Do we really remember or do we conjure up the magical past?
Well after dark Bea leaned back in the wet clover and considered the stars which were largely obscured by the yellow wash of the street light. She also considered shooting out that street light. One well placed shooting aggie should do the trick, but she wasn't that good a shot and a miss would probably take out the Republics plate glass window. Mr. Mckinley had enough to worry about. Brucie would come talk to her if he felt like it, stars or no. She was patient.
Since Brucie died, his mother, Audra, had taken to passing out drunk in any number of public places; the grocery store, the lobby of the post office and, just last week, Nell found her laying flat on the sidewalk halfway up Maple avenue, her butt on the high curb and her legs sticking out in the street like a dead goat. Lord only knows how many passersby clucked their tongues and made note that she had gone out with no drawers on. Nell dragged her back onto the sidewalk, but couldn't lift her up onto the bus bench.
"She was like a sack of wet cement." she told Mack. Nell tucked Audra's bag under her head and left her posed decently, as if laid out in lavender, and went down the block to fetch her husband.
The whole town pitied her loss, but folks were fresh out of patience with her public drunkenness. If it hadn't been for Nell, Audra would have laid there until a patrol car came by or someone else ran over her sunburned legs. Mack returned to the bus stop with Nell and between the two of them, they were able to haul Mrs. M across the back seat of the Ford where she hummed to herself and then sat up and announced "I have to pee." And she did.