Dirty Faces - Book 2

Chapter 36: The Inevitable

Chapter 36: The Inevitable

The bedroom reeked of turpentine from that goo Ginny had been smearing on her mother's chest. She wouldn't say what it was and there was no telling where she got it. It did, at least, seem to ease the coughing fits until the death rattles began; only death itself had quieted them.

The window was open and the afternoon sun made the room bright, but the curtain scarcely swayed and the air within was heavy. Aunt Betty had covered the vanity mirror with a bedsheet before she left. She'd also tied a handkerchief beneath Aunt Susan's chin and it made what remained of her look ridiculous.

Adam sat at the foot of the bed and stared at crutches. Ralph was in a chair by the head of the bed, his face buried in his hands. Occasionally he emitted a sob or two. Ginny still lay beside her mother, her head on her shoulder. It had probably only been an hour or so, but it felt like they'd been in that room, stuck in that moment, for time infinite.

"What time is it getting to be?" Adam said, still staring at his crutches.

"Dunno," said Ginny.

"We should probably give the Priest a call. Tell him not to come."

"That's a good idea. Why don't you do that?" She sounded as empty as her eyes looked.

The truck made its presence known, and a moment later the screen door opened and closed. Footsteps approached, the bedroom door creaked open, and Kody surveyed the scene, his face blank. "She's gone," said Ginny.

Kody shifted his weight, fidgeted with the zipper on his work coveralls, cleared his throat. "How long?"

Adam shrugged. "Maybe an hour."

He nodded, and then disappeared from the doorway. The screen door opened and shut again, the truck engine turned over, idled, and finally faded. The three mourners in the bedroom stayed put. Adam contemplated getting up and calling the Priest. He'd been here three times in the past few years−first Pap, then Granny, now Aunt Susan−and the familiarity of it all was unnerving. He supposed he'd also have to be the one to notify Uncle Kent. Last he'd heard, he was bound for some island in the South Pacific.

He looked again at Ginny, cuddled next to her mother and staring lifelessly into space; and at Ralph, his shoulders trembling concurrent with the sobs and ragged breaths. Yes, Adam would make that phone call. Anything to get out of this moment.

*****

Leslie was surprised to find the truck gone; Kody should have been home from work a while ago. The sun had nearly sunk behind the mountains and the sky was a kaleidoscope of oranges, pinks, and purples. The crickets and katydids were getting noisy and lightning bugs flashed here and there. Ginny sat of the front step, her knees hugged into her chest, looking vacant, and Leslie knew.

"Mind if I sit a while?"

It startled Ginny. "Huh?"

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Oh. No. Go ahead."

Leslie seated herself beside Ginny, smoothed out her skirt, and clasped her hands in her lap. She didn't know what to say. If it'd been Kody, it would have been easy: she needn't say anything at all because he'd rather she didn't. But she didn't know Ginny well enough to be sure that was her preference, too. "Pretty sky this evening, don't you think?" she offered.