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| 2016/03/09 11:34:19瀏覽169｜回應0｜推薦0 | |
| Daddy climbed down the ladder. Constantine filled a pot with water. “Go head,” she sighed. “Turn it on then.” Daddy flipped the switch. In the seconds it took to really get going, cake flour blew up from the mixing bowl and swirled around the room, recipes flapped off the counter and caught fire on the stovetop. Constantine snatched the burning roll of parchment paper, quickly dipped it in the bucket of water. There’s still a hole where the ceiling fan hung for ten minutes. In the newspaper, I see State Senator Whitworth pointing to an empty lot of land where they plan to build a new city coliseum. I turn the page. I hate being reminded of my date with Stuart Whitworth. Pascagoula pads into the kitchen. I watch as she cuts out biscuits with a shot glass that’s never shot a thing but short dough. Behind me, the kitchen windows are propped open with Sears, Roebuck & Co. catalogues. Pictures of two-dollar hand mixers and mail-order toys flutter in a breeze, swollen and puckered from a decade of rain. Maybe I should just ask Pascagoula. Maybe Mother won’t find out. But who am I kidding? Mother watches her every move and Pascagoula seems afraid of me anyway, like I might tell on her if she does something wrong. It could take years to break through that fear. My best sense tells me, leave Pascagoula out of this. The phone rings like a fire alarm. Pascagoula clangs her spoon on the bowl and I grab the receiver before she can. I slip into the pantry and sit on my flour can. I can’t speak for about five seconds. “When? When can she start?” “Next Thursday. But she got some . . . requirements.” Aibileen pauses a moment. “She say she don’t want your Cadillac anywhere this side a the Woodrow Wilson bridge.” “Alright,” I say. “I guess I could... drive the truck in.” “And she say . . . she say you can’t set on the same side a the room as her. She want a be able to see you square on at all times.” |
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| ( 興趣嗜好｜偶像追星 ) |
