Read Online Walking Across Egypt by Clyde Edgerton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Clyde Edgerton
Ads: Link
with me when I go on my walk if Fred's not at home down there at the end of the road. I ain't going to have nobody jump out of them woods and get me. Wrap a Kleenex around it so nobody'll notice. Little... what is it Finner, a .22?"
"Yep, .22."
My God, thought Elaine. Why would anybody jump on you?
"Okay now," said Mattie, returning to the kitchen, "who wants cake, who wants apple pie, who wants ice cream, or a little ice cream along with one of the others?"
"I pass," said Elaine.
"Pass!" said Alora. "Good gracious, girl."
"Cake and ice cream," said Finner. "Your mama makes the best pound cake I ever eat," Finner said to Robert.
Alora, with her coffee cup to her lip, eyed Finner.
"Alora, what do you want?" asked Mattie.
"Well, I don't need anything, Lord knows," said Alora, "but I'll take a little pie ... with a tiny scoop of ice cream."
"You want pie and ice cream, don't you, Robert?" said Mattie.
"Yes ma'am."
Alora looked at Robert and Elaine. "Well, well," she said. They were all sitting in the den except Mattie who was fixing the dessert in the kitchen. "This is the first time I known y'all to be here together since I don't know when. Since Paul died I guess."
"When did y'all move here anyway?" asked Finner.
'"58," said Robert.
Elaine picked up a Biblical Recorder to see what the Baptists were up to. She turned on the lamp beside her. She had wandered spiritually since her sophomore year in college—not going to church at all until she met, at a cocktail party a few years ago, a Unitarian minister with whom she agreed on every topic she could think of. She went to his church in Raleigh at least six or eight times a year.
Mattie came into the den with a tray holding the desserts. "Now the pie ain't hot," she said, "but it's good cold.... We don't need that light," she said to Elaine.
"I'm trying to read."
"If you cooked it, it's good," said Finner.
They all heard sounds of Lamar walking across the roof toward the ladder.
"Lord, I forgot the dogcatcher," said Mattie.
"Whose piece of cake is that?" asked Elaine.
"It's mine," said Mattie.
"Mother, the doctor told you not to eat any sweets."
"I know it. But I hadn't had enough to hurt anything and if he finds sugar when I go back I'll cut them out altogether. But what if I cut them out altogether and went back and didn't have no blood in my sugar then how—"
"Sugar in your blood," said Elaine.
"What'd I say?"
"You said blood in your sugar."
"That's probably what it amounts to," said Robert.
Lamar knocked on the back door.
"Anyway," said Mattie, going toward the door, stopping to finish. "If they don't find no sugar this next time then I'll know that eating a little bit along ain't going to hurt anything, whereas if I'd cut it out altogether, then I wouldn't know whether I could eat just a little bit and still get along okay." She opened the back screen. "Come on in. Y'all, this is Lamar. I forgot your last name."
"Benfield." Lamar looked around—saw apple pie. Hot damn, he thought.
"Don't you want a little dessert?" asked Mattie.
"You might force a little on me," said Lamar. "How y'all doing?"
"You like to been dead a while ago," said Finner.
"You sure did," said Alora.
"Well, I'm glad I'm still alive."
"Did you want pie?" Mattie asked Lamar from the kitchen.
"Yeah."
"How about a little ice cream?"
"I could handle that. You hurt yourself?" Lamar said to Robert.
"No, I don't think so, but I'll be a little sore probably."
"You were sore the other morning, won't you, Mrs. Rigsbee," said Lamar.
"I sure was."
There was a quiet spell. Mattie couldn't think of anything to say from the kitchen. She brought Lamar his food and drink and then went back and got a board for the rocker seat, put it across the seat, and sat down. Robert and Elaine were sitting on the couch and the rest sat in chairs and held their plates, eating dessert.
"You're eating ice cream, too?" said Elaine to Mattie.
"This was all that was left—not enough to sneeze
"Yep, .22."
My God, thought Elaine. Why would anybody jump on you?
"Okay now," said Mattie, returning to the kitchen, "who wants cake, who wants apple pie, who wants ice cream, or a little ice cream along with one of the others?"
"I pass," said Elaine.
"Pass!" said Alora. "Good gracious, girl."
"Cake and ice cream," said Finner. "Your mama makes the best pound cake I ever eat," Finner said to Robert.
Alora, with her coffee cup to her lip, eyed Finner.
"Alora, what do you want?" asked Mattie.
"Well, I don't need anything, Lord knows," said Alora, "but I'll take a little pie ... with a tiny scoop of ice cream."
"You want pie and ice cream, don't you, Robert?" said Mattie.
"Yes ma'am."
Alora looked at Robert and Elaine. "Well, well," she said. They were all sitting in the den except Mattie who was fixing the dessert in the kitchen. "This is the first time I known y'all to be here together since I don't know when. Since Paul died I guess."
"When did y'all move here anyway?" asked Finner.
'"58," said Robert.
Elaine picked up a Biblical Recorder to see what the Baptists were up to. She turned on the lamp beside her. She had wandered spiritually since her sophomore year in college—not going to church at all until she met, at a cocktail party a few years ago, a Unitarian minister with whom she agreed on every topic she could think of. She went to his church in Raleigh at least six or eight times a year.
Mattie came into the den with a tray holding the desserts. "Now the pie ain't hot," she said, "but it's good cold.... We don't need that light," she said to Elaine.
"I'm trying to read."
"If you cooked it, it's good," said Finner.
They all heard sounds of Lamar walking across the roof toward the ladder.
"Lord, I forgot the dogcatcher," said Mattie.
"Whose piece of cake is that?" asked Elaine.
"It's mine," said Mattie.
"Mother, the doctor told you not to eat any sweets."
"I know it. But I hadn't had enough to hurt anything and if he finds sugar when I go back I'll cut them out altogether. But what if I cut them out altogether and went back and didn't have no blood in my sugar then how—"
"Sugar in your blood," said Elaine.
"What'd I say?"
"You said blood in your sugar."
"That's probably what it amounts to," said Robert.
Lamar knocked on the back door.
"Anyway," said Mattie, going toward the door, stopping to finish. "If they don't find no sugar this next time then I'll know that eating a little bit along ain't going to hurt anything, whereas if I'd cut it out altogether, then I wouldn't know whether I could eat just a little bit and still get along okay." She opened the back screen. "Come on in. Y'all, this is Lamar. I forgot your last name."
"Benfield." Lamar looked around—saw apple pie. Hot damn, he thought.
"Don't you want a little dessert?" asked Mattie.
"You might force a little on me," said Lamar. "How y'all doing?"
"You like to been dead a while ago," said Finner.
"You sure did," said Alora.
"Well, I'm glad I'm still alive."
"Did you want pie?" Mattie asked Lamar from the kitchen.
"Yeah."
"How about a little ice cream?"
"I could handle that. You hurt yourself?" Lamar said to Robert.
"No, I don't think so, but I'll be a little sore probably."
"You were sore the other morning, won't you, Mrs. Rigsbee," said Lamar.
"I sure was."
There was a quiet spell. Mattie couldn't think of anything to say from the kitchen. She brought Lamar his food and drink and then went back and got a board for the rocker seat, put it across the seat, and sat down. Robert and Elaine were sitting on the couch and the rest sat in chairs and held their plates, eating dessert.
"You're eating ice cream, too?" said Elaine to Mattie.
"This was all that was left—not enough to sneeze
Similar Books
