Chapter 2 2

We buried Jenny early one December morning.Fortunately, it was early in the morning, because a huge New England snowstorm hit in the afternoon, and suddenly turned into a world of snow and ice. Mom and Dad asked me if I would just ride the train back to Boston with them.I tried my best to be courteous and politely declined.I kept saying that Philip couldn't do without me, that he'd be broken without me.In fact, the situation is quite the opposite.In my life, I have tasted the pain of life and death in the world, and I have to ask Phil to teach me even when I cry. "You need to hear from me," Dad said.

"Okay, sure." I shook hands with him, and then kissed my mother on the cheek.The train went north. The Cavilelli house was not deserted at first.Our relatives didn't want to leave the two of us alone at home.But they all left one by one in the end-no wonder, everyone had a family, and they had to go home.Before leaving, everyone asked Phil to make a promise that the shop would be reopened and the business would be up.What would you do if you didn't do this job.He always nodded his head, probably in agreement. In the end it was just the two of us, sitting dryly in the room.We didn't have to move at all, because everyone didn't forget to prepare a lot of food in the kitchen for us, all kinds of colors, enough to last a month.

With these aunts and cousins ​​gone, no one to distract me, I felt that the anesthetic effect of etiquette on me was gradually disappearing.In the past, I only thought that what I had tasted was sadness.Only now do I realize that it was just numbness of perception.The pain has only just begun. "Hey, you should go back to New York too," Phil said, but his tone didn't sound very firm.I did not raise a "defense" against him, and in fact his pastry shop may not have opened for business.I just said, "No. I have a date here in Cranston on New Year's Eve." "With whom?" he asked.

"Following you," I replied. "That's all right," he said, "but I'll tell you—you'll be back on New Year's morning." "OK," I said. "OK," he said. Mom and Dad have phone calls every night. "No, it's nothing, Mrs. Barrett," Phil always told his mother on the phone.Mom was clearly asking if there was anything she could... help with. "Please don't bother, Dad, it's all right," I always say when it's my turn. "I got it." Phil showed me some "confidential" photos.Jenny had given the strictest order back then, and I was absolutely not allowed to see these photos.

"Hey, Phil, there's no way Oliver can see a picture of me with my braces on!" "Jenny, but you were cute then." "I'm still cute," she replied, in all her Jenny character.Then he added a sentence: "He can't even let him see a single photo of the doll era, Phil." "But why is this? Why can't he be seen?" "I don't want Oliver to see me as a fat baby." I was just fascinated by this joyful battle of words between father and daughter.In fact, we were already married at that time, and I might not always propose to divorce her just because she wore braces when she was a child.

"Hey, who's in charge in this room?" I asked Phil, hoping that they would have a heated argument. "What do you think?" he said with a smile.As a result, the photo album was not opened, so it was put away again. But today we saw it.There are so many photos. One prominent figure in each of the early photographs is Philip's wife, Teresa Cavilelli. "She's just like Jenny." "She's good looking," Phil said with a sigh. Just after Jenny left the picture of the fat baby and before she put on the braces, there was a divide, and Teresa was no longer in the picture.

"I shouldn't have let her drive at night," Phil said, as if she died in a car accident yesterday. "How did you survive?" I asked. "How can you stand it?" I asked him this for my own sake, and I wanted to hear if he had any clever recipes that I could learn from, so as to soothe the wounds in my heart. "Who says I can stand it?" Philip answered. "But I still have a little daughter under my knee..." "Yes, I have to take care of you..." "Why, she's here to look after me," he said. So I heard stories that would have been classified as "background material" in Jennifer's life story.The youngest daughter always tried her best to take care of her father and alleviate his grief.Dad had to listen to his daughter, and let her cook.What's worse, my daughter read the recipes from the magazines in the supermarket with a half-knowledge, and he still had to bite the bullet and eat the dishes he learned.On Wednesday nights, his daughter insisted that he go bowling with a group of old friends according to the old rules.In short, the daughter is always trying to make him happy.

"Is that why you never remarried, Phil?" "Why?" "Because of Jenny, isn't it?" "Where is it? She's been bugging me about getting a wife—and looking out for me and arranging dates!" "real?" He nodded. "I'm not going to lie. From Cranston in the south to Portogue in the north, she has introduced me to all the Italian-American girls who have the same qualifications. I dare say that I will never miss a single one." ①A town in northeastern Rhode Island. "But you just don't like it, do you?" "Not really, there are a few that are pretty good," he said.What he said was beyond my expectation. "For example, there's Ms. Rinaldi, who was Gianni's English teacher in junior high..."

"Oh?" I responded. "She's all right. We've been seeing each other for a while. She's married a long time now. She's got three kids." "I don't think you have any intention of getting married at all, Phil." He looked at me and shook his head. "I said Oliver - I have enjoyed such a good fortune once. What am I, how dare I have such delusions - a good fortune that ordinary people rarely get once, do you want God to give me twice ?” After he finished speaking, he seemed to be unable to hold back his eyes and averted his eyes. He probably confided the truth to me and felt a little regretful.

On New Year's Day, he literally pushed and shoved me to get on the train home. "Don't forget you said it yourself, get back to your business," he said. "Everyone is mutual," I replied to him. "It's good for a little thing. Really, Oliver, it's good for it." He said, and the train started. What Phil said made sense.I plunged into other people's lawsuits, and the resentment I had pent up in my heart was vented from it.I used to always have that feeling, as if I had been wronged by someone.There is a problem with the social system!It's God's fault!Therefore, I feel that I should do some practical things to correct the disadvantages and make up for the shortcomings.In this way, among the cases I agreed to undertake, more and more were of the nature of "wrong cases".You know, there were not a few dirty grasses and flowers in our gardens at that time.

I was a busy man because of Miranda v. Arizona (384 US 436).From the beginning of the case, the Supreme Court has confirmed that: the suspect must be clearly explained first, and he has the right not to answer the question temporarily if the lawyer has not been cleared.Before that, I don’t know how many people have not consulted a lawyer at all, and they were rushed to the court to try and conclude the case-I get excited when I think about it, and I am really angry for these people.Leroy Seeger is an example: he was already in Attica when I took his case through the ACLU. ① This is a famous case in American judicial history. In 1966, the Supreme Court presided over by Warren made a judgment. ②Attica: Refers to Attica Prison in New York State. The old man Leroy had been convicted on the basis of a confession signed by him, which had been cunningly taken away by the police after a long interrogation. (They really have a way - but is this legal?) When he signed his name, he didn't know how heavy the weight of the signature was, and he only wanted to make him sleep for a while.When his case came up for review, it was then one of several major New York cases that invoked the Miranda case.In the end we finally got him out of the classroom.It's a bit of justice. "Thank you so much, man," he thanked me, and turned to kiss his teary wife. "Don't get too excited," I said, and went away--I couldn't ask Leroy Seeger to share some of the fun with me.Besides, he had a wife after all.Moreover, it has to be said again, there are too many so-called "injustice buns" in our lawyer's private jargon. Another example is Sandy Webb.He was suing the draft bureau for an exemption from military service for reasons of faith.The conscription bureau found it difficult.It would have been fine if Sandy had been a Quaker, but he wasn't, so it was hard to prove that his refusal to go to war was not due to fear of death but to his "deep-seated beliefs."Even though he knew that the lawsuit would be very uncertain, Sandy would rather stay and fight the lawsuit than escape to Canada.He wants to show that he is worthy of his conscience.I am a firm advocate of non-violence.For him his girlfriend was dying of anxiety.He had a friend who was in class at Lewisburg, and it was a tough day.So his girlfriend advised him: Let's escape to Montreal.He said: I want to stay and fight. ① Quakers, also known as Friends or Quakers, are one of the Protestant denominations of Christianity.The founder Fox exhorted the congregation to tremble when praying to the "Lord", so the congregation was called Quaker (thriller).The sect opposes all wars and violence, and members of the Quakers are exempted from military service in the United States. ②In central Pennsylvania, there is a federal prison. We fought.The first lawsuit was unsuccessful.We appealed again, and this time we won.Although he still has to go to a hospital to wash dishes for three years, he is very happy. "You're amazing!" Sandy and his girlfriend sang, as they came to hug me.I replied to them: "Strengthening confidence is victory," and walked away. This Tu Youweiye still needs me to expand the results of the battle.I looked back at them too, and they were literally dancing on the sidewalk.But I just can't laugh. Alas, all I can feel is indescribable resentment. I just kept my head down and worked as late as I could.I really don't want to go home from get off work.Somehow, everything in the house seemed to reflect Jenny.Like that piano.And her books.The furniture we chose together.Really, the thought of moving even flitted across my mind.Fortunately, I always come home late, and it doesn't seem to matter whether I move or not.Gradually, I got used to eating alone in a deserted kitchen, and I got used to listening to tapes alone until late at night—but I never sat in that special chair for reading by Jenny.I even figured it out a little bit on my own, and I managed to sleep in our big empty bed.So I don't think I have to move. But one day I opened a cupboard door, and the situation took a sudden turn. It was Jenny's closet. I never touched it at first, but for some reason that day, I opened the closet door in a daze.I saw her clothes at a glance.Janney's dress, jacket, scarf and shawl, it's all there.There are also woolen sweaters—one of them is an antique she wore in middle school. Although it has been worn to the point of rot, she has been reluctant to throw it away, and she often wears it at home.There was a closet of clothes, but Jenny wasn't there.Staring blankly at these relics, there are so many piles of silk and hair, I really can't tell what it feels like in my heart.Anyway, there is always such a longing: if I go to touch that antique woolen sweater, will I be able to get a little bit of crumbs scattered from Gianni's delicate body? I closed the cupboard door and never opened it again. Two weeks later, Philip Cavilleri came quietly and collected Gianni's things, taking everything with him.He still muttered to himself, saying that there is an institution in the Catholic Church that specializes in helping the poor, and he knows the people in it.He borrowed a bread delivery truck so that he could transport his stuff to Cranston, and said goodbye to me solemnly before leaving: "If you don't move, I won't come to see you in the future." Strange to say.Once he swept away all the things in the house that could make me think about things and people, I found a new apartment within a week.The size of the new house is small, and it feels more like a prison cell (remember, the windows of all the ground floor houses in New York are nailed with iron bars).It was actually a high-class house, the main house lived in a rich owner of a theater, and I lived in the ground floor half embedded in the ground, which was almost worse than the main house.The doorknob of his beautiful gate is shiny and shiny, but fortunately, there are steps to enter his house, so no matter how many people go to his house, Hu Tian Hu Di, they will not bother me.Moreover, my new house is much closer to work than before, and Central Park is just a few steps away.It is evident from every indication that the pain in my heart will not be healed for a long time. But I still have a big heartache in my heart. Although new decorative paintings have been hung on the four walls of my new house, and even the bed has been replaced with a brand new one, although more and more friends say "Dude, you look good" when they see me, but in fact I Still secretly kept one of my late wife Jenny's belongings. In one of the bottom drawers of my desk at home, I still keep Janney's glasses.And instead of one, I keep both in there.Because as long as I take a look at her glasses, I will think of the pair of lovely eyes that can see me through the glasses at the beginning. But other than that, I'm pretty good in other ways.So everyone who saw me said without hesitation that I was pretty good. "Hi, my name is Phil. I'm a big baker." I couldn't believe my ears!Hearing him say the word "mystery" in such a fashionable way, people would really think that baking cakes is a hobby of his, and they would not think that he relies on this skill to make a living.