never even met!
What is this world coming to? When did children start running it?
Apparently, these boys have suffered a tragedy. Shelby told me the whole story about their father and their mother and how the boys don’t want to leave their friends and their school. Well, of course, they don’t. But they’re children. That decision isn’t up to them, and it certainly isn’t up to me.
I think the man’s obituary was in yesterday’s paper. Yes, here it is.
I fold the paper and spread it out flat on my desk in front of me and put on my glasses.
Carlton Ray Hayes: the name speaks volumes, doesn’t it? Age, forty. Born here. Died here. I assume he lived here in between. A graduate of Centresburg High School. Employed by Burke Pharmaceuticals as a custodial supervisor; in other words, head janitor. Survived by three children: Klinton, sixteen; Kyle, fourteen; and Krystal, ten. Look at that … he and his wife managed to misspell two of their children’s names. Member of the Crooked Creek Sportsman’s Club and Lucky Lanes Bowling League. He enjoyed hunting, fishing, and playing horseshoes.
What? No mention of his favorite beer?
I glance at his picture. A not-bad-looking man. In his youth he was probably a handsome boy, but decades of drink and fried food had softened and discolored him. Alert eyes and a genuine smile, not the idiot grin or macho smirk a man usually wears when posing for a photo but an expression verging on authentic happiness. Wearing a Centresburg Flames ball cap and his gray work coveralls. A white patch over his heart reads: Carl.
I shouldn’t be so cruel. The man is dead. He may have been a perfectly fine man. Not everyone is meant to be a captain of industry or a good speller. The world needs people to clean up, too.
I close the paper and leave it there, being careful not to cover up Rafael’s letter. I received it yesterday but haven’t been able to give it my undivided attention yet.
I walk over to the window, pull back the curtain, and look out at the front drive.
Shelby went running off after our argument. I’m not concerned. Her car is still here. It’s a beautiful day. I’m sure she’s sulking in the woods or hiding in the barn.
She went to this man’s funeral yesterday and came here afterward and asked to spend the night. She missed school today as well. I called her mother to ask if she was allowed to do this and in typical Rae Ann fashion, she told me Shelby was already doing “too well” in school and could use a few days off to “lighten up.” Rae Ann is a former Miss Florida runner-up who wanted to work at Sea World, but married a very rich man with the sexual maturity of a thirteen-year-old instead. Her aspirations for her daughters are just as high.
Cameron never returned my calls.
I think I’ll go look for my grandniece and Ventisco, too. I haven’t seen him for a few months despite my lengthy walks and drives in the Jeep with Luis hoping to catch a glimpse of him. He’s wandered far, which is not surprising this time of year. The weather is perfect for him. The sun doesn’t get too hot during the days, and the nights aren’t cold yet. The grass is in its final lushness, and the air has a slight fall nip to it that makes every creature want to frolic. He’s having a good time and doesn’t want to be anywhere near the scent of man.
I walk to the front door and slip on my shoes and my scarf. I won’t need a coat.
Yesterday Shelby told me I dress like the Queen of England (she had just watched the film
The Queen
, with Helen Mirren), and she obviously didn’t mean the comment to be a compliment.
I told her the Queen of England is one of the wealthiest women in the world, she’s over eighty and still walks several miles a day, and she has her own navy. That shut her up.
However, I do not dress like the Queen of England. I do favor sensible shoes because at my age I have no choice, and I do prefer to wear simple, well-tailored dresses and skirts rather
What is this world coming to? When did children start running it?
Apparently, these boys have suffered a tragedy. Shelby told me the whole story about their father and their mother and how the boys don’t want to leave their friends and their school. Well, of course, they don’t. But they’re children. That decision isn’t up to them, and it certainly isn’t up to me.
I think the man’s obituary was in yesterday’s paper. Yes, here it is.
I fold the paper and spread it out flat on my desk in front of me and put on my glasses.
Carlton Ray Hayes: the name speaks volumes, doesn’t it? Age, forty. Born here. Died here. I assume he lived here in between. A graduate of Centresburg High School. Employed by Burke Pharmaceuticals as a custodial supervisor; in other words, head janitor. Survived by three children: Klinton, sixteen; Kyle, fourteen; and Krystal, ten. Look at that … he and his wife managed to misspell two of their children’s names. Member of the Crooked Creek Sportsman’s Club and Lucky Lanes Bowling League. He enjoyed hunting, fishing, and playing horseshoes.
What? No mention of his favorite beer?
I glance at his picture. A not-bad-looking man. In his youth he was probably a handsome boy, but decades of drink and fried food had softened and discolored him. Alert eyes and a genuine smile, not the idiot grin or macho smirk a man usually wears when posing for a photo but an expression verging on authentic happiness. Wearing a Centresburg Flames ball cap and his gray work coveralls. A white patch over his heart reads: Carl.
I shouldn’t be so cruel. The man is dead. He may have been a perfectly fine man. Not everyone is meant to be a captain of industry or a good speller. The world needs people to clean up, too.
I close the paper and leave it there, being careful not to cover up Rafael’s letter. I received it yesterday but haven’t been able to give it my undivided attention yet.
I walk over to the window, pull back the curtain, and look out at the front drive.
Shelby went running off after our argument. I’m not concerned. Her car is still here. It’s a beautiful day. I’m sure she’s sulking in the woods or hiding in the barn.
She went to this man’s funeral yesterday and came here afterward and asked to spend the night. She missed school today as well. I called her mother to ask if she was allowed to do this and in typical Rae Ann fashion, she told me Shelby was already doing “too well” in school and could use a few days off to “lighten up.” Rae Ann is a former Miss Florida runner-up who wanted to work at Sea World, but married a very rich man with the sexual maturity of a thirteen-year-old instead. Her aspirations for her daughters are just as high.
Cameron never returned my calls.
I think I’ll go look for my grandniece and Ventisco, too. I haven’t seen him for a few months despite my lengthy walks and drives in the Jeep with Luis hoping to catch a glimpse of him. He’s wandered far, which is not surprising this time of year. The weather is perfect for him. The sun doesn’t get too hot during the days, and the nights aren’t cold yet. The grass is in its final lushness, and the air has a slight fall nip to it that makes every creature want to frolic. He’s having a good time and doesn’t want to be anywhere near the scent of man.
I walk to the front door and slip on my shoes and my scarf. I won’t need a coat.
Yesterday Shelby told me I dress like the Queen of England (she had just watched the film
The Queen
, with Helen Mirren), and she obviously didn’t mean the comment to be a compliment.
I told her the Queen of England is one of the wealthiest women in the world, she’s over eighty and still walks several miles a day, and she has her own navy. That shut her up.
However, I do not dress like the Queen of England. I do favor sensible shoes because at my age I have no choice, and I do prefer to wear simple, well-tailored dresses and skirts rather
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