The most poignant images in the set were four black-and-white photos of the two sisters, as grown-ups, playing dress-up in antique clothing. They wore high-collared Victorian gowns, sequined flapper dresses, fitted hobble skirts, silly poodle skirts. In each picture, their hairdos harmonized with the clothes; so did their expressions, which ranged from prim to saucy to sophisticated. “These are great,” I said. “Tell me about them.”
Angie smiled. “Ah. That was a great weekend. Kate and I took a road trip to see my grandmother, up in Akron, Ohio, on her ninety-fifth birthday. Her mind was still sharp, but her health was starting to fail, and we figured it might be our last chance to celebrate her birthday with her. Anyhow, at some point Saturday morning, Kate said something about needing a new pair of jeans, and Grandma made one of those typical geezer comments about how much better clothes used to be, back in the day. So we were humoring her, but also teasing her—‘Right, Grandma, these kids today don’t know beans about how to dress’—and she said, ‘You girls should look through those trunks of clothes up in the attic.’ So we did, and it was amazing. She was right—the clothes were a lot cooler back in the day. She had stuff she’d worn in the twenties and thirties and forties; she had stuff her mother had worn back at the turn of the century, and stuff our mother had worn in the fifties. We spent all afternoon Saturday trying on clothes and fixing our hair, while my cousin took pictures and Grandma told us stories about the Roaring Twenties and the Great Depression and World War Two.” She shook her head with a wistful smile. “Funny thing about your grandparents. They’re already old, or at least you think they’re old, by the time you know them. So you never picture them as little kids, or wild teenagers, or scared young parents, or anything except old folks.” She took back the photos and looked at the picture of the old woman. “Grandma became a real, three-dimensional person to me that day, you know?”
I nodded. “Is your grandmother still alive?”
“No. She had a stroke two months later. I’m so glad we took that trip.” She flipped through the series of dress-up photos. “That was the last trip Kate and I took together. Two months later, she met Don Nicely. And now she’s fading into monochrome memories of the good old days.”
There was a knock on the door. “Let’s eat,” growled Vickery. “I’m starving.”
Angie folded the picture wallet closed and tucked it in her purse. After she did, I noticed, her thumb rubbed circles around the hatchet scar on her index finger—a way of hanging on to a more tangible memory, I guessed—and I doubted that she even realized she was doing it. I remembered a line from a Shakespeare play, spoken to Hamlet by the ghost of his murdered father—“Remember me. Remember me. Remember me.” I felt certain Angie would remember Kate always; I prayed that she would not be haunted by her sister’s ghost forever.
Our second meal at the Waffle Iron was more somber than our first. Angie seemed to have turned inward. Then Vickery handed us more pages from the diary Flo was deconstructing, which didn’t seem likely to lift our spirits.
I’d thought I was hungry, but as I began to read, I lost all appetite.
Jared is dead, and Buck might be dying.
We were in the dining hall last night. Dinner was pinto beans and cornbread. I was sitting across from Buck. Jared McWhorter was sitting on one side of him. While Cockroach was saying grace, Jared reached over and grabbed Bucks piece of cornbread off of his plate. Hes taken food from me before, and from lots of other boys. Hes one of the biggest, roughest boys so he always gets away with it.
But last night Buck got mad and grabbed ahold of Jareds wrist with both hands and started trying to get his cornbread back. Jareds stronger than Buck, but Buck wouldnt let go. Give it back, give it back, he was saying. His teeth were clenched tight together, so he sounded like an animal growling Give it back you bastard. I tried to shush him up, but he was to mad to listen. Give it back, give it back. He was growling louder. Cockroach said a quick Amen and started looking around to see who was making noise during the blessing.
Jared had reached under the table with his other hand and started pinching Buck to make him let go. He must have pinched him real hard because Bucks eyes closed and he made a kind of a squealing yell through his teeth, but he never let go. Then he bent down and bit Jareds hand.