you a bedtime story?”
Warren slapped his hand off the button. “What the fuck? Why’d you tell him my name?”
“He knows mine, only seems fair.”
“You’re an asshole.”
The room fell silent, then—
“I think I’d like that. Not Warren, though. How about you read me whatever you read your kids, Carl? What’s their favorite story?”
“Fucking little creep. That delay is weird. Reminds me of when Houston used to talk to the astronauts.”
“Yeah, like a satellite delay on the news.”
“Too fucking weird, all of it.”
“Want to play again?”
“Might as well. Change the tape first. It’s almost out.”
—Charter Observation Team – 309
1
“Hi, Dad.” Using the nail of my finger to get into the deeper crevices, I scraped the moss from the lettering on his gravestone. “Auntie Jo had to work, so I figured I’d start with you.”
I fished Auntie Jo’s cigarette butts from Daddy’s vase and placed three purple asters in their place. Someone planted a bunch of them at the back of our building at the start of summer, and they had taken over a large corner of the small yard. “She’ll probably be by later, though, so be warned, I guess.”
Dunk and I spent the better part of the last eight months combing the cemetery and found not one match to our criteria other than the five names I had gotten from the caretaker at the office. Back in January, I took those five names to Brentwood Library. If you’re a kid, and you want help fast, tell a librarian you’re working on a school project. We only found information on one of the names—Darnell Jacobs—he died on August 8, 1802. Apparently he was an early settler in this area and built one of the first houses on Brownsville Road. He owned a small lumber company. Beyond that, we found nothing. It didn’t matter. I didn’t know what I was looking for, anyway. I guess I thought something would jump out at me.
“I don’t know if I want to go up there,” I said softly. “Part of me does. Part of me really does. I want to see Stella. I know you’d probably make fun of me for that because she’s a girl and Mommy would probably tell me to go because she is a girl, but what if Stella isn’t there? What if only the old woman is there, Ms. Oliver? I don’t ever want to see her again. But if Stella is there today, I have to go. I wish you could tell me what to do. I wish you were still here.”
I felt the tears coming on and forced them back. Daddy would probably tell me to march right up the hill and right past Ms. Oliver, and at that moment, I knew that was what I would do, what I should do, as if he had spoken the words aloud.
I spent the next thirty minutes talking to both Mommy and Daddy, and when the alarm on my watch went off at 6 p.m. I stood, scooped up my Walkman and the remaining flowers, and started up the hill.
Stella was on the bench.
2
“More coffee?”
Preacher glanced down at the mug beside him on the counter, then smiled up at Josephine Gargery. “Please.”
She eyed his hands. “What’s with the gloves? Isn’t it a little warm out for winter wear?”
Preacher looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers beneath the black leather. He smiled at her. “Circulation problems. My hands get cold easily.”
“Huh. Maybe you should move to Florida. I hear the sun down there is like magic.”
Gargery had lost weight since the last time he saw her, and she had been thin then. Now, she wore her uniform like a hanger with feet. Her skin was pale, nearly translucent. The mascara and eyeliner only accentuated the depth to which her eyes had sunken with time, the rouge on her checks a pink streak that looked anything but natural. The white of her eyes was no longer the white of her eyes, but a dull yellow that matched the cigarette stains on her teeth. Simply looking at her made Preacher feel ill, yet he retained his smile as he scooped up another bite of country-fried chicken. “You must live here. I see you whenever I come in.”
She filled his mug and returned the carafe back to the warming plate on the counter behind her. Glancing back toward the opening to the kitchen, she called out over her shoulder. “Hey, Elden, this guy says you work me like a dog and I should get