| was the color of the sheet. I stood beside him for a moment to make sure he wasn’t breathing. I had never been called upon to pronounce someone dead, but this was not a close call—Mr. Max looked as though he’d been dead for a month. I walked back down the stairs where Wilma and Gilma were waiting right where I’d left them. They looked at me as if I might have a different diagnosis. “I’m afraid he’s dead,” I said. “We know that,” Gilma said. “Tell us what to do,” Wilma said. This was the first corpse I’d been called upon to process, but the next step seemed pretty obvious. “Well, perhaps we should call Mr. Magargel down at the funeral home.” “I told you so,” Wilma said to Gilma. They didn’t move, so I went to the phone and called Mr. Magargel. “It’s New Year’s Day,” he said. It was apparent my call had awakened him. “He’s still dead,” I said. “Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m sure. I just saw him.” “Where is he?” “In bed. He went peacefully.” “Sometimes these old geezers are just sleeping soundly, you know.” I turned away from the twins so they wouldn’t hear me argue about whether their brother was really dead. “He’s not sleeping, Mr. Magargel. He’s dead.” “I’ll be there in an hour.” “Is there anything else we should do?” I asked. “Like what?” “I don’t know. Notify the police, something like that?” “Was he murdered?” “No.” “Why would |
unheard of in Clanton. She apologized because the tomatoes were store bought; hers were still on the vine and wouldn’t be ready until summertime. The corn, okra, and butter beans had been canned from her garden last August. In fact, the only real “fresh” vegetables were the collard greens, or “spring greens” as she called them. A large black skillet was hidden in the center of the table, and when she pulled the napkin off it there were at least four pounds of hot corn bread. She removed a huge wedge, placed it in the center of my plate, and said, “There. That will get you started.” I had never had so much food placed in front of me. The feast began. I tried to eat slowly, but it was impossible. I had arrived with an empty stomach, and somewhere in the midst of the competing aromas and the beauty of the table and the rather long-winded blessing and the careful description of each dish, I had become thoroughly famished. I packed it in, and she seemed content to do the talking. Her garden had produced most of the meal. She and Esau grew four types of tomatoes, butter beans, string beans, black-eyed peas, crowder peas, cucumbers, eggplant, squash, collards, mustard greens, turnips, vidalia onions, yellow onions, green onions, cabbage, okra, new red potatoes, russet potatoes, carrots, beets, corn, green peppers, cantaloupes, two varieties of watermelon, and a few other things she couldn’t recall at the moment. The pork chops |
