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Chapter 18
An’thenthingsain’tlonelyanymore.An’thenahurtdon’thurtsobad,causeitain’talonelyhurtnomore,Rosasharn.IwishtIcouldtellyousoyou’dknow,butIcan’t."Andhervoicewassosoft,sofulloflove,thattearscrowdedintoRoseofSharon’seyes,andflowedoverhereyesandblindedher.
"Takean’fanGranma,"Masaid,andshehandedthecardboardtoherdaughter."That’sagoodthingtodo.IwishtIcouldtellyousoyou’dknow."
Granma,scowlingherbrowsdownoverherclosedeyes,bleated,"Will!You’redirty!Youain’tnevergonnagetclean."Herlittlewrinkledclawsmovedupandscratchedhercheek.Aredantranupthecurtainclothandscrambledoverthefoldsoflooseskinontheoldlady’sneck.Mareachedquicklyandpickeditoff,crusheditbetweenthumbandforefinger,andbrushedherfingersonherdress.
RoseofSharonwavedthecardboardfan.ShelookedupatMa."She-?"Andthewordsparchedinherthroat.
"Wipeyourfeet,Will—youdirtypig!"Granmacried.
Masaid,"Idunno.Maybeifwecangetherwhereitain’tsohot,butIdunno.Don’tworryyourself,Rosasharn.Takeyourbreathinwhenyouneedit,an’letgowhenyouneedto."
Alargewomaninatornblackdresslookedintothetent.Hereyeswereblearedandindefinite,andtheskinsaggedtoherjowlsandhungdowninlittleflaps.Herlipswereloose,sothattheupperliphunglikeacurtainoverherteeth,andherlowerlip,byitsweight,foldedoutward,showingherlowergums.
