I stand on the porch this Sunday evening and try to force Mexico to appear in front of me. I tried it all day from the living-room window, but it didn't work. By this time tonight I imagined cactus1, fiestas, and salty breath. The howls of men in the back of whose lives lurked2 women called Maria. Instead there's a house like Mrs Porter's across the street, a willow3 like the Lechugas' and a pump-jack next door, dressed as a mantis4; pump, pump, pump. Vernon Gridlock Little.
'Lord God in heaven please let me have a side-by-side, let me open my eyes and it be there …'
Mom's whispers sparkle moonlight as they fall to the ground by the wishing bench. Then Kurt barks from Mrs Porter's yard. Kurt is in trouble with Mrs Porter. He spent all day on the wrong side of the fence from the Hoovers' sausage sizzle, and eventually destroyed Mrs Porter's sofa out of frustration5. Fucken Kurt, boy. His barks cover the creaking of planks7 as I step off the porch. It's a well-upholstered barking circuit tonight, on account of the Bar-B-Chew Barn hayride. A hayride, gimme a break. We don't even have fucken hay around here, they probably had to buy it on the web or something. But no, now it's the traditional Martirio Hayride.
'Oh Lord God, bring Lally back, bring Lally back, bring Lally back …'
It's been a long day. Cameras pinned me in the house since Lally left yesterday. Now they went to cover the hayride. Mom senses me approaching her willow; she sobs9 louder, and gets a hysterical10 edge to her voice, to make sure I don't miss the implication of things. A large flying bug11 scoots behind the mantis as I step close.
'Wishing bench is airborne this end,' I say, to break the ice. 'Like the dirt's caving in underneath12.'
'Well Vernon just shutup! - you did this to me, all this - all this fucking shit.'
She cussed me, boy. Hell. I study her ole hunched13 body. Her hair is sucked back into a helmet again, and she wears her regular toweling slippers14 with the butterflies on top, their rubber wings torn off by the white cat she used to have, before the Lechugas ran it over. I'm compelled to reach out and touch her. I touch her where the flab from her back dams under her armpit, and feel the clammy weight of her ole miserable15 shell, all warm and spent. She cries so cleanly you'd think her body was a drum full of tears that just spill out through the holes.
I sit down beside her. 'Ma, I'm sorry.'
She gives an ironic16 kind of laugh, I guess it's ironic when you laugh while you sob8. After that she just stays sobbing17. I look around at the night; things are liquid-clear, warm and dewy, with a snow of moths18 and bugs19 around the porch lights, and distant music from the hayride.
'Papa always said I'd amount to nothing.'
'Don't say that, Ma.'
'Well it's true, look at me. It's always been true. "Just plain ungainly," Papa used to say, "Ornery and ungainly." Everyone was head of the cheerleading squad20, and homecoming queen, and class president. Everyone was Betty, all sparkling and fresh …'
'Betty Pritchard? Gimme a break.'
'Well Vernon, you just know everything, don't you! Betty was class president in the fourth grade you know, and had all the bubbly parts in school plays - she never cussed or smoked or drank like the rest of us; bright as sunshine, she used to be. Until she started getting beaten black and blue by her father, whipped till she bled. So while you're all critical, and know everything about everyone, just remember the rest of us are only human. It's cause and effect, Vernon, you just don't realize - even Leona was relaxed and sweet, before her first husband went, you know - the other way.'
'The one that died?'
'No, not the one that died. The first one, and out of consideration you shouldn't even ask.'
'Sorry.'
She takes a breath, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand. 'I lost a few pounds for the prom, though. I proved Papa wrong, just that once. Den21 Gurie asked me to be his date - Den Gurie, the linebacker! - I slept under the shawl of my prom dress all week.'
'There you go - see?'
'He picked me up in his brother's truck. I almost fainted from excitement, and from hunger, I guess, but he told me to relax, said it'd be like spending a night with my kin6 …' Mom starts to hiss22 from the back of her throat, like a cat. It's another way to weep, in case you didn't know. The early part of a strong weep.
'So what happened?'
'We drove out of town, sang songs nearly all the way to Lockhart. Then he asked me to check the tailgate on the truck. When I climbed out, he drove away and left me. That's when I saw the hog23 farm by the road.'
A bolt of anger takes me, about the fucken Guries, about the ways of this fucken town. The anger cuts through waves of sadness, cuts through pictures of young Jesus, the one who nailed himself to a fucken cross before anybody else could do it. That's why this town's angry. They didn't get a shot at him. But they don't have anger like I have anger brewing24 up. Anger cuts through a wide range of things. Cuts like a knife.
After a second, I feel the dampness of Mom's hand on mine. She squeezes it. 'You're all I have in the world. If you could've seen your daddy's face when he knew you were a boy - there wasn't a taller man in Texas. All the great things you were going to be when you grew up …' She narrows puffy eyes into the distance, through Mrs Porter's house, through the town, and the world, to where the cream pie lives. The future, or the past, or wherever it fucken lives. Then she shoots me this brave little smile, a genuine smile, too quick for her to pull any victimmy shit. As she does it, violins shimmer25 into the air across town, like in a movie. Even Kurt hangs silent as a guitar picks its way out of the orchestra, and a Texan voice from long ago herds26 our souls up into the night. Christopher Cross starts to sing 'Sailing'. Mom's favorite tune27 from before I was even born, before her days fell dark. Type of song you listen to when you think nobody likes you. She gives a broken sigh. I know right away the song will remind me of her forever.
It's not far down to paradise, at least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find tranquility …
Fate tunes28. This one breaks my fucken heart. We sit listening as long as we can bear it, but I know the song has sunk a well into Mom's emotional glade29, and I guess mine too. Dirty blood will gush30 high just now. The piano brings it on.
'Well,' she says. 'George said she can only decoy the sheriff until tomorrow. And that isn't even counting the thing about the drugs.'
'But at least I'm innocent.'
'Well Vernon, I mean, huh-hurr . . .' She gives one of those disbelieving laughs, a hooshy little laugh that means you're the only asshole in the world who believes what you just said. Notice how popular they are these days, those kinds of fucken laughs. Go up to any asshole and say anything, say, 'The sky is blue,' and they'll wheel out one of those fucken laughs, I swear. It's how folk spin the powerdime these days, that's what I'm learning. They don't shoot facts anymore, they just hoosh up their laughs, like: yeah, right.
'I mean - surely the damage is done,' she says. 'You did have that awful catalog, and now these illegal drugs …'
Awful catalog, get that. Her closet is probably full of that lingerie, but now it's an awful catalog. I skip the catalog and move on to the drugs. 'Heck, plenty of dudes are into that stuff - anyway it ain't even mine.'
'Well I know, that catalog was mine - what on earth got into you? Was it something the Navarro boy put you up to?'
'Hell no.'
'I don't like to speak badly, but …'
'I know, Ma, Meskins are more colorful.'
'Well I only mean they're more - flamboyant31. And Vernon, they're Mexicans, not Meskins, have some respect.'
The conversation is nano-seconds away from including the word 'panties', something you should never hear in conversation with your mom. Knowing her, she'd probably say 'underpants' or something. 'Interior wear', or something way fucken bent32. A new resignation settles over me, that I can't run out on my ole lady while she's like this. Not right away, not tonight. I need to reflect, alone.
'I think I'll take some fresh air,' I say, stretching off the bench.
Mom opens out her hands. 'Well what do you call this?'
'I mean at the park or something.'
'Well Vernon, it's nearly eleven o'clock.'
'Ma, I'm being indicted33 as an accessory to murder for chris-sakes …'
'Well don't cuss at your mother, after all I've been through!'
'I ain't cussing!'
There's a pause while she folds her arms, and hunches34 her shoulder to wipe an eye. Clicking night bugs make it seem like her skin is crackling. 'Honestly, Vernon Gregory, if your father was here …'
'What did I do? I'm only trying to go to the park.'
'Well I'm just saying grown up people make money and contribute a little, which means getting up in the morning - I mean, there must be a thousand kids in this town, but you don't see them all at the park in the middle of the night.'
Thus, quietly, and with love, she reels me out to the end of my tether, to that itchy hot point where you hear yourself committing to some kind of fucken outlandishness.
'Yeah?' I say. 'Yeah? Well I've got live and direct news for you!'
'Oh?'
'I wasn't even going to tell you yet, but if this is how you're gonna be - I already talked to Mr Lasseen about a job, so, hey.'
'Well, when do you start?' A smile's shadow passes over her lips. She knows I just cut lumber35 for a cross. The motivation behind her higher-than-Christ eyebrows36 gives me the fire to carry it on.
'Tomorrow, maybe.'
'Doing what?'
'Just helping37 out, you know.'
'Well I used to know Tyrie's wife, Hildegard.' She ups the ante, makes me think she'll bump into Tyrie's wife. But I hold my course, I say anything not to lose another knife game. My ole lady doesn't lose at knife games. She ain't lost this one yet. 'Well what about Dr Goosens? I'll die if I see the police around here again …'
'I can work mornings.'
'What will Tyrie Lasseen think, if you don't do a full day's work?'
'I already fixed38 it with him.'
'Well you can pay me a little lodging39 then, now that you're so grown up and all.'
'Oh, sure, you can have most of it - all of it if you want.'
She sighs like I'm already behind with my rent. 'The power company comes first, Vernon - how quickly will you get paid?'
'Uh - I can probably get an advance.'
'Without any working history?'
'Oh sure,' I say, squinting40 into the sky. 'So now can I go to the park?'
She blinks dreamily, her ole innocent eyebrows rise up to heaven. 'I never said you couldn't go to the park …'
Needless to say, there is no fucken job. I stand insulated from my world by the buzzing tequila-ozone of what I just did. Lies scatter41 around me like ants.
'Well I guess I'll have to make lunches for you now,' says Mom.
'Nah, I'll come home for lunch.'
'From Keeter's? But that's miles away.'
'Twenty minutes, it takes me.'
'Oh goodnight, it's almost twenty minutes by car . . .'
'Nah - I know all the shortcuts42.'
'Well maybe I better call Hildegard Lasseen and see what they expect, I mean it's ridiculous.'
'Okay, I'll take lunch.'
'Y'all die and nobody told me?' Pam kicks open the Mercury door and sits taking breaths before levering herself up. Something as big as a goddam bullfrog jumps out through her legs, I swear. 'Vernie, come help ole Palmyra with these bags - I've been calling your damn number since Adam & Eve.' She drops some sacks onto the driveway, then struggles over to the willow, pulling back the branches like drapes. Mom sits sniffling underneath.
'Lalito's gone,' she sniffs43.
'Took his time about it,' says Pam. 'C'mon now, this food's getting soggy.' She begins the long haul up to the porch. I gather the Bar-B-Chew Barn sacks, and linger beside her.
'Vernie, look!' she says, pointing into the sky. I look up. 'Tsh,' she slaps my belly44. She even makes the little sound, 'Tsh,' like a cymbal45. It's just a thing we do, me and Pam. 'C'mon, Doris, or I'll call Lolly and tell him about your herpes.'
'Shit, Palmyra, God.'
Thunderclaps of laughter ripple46 through Pam's flesh. My ole lady struggles to keep her misery47, squirms and wrassles with herself on the bench. In the end, she gets mad and scuttles48 up to the porch. 'You're just too damn perky - it's important to hurt sometimes.'
'Want me to push ya down the stairs? Haugh, haugh, haugh.'
'Well for God's sake, Palmyra. Anyway, we don't want your damn food.'
'Haugh, haugh, haugh. You should've seen Vaine at the hayride, she put away more corn than a truckload of empty Meskins.'
'But Atkins diet is supposed to be protein . . .'
'Barry's out for the night.'
'Oh?'
'A few of the posse owe him a beer. He found a gun yesterday, at Keeter's.'
收听单词发音 |
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cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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mantis
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| n.螳螂 | |
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frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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ironic
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| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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flamboyant
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| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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indicted
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| 控告，起诉( indict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hunches
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| 预感，直觉( hunch的名词复数 ) | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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shortcuts
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| n.捷径( shortcut的名词复数 )；近路；快捷办法；被切短的东西（尤指烟草） | |
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sniffs
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的第三人称单数 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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cymbal
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| n.铙钹 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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48
scuttles
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| n.天窗( scuttle的名词复数 )v.使船沉没( scuttle的第三人称单数 )；快跑，急走 | |
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