I wind my way past the town line, the rusty WELCOME TO MERIDIEN sign blown off-kilter after years of fighting a losing battle with the Southeast Texas wind. If I were walking in the other direction, I’d be passing huge ranches lined with white vinyl fences framing freshly mown grass and dotted with tall trees. On this side of the county, the road leads to rows of tract housing, overgrown chickweed, and bobbing pumpjacks. Officer Calvert sits in the Crossroads Church parking lot at the edge of town, just waiting for someone to come barreling down Main Street on their way to the beach, too busy looking at their phone to notice the sharp drop in the speed limit. The road is patched together with a dizzying pattern of thick tar that still stinks in the late summer steam. Empty storefronts, their windows covered with brown paper and sometimes duct tape, dot the main drag between the businesses that survived the big oil downturn a couple years back. Jake’s Convenience, Ron Redd’s Rapid Repair, the Meridien Motel and Diner (parking in rear), Mabel’s Beauty Box. Burger Barn rises up like some turquoise beast at the corner of Main and Rudy Street. I ignore the stream of kids hanging out there on the pink picnic tables and turn right on Rudy Street to head home.

The TV is blaring when I come in the front door. Ray Remondo, Corpus Christi Action 8 Weather, is standing in front of a map, gesturing to a storm churning down near Barbados.

“Birdie,” I call. “I’m home.”

“There’s my boy,” she says, her voice coming from the kitchen. “Come on in here and help your grandmama.”

I drop my backpack on the brown plaid couch, worn thin in spots from years of Birdie’s hospitality. As far back as I can remember, there has always been a visitor or two a few meals a week in this house.

Birdie is standing on a chair trying to reach a heavy bowl above the refrigerator when I appear in the kitchen. Her heavy frame teeters on the edge of the seat, and I notice it starting to flex and bend underneath her.

“Birdie! Here.” I guide her down gently. “What are you reaching for?”

“I need the good glass bowl,” she says. “We’ve got special company tonight!”

I step up on the chair and grab the big bowl in one motion. I set it gently in the sink and start washing it out with soap and warm water. “Who is it?”