Southern Fried by Cathy Pickens

Author:Cathy Pickens
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780312995539
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press

Nine

When I called, Melvin’s brother suggested I could find Melvin at Runion’s, a barbecue joint outside town. Melvin already had a half-empty beer bottle in front of him when I got there. From his slurpy hello, I judged that wasn’t the first he’d drained.

“A’vry, glad you got the message. Glad my brother told you where I’d be. Glad I knew where I’d be. What’d you like to drink?”

“Some ice tea would be great. Thanks.”

He leaned over the table and pushed the ladder-back chair across to me.

This Melvin, I hadn’t seen before. I studied him as he flagged down the waitress. What seemed so different about him? A sprig of sandy hair stuck out over his ear, as if he’d slept crooked. He slumped, both elbows propped on the table, studying the salt shaker he held in both hands. Red barbecue sauce streaked the white plastic shaker.

“We’d better get something to eat,” he said. “’Least, I’ d better. Haven’t eaten much today.”

When the waitress returned, we ordered barbecue plates with slaw and onion rings. Melvin asked for a glass of water and another beer.

“Thanks again, Avery.”

“For what?”

He shrugged. “For coming. I don’t have any claim on your time. But heck, I’d be glad to pay you.”

“For having dinner with you? Naw, that might put me into a whole’ nother profession. I’ll stick with the one I’ve got now.”

He ignored my attempt at humor.

“Will you be able to come to the memorial service tomorrow? Body or no, I decided to get it over with.”

“Sunday? Sure.”

“At Baldwin and Bates’s new emporium. Have you seen that thing? The pseudo-Georgian brick monstrosity with acres of free parking and those outsize lights perched along the sidewalk? You can’t miss it. Must be a lot of money in buryin’ dead people.”

“I hear there is. What time?”

“One o’clock. Gives folks time to get out of church. Probably didn’t leave enough time for’em to make it to the cafeteria, but…” He shrugged.

“I’m awfully sorry, Melvin. I know this can’t be easy.”

I never know what to say in the face of grief. If that was, in fact, what sat across from me.

He blinked rapidly several times, but when he spoke, his voice had the same wry bite to it. “You’re certainly not the one with anything to be sorry about.” He rolled the stained salt shaker between his palms. “Did you know her?”

I shook my head. “Only by name.”

“She’d have been a bit older than you. Of course, she was always a good bit older than she should have been. I’ve never stayed this long on a visit” he went on. “It’s always been hard, coming back. Reckon now it’ll be easier?” He paused. “I doubt it.”

He gazed toward the restaurant’s entrance, but he wasn’t looking at the age-stained light fixtures and the old advertising slogans plastered on the walls. “I used to look for her, seemed like all the time. Not just here. Wherever I was. A street comer in Atlanta, the T in Boston. I’d find myself looking at faces, thinking I’d run into her.

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