Dirty Faces - Book 2

Chapter 38: What Now?

Chapter 38: What Now?

The last thing Ginny remembered was lying in bed crying, but she must have fallen asleep at some point. There was gunk in her eyes and she could feel they were all puffy when she realized light was spilling into the bedroom. She rubbed the gunk and crust away enough to see, and climbed out of bed.

Mama's bedroom door was half open. Ralph sat in the chair at the bedside, where he'd been when she went to bed. He was still all dirty and smelly from digging the grave. Maybe he was keeping tradition, or maybe he just couldn't sleep. She caught a glimpse of the red dress and ghastly white legs on the bed and quickly turned away.

Continuing into the front room and out the back door, she filled the bucket under the pump and splashed her face with the cold water. It felt so nice that when she finished rinsing her eyes, she wet her hair too. She took a long drink from the spout before going back inside.

The casket was set up against the one empty wall in the front room. She followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen, running her fingers through her tangled, wet hair as she went. Kody and Adam were washed up and dressed, sitting at the table. Ginny poured herself a cup of coffee and joined them. She didn't care for the bitter taste of coffee, but she figured at least for today, she'd better acquire a liking for it.

By the time she finished getting dressed, Aunt Betty and Uncle Bill were at the house. Aunt Betty arranged the flowers she'd brought the night before, along with fresh ones she'd cut that morning, in baskets and set them around the casket. She spread a quilt over the interior, and Kody and Ralph placed Mama inside. Ralph was still out back washing up when the first visitors arrived.

The day was mostly a blur, with people coming and going, murmurs and sniffles, and smells of flowers, coffee, and casseroles. Kody greeted people when they showed up and thanked them when they left, as if it were a party of which he was host. Ralph spent the day in the armchair, occasionally talking to visitors but mostly just smoking. Adam, like Ginny, drifted about and spoke only when spoken to, and then probably immediately forgot what was said.

There were people there from church who'd trekked across the mountain. The Kelly kids were on their best behavior; some of them cried when they saw Mama. Mrs. Kelly must have soaked her handkerchief in quiet tears. The Priest came, with Tommy, Rowdy, and Danny all in starched shirts and slacks. Leslie flitted here and there, refilling coffee cups and returning dessert plates to the kitchen.

Ginny never looked at Mama in the casket. That wasn't the way she wanted to remember her, and she knew it wasn't the way Mama would want to be remembered. Really, she wanted to run everybody off as they gathered around the pine box there in the front room. She didn't want anybody to see Mama like that. Despite her concealed irritation, the endless condolences, and the sniffs and whimpers all around, Ginny found she herself was fresh out of tears. She didn't understand it, but like Mama's very death, there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Afternoon faded to evening and the flow of visitors slowed to a trickle, until finally, only the short, fat preacher remained. Ralph closed the casket and he and Kody loaded it in the back of the truck. Then, they all went to the little graveyard at the edge of Uncle Bill's property. The preacher said some words that were probably very nice, probably meaningful, but Ginny didn't hear them. She felt sick as she watched the men lower the pine box into the ground, but still, no tears came. She was grateful Aunt Betty led her into the house to set the table as they began filling the hole. The thought of Mama, so clean and particular, covered in dirt felt wrong.

Aunt Betty lit the oven and put in one of the donated casseroles. She poured herself and Ginny a glass of sweet tea and they sat at the table while the casserole warmed. From the kitchen window, Ginny could still make out the shapes of Ralph, Uncle Bill, and Kody shoveling dirt. It was like they were planting a crop, but unlike the tobacco, nothing would ever grow.

The preacher and Uncle Bill made some conversation, but supper was mostly quiet. Ginny realized she hadn't eaten all day, yet she just pushed the food around on her plate. She felt guilty eating knowing Mama would never get to eat again, and she felt silly for feeling that way. After supper, she and Adam helped Aunt Betty clean the kitchen. There was still dirt to be filled in, but it was getting late, so they agreed to finish the next day. Ralph headed home to the jar of moonshine with his name on it, and Kody drove the preacher back across the mountain. When he returned, Ginny and Adam were sitting on the porch with Aunt Betty and Uncle Bill.

Aunt Betty hugged and kissed each of them on the forehead before they left. As the truck rumbled down the road leading off the ridge, Ginny was glad to have the day behind her. She was a kind of tired she'd never been before. The previous day had gone by moment by moment. This day was a whirlwind she couldn't get through fast enough. She looked to either side of her, at Kody and Adam, and for the first time, she wondered about tomorrow.

Tomorrow would come and she would wake up, but Mama wouldn't. She wouldn't even be in the house, but in the ground beside Daddy. And when Ginny woke up, it would not be in Mama's house, but in Ralph's. And for how long would she, and Adam and Kody for that matter, be permitted to wake up in Ralph's house? "What now?" she asked, to nobody in particular.

"What do you mean?" said Kody.

"Where do we go from here?"

Adam turned his attention from the window to them. Kody shrugged. "We cut tobacco next week. When summer ends, you two will go back to school. I'll keep working. Things will go on the same as they were."

Nothing would be the same without Mama, but Ginny was too tired to argue.