Getting Mother's Body Read Online Free Page A

Arizona,” Dill says, reading the postmark. I hold my hand out for the envelope and she hands it to me. A circle with some lines running through it and some marks and a stamp. Below that some marks that say “Miss Billy Beede c/o Dill Smiles, Lincoln, Texas.” But the lines could say “Mr. John F. Kennedy, President of the United States, Warshington, D.C.” for all I know. I never did learn to read. June and Billy read good though. Dill reads pretty good too.
    June comes outside. Her crutch tapping the floor like someone’s knocking. She looks at Dill’s truck, a shiny blue Chevrolet, parked off to the side of the pumps.
    â€œThat yr new truck, Dill?” June asks.
    â€œBought it with pig money,” Dill says.
    â€œWe could read this now,” I says, fanning the envelope, “it would spark up the day.”
    â€œWe’ll wait,” June says. “It’s addressed to Billy so it’s only right to wait for her.”
    â€œLike Billy gives a crap,” Dill says. “She was glad when her mother passed, said so herself.”
    â€œShe didn’t mean it,” June says.
    â€œYou and Roosevelt don’t got no kids and Billy’s your niece, that’s how come you think that way, but I’m telling you Billy was glad when Willa passed. Billy said ‘good riddance’ and clapped her hands. I was there. I heard and seen it all,” Dill says, retelling us the tragedy.
    We sit quiet. If I could give June children I would. If June could give me children she would.
    â€œCandy’s got the grave to keep up plus she runs that motel,” June says.
    â€œHow much money you think Candy’s gonna want from us this time?” I ask.
    â€œDo it matter?” Dill says. “You can’t send her none nohow.”
    â€œBut we always write her back polite,” June says. “And Candy always finds a way to hold on.”
    â€œShe don’t ask me for money cause she knows I won’t send her none and I won’t write her back polite neither,” Dill says.
    â€œThe bank’s gonna take her motel one of these days,” I says. I should know. I had a church, a nice church over in Tryler before me and June comed here. It was the most beautiful church you ever seen. And the bank took it.
    â€œMa always finds a way to hold on,” Dill says.
    â€œPlus she got Even helping out now,” June says. Even is Candy’s daughter. Dill’s sister but by a different daddy.
    â€œMa always finds a way to make do,” Dill says.
    â€œHow come she asking us for payment, then?” June asks.
    â€œShe’s what you call resourceful,” Dill says.
    June says “huh” to that.
    A car comes up, out-of-towners. White. I give them two dollars worth of gas.
    â€œYou got a restroom?” the lady asks.
    â€œNo, ma’am, we don’t.”
    â€œWe shoulda stopped at a Texaco,” the man says. And they go on.
    â€œYou all should build a restroom,” Dill says.
    June says “huh” to that too. If we could get the money together to build a restroom June would be the one to clean it. It would be Billy’s chore but Billy ain’t as timely at her chores as June is, even though June only got the one leg.
    â€œMa asked you all for fifty dollars payment last time,” Dill laughs, “this time she’ll probably ask for sixty.”
    â€œCandy can ask all she wants,” June says. “I got a whole dictionary full of words I can say no to her nice with.”
    â€œI know the pain of losing a structure,” I says. When the bank told me they was gonna take my church I went to the bank and got down on my knees.
    â€œI know the pain of losing a structure too,” June says.
    We sit there for a while. Not saying nothing. The white out-of-towners leave a cloud of brownish dust in the road.
    â€œIt’s worth it, keeping on good terms with Candy, even if we can’t never