Chapter 55 fifty four gilbert

Come on, let me figure out where to start.I have to start with Hortens.She came out of Mrs. Bligh's basement door bloody like a murderer.The entire front of the beautiful white dress is red.Her hands, clutching coat and hat carefully, were stained red with the clotted blood of the unfortunate butcher. Mr. Bligh, you can go and see your wife now.The explanation that came out of her mouth was nothing more than that. She passed me and went upstairs to her room with her nose so high that it was a miracle her neck wasn't broken.Here's the story I made up in my head: Queenie had somehow offended my fierce, haughty wife.Is her hat a bit dated?Her English is not very good?who knows?In short, even a small negligence can make Hortens lose his temper.Eager for revenge, Hortens kills Queenie with a knife, perhaps with a hatchet.Later, I stood behind Mr. Bligh, trying not to irritate him by making too much noise on the spot.I looked at Queenie on the bed and the very dark newborn, and the situation suddenly dawned on my ignorant brain.Oh, boy, it's not good, this is more troublesome than killing someone!

I have never heard such a noisy silence.No three of us, four of us stuck in this unreasonable scene.Queenie teased black children who were completely innocent.The innocent child squirmed, unaware of the dire situation he was in.Queenie's husband stared at them, his back straight as if on a march.He wiped back and forth on the spot on his head where he could cuckold.And I frowned.Because I knew Queenie had put on a little weight, but what a surprise to find out that it was maternity-wearable weight!Say something to break the deadlock.So I said: Shall we call the doctor?The stupid husband then shifted his gaze to me.His face was so bewildered it looked almost comical.But the antics of the situation were clearly not what tormented him most at the time.He looked at me intently.Real pain lurks beneath that steady gaze.No sooner had my tongue flicked to say no, my God, it's none of my business, and he jumped at me.

Two fists clenched and grabbed my jacket.I was lifted off the floor by him.My feet tried to get on the ground as he pushed me out of the bedroom and into the living room.I lost a shoe.Tsk, I screamed like a girl.Skinny monkey?The man swelled in front of me, swollen with rage.I have no strength to suppress him.He shoved my back hard against the wall.Every muscle and tooth in his face was used to display his resentment.He and I are close at hand, the breath spurts from him, and he is silent.Like Samson's thunderbolt, I am weak before this rage.I put my hands up to protect my face, and he shook me like a dog biting a doll.I quickly told him: None of my business, man, that's not my kid.He started swearing swear words I never knew white people knew.Not me, man, not me.He's throwing me around, the weakling.But I found a foothold on the ground enough to give him a push.This move was like rolling a solid rock. He stood firmly in front of me and swung his fist towards my nose.Blood gushed out, and he looked as shocked as I did.I yelled: What are you doing, man?The only pain I felt was the eagerness to get this person away.He was afraid of causing bloodshed, so he stepped back.I punched him on the head, and he stumbled, tripped over his chair, and fell to the floor.I yelled at him: OK.Do you hurt too, man?good.

Tsk, wet blood dripped from my chin, and I wiped my nose with the sleeve of my good suit, soaking up the indelible liquid like a sponge.I'll leave now.Let these white people solve their own problems.Looking at my defaced, torn, and ruined front of my suit, I knew something was wrong with me, too.Quite a few questions. But he still refused to give up.He jumped on my back.The man is as tenacious as a vine, and I flick around to get rid of him.His nails dig into my face.So I punched him in the stomach with my elbow.He quickly deflated like a punctured balloon, but he was scurrying about the room without a whimper.He slid off me almost gracefully to the floor again, his knees tucked tightly into his belly.I finally killed him!He remained in that position.Panting heavily like a crying child, curled up stiffly on the ground.Forget it, I didn't hit him that hard.After a while I asked him: Dude, are you okay?I heard no answer, only angry breathing.So I told him again: Gee, man, I feel sorry for you.But this matter has nothing to do with me.

Gently, I heard him murmur: It's all about you.You and people of your race. Upon hearing these words, soft-hearted people like me walked over to help him up.For suddenly a wave of sympathy for him came upon me.No matter how stupid white people are, no man deserves to see his wife raise a child who is not his own.I said: Dude, let me give you a hand?But he pushed my hand away.Then, slowly, he raised his head and stared at me with genuine hatred.This man attacked me, beat me until my nose bleeds, and accused all kinds of things that I never had the chance to do with his wife.Come on, I tell you, I'm suddenly glad this wolf-hearted Brit has a lot to live with.

Gee, I hopped up the stairs to my room (one bare foot, one in socks), not wanting to stay a second longer to look at this guy.Give them that lousy shoe, because I don't want to be in Queenie's mess with her stupid husband again.I'm done.Perhaps Elwood was right.Of course he was right.What is right?I can't remember.But he's warm and warm in Jamaica, and here I am, bloody and barefoot.Well, that must make my cousin smarter than me.I went to the door and found it locked. I yelled: Hortens.OK, let me in, where?How long did I wait to understand that she wouldn't let me in?Trembling and hopping on my shoed foot, I cried out: Hortens.I was worried she might be asleep because there was no sound from inside.I tap the key.are you in thereCome on, it's cold outside.hurry up.Suddenly, the door opened, and she stood there fully dressed, hat, coat, and white gloves.Before I had a chance to go into the room, she told me to come get my suitcase as soon as I was settled.

I asked her: where to settle down?But she didn't answer, just raised her nose up half the sky again, and then passed me by.I yelled: "Wait a minute." I tried to catch up with her, but I stepped on a fallen nail with my bare foot.The sharp metal piercing the soles of my feet reminded me of a fork piercing a dug up onion.I had to yell.I was jumping up and down on the stairwell landing with one foot, only to hear Hortens yelling back to me: Gilbert.Joseph, you really make me do evil. Well, I finally get it.She weighed the evidence and came to the same conclusion as the stupid husband.The newborn in Queenie's arms must have been my child.Tsk!Am I the only black man in the world?why is everyone looking at me?It's only been seven months since I've been back to England.Why doesn't anyone think of counting on their fingers before making a complaint?

I yelled at her: Hortens, listen to me.Boy, I wanted to put the words back in my mouth as soon as I finished.It doesn't sound right.I have nothing to explain.Only the guilty will have to explain.Hortens, that black kid isn't mine.I've only been here seven months and I haven't finished my sentence when the rotten nail stabs me again and most of the words dissolve into another gut-wrenching roar.I yelled: wait a minute! When she walked outside Qin's room door, Qin appeared from the door.It was getting late and she was getting dressed for work, heavily made up like an ugly doll.She looked at Hortens.When Holtens passed by, he politely said to her: Good night.Then Jean turned her gaze to me.He looked curiously, then stuck his head back and laughed.I heard the front door close.Where can Hortens go?She knew no one, and what was worse, she knew nothing.

How long did it take me to find another shoe?The only thing I found was the wrong shoe.I hastily followed Hortens downstairs with both left heels.I can't see her shadow on the street.The loathsome chill mist my breath, and the road ahead of me is also misty.left or right?Tsk, I just go with my shoes, and if she goes the other way, I'm ready to blame the shoes too.I limped towards the square like a lame man.A man walking his dog came up to me.Seeing his terrified expression, I realized how scary I looked.A dark-skinned man, stained with bright red blood, walked awkwardly on two left feet.Boy, I swear, that dog jumped into his owner's arms as soon as he saw me.I thought about saying goodnight, but I was sure this person would scream if he found out I was real.Who can blame him?It is difficult for me to bet on this clear and fresh green land.If I don't find Hertens and get back indoors soon, someone will call the police.Well, I look like the suspect.What crime?Oh, any sin is fine.

Then I saw her.You can't go wrong even from a distance.Her haughty steps waved her white gloves like fireflies in the dark.But she got lost.Standing on the edge of a sidewalk corner, the world would have thought she had left Jamaica for this cold, dark spot.But like this afternoon, she looked left and then right.Which path is the most promising? This woman has no plans.There is nowhere to go.No mommy, no brother, no friends, no cousins ​​who would raise their hand on a street corner to take her in.This is London, not walking under the night sky of Evergreen Springs.But, well, let's face it, this woman would probably walk off a cliff without me.

I thought about calling her.But my voice under the night sky might make her run away.I walked towards her slowly, hiding in the shadow of the street lamp.Then I saw the headlights of a car.The car stopped next to Hertens.I watched the front passenger door pop open.Always polite to strangers and more ignorant than a newborn black boy, Hortens leaned forward and spoke to the driver.For a while, she bent over and turned her head to one side, listening intently.I quicken my pace, cursing my bad shoes.Suddenly she straightened up, jumped back a step, and said: No! She took another step back and bumped into me.She screamed until I said: It's me.That was the first time she saw my face and showed the joy of seeing her fellow countrymen.She grabbed me and buried her head in my neck like a punished child.I patted the roof just in time.Grabbing the driver's door as it hurriedly tried to close it, he yelled at him: Get the hell out of here, you bastard.This woman is not the whore you were looking for.