyrics of the angel singing Hallelujah still make her feel mysterious and difficult, just like an adult What we call the vast universe itself.You must firmly believe that this world will comfort you and protect you. Juliet also worked hard. She tried hard to believe, but she couldn't.She now wants to be redeemed in the Great Falls like everyone else. Stonecropp's father was paralyzed at home and was cared for by an unmarried sister.When he got better, he asked everyone in the family to sign an agreement not to send him to a nursing home.The Stonecropp family, like any other Baltic neighborhood family, would not have taken such a desperate step.Better to die at home, with your family. "Who" is it best for?No one asked.There are some things no one does out of obligation and guilt. It was felt that Stonecropp was becoming more and more tense and ill-tempered by the worsening of his father's condition.He'd fought old Bud for years, but maybe he loved him?Stonecropp was a mysterious boy, and now he grew up and became even more mysterious.At that time, he had cut off contact with his old friends, and sometimes he disappeared without a trace after a week of vacation.在杜克饭店，越来越多的顾客喜欢上他做的菜，除了老顾客，还有新顾客，如果舅舅惹他生气，他会气乎乎地冲出厨房。杜克开除了他，又重新雇用他，然后再开除他。但是当地有很多人愿意出高价钱雇他，所以，杜克就会急匆匆地重新雇用他，迫不得已地增加他的工资。斯通克劳普对于家庭的义务一定也是这样的，他不断重返杜克烤肉吧，就像是一只被踢出门的大型犬、小心翼翼地等待回到似乎有些悔改的主人的身边。 “这个小杂种有自己的想法，”杜克极不情愿地表现出一分赞同。 “但饭店是我的。”斯通克劳普家族的人都不会非常圆滑地说话，特别是在做生意的时候。杜克叫他外甥“混球”——“臭屁”——“尿壶”——“臭小子”——的时候，斯通克劳普会嗤之以鼻，知道这是在间接地表达喜爱之情；但是当舅舅当着众人骂他“傻蛋”——“弱智”——“反映迟钝”的时候，他会以武力反抗。他会扯掉围裙，扔到地上然后怒气冲冲地走出饭店。他会摔盘子，掀翻一盘子冒着热气的食物，或是一盘子剩菜。有一次，有人发现斯通克劳普手握重重的烫人的铁锅扑向那个老头，明显有要杀他的意图。有几个尼亚加拉市的警察碰巧在饭店吃饭，他们通过武力才制止住那个平头男孩。 “如果我们不制止他，那个疯孩子会敲破杜克的头盖骨。”这一幕很快成为斯通克劳普家族的传奇，大家高兴地述说着这件事情。 一天晚上，罗约尔?波纳比还有他的妹妹朱丽叶在杜克饭店吃饭，坐在靠外墙的隔间里，斯通克劳普就在厨房门口晃悠，若有所思，非常冷淡。那是1977年12月的事情，罗约尔离家几个月后的一天；朱丽叶去他第四大街上的住处看他。兄妹两个静静地谈着话。“妈妈很想你，”朱丽叶说。“她叹气叹个不停，好像心都要碎了。”罗约尔耸一耸肩。他用刀叉懒散地在丽光板桌面上敲击着摇滚乐的节奏，伴随着点唱机上播放的比尔?海利的代表曲《晃动，吵闹和摇滚》。搬出在波罗的海街的家之后，罗约尔好像成熟了很多；对于他自己来说，他也更加独立、沉默寡言。他还没有自己想象的那么孤独。“我也想你，”朱丽叶说，垂下头好像有些尴尬。 点唱机里的音乐戛然而止，罗约尔的音乐却没来得及跟着停下来。他尴尬地说，“不跟别人住在一起，并不意味着就爱他们少一些……”罗约尔的声音很微弱，飘忽不定。 罗约尔点了一大碗辣椒，里面泡上几块牡蛎饼，朱丽叶点了一盘西班牙煎蛋。罗约尔的碗和朱丽叶的盘子都是加热过的。在朱丽叶的盘子上，除了煎蛋，还有一些小胡萝卜和欧芹做成的装饰花，以及切的很细的哈密瓜做成的花朵。煎蛋独具风味，里面放了很多烹炸过的西红柿，洋葱，切段青红椒，朱丽叶几乎吃不完了。多么丰盛的一餐啊！就像是打开熟悉的抽屉，却跳出来一些不认识的魔幻般的东西。厨师送出了一大篓新鲜出炉的发酵粉饼干。女服务员说，“他说这是给你的，奉送的，免费。”罗约尔疑惑地看着朱丽叶的盘子。他低声说，“看起来很黏，好吃吗?”朱丽叶说，“我觉得煎蛋里面就应该是软的。叠成几层，但里面是软的。”阿莉亚是个急性子的厨师，她给大家做的煎蛋就是仅仅把鸡蛋打碎放入煎锅中，让蛋黄蛋青膨胀，整个变白结成块子，就像是煎饼；她做的煎蛋有股焦糊味儿。罗约尔已经习惯了未经加工过的原始味道；他仅吃过粗糙加工过的，像胶一样的鸡蛋。朱丽叶说，“这是我吃过的最好吃的煎蛋。想尝点儿吗？” “谢谢，不吃！我会记得你说的话的。” 他们看到斯通克劳普，这个比罗约尔仅小一到两岁的平头厨师，从厨房里走到屋后，现在站在了柜台后面，准备清理烤架。他一直偷偷摸摸地在注视着罗约尔和朱丽叶，但是现在却装出一副没看见的样子。罗约尔叫住他，想表现得礼貌些，“嗨，巴德。我们的饭做的太好了。你做的吧？罗约尔本意是好的，但是斯通克劳普的血一下子涌到脸上，把脸弄得滚烫，红通通的，好像他受了极大的侮辱。他突然转身钻入厨房，厨房门随他旋转关上。罗约尔盯着他的后背，惊诧于他转身时那冷冰冰、愤怒的一瞥。朱丽叶在默默地折她的餐巾纸。她吃了煎蛋的三分之二，还吃了大部分的饼干还有几乎所有那些好看的装饰品。 罗约尔嘀咕，“妈的。我说错话了。” 开车把朱丽叶送回波罗的海街区的家，罗约尔说，“那家伙，巴德?斯通克劳普。有时候很好笑地看着我。对你是不是这样，朱丽叶？”朱丽叶咕哝着她不太清楚。“好像我们之间有什么似的，”罗约尔说。“但是——是什么？”罗约尔心神不安地在想着那个平头斯通克劳普，谣传说他壮得像匹马，对罗约尔89磅重的妹妹有点意思，她才刚刚15岁。