The Plant. Part 24

Thirty-four sevens.

Six elevens.

No snake-eyes, no boxcars. Not even a single point.

I tried the same experiment here at home (as soon as I got in through the door, as a matter of fact), not sure it would work because the telepathy doesn't travel much beyond the fifth floor at 490 Park. The fact is, you can feel it fade each time you go down (or up) in the elevator. It drains away like water draining out of a sink, and it's a sad sensation.

Anyway, tonight, rolling forty times on my kitchen table produced twenty sevens, six elevens, and fourteen "points"-i.e. spot combos adding up to three, four, five, six, eight, nine, and ten. No snake-eyes. No boxcars. The luck isn't quite so strong away from the office, but twenty sevens and six elevens are pretty amazing. More amazing still, I didn't c.r.a.p out one single time one single time, not at 490, not even here at home.

Will I be as successful at five-card stud and jacks or better on the other side of the Hudson?

Only one way to find out, baby. Tomorrow night.

I can hardly believe what's happening, but there isn't the slightest doubt in my mind that it is is happening. Roger suggested that we stay away from the plant, and what a joke happening. Roger suggested that we stay away from the plant, and what a joke that that is. Might as well suggest the tide not to turn, or that Harlow Enders not be such an a.s.shole. (Enders is a Robert Goulet fan. All you have to do to know that is to look at him.) is. Might as well suggest the tide not to turn, or that Harlow Enders not be such an a.s.shole. (Enders is a Robert Goulet fan. All you have to do to know that is to look at him.) I found myself wandering down toward Riddley's closet once or twice an hour all day long, just to take a big brain-clearing whiff. Sometimes it smells like popcorn (the Nordica Theater, where I copped my first feel...I didn't tell the others that part, but given current conditions I'm sure they must know), sometimes like freshly cut gra.s.s, sometimes like Wildroot Creme Oil, which is what I always wanted the barber to put on my hair as the finis.h.i.+ng touch when I was but a wee slip of a lad. On several occasions others were there when I arrived, and just before quitting time we all turned up at once, standing side by side and breathing deep, storing up those good aromas-and good ideas, maybe- for the weekend. I suppose we would have looked hilarious to an outsider, like a New Yorker New Yorker cartoon without a caption (would we even need one to be amusing? I think not), but believe me, there was nothing hilarious about it. Nothing scary, either. It was nice, that's all. Plain old nice. cartoon without a caption (would we even need one to be amusing? I think not), but believe me, there was nothing hilarious about it. Nothing scary, either. It was nice, that's all. Plain old nice.

Is breathing Zenith addictive? I suppose it must be, but it doesn't feel like a harsh, governing addiction ("governing" may be the wrong word, but it's the only one I can think of). Not like the cigarette habit, in other words, or the pot habit. People say pot isn't addictive, but after my junior year at Bates, I know better-that s.h.i.+t almost got me flunked out. But I repeat, this is not like that. I don't seem to miss it when I'm away from it, as I am now (at least not yet). And at work there is the indescribable feeling of being at one with your mates. I don't know if I'd call it telepathy, exactly (Herb and Sandra do, John and Roger seem a little less sure). It's more like singing in harmony, or walking together in a parade, matching strides. (Not marching, though, it doesn't feel that structured.) And although John, Roger, Sandra, and Herb have all gone their separate ways for the weekend and we're all far from the plant, I still feel in touch with them, as if I could reach out and connect if I really wanted to. Or needed to.

The mailroom is now almost completely empty of ma.n.u.scripts, which is a d.a.m.ned good thing, because it's now almost completely full of Zenith. Z has also overgrown the walls of the corridor, although much more densely in the southerly direction-i.e. toward the rear of the building and the airshaft. Going the other way it has curled its friendly (we a.s.sume they're friendly) tendrils around Sandra's door and John's facing hers, but that's as far as it had progressed as of four o'clock this afternoon, when I split. It seems reasonable to a.s.sume that the Barfield woman was right about the garlic and the smell-which we mere humans can no longer detect-is slowing it down, at least in that direction. South of the janitor's closet and the mailroom, however, the corridor is well on the way to becoming a jungle path. There's Z all over the walls (it's buried the framed book jacket blow-ups down that way, which is a great great relief), and large hanging bunches of green Z-leaves. It has also produced several dark blue Z-flowers, which have their own pleasant smell. Sort of like burnt wax (a smell I a.s.sociate with candles in the Halloween jack-o-lanterns of my youth). Never seen flowers growing on an ivy, but what do I know about plants? The answer is not much. relief), and large hanging bunches of green Z-leaves. It has also produced several dark blue Z-flowers, which have their own pleasant smell. Sort of like burnt wax (a smell I a.s.sociate with candles in the Halloween jack-o-lanterns of my youth). Never seen flowers growing on an ivy, but what do I know about plants? The answer is not much.

There's a window reinforced with wire mesh overlooking the airshaft, and Z has begun to overgrow this as well, all leaves (and flowers) turned out toward the sun. Herb Porter says he saw one of those leaves s.n.a.t.c.h up a fly that was crawling over a pane of that window. Madness? Undoubtedly! But: true madness or false? True, I think, which suggests some unpleasant possibilities to go with all those pleasant smells. But I don't want to deal with that this weekend.

Where I want to go this weekend is Paramus.

Maybe with a stop at my local OTB for good measure.

I probably shouldn't say it, but G.o.d! This is more fun than Studio 54!

From the journals of Riddley Walker

4/4/81.

12:35 A.M.

Aboard the Silver Meteor

Question: Has Riddley Pearson Walker ever in his life been so confused, so disheartened, so shaken, so downright sad? so disheartened, so shaken, so downright sad?

I don't think so.

Has Riddley Pearson Walker ever had a worse week in the twenty-six years of his life? years of his life?

Absolutely not.

I am aboard Amtrak's Train 36, headed back to Manhattan at least three days early. No one knows I'm coming, but then, who would care? three days early. No one knows I'm coming, but then, who would care? Roger Wade? Kenton, perhaps? My landlord? Roger Wade? Kenton, perhaps? My landlord?

I tried for a plane out of B'ham, but no seats available until Sunday. I could not bring myself to stay in Blackwater-or anywhere south of the could not bring myself to stay in Blackwater-or anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line-that long. Hence the train. And so, to the sound of Mason-Dixon line-that long. Hence the train. And so, to the sound of snores all around me, and in spite of the swaying motion of the car on the snores all around me, and in spite of the swaying motion of the car on the rails, I write in this diary. I can't sleep. Perhaps I will be able to when I get rails, I write in this diary. I can't sleep. Perhaps I will be able to when I get back to Dobbs Ferry sometime this afternoon, but the afternoon seems an back to Dobbs Ferry sometime this afternoon, but the afternoon seems an eternity away. I remember the narrative intro to that old TV show, eternity away. I remember the narrative intro to that old TV show, The The Fugitive. Fugitive. "Richard Kimball looks out the window and sees only darkness," William Conrad would say each week. He went on, "But in that "Richard Kimball looks out the window and sees only darkness," William Conrad would say each week. He went on, "But in that darkness, Fate moves its huge hand." Will that huge hand move for me? I darkness, Fate moves its huge hand." Will that huge hand move for me? I think not. I fear not. Unless there is fate in John Kenton's ivy, and how can think not. I fear not. Unless there is fate in John Kenton's ivy, and how can fate-or Fate-reside in such a small and anonymous plant? Crazy idea. fate-or Fate-reside in such a small and anonymous plant? Crazy idea. G.o.d knows what put it in my head. G.o.d knows what put it in my head.

My reception in Blackwater was warm only from the McDowells- my Uncle Michael and Aunt Olympia. Sister Evelyn, sister Sophie, sister my Uncle Michael and Aunt Olympia. Sister Evelyn, sister Sophie, sister Madeline (always my favorite, which is what makes this hurt so much), Madeline (always my favorite, which is what makes this hurt so much), and brother Floyd all cold, reserved. Until late Friday afternoon I put that and brother Floyd all cold, reserved. Until late Friday afternoon I put that down to the distractions of grief, no more. Certainly we got through the down to the distractions of grief, no more. Certainly we got through the painful rituals of the burial all right. Mama Walker rests beside my father, painful rituals of the burial all right. Mama Walker rests beside my father, in the town graveyard. In the in the town graveyard. In the black black section of the town graveyard, for there section of the town graveyard, for there the rule of segregation holds as firm as ever, not as a matter of law but due the rule of segregation holds as firm as ever, not as a matter of law but due to the laws of family custom-unspoken, unwritten, but as strong as tears to the laws of family custom-unspoken, unwritten, but as strong as tears and love. and love.

Out my window I see a full moon riding serenely in the still-southern sky, a silver dollar pancake of a moon. So my Mama called it, and tonight sky, a silver dollar pancake of a moon. So my Mama called it, and tonight it has gone full without her. For the first time in sixty-two years it has gone it has gone full without her. For the first time in sixty-two years it has gone full without her. I sit here writing and feel the tears sliding down my full without her. I sit here writing and feel the tears sliding down my cheeks. Oh Mama, how I weep for you! How yo littlest chile, de one dem cheeks. Oh Mama, how I weep for you! How yo littlest chile, de one dem white boys used to call little ole blueblack, how dat chile do weep! white boys used to call little ole blueblack, how dat chile do weep! Tonight I is a Stephen Foster fiel' n.i.g.g.e.r fo sho! Ya.s.suh! Mama in de col' Tonight I is a Stephen Foster fiel' n.i.g.g.e.r fo sho! Ya.s.suh! Mama in de col' col' groun'! Yes ma'am! col' groun'! Yes ma'am!

Estranged from my sisters and my brother as well. Where will I be buried, I wonder? In what strange ground? buried, I wonder? In what strange ground?

Anyway, it came out. All the bitterness. And the hate? Was it hate I saw in their eyes? In my dear Maddy's eyes? She who used to hold my saw in their eyes? In my dear Maddy's eyes? She who used to hold my hand when we went to school, and who used to comfort me when the others teased me and called me blueblack or bluegum or L'il Heinie on hand when we went to school, and who used to comfort me when the others teased me and called me blueblack or bluegum or L'il Heinie on account of the time in first grade when my pants fell down? I want to say account of the time in first grade when my pants fell down? I want to say no and no and no, but my heart denies that no. My heart says it was. My no and no and no, but my heart denies that no. My heart says it was. My heart says yes and yes and yes. heart says yes and yes and yes.

There was a family gathering at the house this afternoon, the last act of the sadly prosaic drama that began with Mama's heart attack on the of the sadly prosaic drama that began with Mama's heart attack on the 25th. Michael and Olympia were the nominal host and hostess. It began 25th. Michael and Olympia were the nominal host and hostess. It began with coffee, but soon the wine was circulating in the parlor and something with coffee, but soon the wine was circulating in the parlor and something quite a bit stronger out on the back porch. I didn't see my brother or any quite a bit stronger out on the back porch. I didn't see my brother or any of my sisters in the house, so checked the porch. Floyd was there, drinking a little gla.s.s of whiskey and "memorating" (Mama's word for reminiscence) with some of her cousins, and Orthina and Gertrude, from her of my sisters in the house, so checked the porch. Floyd was there, drinking a little gla.s.s of whiskey and "memorating" (Mama's word for reminiscence) with some of her cousins, and Orthina and Gertrude, from her book-circle (both ladies decorous but undoubtedly tiddly), and Jack book-circle (both ladies decorous but undoubtedly tiddly), and Jack Hance, Evvie's husband. No sign of Evvie herself, or Sophie, or Madeline. Hance, Evvie's husband. No sign of Evvie herself, or Sophie, or Madeline.

I went looking for them, worried that they might not be all right. Upstairs, from the room at the end of the hall where Mama slept alone for Upstairs, from the room at the end of the hall where Mama slept alone for the last dozen years since Pop died, I finally heard their voices. There was the last dozen years since Pop died, I finally heard their voices. There was murmuring; there was also low laughter. I went down there, my footsteps murmuring; there was also low laughter. I went down there, my footsteps m.u.f.fled by the thick hall runner, doing a little memorating myself-on m.u.f.fled by the thick hall runner, doing a little memorating myself-on Mama's bitter complaints about that thick runner and how it used to show Mama's bitter complaints about that thick runner and how it used to show the dirt. Yet she never changed it. How I wish she had. If they had heard the dirt. Yet she never changed it. How I wish she had. If they had heard me coming-just the simple sound of approaching footfalls-everything me coming-just the simple sound of approaching footfalls-everything might have been different. Not in reality, of course; dislike is dislike, hate might have been different. Not in reality, of course; dislike is dislike, hate is hate, those things are at least quasi-empirical, I know. It is my illusions is hate, those things are at least quasi-empirical, I know. It is my illusions that I am talking about. The illusions of my family's regard, the illusions that I am talking about. The illusions of my family's regard, the illusions of what I myself had always believed they believed: brave Riddley, the of what I myself had always believed they believed: brave Riddley, the Cornell graduate who has taken a series of menial jobs, work for the body Cornell graduate who has taken a series of menial jobs, work for the body while the mind remains free and uncluttered and able to continue work on while the mind remains free and uncluttered and able to continue work on the Great Book, a kind of fi the Great Book, a kind of fin de siecle Invisible Man. How often I have How often I have invoked the spirit of Ralph Ellison! I even dared to write him once, and invoked the spirit of Ralph Ellison! I even dared to write him once, and received a kind, encouraging reply. It hangs framed on the wall of my received a kind, encouraging reply. It hangs framed on the wall of my apartment, over my typewriter. Whether I will be able to continue on after apartment, over my typewriter. Whether I will be able to continue on after this is anybody's guess...and yet I think I must. Because without the this is anybody's guess...and yet I think I must. Because without the book, what else is there? Why dere's de broomhandle! De can o' book, what else is there? Why dere's de broomhandle! De can o' Johnson's flo' wax! De squeegee for de windows and de brush for de tawlits! Ya.s.suh! Johnson's flo' wax! De squeegee for de windows and de brush for de tawlits! Ya.s.suh!

No, there must be the book. In spite of everything, because because of everything, there must be this book. In a very real sense, it's all I have left. of everything, there must be this book. In a very real sense, it's all I have left.

All right. Enough crybaby stuff. Let's get down to it.

I've already written here about the reading of my Mama's last will and testament on the day between her wake and her burial, and how Law testament on the day between her wake and her burial, and how Law Tidyman, her lifelong friend, allowed most of it to stand in her own Tidyman, her lifelong friend, allowed most of it to stand in her own words. It struck me pa.s.sing strange then (although I did not put it down, words. It struck me pa.s.sing strange then (although I did not put it down, being tired and grief-struck, states of remarkable similarity) that Mama being tired and grief-struck, states of remarkable similarity) that Mama would have asked Law to do it, old friend or not, rather than her own son, would have asked Law to do it, old friend or not, rather than her own son, who is now considered one of the best lawyers of any color, at least on this who is now considered one of the best lawyers of any color, at least on this side of Birmingham. Now perhaps I understand that a little bit better. side of Birmingham. Now perhaps I understand that a little bit better.

In her will, Mama wrote that she wanted "all cash, of which I do have a little, to go to the Blackwater Library Fund. All negotiable items, of a little, to go to the Blackwater Library Fund. All negotiable items, of which I do have yet a few, should be sold by my executor at top price which I do have yet a few, should be sold by my executor at top price available within the twelvemonth following my death, and all proceeds available within the twelvemonth following my death, and all proceeds donated to the Blackwater High School Scholars.h.i.+p Fund, with the donated to the Blackwater High School Scholars.h.i.+p Fund, with the understanding that any such resulting scholars.h.i.+ps, which may be called understanding that any such resulting scholars.h.i.+ps, which may be called Fortuna Walker Scholars.h.i.+ps if the Committee would so honor me, Fortuna Walker Scholars.h.i.+ps if the Committee would so honor me, should be given without regard to race or religion, as all during my life I, should be given without regard to race or religion, as all during my life I, Fortuna Walker, have believed Whites to be every bit as good as Blacks, Fortuna Walker, have believed Whites to be every bit as good as Blacks, and Catholics and Catholics almost almost as good as Southern Baptists." as good as Southern Baptists."

How we chuckled at that nearly perfect microcosm of all her wit. But there was no chuckling this afternoon. At least, not after my sisters looked there was no chuckling this afternoon. At least, not after my sisters looked up from where they sat on her bed and saw me standing shocked in the up from where they sat on her bed and saw me standing shocked in the doorway. doorway.

By then I had seen all I needed to see. "Anyone a step over puffick idiot'd know what idiot'd know what that that was about," Mama herself no doubt would have was about," Mama herself no doubt would have said-more memoration. And what I saw in my dead mother's bedroom said-more memoration. And what I saw in my dead mother's bedroom will be printed on my memory until memoration itself ceases. will be printed on my memory until memoration itself ceases.

Her dresser drawers were open, all of them. Her things were still in the top ones, although many of her blouses and scarves slopped over the the top ones, although many of her blouses and scarves slopped over the edges, and it was clear that everything had been stirred about and pawed edges, and it was clear that everything had been stirred about and pawed through-a puffick idiot could have seen that. But the things which had through-a puffick idiot could have seen that. But the things which had been in the two bottom drawers had been pulled out and lay scattered in been in the two bottom drawers had been pulled out and lay scattered in drifts across her rose-colored rug, the one which had never shown dirt drifts across her rose-colored rug, the one which had never shown dirt because nothing dirty was allowed in that quiet room. At least not until because nothing dirty was allowed in that quiet room. At least not until last evening, that is, when she was dead and unable to stop it. What made last evening, that is, when she was dead and unable to stop it. What made it worse, what made them seem to me so much like pirates and plunderers, was the fact that it was her unmentionables lying there. My dead it worse, what made them seem to me so much like pirates and plunderers, was the fact that it was her unmentionables lying there. My dead mother's underwear, scattered h.e.l.l to breakfast by her daughters, who in mother's underwear, scattered h.e.l.l to breakfast by her daughters, who in my eyes made Lear's look kind by comparison. my eyes made Lear's look kind by comparison.

Am I unkind? Self-righteous? I no longer know. All I know is that my heart hurts and my head is roaring with confusion. And I know what I heart hurts and my head is roaring with confusion. And I know what I saw: her drawers opened, her slips and underpants and righteous Playtex saw: her drawers opened, her slips and underpants and righteous Playtex girdles spread across the floor. And they on the bed, laughing, with a red girdles spread across the floor. And they on the bed, laughing, with a red tin box on the coverlet in the middle of their circle; a red box with its tin box on the coverlet in the middle of their circle; a red box with its Sweetheart Girl cover taken off and laid aside. It had been full of cash and Sweetheart Girl cover taken off and laid aside. It had been full of cash and jewelry. Now it was empty and it was their hands that were full of her jewelry. Now it was empty and it was their hands that were full of her greenbacks and heirlooms. How much might their trove have been greenbacks and heirlooms. How much might their trove have been worth? Not a huge amount, but by no means paltry; some of the pins and worth? Not a huge amount, but by no means paltry; some of the pins and broaches could have been costume stuff, but I saw two rings whose stones broaches could have been costume stuff, but I saw two rings whose stones were, according to Mama herself, diamonds. And Mama didn't lie. One of were, according to Mama herself, diamonds. And Mama didn't lie. One of them was her engagement ring. them was her engagement ring.

It was perhaps a minute before they saw me. I said nothing myself; I was literally struck dumb. was literally struck dumb.

Evelyn, the oldest, looking young in spite of the gray in her hair, with her hands full of old tens and fives, put aside by my mother over the years. her hands full of old tens and fives, put aside by my mother over the years.

Sophie, counting through official-looking papers that might have been stock certificates or perhaps treasury bonds, her fingers speeding been stock certificates or perhaps treasury bonds, her fingers speeding along like a bank-teller ready to cash out her drawer for the weekend. along like a bank-teller ready to cash out her drawer for the weekend.

And my youngest sister, Maddy. My schoolyard guardian angel. Sitting with her palms full of pearls (probably cultured, I grant you) and Sitting with her palms full of pearls (probably cultured, I grant you) and earrings and necklaces, sorting through them, as absorbed as an archeologist. That was what hurt the worst. She hugged me when I got off the earrings and necklaces, sorting through them, as absorbed as an archeologist. That was what hurt the worst. She hugged me when I got off the plane, and wept against my neck. Now she picked through her dead plane, and wept against my neck. Now she picked through her dead mother's things, the good stuff and the trumpery, grinning like a jewel mother's things, the good stuff and the trumpery, grinning like a jewel thief after a successful heist. thief after a successful heist.

All of them grinning. All of them laughing. of them grinning. All of them laughing.

Evvie held up the cash money and said, "There's over eight thousand right here! Won't Jack yell when I tell him! And I bet this isn't all. I bet-" bet-"

Then she saw Sophie was no longer looking at her, and no longer smiling. Evvie turned her head, and Madeline did, too. The color left smiling. Evvie turned her head, and Madeline did, too. The color left Maddy's cheeks, turning her rich complexion dull. Maddy's cheeks, turning her rich complexion dull.

"And how were you going to split it?" I heard myself ask in a voice that did not sound like my own at all. "Three ways? Or is Floyd in on this, that did not sound like my own at all. "Three ways? Or is Floyd in on this, too?" too?"

And from behind me, as if he'd only been waiting for his cue, Floyd himself said: "Floyd's in on it, little brother. Oh yes indeed. Was Floyd himself said: "Floyd's in on it, little brother. Oh yes indeed. Was Floyd told the ladies what that box looked like and where it was apt to be. I saw told the ladies what that box looked like and where it was apt to be. I saw it last winter. She left it out when she was having one of her spells. But you it last winter. She left it out when she was having one of her spells. But you don't know about her spells, do you?" don't know about her spells, do you?"

I turned, startled. From the smell of the whiskey on Floyd's breath and the dark tinge of red in the corners of his eyes, the tot I'd seen him and the dark tinge of red in the corners of his eyes, the tot I'd seen him drinking on the porch hadn't been his first of the day. Or his third, for that drinking on the porch hadn't been his first of the day. Or his third, for that matter. He pushed by me into the room, and said to Sophie (always matter. He pushed by me into the room, and said to Sophie (always his his favorite): "Evvie's right-there'll be more. That box is the most of it, I favorite): "Evvie's right-there'll be more. That box is the most of it, I think, but a long way from the all of it." think, but a long way from the all of it."

He turned to me and said, "She was a packrat. That's what she turned into over the last few years. One of the things she turned into, anyhow." into over the last few years. One of the things she turned into, anyhow."

"Her will-" I began.

"Her will, what about it?" Sophie asked. She dropped the papers she'd been studying to the coverlet and made a shooing gesture with her she'd been studying to the coverlet and made a shooing gesture with her slim brown hands, as if dismissing the whole subject. "Do you think we slim brown hands, as if dismissing the whole subject. "Do you think we had a chance to talk to her about it? She shut us out. Look who she got to had a chance to talk to her about it? She shut us out. Look who she got to draw up her death-letter. Law Tidyman! That old Uncle Tom!" draw up her death-letter. Law Tidyman! That old Uncle Tom!"

The contempt with which she spoke struck me deep, not because of the sentiment but because of the simple fact that I'd seen Sophie and the sentiment but because of the simple fact that I'd seen Sophie and Evelyn and Evvie's Jack laughing and talking with Law Tidyman and Evelyn and Evvie's Jack laughing and talking with Law Tidyman and Law's wife Sulla not half an hour before. Best of friends, they'd looked Law's wife Sulla not half an hour before. Best of friends, they'd looked like. like.

"You don't know how she got these last few years, Rid," Madeline said. She sat there, her lap all but overflowing with her mother's keepsakes and gracenotes, sat there defending what she was doing-what said. She sat there, her lap all but overflowing with her mother's keepsakes and gracenotes, sat there defending what she was doing-what they they were doing. "She-" were doing. "She-"

"I might not know how she got," got," I said, "but I know pretty d.a.m.ned I said, "but I know pretty d.a.m.ned well what she w well what she wanted. Wasn't I there with the rest of you when Law read Wasn't I there with the rest of you when Law read her will? Didn't we all sit around in a circle, like at a G.o.dd.a.m.ned seance? her will? Didn't we all sit around in a circle, like at a G.o.dd.a.m.ned seance? And isn't that what it was, with Mama talking to us from the other side of And isn't that what it was, with Mama talking to us from the other side of her grave? Didn't I hear her say in Law Tidyman's voice that she wanted her grave? Didn't I hear her say in Law Tidyman's voice that she wanted that there-" I pointed to the plunder on the bed. "-to go to the town that there-" I pointed to the plunder on the bed. "-to go to the town library and to the high school scholars.h.i.+p fund? In her name, if they'd library and to the high school scholars.h.i.+p fund? In her name, if they'd have it that way?" have it that way?"

My voice was rising, I couldn't help it. Because now Floyd was sitting on the bed with them, one arm around Sophie's shoulders, as if to comfort her. And when Maddy's hand crept into his, he took it the way you on the bed with them, one arm around Sophie's shoulders, as if to comfort her. And when Maddy's hand crept into his, he took it the way you take the hand of a frightened child. To comfort her, too. It was them on take the hand of a frightened child. To comfort her, too. It was them on the bed and me in the doorway and I saw their eyes and knew they were the bed and me in the doorway and I saw their eyes and knew they were against me. Even Maddy was against me. against me. Even Maddy was against me. Especially Especially Maddy, it seems. My Maddy, it seems. My schoolyard angel. schoolyard angel.

"Didn't you see me there, nodding my head because I understood what she wanted? I know I saw you-all nodding the same way. It's now I what she wanted? I know I saw you-all nodding the same way. It's now I must be dreaming. Because it can't be that the folks I grew up with down must be dreaming. Because it can't be that the folks I grew up with down here in this G.o.dforsaken map-splat of the world could have turned into here in this G.o.dforsaken map-splat of the world could have turned into graveyard ghouls." graveyard ghouls."

Maddy's face sagged at that and she began to cry. And I was glad I had made her cry. That's how angry I was, how angry I still am when I had made her cry. That's how angry I was, how angry I still am when I think of them sitting there in the lamplight. When I think of the tin box think of them sitting there in the lamplight. When I think of the tin box with its Sweetheart Girl cover set aside, its insides all turned out. Their with its Sweetheart Girl cover set aside, its insides all turned out. Their hands and laps full of her things. Their hands and laps full of her things. Their eyes eyes full of her things. Their full of her things. Their hearts, too. Not hearts, too. Not her, her, but her but her things. things. Her remainder. Her remainder.