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So, old Earl's kaput. Finished.
Geez, it don't seem possible. Wednesday. Just three, four. .
. days since lights out. Cind was real good about it - at first
- seeing as they were so close that is. She was quite, well,
quite controlled on the phone. I remember Earl showing me photos
of Cind as a kid. He was a real proud dad. Yep, there was Cind
and Earl at Thanksgiving, horsing around. Funny, little smile,
cute, quirky like. Cind was balancing a pumpkin on her head:
Earl was sat in his rocking chair, out on the deck, waving at
the camera with both hands. Then a shot of the pumpkin pie Cind
had made with 'Papa-Daddy' on it in pastry letters. Yeah, and
all those pictures of the barn, like it was real important. Cind
with skis and mittens outside the barn with a snowman, Cind in
a racoon hat looking through her hula hoop right by the barn.
Cind in a crinkly bathing suit peeking round the barn door. Then
there was Cind riding on Earl's shoulders waving a flag. Must
have been 4th of July. Yeah, they were real close. Cind denied
it. Got real violent when I kidded her about them being closer
than us. Small, black and white shots with edges all curled they
were. Seems like happenings in the last century. Curtains for
old Earl? Nope, don't seem possible. Cind's going to be real
cut up at the funeral. 'Hal, honey, I'm real sorry'. Loren had
said. But of course she wasn't. Any one of that damned family
out of the picture was one less to agonise over. And she was
right. I didn't blame her.
We got the call on Monday. I'd
just picked up Junior from school: it was a real steamer of a
day. Loren was out in the yard, had a girlfriend over, drinking
lemonade. Been dry as a bone this last month. Be a good harvest.
Door screen slapped and slapped as Junior's pals ran in and out,
yelping and hollering. Out with the bikes, out fishing, out in
the corn. 'See yer, Pa', he'd yell. So a journey across state
in this heat was sure a freak. But here we are on the highway,
sun high in the sky, again, Loren in her best dress - white with
flower bunches. A black mackintosh too, on account of the occasion.
I've got my wedding suit on - only worn it twice before. Loren
don't know it's seen two weddings! No point in making her fret.
'Dark grey won't do', she'd said. I let her go on about the color
so I didn't get into any awkward conversation. Junior's been
bribed . . . promise of Disney trip. Poor kid, he don't understand
why his ma went to live with his grandpa. Geez, what a world.
He don't understand? I don't understand neither!
'Hal, honey, are you listening
to me?' Loren said.
'Sure thing, hon. Just thinking about Earl and . . . '
'Hal, sweetheart. I know you tried your best. I know you were
thinking of us. I know ...'
I cracked: 'For Chrissake, honey! Don't bug me. I've explained
about that game. It was my last poker game. No more poker.
No more blackjack neither!'
'Just talk to me, Hal. Hal, honey, a six-hour journey across
state to a funeral, to a place we don't want to go, to see people
we don't want to see and you not damn well talking neither, I
don't need. These great long silences, they're really get to
me, honey.'
'Yep, sure. I know', I said. 'And', she added ominous like, 'who
knows what we'll find.'
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