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Louis
tried
to
laugh
.
Time
seemed
to
have
turned
cleverly
back
on
itself
.
It
was
Thanksgiving
again
.
Soon
they
would
put
the
stiff
,
unnaturally
thickened
body
of
Ellie
's
cat
Winston
Churchill
into
a
plastic
garbage
bag
and
start
off
.
Oh
,
do
not
ask
what
is
it
;
let
us
go
and
make
our
visit
.
"
Can
I
come
in
,
Louis
?
"
Jud
asked
.
He
took
a
pack
of
Chesterfields
from
his
shirt
pocket
and
poked
one
into
his
mouth
.
"
Tell
you
what
,
"
Louis
said
.
"
It
's
late
and
I
've
been
drinking
a
pile
of
beer
.
"
"
Ayuh
,
I
could
smell
it
,
"
Jud
said
.
He
struck
a
match
.
The
wind
snuffed
it
He
struck
another
around
cupped
hands
,
but
the
hands
trembled
and
betrayed
the
match
to
the
wind
again
.
He
got
a
third
match
,
prepared
to
strike
it
,
and
then
looked
up
at
Louis
standing
in
the
doorway
.
"
I
ca
n't
get
this
thing
lit
,
"
Jud
said
.
"
Gon
na
let
me
in
or
not
,
Louis
?
"
Louis
stepped
aside
and
let
Jud
walk
in
.
They
sat
at
the
kitchen
table
over
beers
--
first
time
we
've
ever
tipped
one
in
our
kitchen
,
Louis
thought
,
a
little
surprised
.
Halfway
across
the
living
room
,
Ellie
had
cried
out
in
her
sleep
,
and
both
of
them
had
frozen
like
statues
in
a
children
's
game
.
The
cry
had
not
been
repeated
.
"
Okay
,
"
Louis
said
,
"
what
are
you
doing
over
here
at
quarter
past
twelve
on
the
morning
my
son
gets
buried
?
You
're
a
friend
,
Jud
,
but
this
is
stretching
it
.
"
Jud
drank
,
wiped
his
mouth
with
the
heel
of
his
hand
,
and
looked
directly
at
Louis
.
There
was
something
clear
and
positive
in
his
eyes
,
and
Louis
at
last
looked
down
from
it
.
"
You
know
why
I
'm
here
,
"
Jud
said
.
"
You
're
thinking
about
things
that
are
not
to
be
thought
of
,
Louis
.
Worse
still
,
I
fear
you
're
considering
them
.
"
