“If Jimmy Dicks died, I wouldn’t be able to eat a bite.”
The coldness curled up inside of him and flopped over.
“Will you shut your mouth, Brenda Aarons?” His mother sprang forward, the pancake turner held threateningly high.
“Well, Momma, he’s just sitting there eating pancakes like nothing happened. I’d be crying my eyes out.”
Ellie was looking first at Mrs. Aarons and then at Brenda. “Boys ain’t supposed to cry at times like this. Are they, Momma?”
“Well, it don’t seem right for him to be sitting there eating like a brood sow.”
“I’m telling you, Brenda, if you don’t shut your mouth….”
He could hear them talking but they were farther away than the memory of the dream. He ate and he chewed and he swallowed, and when his mother put three more pancakes on his plate, he ate them, too.
His father came in with the milk. He poured it carefully into the empty cider jugs and put them into the refrigerator. Then he washed his hands at the sink and came to the table. As he passed Jess, he put his hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder. He wasn’t angry about the milking.
Jess was only dimly aware that his parents were looking at each other and then at him. Mrs. Aarons gave Brenda a hard look and gave Mr. Aarons a look which was to say that Brenda was to be kept quiet, but Jess was only thinking of how good the pancakes had been and hoping his mother would put down some more in front of him. He knew somehow that he shouldn’t ask for more, but he was disappointed that she didn’t give him any. He thought, then, that he should get up and leave the table, but he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do.
“Your mother and I thought we ought to go down to the neighbors and pay respects.” His father cleared his throat. “I think it would be fitting for you to come, too.” He stopped again. “Seeing’s you was the one that really knowed the little girl.”
Jess tried to understand what his father was saying to him, but he felt stupid. “What little girl?” He mumbled it, knowing it was the wrong thing to ask. Ellie and Brenda both gasped.
His father leaned down the table and put his big hand on top of Jess’s hand. He gave his wife a quick, troubled look. But she just stood there, her eyes full of pain, saying nothing.
“Your friend Leslie is dead, Jesse. You need to understand that.”
Jess slid his hand out from under his father’s. He got up from the table.
“I know it ain’t a easy thing—” Jess could hear his father speaking as he went into the bedroom. He came back out with his windbreaker on.
“You ready to go now?” His father got up quickly. His mother took off her apron and patted her hair.
May Belle jumped up from the rug. “I wanta go, too,” she said. “I never seen a dead person before.”
“No!” May Belle sat down again as though slapped down by her mother’s voice.
“We don’t even know where she’s laid out at, May Belle,” Mr. Aarons said more gently.
TWELVE
Stranded
They walked slowly across the field and down the hill to the old Perkins place. There were four or five cars parked outside. His father raised the knocker. Jess could hear P.T. barking from the back of the house and rushing to the door.
“Hush, P.T.,” a voice which Jess did not know said. “Down.” The door was opened by a man who was half leaning over to hold the dog back. At the sight of Jess, P.T. snatched himself loose and leapt joyfully upon the boy. Jess picked him up and rubbed the back of the dog’s neck as he used to when P.T. was a tiny puppy.
“I see he knows you,” the strange man said with a funny half smile on his face. “Come in, won’t you.” He stood back for the three of them to enter.
They went into the golden room, and it was just the same, except more beautiful because the sun was pouring through the south windows. Four or five people Jess had never seen before were sitting about, whispering some, but mostly not talking at all. There was no place to sit down, but the strange man was bringing chairs from the dining room. The three of them sat down stiffly and waited, not knowing what to wait for.
An older woman got up slowly from the couch and came over to Jess’s mother. Her eyes were red under her perfectly white hair. “I’m Leslie’s grandmother,” she said, putting out her hand.
His mother took it awkwardly. “Miz Aarons,” she said in a low voice. “From up the hill.”
Leslie’s grandmother shook his mother’s and then his father’s hands. “Thank you for coming,” she said. Then she turned to Jess. “You must be Jess,” she said. Jess nodded. “Leslie—” Her eyes filled up with tears. “Leslie told me about you.”
For a minute Jess thought she was going to say something else. He didn’t want to look at her, so he gave himself over to rubbing P.T., who was hanging across his lap. “I’m sorry—” Her voice broke. “I can’t bear it.” The man who had opened the door came up and put his arm around her. As he was leading her out of the room, Jess could hear her crying.