In The American Society by Gish Jen

In The American Society by Gish Jen

When my father took over the pancake house, it was to send my little sister Mona and me to college. We were only in junior high at the time, but my father believed in getting a jump on things. ―Those Americans always saying it, ―he told us. ―Smart guys thinking in advance.‖ My mother elaborated, explaining that businesses took bringing up, like children. They could take years to get going, she said, years.

In this case, though, we got rich right away. At two months we were breaking even, and at four, those same hotcakes that could barely withstand the weight of butter and syrup were supporting our family with ease. My mother bought a station wagon with air conditioning, my father an oversized, red vinyl recliner for the back room; and as time went on and the business continued to thrive, my father started to talk about his grandfather and the village he had reigned over in China—things my father had never talked about when he worked for other people. He told us about th e bags of rice his family would give out the poor at New Year‘s, and about the people who came to beg, on their hands and knees, for his grandfather to intercede for more wayward of their relatives. ―Like that Godfather in the movie,‖ he would tell us as, his feet up, he distributed paychecks. Sometimes an employee would get two green envelopes instead of one, which meant that Jimmy needed a tooth pulled, say, or that Tiffany‘s husband was in the clinker again.

―It‘s nothing, nothing,‖ he would insist, sinking back into his chair. ―Who else is going to take care of you people?‖

My mother would mostly just sigh about it. ―Your father thinks this is China,‖ she would say, and then she would go back to her mending. Once in a while, though, when my father had given away a particularly large sum, she would exclaim, outraged, ―But this here is the U—S---of—A‖— this apparently having been what she used to tell immigrant stock boys when they came in late.

She didn‘t work at the supermarket anymore; but she had m ade it to the rank of manager before she left, and this had given her not only new words and phrases, but new ideas about herself, and about America, and about what was what in general. She had opinions, now, on how downtown should be zoned; she could pump her own gas and check her own oil; and for all she used to chide Mona and me for being ―copycats,‖ she herself was now interested in espadrilles, and wallpaper, and most recently, the two country clubs.

―So join already,‖ said Mona, flicking a fly off h er knee.

My mother enumerated the problems as she sliced up a quarter round of watermelon: There was the cost. There was the waiting list. There was the fact that no one in our family played either tennis or golf.

―So what?‖ said Mona.

―It would be waste,‖ said my mother.

―Me and Callie can swim in the pool.‖

―Plus you need that recommendation letter from a member.‖

―Come on,‖ said Mona. ―Annie‘s mom‘d write you a letter in sec.‖

My mother‘s knife glinted in the early summer sun. I spread some more newspaper on the picnic table.

―Plus you have to eat there twice a month. You know what that means.‖ My mother cut another, enormous slice of fruit.

―No, I don’t know what that means,‖ said Mona.

―It means Dad would have to wear a jacket, dummy,‖ I s aid.

―Oh! Oh! Oh!‖ said Mona, clasping her hand to her breast. ―Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!‖

We all laughed: my father had no use for nice clothes, and would wear only ten-year-old shirts, with grease-spotted pants, to show how little he cared what anyone thought.

―Your father doesn‘t believe in joining the American society,‖ said my mother. ―He wants to have his own society.‖

―So go to dinner without him.‖ Mona shot her seeds out in long arcs over the lawn. ―Who cares what he thinks?‖

But of course we all did care, and knew my mother could not simply up and do as she pleased. For in my father‘s mind, a family owed its head a degree of loyalty that left no room for dissent. To embrace what he embraced was to love; and to embrace something else was to betray him.

He demanded a similar sort of loyalty of his workers, whom he treated more like servants than employees. Not in the beginning, of course. In the beginning all he wanted was for them to keep on doing what they used to do, and to that end he concentrated mostly on leaving them alone. As the months passed, thought, he expected more and more of them, with the result that for all this largesse, he began to have trouble keeping help. The cooks and busboys complained that he asked them to fix radiators and trim hedges, not only at the restaurant, but at our house; the waitresses that he sent them on errands and made them chauffeur him around. Our head waitress, Gertrude, claimed that he once even asked her to scratch his back.

―It‘s not just the blacks don‘t believe in slavery,‖ she said when she quit.

My father never quite registered her complaint, though, nor those of the others who left. Even after Eleanor quit, then Tiffany, then Gerald, and Jimmy, and even his best cook, Eureka Andy, for whom he had bought new glasses, he remained mostly convinced that the fault lay with them.

―All they understand is that assembly line,‖ he lamented. ―Robots, they are. They want to be robots.‖

There were occasions when the clear running truth seemed to eddy, when he would pinch the vinyl of his chair up into little peaks and wonder if he were doing things right. But with time he would always smooth the peaks back down; and when business started to slide in the spring, he kept on like a horse in his ways.

By the summer our dishboy was overwhelmed with scrapings. It was no longer just the hashbrowns that people were leaving for trash, and the service was as bad as the food. The waitresses served up French pancakes instead of German, apple juice instead of orange, spilt things on laps, on coats. On the Fourth of July some greenhorn sent an entire side of fries slaloming down a lady‘s massif centrale. Meanwhile in the back room, my father labored through articles on the economy.

―What is housing starts?‖ he puzzled. ―What is GNP?‖

Mona and I did what we could, filling in as busgirls and bookkeepers and, one afternoon, stuffing the comments box that hung by the cashier‘s desk. That was Mona‘s idea. We rustled up a variety of pens and pencils, checked boxes for an hour, smeared the cards up with coffee and grease, and waited. It took a few days for my father to notice that the box was full, and he didn‘t say anything about it for a few days more. Finally, though, he started to complain of fatigue; and then he began to complain that the staff was not what it could be. We encouraged him in this---pointing out, for instance, how many dishes got chipped---but in the end all that happened was that, for the first time since we took over the restaurant, my father got into his head to fire

someone. Skip, a skinny busboy who was saving up for a sportscar, said nothing as my father mumbled on about the price of dishes. My father‘s hands shook as he wrote out the severance check; and he spent the rest of the day napping in his chair once it was over.

As it was going on midsummer, Skip wasn‘t easy to replace. We hung a sign in the window and advertised in the paper, but no one called the first week, and the person who called the second didn‘t show up for his interview. The third week, my father phoned Skip to see if he would come back, but a friend of his had already sold him a Corvette for cheap.

Finally a Chinese guy named Booker turned up. He couldn‘t have been more than thirty, but he looked as though life had him pinned: his eyes were bloodshot and his chest sunken, and the muscles of his neck seemed to strain with the effort of holding his head up. In a single dry breath he told us that he had never bussed tables but was willing to learn, and that he was on the lam from the deportation authorities.

―I do not want to lie to you,‖ he kept saying. He had come to the United States on a student visa, had run out of money, and was now in a bind. He was loath to go back to Taiwan, as it happened---he looked up at this point, to be sure my father wasn‘t pro-KMT---but all he had was a phony social security card and a willingness to absorb all blame, should anything untoward come to pass.

―I do not think, anyway, that it is against law to hire me, only to be me,‖ he said, smiling faintly.

Anyone else would have examined him on this, but my father conceived of laws as speed bumps rather than curbs. He wiped the counter with his sleeve, and told Booker to report the next morning.

―I will be good worker,‖ said Booker.

―Good,‖ said my fat her.

―Anything you want me to do, I will do.‖

My father nodded.

Booker seemed to sink into himself for a moment. ―Thank you,‖ he said finally. ―I am appreciate your help. I am very, very appreciate for everything.‖ He reached out to shake my father‘s hand.

My father looked at him. ―Did you eat today?‖ he asked in Mandarin.

Booker pulled at the hem of his jacket.

―Sit down,‖ said my father. ―Please, have a seat.‖

My father didn‘t tell my mother about Booker, and my mother didn‘t tell my father abou t the country club. She would never have applied except that Mona, while over at Annie‘s, had let it drop that our mother wanted to join. Mrs. Lardner came by the very next day.

―Why, I‘d be honored and delighted to write you people a letter,‖ she said. Her skirt billowed around her.

―Thank you so much,‖ said my mother. ―But it‘s too much trouble for you, and also my husband is…‖

―Oh, it‘s no trouble at all, no trouble at all. I tell you.‖ She leaned forward so that her chest freckles showed. ―I know just how it is. It‘s a secret of course, but you know, my natural father was Jewish. Can you see it? Just look at my skin.‖

―My husband,‖ said my mother.

―I‘d be honored and delighted,‖ said Mrs. Lardner with a little wave of her hands. ―Just honored and delighted.‖

Mona was triumphant. ―See, Mom,‖ she said, waltzing around the kitchen when Mrs. Lardner left. ―What did I tell you? ?I‘d just honored and delighted, just honored and delighted.‘‖ She waved her hands in the air.

―You know, the Chinese have a saying,‖ said my mother. ―To do nothing is better than to overdo. You mean well, but you tell me now what will happen.‖

―I‘ll talk Dad into it,‖ said Mona, still waltzing. ―Or I bet Callie can. He‘ll do anything Callie says.‖

―I can try, anyway,‖ I said.

―Did you hear what I said>‖ said my mother. Mona bumped into the broom closet door. ―You‘re not going to talk anything; you‘ve already made enough trouble.‖ She started on the dishes with a clatter.

Mona poked diffidently at a mop.

I sponged off the counted. ―Anyway,‖ I ventured. ―I bet our name‘ll never even come up.‖

―That‘s if we‘re lucky,‖ said my mother.

―There‘s all these people waiting,‖ I said.

―Good,‖ she said. She started on a pot.

I looked over at Mona, who was still cowering in the bro om closet. ―In fact, there‘s some black family‘s been waiting so long, they‘re going to sue,‖ I said.

My mother turned off the water. ―Where‘d you hear that?‖

―Patty told me.‖

She turned the water back on, started to wash a dish, the put it back down and shut the faucet.

―I‘m sorry,‖ said Mona.

―Forget it,‖ said my mother. ―Just forget it.‖

Booker turned out to be a model worker, whose boundless gratitude translated into a willingness to do anything. As he also learned quickly, he soon knew not only how to bus, but how to cook, and how to wait table, and how to keep the books. He fixed the walk-in door so that it stayed shut, reupholstered the torn seats in the dining room, and devised a system for tracking inventory. The only stone in the rice was that he tended to be sickly; but, reliable even in illness, he would always send a friend to take his place. In this way we got to know Ronald, Lynn, Dirk, and Cedric, all of whom, like Booker, had problems with their legal status and were anxious to please. They weren‘t all as capable as Booker, though, with the exception of Cedric, whom my father often hired even when Booker was well. A round wag of a man who called Mona and me shou hou - skinny monkeys - he was professed nonsmoker who was nevertheless always begging drags off of other people‘s cigarettes. This last habit drove our head cook, Fernando, crazy, especially since, when refused a hit, Cedric would occasionally snitch one. Winking impishly at Mona and me, he would steal up to an ashtray, take a quick puff, and then break out laughing as the smoke came rolling out of his mouth in a great incriminatory cloud.

Fernando accused him of stealing fresh cigarettes too, even whole packs.

―Why else do you think he‘s weaseling around in the back of the store all the time,‖ he said.

His face was blotchy with anger. ―The man is a thief.‖

Other members of the staff supported him in this contention and joined in on an

―Operation Identification,‖ which involved numbering and initialing their cigarettes – even

th ough what they seemed to fear for wasn‘t so much their cigarettes as their jobs. Then one of

the cooks quit; and rather than promote someone, my father hired Cedric for the position. Rumors flew that he was taking only had the normal salary, that Alex had been pressured to resign, and that my father was looking for a position with which to placate Booker, who had been bypassed because of his health.

The result was that Fernando categorically refused to work with Cedric.

―The only way I‘ll cook with that piece of slime,‖ he said, shaking his huge tattooed fist, ―is if he‘s frying on the grill.‖

My father cajoled and cajoled, to no avail, and in the end was simply forced to put them on different schedules.

The next week Fernando got caught stealing a carton of minute steaks. My father would not tell even Mona and, me how he knew to be standing by the back door when Fernando was on his way out, but everyone suspected Booker. Everyone but Fernando, that is, who was sure Cedric had been the tip-off. My father held a staff meeting in which he tried to reassure everyone was so amazed that he was being allowed to stay that Fernando was incensed nonetheless.

―Don‘t you all be putting your bug eyes on me,‖ he said. ―He’s the crook.‖ He grabbed Cedric by the collar.

Cedric raised an eyebrow. ―Cook, you mean,‖ he said.

At this Fernando punched Cedric in the mouth; and the words he had just uttered notwithstanding, my father fired him on the spot.

With everything that was happening, Mona and I were ready to be getting out of the restaurant. It was almost time: the days were still stuffy with summer, but our window shade had started flapping in the evening as if gearing up to go out. That year the breezes were full of salt, as they sometimes were when they came in from the East, and they blew anchors and docks through my mind like so many tumbleweeds, filling my dreams with wherries and lobsters and grainy-faced men who squinted, day in and day out, at the sky.

It was time for a change, you could feel it; and yet the pancake house was the same as ever. The day before school started my father came home with bad news.

―Fernando called police,‖ he said, wiping his hand on his pant leg.

My mother naturally wanted to know what police; and so with much coughing and hawing, the long story began, the latest installment of immigration sending an investigator. My mother sat still as a whalebone as my father described how the man summarily refused lunch on the house and how my father had admitted, under pressure, that he knew t here were ―things‖ about his workers.

―So now what happens?‖

My father didn‘t know. ―Booker and Cedric went with him to the jail,‖ he said. ―But me, here I am.‖ He laughed uncomfortably.

The next day my father posted bail for ―his boys‖ and waited appre hensively for something to happen. The day after that he waited again, and the day after that he called our neighbor‘s law student son, who suggested my father call the immigration department under an alias. My father took his advice; and it was thus that he discovered that Booker was right: it was illegal for aliens to work, but it wasn‘t to hire them.

In the happy interval that ensued, my father apologized to my mother, who in turn confessed about the country club, for which my father had no choice but to forgive her. Then he turned his attention back to ―his boys.‖

My mother didn‘t see that there was anything to do.

―I like to talking to the judge,‖ said my father.

―This is not China,‖ said my mother.

―I‘m only talking to him. I‘m not give him money unless he wants it.‖

―You‘re going to land up in jail.‖

―So what else I should do?‖ My father threw up his hands. ―Those are my boys.‖

―Your boys!‖ exploded my mother. ―What about your family? What about your wife?‖

My father took a long sip of tea. ―You know,‖ he said finally. ―In the war my father sent our cook to the soldiers to use. He always said it – the province comes before the town, the town comes before the family.‖

―A restaurant is not a town,‖ said my mother.

My father sipped at his tea ag ain. ―You know when I first come to the United States, I also had to hide-and-seek with those deportation guys. If people did not helping me, I‘m not her today.‖

My mom scrutinized her hem.

After a minute I volunteered that before seeing a judge, he might try a lawyer.

He turned. ―Since when did you become so afraid like your mother?‖

I started to say that it wasn‘t a matter of fear, but he cut me off.

―What I need today,‖ he said, ―is a son.‖

My father and I spent the better part of the next day standing in lines at the immigration office. He did not get to speak to a judge, but with much persistence he managed to speak to a judge‘s clerk, who tried to persuade him that it was not her place to extend him advice. My father, though, shamelessly plied her with compliments and offers of free pancakes until she finally conceded that she personally doubted anything would happen to either Cedric or Booker.

―Especially if they‘re ?needed workers,‘‖ she said, rubbing at the red marks her glasses left on her no se. She yawned. ―Have you thought about sponsoring them to become permanent residents?‖

Could he do that? My father was overjoyed. And what if he saw to it right away? Would she perhaps put in a good word with the judge?

She yawned again, her nostrils fl aring. ―Don‘t worry,‖ she said. ―They‘ll get a hair hearing.‖

My father returned jubilant. Booker and Cedric hailed him as their savior, their Buddha incarnate. He was like a father to them, they said; and laughing and clapping, they made him tell the story over and over, sorting over the details like jewels. And how old was the assistant judge? And what did she say?

That evening my father tipped the paperboy a dollar and bought a pot of mums for my mother, who suffered them to be placed on the dining room table. The next night he took us all out to dinner. Then on Saturday, Mona found a letter on my father‘s chair at the restaurant.

Dear Mr. Chang,

You are the grat boss. But, we do not like to trial, so will runing away now. Plese to

excus us. People saying the law in America is fears like dragon. Here is only $140. We

hope some day we can pay back the rest bale. You will getting intrest, as you diserving,

so grat a boss you are. Thank you for every thing. In next life you will be burn in rich

family, with no more pancakes

Yours truley,

Booker + Cedric

In the weeks that followed my father went to the pancake house for crises, but otherwise hung around our house, fiddling idly with the sump pump and boiler in an effort, he said, to get ready for winter. It was as though he had gone into retirement, except that instead of moving South, he had moved to the basement. He even took to showering my mother with little attentions, and to calling her ―old girl,‖ and when we finally heard that the club had entertained all the applications it could for the year, he was so sympathetic that he seemed more disappointed than my mother.

Mrs. Lardner tempered the bad news with an invitation to a bon voyage ―bash‖ she was throwing for a friend of hers who was going to Greece for six months.

―Do come,‖ she urged. ―You‘ll meet everyone, and then, you know, if things open up in the spring…‖ She waved her hands.

My mother wondered if it would be appropriate to show up at a party for someone they didn‘t know, but ―the honest truth‖ was that this was an annual affair. ―If it‘s not Greece, it‘s Antibes,‖ sighed Mrs. Lardner. ―We really just do it because his wife left him and his daughter doesn‘t speak to him, and poor Jeremy just feels so unloved.‖

She also invited Mo na and me to the goings on, as ―demi-guests‖ to keep Annie out of the champagne. I wasn‘t too keen on the idea, but before I could say anything, she had already thanked us for so generously agreeing to honor her with our presence.

―A pair of little princesses, you are!‖ she told us. ―A pair of princesses!‖

The party was that Sunday. On Saturday, my mother took my father out shopping for a suit. As it was the end of September, she insisted that he buy a worsted rather than a seersucker, even though it was only ten, rather than fifty percent off. My father protested that it was as hot out as ever, which was true – a thick Indian summer had cozied murderously up to us – but to no avail. Summer clothes, said my mother, were not properly worn after Labor Day.

The suit was unfortunately as extravagant in length as it was in price, which posed an additional quandary, since the tailor wouldn‘t be in until Monday. The salesgirl, though, found a way of tacking it up temporarily.

―Maybe this suit not fit me,‖ fretted my father. ―Just don‘t take your jacket off,‖ said the salesgirl. He gave her a tip before they left, but when he got home refused to remove the price tag.

―I like to ask the tailor about the size,‖ he insisted.

―You mean you‘re going to wear it and then return it?‖ Mona rolled her eyes.

―I didn‘t say I‘m return it,‖ said my father stiffly. ―I like to asking the tailor, that‘s all.‖

The party started off swimmingly, except that most people were wearing Bermudas or wrap skirts. Still, my parents carried on, sharing with great feeling the complaints about the heat. Of course my father tried to eat a cracker full of shallots and burnt himself in an attempt to help Mr. Lardner turn the coals of the barbeque; but on the whole he seemed to be doing all right. Not nearly so well as my mother, though, who had accepted an entire cupful of Mrs. Lardner‘s magic punch, and seemed indeed to be under some spell. As Mona and Annie skirmished over whether some boy in their class inhaled when he smoked, I watched my mother take off her shoes, laughing and laughing as a man with a beard regaled her with navy stories by the pool. Apparently he had been stationed in the Orient and remembered a few words of Chinese, which made my mother laugh still more. My father excused h imself to go to the men‘s room and then drifted back and weighed anchor at the hors d‘oeuvres table, while my mother sailed on to a

group of women, who tinkled at length over the clarity of her complexion. I dug out a book I had brought.

Just when I‘d crac ked the spine, though, Mrs. Lardner came by to bewail her shortage of servers. Her caterers were criminals, I agreed; and the next thing I knew I was handing out bits of marine life, making the rounds as amicably as I could.

―Here you go, Dad,‖ I said when I got to the hors d‘oeuvres table.

―Everything is fine,‖ he said.

I hesitated to leave him alone; but then the man with the beard zeroed in on him, and though he talked of nothing but my mother, I thought it would be okay to get back to work. Just that moment, though, Jeremy Brothers lurched our way, an empty, albeit corked, wine bottle in hand. He was a slim, well-proportioned man, with a Roman nose and small eyes and a nice manly jaw that he allowed to hang agape.

―Hello,‖ he said drunkenly. ―Pleased to meet you.‖

―Pleased to meeting you,‖ said my father.

―Right,‖ said Jeremy. ―Right. Listen. I have this bottle here, this most recalcitrant bottle. You see that it refuses to do my bidding. I bid it open sesame, please, and it does nothing.‖ He pulled the cork out with his teeth, then turned the bottle upside down.

My father nodded.

―Would you have a word with it please?‖ said Jeremy. The man with the beard excused himself. ―Would you please have a damned word with it?‖

My father laughed uncomfortably.

―Ah!‖ Jeremy bowed a little. ―Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me. You are not my man, not my man at all.‖ He bowed again and started to leave, but then circled back. ―Viticulture is not your forte, yes I can see that, see that plainly. But may I trouble you on another matter? Forget the damned bottle.‖ He threw it into the pool, and winked at the people he splashed. ―I have another matter. Do you speak Chinese?‖

My father said he did not, but Jeremy pulled out a handkerchief with some characters on it anyway, saying that his daughter had sent it from Hong Kong and that he thought the characters might be some secret message.

―Long life,‖ said my father.

―You have you haven‘t looked at it yet.‖

―I know what it says without looking.‖ My father winked at me.

―You do?‖

―Yes, I do.‖

―You‘re making fun to me, aren‘t you?‖

―No, no, no,‖ said my father, winking again.

―Who are you anyway?‖ said Jeremy.

His smile fading, my father shrugged.

―Who are you?‖

My father shrugged again.

Jeremy began to roar. ―This is my party, my party, and I‘ve never seen you before in my life.‖ My father backed up as Jeremy came tow a rd him. ―Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?‖Just as my father was going to step back into the pool, Mrs. Lardner came running up. Jeremy informed her that there was a man crashing his party.

―Nonsense,‖ said Mrs. Lardner. ―This is Ralph Chang, who I invited extra especially so he could meet you.‖ She straightened the collar of Jeremy‘s peach-colored polo shirt for him.

―Yes, we‘ll we‘ve had a chance to chat,‖ said Jeremy.

She whispered in his ear, he mumbled something; he whispered something more.

―I do apologize,‖ he said finally.

My father didn‘t say anything.

―I do.‖ Jeremy seemed genuinely contrite. ―Doubted you‘ve seen drunks before, haven‘t you? You must have them in C hina.‖

―Okay,‖ said my father.

As Mrs. Lardner glided off, Jeremy clapped his arm over my father‘s shoulders. ―You know I really am quite sorry, quite sorry.‖

My father nodded.

―What can I do, how can I make it up to you?‖

―No, tell me, tell me,‖ wheedled Jeremy. ―Tickets to casino night? My father shook his head. ―You don‘t gamble. Dinner at Bartholomew‘s?‖ My father shook his head again.―You don‘t eat.‖ Jeremy scratched his chin. ―You know, my wife was like you. Old Annabelle could never let me make things up –never, never, never, never, never.‖

My father wriggled out from under his arm.

―How about sports clothes? You are rather overdressed, you know, excuse me for saying so. But here.‖ He took off his polo shirt and folded it up. ―You can have th is with my most profound apologies.‖ He ruffled his chest hairs with his free hand.

―No thank you,‖ said my father.

―No, take it, take it. Accept my apologies.‖ He thrust the shirt into my father‘s arms. I‘m am so very sorry, so very sorry. Please, try i t on.‖ Helplessly holding the shirt, my father searched the crowd for my mother. ―Here, I‘ll help you off with your coat.‖

My father froze.

Jeremy reached over and took his jacket off. ―Milton‘s, one hundred twenty-five dollars, reduced to one hundred twelve-fifty,‖ he read. ―What a bargain, what a bargain!‖

―Please give it back,‖ pleaded my father. ―Please.‖

―Now for your shirt,‖ ordered Jeremy.

Heads began to turn.

―Take off your shirt.‖

―I do not take orders like a servant,‖ announced my father.

―Take off your shirt, or I‘m going to throw this jacket right into the pool, just right into this little pool here.‖ Jeremy held it over the water.

―Go ahead.‖

―One hundred twelve-fifty,‖ taunted Jeremy. ―One hundred twelve…‖

My father flung the polo shirt into the water with such force that part of it bounced back up into the air like a fluorescent fountain. Then it settled into a soft heap on top of the water. My mother hurried up.

―You‘re a sport!‖ said Jeremy, suddenly breaking into a smile and slap ping my father on the back. ―You‘re a sport! I like that. A man with spirit, that‘s what you are. A man with panache. Allow me to return to you your jacket.‖ He handed it back to my father. ―Good value you got on that, good value.‖

My father hurled the co at into the pool too. ―we‘re leaving,‖ he said grimly. ―Leaving!‖

―Now, Ralphie,‖ said Mrs. Lardner, bustling up; but my father was already stomping off.

―Get your sister,‖ he told me. To my mother: ―Get your shoes.‖

―That was great, Dad,‖ said Mona as we walked down to the car. ―You were stupendous.‖

―Way to show ?em,‖ I said.

―What?‖ said my father offhandedly.

Although it was only just dusk, we were in a gulch, which made it hard to see anything except the gleam of his white shirt moving up the hill ahead of us.

―It was all my fault,‖ began my mother.

―Forget it,‖ said my father grandly. Then he said, ―The only trouble is I left those keys in my jacket pocket.‖

―Oh no,‖ said Mona.

―Oh no is right,‖ said my mother.

―So we‘ll walk home,‖ I said.

―But how‘re we going to get into the house,‖ said Mona.

The noise of the part churned through the silence.

―Someone has to going back,‖ said my father.

―Let‘s go to the pancake house first,‖ suggested my mother. ―We can wait there until the party is f inished, and then call Mrs. Lardner.‖

Having all agreed that was a good plan, we started walking again.

―God, just think,‖ said Mona. ―We‘re going to have to dive for them.‖

My father stopped a moment. We waited.

―You girls are good swimmers,‖ he said finally. ―Not like me.‖

Then his shirt started moving again, and we trooped up the hill after it, into the dark.

在美国社会中任碧莲

当我父亲接管了煎饼的房子,这是送我的小妹妹蒙纳和我上大学。我们仅仅是在初中的时候,但是我父亲相信的东西上得到一跳。“那些美国人常说这些,”他告诉我们。”聪明的家伙超前的意识。”我母亲了,说明企业阐述了抚养,像孩子一样。他们可能花费数年的时间去吧,她说,十年。

在这种情况下,尽管我们有钱后,马上。在两个月中,我们不赔不赚,4岁时,同样是这些烤饼,几乎无法承受的重量,黄油和糖浆被支持我们的家人与安心。我妈妈买了一的旅行车,配有空调,我父亲过大,红色乙烯的躺椅上为后面的房间里,随着时间的流逝,生意继续茁壮成长,我父亲开始谈论他的祖父和村里,他已经作了在China-things我父亲从来不谈论为别人工作时。他给我们谈了袋米他的家人会释放出穷人过新年时,大约有来的人,为了乞讨,在他们的手和膝盖,因为他的祖父是长远活着,替他们的亲戚更任性。”那样在电影《教父,他会告诉我们,他的脚,他分发的薪水。有时,雇员将得到两个绿色信封而不是一个,这也意味着需要一颗牙拔,吉米说,或者Tiffany的丈夫是在熟料一次。

“没什么,没什么,”他会坚持,下沉又回到了他的椅子上。“还有谁要去照顾你的人吗?”我的妈妈就大多只是叹息。“你的父亲认为这是中国,”她会这么说,然后她会回到她的缝补。每隔一段时间,不过,当我父亲已经捐出一大笔钱,她就会特别惊叫,义愤填膺,“但这是美国——-of-A”——这显然已经被她所曾告诉移民股票男孩他们进来的时候晚了。

她没有工作了,但是在超市她犯了它的等级经理在她离开前,这给了她不仅新单词和短语,但新思想,并对美国关于她自己,并且关于什么什么在一般。她的意见,现在,在市区应该采取怎

样的;她能泵她自己的气体和检查自己的油,和所有她用责骂蒙纳和我成为“跟风基金的,”她自己也很感兴趣,现在espadrilles壁纸,最近,这两个国家俱乐部。

“所以加入了,”莫娜说:一个飞离她的膝盖轻。

我的母亲列举的问题上四分之一圆她切西瓜:有成本。有候补名单上。那里是事实,没有人在我们家打网球或打高尔夫球也。

“那又怎么样?”说,蒙纳。

“这样会浪费,”我妈妈回答说。

“我和Callie可以在池里游泳。”

“再加上你需要从一个会员推荐信。”

“来吧,”说,蒙纳。”安妮的妈妈想给你写封信在秒。”

我母亲的刀在早在夏季的阳光。我涂了一些更多的报纸放在野餐桌上。

“再加上你要在那里吃一个月两次。你知道这是什么意思。”我母亲裁减,巨大的一片水果。

“不,我不知道这是什么意思的说,“蒙纳。

“这意味着爸爸将不得不穿一件夹克,这个笨蛋,”我说。

“噢!哦!噢!”阿murad_s莫娜说:她的手,她的乳房。“哦!哦!哦!哦!噢!”

我们大家都笑了:我父亲就没有用处了,就会把它穿上漂亮衣服只有10岁的衬衣,裤子和grease-spotted,来显示他会在乎任何人想像的要少。

“你父亲不相信加入美国社会,”我妈妈回答说。“他想有自己的社会。”

"所以去晚餐。”《蒙娜丽莎》没有他在开枪打死了她的种子长弧,越过草地。“谁会在乎他在想什么?”

但是当然我们都做了关怀,并知道我母亲不可能简单地起来,做到她高兴。因为在我父亲的思想欠它的头,一个家庭有一定程度的忠诚,没有任何空间为异议。他抱着什么是拥抱和拥抱去爱;别的东西是要卖耶稣的。

他要求一样般配的忠诚度,就是他对待他的工人更像仆人比员工。在开头,当然。在开始的时候,他所要的只是它们继续在做他们用来做,为此他集中大都是在让他们自生自灭。随着时间的流逝,思想,他希望越来越多的,结果是为所有这些慷慨,他开始很难使帮助。厨师和收碗盘的小弟抱怨说,他要他们修理散热器和修剪树篱,不仅在餐馆里,但是在我们的房子,服务员在出差,他派遣他们,并让他们的司机在他身边。我们的头上服务员,格特鲁德,声称他曾甚至问她帮他了。

“这不仅仅是黑人不相信奴隶制度,”她说,当她辞职了。

我父亲决不会完全注册她的抱怨,尽管其他的,也不是那些谁离开了。即使在埃莉诺蒂凡尼,然后退出,然后杰拉尔德,和吉米,甚至是他最好的厨师,为谁尤里卡安迪,他买了新眼镜,他仍然是大部分相信过错的责任和他们在一起。

他们了解的是,“所有生产线上,”他说。“机器人,它们是。他们想要成为机器人。”

有次,是清楚真理似乎艾迪,运行的时候他会捏他的椅子的乙烯基进小峰,不知道他正在做的事情的权利。不过随着时间的推移,他将总是一帆风顺的山峰退缩;当业务开始下滑了春天,他不停地像一匹马在他的道路中。

在今年夏天我们充满了dishboy残渣。这是不再只是人们认为的hashbrowns动身去垃圾,并把服务是最坏的食物。服务员送上法国薄煎饼,而不是德语,苹果汁相反的橘子,洒上的东

西圈,在外套上。在七月四号的一些生手打发一整个侧的炸薯条slaloming女士的地块centrale下来。与此同时,在后面的房间里,我的父亲劳苦的文章在经济上的通过。

“什么是住房开工率吗?”他很困惑。“什么是国民生产总值的吗?”

蒙纳和我没做什么我们能,填了busgirls、簿记员和,一个下午,填料的评论盒,垂在收款台付款。那是《蒙娜丽莎》的理念。我们找到各种各样的笔和铅笔、检查箱子一小时,弄脏卡和咖啡和油脂,等着。花了几天我父亲去注意到箱子里装满了,他没说任何关于它的几天更多。最后,虽然,他开始抱怨疲劳;然后他就开始抱怨那里的员工都不应该是这样的。我们鼓励他在这个——-pointing出来,例如,有多少盘子有缺口——-但最终所有发生的事情,我们首次自从我们接手了餐馆,我的父亲上了他的头解雇别人。史基普,一个瘦的卫生员谁是攒钱给sportscar,什么也没说,就像我的父亲咕哝着在价格方面的菜肴。我的父亲的手在颤抖,他写完了遣散费的检查;他那天剩下的时间在他的椅子上打盹,一旦它结束了。

当它正在进行的盛夏,跳过不容易的更换。我们悬挂写在窗户上,在报纸广告上,但没有一个人说的第一个星期,和那个人是谁打了电话给第二个没有来,他的采访。第三个星期,我的父亲打来电话跳过,看他是否会回来,但他的一个朋友已经卖了他一科维特牌轿车为便宜。

最后一个中国男人名叫布克露面了。他不可能超过三十岁,但他看上去好像生活让他动弹不得,他的眼睛布满了血丝和他的胸部肌肉凹的,和他的脖子似乎应变的努力坚守他的头来。在一个单一的干燥的气息,他告诉我们说他从未城中心表却乐于学习,而他是上的林从迁徙当局。

“我不想跟你撒谎,”他不断地说。他已经来到美国,在学生签证的钱都花光了,现在处于困境。他实在不想回台湾去的,因为事情发生——他抬头看着这一点,可以肯定的是我父亲不领先谢长廷九个百分点————当时他所有虚伪的社会安全卡,并乐意吸收所有责备,应该一切不顺心的事发生。

“我不认为,无论如何,这是违背法律雇用我,只是我,”他微笑着说道,隐约。

其他任何人都不会有他作了检查,但是通过我父亲怀了孕法作为限速装置而不是限制。他掸去柜台向他的袖子,告诉布克报告第二天早上。

“我要作他的好工人说:"布克。

“好,”父亲说。

“任何你想让我做什么,我都会做。”

我父亲点了点头。

布克似乎陷入了一会儿自己。“谢谢你,”他终于说,“我很感激你的帮助。我非常非常感谢为我所做的一切。”他伸出动摇我父亲的手。

我的父亲看着他。“你吃今天?”他问道,普通话。

在袍子周围底边上用以供职。布克把他的夹克。

“坐下,”我父亲说,“请坐。”

我的父亲没有告诉我的母亲,我的母亲对布克没有告诉我父亲有关乡村俱乐部。她永远也不会有应用,除了蒙纳,而在安妮的快乐,让它落下,我们的母亲想加入。夫人Lardner回来了,第二天。

“为什么,我会觉得很荣幸也很高兴,你写人的一封信,”她说。她的裙子翻腾她。

“谢谢你这么多,”我妈妈回答说。“但不太麻烦的话,对你来说,也是我的丈夫是…”

“哦,一点也不麻烦,一点不麻烦。我告诉你的。”她俯下身子,因此她的胸部雀斑显示,“我知道这是什么感受。这是一个秘密,当然,但是你知道,我自然的父亲是犹太教徒。你能看见它吗?看看我的皮肤。”

“我的丈夫,”我妈妈回答说。

“我很荣幸和高兴Lardner夫人说,“带着一个小波的她的手。“只是荣幸和高兴的。”

蒙纳是战无不胜。”看,妈妈,”她说,华尔兹围绕厨房当夫人Lardner开走了。”我告诉你什么来着?“我刚刚荣幸和高兴,只是荣幸和delighted.’”她挥手让她的手在空中。

“你知道,中国人有一种说,”我妈妈回答说。“什么也不做的人,比过头。你的意思是很好,但你现在告诉我将会发生什么事。”

“我会和爸爸",莫娜说:还是华尔兹中度过。”或我打赌Callie即可。他就做什么,Callie 说。”

“我可以试试看,无论如何,”我说。

“你没听见我说>“我妈妈回答说。《蒙娜丽莎》扫帚橱门砰的一声撞上了。"你不打算谈什么,你已经做了足够的麻烦。”她开始盘子当啷一声。

在《蒙娜丽莎》于二零零四年忧心忡忡地戳拖把。

我用海绵吸掉了。”的东西,”我冒险。他说:“我敢打赌我们的名字会甚至从来没有上来。”

“那就是如果我们幸运的话,”我妈妈回答说。

“所有这些人等待,”我说。

“好了,”她说。她开始在锅里。

我看了看蒙纳,谁仍是畏缩在扫帚衣橱里。“事实上,有一些黑人家庭已经等了那么久,他们想要起诉的,”我说。

我妈妈关掉了水。”你从哪听来的?”

“帕蒂告诉我的。”

她把水归来,开始洗盘,放了下来并且关上水龙头。

“对不起,”说蒙纳。

“没事儿,”我妈妈回答说。“忘了它吧。”

布克原来是个模范工人,他的无限的感激译成一种意愿去做任何事情。他也学得非常快,他很快就知道不仅如何路公共汽车,但是如何厨师,以及如何去等待表,以及如何使书籍。他把预约门,所以它仍然关闭,reupholstered撕破了的座位在餐厅里,和发明了一种方法来追踪存货。唯一的石头在水稻,他往往是病态的;但是,可靠的甚至在生病,他总是送一个朋友来接替他的位置。用这种方式我们必须知道罗纳德,明美,德克,塞德里克,所有人,像布克,有了问题与他们的法律地位,是想讨好。他们不是所有的能力相同。布克,虽然作为,除塞德里克,就是我的父亲常常雇请甚至当布克是好是坏。一个圆的摇的人称为蒙纳和我寿山侯,瘦猴子-他声称吸烟的人总是乞求24:22然而别人的香烟。这最后的习惯逼我们的头的厨师,费尔南多,疯狂的,尤其是因为,当拒绝打人,塞德里克偶尔也会是个告密者。在蒙纳和我impishly闪烁,他会偷到烟灰缸、采取快粉扑,然后开始大笑的烟来滚动从他嘴里说一个伟大的incriminatory云。

费尔南多控告他偷窃新鲜香烟太、甚至整个包。

“为什么你还认为他是weaseling围绕在后面的存储的所有时间,”他说。

他的脸是矮生怒火。”那人就是贼。”

员工的其它成员支持他在这一论点并参加了在“操作”,这涉及到识别编号和initialing他们抽烟——即使他们似乎不是很担心他们的香烟作为他们的工作。然后一个厨师被迫辞职,而非促进某人,我父亲雇了塞德里克申请这个职位。谣言,他正在飞只有有了正常工资,亚历克斯就曾被迫辞职,并要使我的父亲是寻找自己的位置,用它来安抚。布克,已被省略是因为健康的原因。

其结果是,费尔南多都断然拒绝了工作与塞德里克。

“对我来说唯一的办法来做与那块的黏液,”他说,摇着巨大的刺拳“是如果他煎牛排放到烤架上。”

我父亲哄和哄,毫无效果,并最终只是被迫把它们放在不同的时间表。

下周有偷窃了费尔南多的一箱一分钟牛排。我父亲不肯告诉甚至蒙纳,我如何知道要站在后门当费尔南多在他回家的路上,但每个人都怀疑布克。每个人,但费尔南多,那就是,他肯定已经在卡迪拉克·密报。我父亲举行一次员工会议中,他试图使每个人都惊呆了,他是被允许留下来,阿隆索被激怒的印象。

“你难道不都是把你的错误我的眼神,”他说。“他是骗子。”他抓住塞德里克的衣领。卡迪拉克·扬了扬眉。”厨师,你的意思是,”他说。

在这个费尔南多穿孔卡迪拉克·在口中,尽管他刚刚说的话,我父亲当场解雇他。

一切正在发生的事,蒙纳,我正准备要离开饭店。这几乎是次:天仍闷与夏天,但我们的窗帘

已经开始扑在傍晚,如果正准备出门。那一年,微风都布满了盐,因为他们有时是他们进来的时候,他们从东锚和码头吹在我的脑子里就像很多tumbleweeds、填充了我的梦想wherries 和龙虾和grainy-faced人眼睛眯成一条缝,每天进出,在天空。

是时候该改变了,你可以感觉到它;然而煎饼的房子是和从前一样。一天前,学校开始了我的父亲回家与坏消息。

“费尔南多叫警察,”他说,擦拭他的手放在他的裤管。

我的母亲很自然地想要知道警察,因此用多了,咳嗽和hawing长的故事开始,最新的一期移民派出了一个侦探。我的母亲坐着不动作为鲸骨像我父的概要描述如何拒绝午餐的人的房子,以及我的父亲承认,在压力下,他知道有“东西”对他的员工。

“所以现在发生了什麽事?”

我的父亲不知道。”“布克和塞德里克的一群人跟随他送进监狱,”他说。“但是我,我在这里。”他笑得很不舒服的。

第二天我父亲的保释”他张贴,等待着apprehensively男生”有什么事情发生。在这之后,

他等待着这一天后再次响起,然后这一天,他给我们的邻居的法律专业学生的儿子,他建议我父亲打电话给移民部门在一个别名。我父亲接受了他的建议,那时候是这样,他发现布克是对的:这是非法外国人去工作,但却并没有雇佣了。

在这个欢庆的音程,相继发生,我的父亲向阿列科道了歉,然后我的母亲承认关于乡村俱乐部,因为我父亲别无选择,只好原谅她。然后他将注意力转回到“他的孩子们。”

我的母亲没有看到那有什么要做。

翻译:“我喜欢说话的法官,”父亲说。

“这不是中国,”我妈妈回答说。

“我只是跟他说话。我不给他钱,除非他想要它。”

“你要土地被关进监狱了。”

“所以我应该做些别的什么吗?”爸爸匆匆搭起了他的手。“那是我的孩子。”

“你的男孩! "爆炸了我妈妈。你的家人呢?你妻子呢?”

我父亲花了很长一段啜一杯茶。“你知道,”他终于说,“在战争中我父亲打发我们的厨师,士兵们使用。他总是说它——这个省之前来到镇上,镇上的到来之前都这样的家庭。”“餐馆不是一个城镇,”我妈妈回答说。

我父亲啜饮他的茶了。“你知道当我第一次来到美国,我也只得捉迷藏的那些迁徙的家伙。如果人们不帮我,我不是她的今天。”

我妈妈仔细观察她的折边。

后一分钟,我自愿,看之前一名法官,他也许会成为一名律师。

他转过头去。“你是从什么时候变得这么害怕像你的母亲吗?”

我开始想说它不是令人心有余悸,但他打断了我。

“我所需要的今天,”他说,“一个儿子。”

我的父亲和我花了大半的第二天线在移民站在办公室。他没有得到发言说,一名法官,但用多了坚持不懈的努力,他设法跟法官的职员,他们想要说服他,这不是她的地方来延长他的建议。我的父亲,尽管,无耻地供给她的赞赏,并提供免费的薄煎饼,直到她终于承认她亲自怀疑什么将会发生,它要么塞德里克或布克。

“尤其当他们在工人的需要,”她说,一边在红色标志她的眼镜上留下了她的鼻子。她打了个呵欠。“你有没有想过,赞助他们成为永久居民?”

可能他这么做?我父亲在这里时,我们大喜过望。如果他看到得像模像样了吗?她也许美言几句与法官吗?

她打了个呵欠,她的鼻孔里再次闪耀,“别担心,”她说。“他们可以得到一个头发听觉。”我的父亲还回喜气洋洋。布克和塞德里克欢呼拥戴他为他们的救主,他们的佛的化身。他就像一个父亲给他们,他们说,笑,她鼓掌、立他讲述这个故事,整理了一遍又一遍的一些细节,比如珠宝。和有多旧助理法官吗?和她说什么了?

那天晚上我父亲的报童打翻了一美元买了一盆小妈妈给我的母亲,谁准了他们都放在餐厅的桌子。第二天晚上,他带我们都去外面吃晚饭吧。然后在星期六,蒙纳发现一封关于我父亲在餐厅的椅子上。

亲爱的先生张德文,

你是色的老板。但是,我们不愿意,所以会跑去审判了。请到excus我们。在美国,人们说法律是恐惧像龙。这是只有140美元。我们希望有一天我们能够清偿其余的包。你会得到一种乐趣,正如你diserving色一个老板,所以你是怎么想的。谢谢你每件事情。在下辈子你会烧在富裕的家庭,没有更多的薄烤饼

你的truley,

布克+塞德里克

在随后的几周里我父亲去了煎饼房子危机,但在其他方面,我们的房子周围吊,悠闲地与污水泵耗炉做出努力,但他说,准备过冬的时候。就仿佛他进入了退休,但除此之外,而不是向南移动,他就搬到地下室。他甚至还为我拍了,我的妈妈做小关注淋浴,并叫她“岁小女孩,”当我们终于听到了,本来俱乐部受理所有的应用程序可能在2007年全年,他是如此的同情使他看起来像失望,而不是我的母亲。

夫人Lardner钢化这个坏消息时,邀请一路顺风“舞会”她投了对她的一个朋友谁是去希腊为6个月。

“来吧,”她催促着。“你会满足每个人,然后,你知道,如果事情开放在春天…”她挥舞着她的手。

我母亲想知道是否适合出现在一党对于某些人来说,他们不知道,但“诚实的真相”,这是一个年度的事情。“如果不是希腊,这是卡索,叹了口气:夫人Lardner。“我们真的这样做,因为他的妻子抛弃了他,他的女儿不跟他说话,穷人和杰里米却感到它是如此不受欢迎。”

她还邀请蒙纳和我到本会,作为“demi-guests”来保持安妮的香槟。我不太喜欢这个主意,可是我还没来得及说话,她已经如此慷慨地感谢我们同意向她与我们的风采。

“一双小公主,你是!”她告诉我们。”一对公主!”

晚会在那个星期天。星期六,我的妈妈带我父亲商店买一套衣服。因为它是9月底,她坚持说他买了精纺而不是泡泡纱,虽然只有十名,而不是五折。那是我父亲抗议像以前一样热了,这是真的——一个厚印度夏季有电影murderously上到我们这里来,但是没有成功。夏天的衣服,说我的母亲,是不恰当的破旧的劳动节之后。

遗憾的是,随着诉讼奢侈的长度,因为它是在价格,这提出了一个额外的困惑,因为裁缝就不会陷入到星期一。听了这话,女推销员,找到了一种手段,虽然它暂时的缝。

“也许这套衣服不适合我,”我父亲。“只要焦躁不拿你的外套脱掉了说,“你的售货员。他给了她一个提示在离开之前,但回到家时,他拒绝去除价格标签。

“我想请裁缝差不多大小的比赛,”他强调。

“你是说你要穿它,然后返回呢?”《蒙娜丽莎》卷她的眼睛。

“我并没有说我把它归还,"我父亲说。“我喜欢给搅成糊状,要求裁缝,仅此而已。”

晚会开始直到除了大部分的人都穿Bermudas或卷的裙子。尽管如此,我的父母进行了强烈的感觉,分享的投诉的热量。当然,我的父亲曾经尝试把吃一块饼干充满乾葱烧自己在企图帮助先生Lardner晚二叠世煤的转烤肉不可;但在整体上的他似乎干得不错。没有那麽好,虽然,和我母亲已经接受了一整个cupful谁的夫人Lardner魔法抢篮板的人,而且似乎确实是在某些法术。如蒙纳和安妮skirmished在是否有个男孩在他们班上吸入当他不吸烟,我

看着我的母亲拿掉她的鞋,笑着笑着说,一名男子带着强大的海军胡子她的故事在泳池边。显然,驻扎在东方的,记住了几句中文,这使我妈妈笑还更多。我父亲原谅自己去看男人的房间然后渐渐地在背部和起锚开胃小吃表,而我的母亲往一群女人,谁就是在长超过清晰的她的肤色。我翻出一本书我领。

只是当我想破解脊柱,虽然,夫人Lardner过来为她的短缺的服务器。她的饭馆是罪犯,我同意了;接下来我所知道的就是我被分发位的海洋生命,使我能够以一种友好的方式发作为。“给你的,爸爸”,我说当我到达开胃小吃桌子。

“所有的事都很好,”他说。

当时我还犹豫要单独把他留下;但后来着络腮胡子的人把注意力集中在他,虽然他谈论的是什么,但是我妈妈,我想那是好要回去工作。只是那一刻,虽然我们的方式,杰里米的弟兄,摇摇晃晃地走了味了,一个空酒瓶,虽然在手里。他是一个身材苗条,均匀的人,有一个罗马鼻子,一双小眼睛,一个漂亮的男子气概的下巴,他允许挂情爱。

“你好,”他说。“醉醺醺,见到你很高兴。”

“很高兴见到你,”父亲说。

“不错,”杰瑞米说。“好的。听着。在这里我有这个瓶子,这个最顽强的瓶子。你看到它拒绝完成我的命令。我命令它的敲门砖,请,它什么也不做。”他把软木与他的牙齿,接着把瓶子弄得乱七八糟。

我父亲点了点头。

“你会有话和吗?”杰瑞米说。那个留胡子的男人原谅自己。“你可以有一个该死的词呢?”

我的爸爸笑了,很不舒服的。

“啊!”杰瑞米鞠了一躬一点。"对不起,打扰一下,打扰一下。你不是我的男人,而不是我的男人。”他鞠了一躬又开始离开,但后来环绕栽种了回来。“不是你的长处,是的,我可以看出,看清楚。但我可以打扰你在另一个重要吗?忘记该死的瓶子。”他把它扔进了游泳池和眨眼时,他都溅起来。“我有另外一个问题了。你能讲汉语吗?”

我父亲说他不听,但杰里米拿出手帕镶一些字符在决赛,说他的女儿已经把它从香港的人物,他认为可能有一些秘密的信息。

“长寿,”父亲说。

“你有你还没看呢。”

“我知道它的说,如果没有看看。”我父亲一直向我眨眼睛。

“你是干什么工作的?”

“是的,我有。”

“你把我的赏心乐事,不是吗?”

“不,不,不,”我父亲说,眨眼了。

“你究竟是什么人?”杰瑞米说。

他的笑容褪去,我父亲耸了耸肩。

“你是谁?”

我父亲再次耸了耸肩。

杰里米开始咆哮。“这是我的聚会,我的聚会,我之前没见过你在我的生命中。”我父亲备份作为杰里米朝他走来。“你是谁?你是谁?”

就像我的父亲要退一步入池,夫人Lardner跑来。杰里米通知她有一个男人撞他的政党。“胡说,”夫人Lardner说。“这是拉尔夫·张,我邀请了额外的特别的人,这样他就能见到你。”她变直的衣领,杰里米的,无论是胡桃木马球衫为他造的。

“是的,我们将我们已经有一个机会聊天,”杰瑞米说。

她在他的耳边轻声说道,他咕哝着什么东西;他低声说了些什么。

“我向您道歉。”他终于说。

我的父亲没有说什么。

“我愿意。”杰里米似乎真正同居。”怀疑之前你看过的醉汉,不是吗?你必须让他们在中国。”

“好吧,”父亲说。

Lardner溜了作为夫人,杰里米轻轻地拍了拍手臂在我父亲的肩膀,“你知道,我真的很对不起,很抱歉。”

我父亲点了点头。

“我能做什么,怎样才能补偿你?”

“不,告诉我,告诉我,“用甜言蜜语诱使杰里米。”张赌场的夜晚吗?我父亲摇了摇头。“你千万别赌博。巴肖罗缪的晚餐吗?”爸爸摇了摇头再次开口说道:“你不要吃。”杰瑞米刀把他的下巴,“你知道,我的妻子就像你。不能让我老安纳贝尔使事情——永远、永远、永远、永远、永远不要。”

我父亲忐忑不安地挣脱他的手臂。

“体育的衣服吗?你是太讲究,你知道的,请原谅我这样说。但是在这里。”他脱掉了他的衬衫和折叠起来。“你可以把这与我的最深刻的歉意。”他好象他的胸部的头发用他的另外一只手。

“不用,谢谢,”父亲说。

“不,拿着它,把它。接受我的歉意。”他把那件衬衫到我父亲的怀抱。我,我很难过,所以非常抱歉。请试穿一下。”无奈地握住的衬衫,我的父亲在人群中搜寻我妈妈。”在这里,我会帮你把你的大衣。”

我父亲一下子僵住了。

杰里米伸手拿了他的外套脱下来。”弥尔顿,一百二十五美元,沦落到100代币12.50美元,”他读。"真便宜,真便宜!”

“请把它还回去,“承认我的父亲。“好。”

“现在你那件衬衫,”命令杰里米。

头开始转变了。

“脱下你的衬衫”。

“我不接受命令像仆人一样宣称:“我的父亲。

“脱下你的衬衫,或者我要把这件夹克正确的入池,刚好在这小小的池在这里。”杰瑞米举着它在水面上。

“好吧。”

“100”嘲弄的代币12.50美元。杰里米。"一百十二…”

我父亲把马球衫入水的力量被反弹回来的那一部分,浮在空中就像一个荧光的泉源。然后它已经进入了一个软堆在水顶部。我的母亲赶到了。

“你是一个运动!”杰瑞米说,突然闯入一个微笑和拍打我的父亲在椅背上。“你是一个运动!我很喜欢这样。一个人的灵魂,那就是你。一个人的红葡萄酒。请允许我回到你的你的夹克衫。”他交还给我父亲。“好珍惜你得到了,在这良好的价值。”

我父亲把外套放在池子里了。“我们要走了,”他严肃地宣布道。“离开了!”

“现在,拉尔夫,”说,熙熙攘攘的夫人Lardner起来,但我父亲已经上了。

“把你的姐姐,”他告诉我。我的妈妈说:“把你的鞋子。”

“那是伟大的,爸爸,”莫娜说:当我们走到车了。”你是惊人的。”

“方法告诉他们吧,”我说。

“什么?”父亲说offhandedly。

尽管它还只是刚刚黄昏,我们是在一个战歌,这使得很难看到任何东西,除了的闪耀动人的白衬衫上山我们前面。

“这都是我的错”,开始了我的母亲。

“没事儿,"我父亲说隆重开幕。然后他说:“唯一的麻烦是我离开那些钥匙在我的夹克口袋里。”

"哦,没有,”说,蒙纳。

“哦,不,是对的,”我妈妈回答说。

所以我们将会步行回家,”我说。

“但是我们要进入房子吧,”说蒙纳。

部分千篇一律的声音通过沉默。

“有人必须回去,”父亲说。

“咱们去把饼家第一,“建议我妈妈。我们可以在那里等直到晚会结束,然后致电夫人Lardner。”

在所有的人都同意这是一个好计划,我们又开始步行。

“上帝的,想想,蒙纳。”说:“我们将不得不去潜水寻找他们。”

我父亲不再片刻。我们等了。

“你们女孩子都是很好的运动员,”他终于说,“不像我。”

然后他的衬衫,我们又开始移动群集上山它后,入黑暗之中。