was getting scared, the way he was looking at me. "I'm sorry, Rosebud. What did I do?"
"You made fun of somebody that can't help the way they is."
Now I was getting mad. "They can help it! They don't have to eat so much."
"Ain't none of your business how much they eats."
We sat there for a long time not talking. I was trying to figure out what I'd done to upset Rosebud so. Finally, he spoke.
"I ever tell you about my uncle Eroy Robichaux?"
"Uh-uh."
"Uncle Eroy was the sweetest feller you could ever hope to meet— and the fattest. He spend most of his days settin' on an old sofa on my grandmomma's front porch. He had arms the size of hams, and his face had swelled up to the size of a pumpkin. He didn't have no neck a'tall. He stayed on that couch all day long. Only time he'd get up was when he had to make his way down to the outhouse, which was about fifty yards from the house. Even then, he'd have to hold on to a fence post to rest on the way there and back. He'd get so out of breath, doncha know.
"But he was a kind man. Everybody loved Uncle Eroy— even the animals. Them old dogs would just lay around his feet all day. Even the chickens would come up and set on his knees. Once, I saw a mockingbird fly down and take a chunk of bread right out of his hand."
"Did he sleep out there, too?"
"Course not. At night, he slept on a mattress on the floor what my grandmomma had fixed up for him after his bed broke down."
"Why didn't he go on a diet?"
"Oh, Uncle Eroy didn't eat that much. Oh, he might have four or five eggs for breakfast with several biscuits and a couple of slices of ham, but he wasn't what you might call a real heavy eater. We all ate like that on account of we worked so hard. No, it was something else that made Uncle so fat. Glands, or something, I expect."
"Glands can make you fat?"
"Oh, sure. And sometimes, it's in your genes. You know, like all your family's got the same problem."
"I never knew that."
"I know. You just wants to make fun of people, don't you?"
"I said I was sorry, Rosebud."
"Okay. So, anyway, every week or so, Miss Marie Guidry from up the road would drop by to pass the time of day with Eroy. Sometimes she'd bring along a cake or some cookies she'd baked. Uncle Eroy loved her something awful."
"I bet she didn't love him back though— him being so fat and all."
"Miss Marie was kind and gentle. She loved everybody, so I guess she loved Uncle Eroy, too. But if you mean in a marryin' way, well no, she didn't. Miss Marie was the most popular gal in the parish. She could of married anybody she wanted to."
"Poor Uncle Eroy."
Rosebud ignored that remark. "One spring day, Uncle Eroy was settin' on his couch enjoying the morning sun when he got the urge to visit the outhouse. Wellsir, he picked up his walking stick and hoisted himself up off of the couch and, holding on to the porch pillars, he edged himself down to the ground then slowly, slowly made his way down the path to the privy."
"Is this going to get interesting?"
"Hush, boy, and lemme tell this. After Uncle Eroy got through with his business and was standing out in the sun again, he taken a notion to take himself a little walk. Just a few steps, doncha know, to see if he could. So instead of going back to the house like he always did, he turned toward the woods that run along behind the privy and looked down the little cow path that led right into them woods."
Just then a car stopped in front of the house and Willie Mae got out. She came up to the front of the house but didn't come up to the porch.
"Hey, honey," Rosebud said. "How's Mr. Dorsett and them?"
"Taking it hard." Willie Mae wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "Law me, I'm tired. I must have cooked for thirty people or more. The whole family and then some were over at that house." She looked at me. "You get any supper?"
I had just opened my mouth to speak when Rosebud kicked me hard on the ankle. "I, uh— oh, yeah. Rosebud made us some beans and cornbread.