Finally the meeting was adjourned and the man ended with, “Tomorrow at six sharp, men, the truck will be here. Don’t forget that lunch will be provided by the lunch committee . . .”

Joseph whispered, “I suwannee, they got committees for everything here. Probably got a committee to help a fella take a squat in the woods.”

“Men! Men! Please, everyone’s attention, please!” The man on the stage went on, “Men, please wear clothes you don’t mind getting dirty this time. The church will not be held responsible for ripped trousers or torn britches like last year.”

People laughed. And the boy in the back row made another loud fart noise.

The man tapped his wood hammer again. The meeting was adjourned, and people stood to their feet and faced the pulpit. A woman walked onto the stage. She wore a yellow skirt and had black hair that was down to her hips.

The woman sang “To God Be the Glory,” and people sang along with her. Joseph, too, sang in a loud, off-key voice until it made him hack.

While they sang, Coot loosened his tie and walked out of the church. Joseph hobbled after Coot, leaning on his cane.

“Hey,” Joseph said to Coot. “Slow down. Old man like me can’t move very fast.”

Coot didn’t bother slowing. He’d had enough church for one night. He didn’t even look back at Joseph.

“Robert,” Joseph called out. “Where’re you heading to, son? Robert, hold on!”

“Don’t call me that,” said Coot.

Joseph moved as fast as he could with his bad legs. “Wait! Wait up for your old man, Robert!”

Coot stopped and turned to him. “Don’t call me that, Joseph.”

“Just hold on a hot minute, son.”

Coot flung his hand away. “Quit calling me ‘son.’ I’m not your son, you old cheat.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Me? Nothing’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with you? Those people are innocent people just looking to hold a revival. They don’t deserve to be stolen from.”

Coot turned and started walking away. Joseph followed, wheezing and making swallowing sounds. “Please, Coot! Wait!”

Coot stopped walking. He looked at the night sky and suddenly felt ridiculous in his seersucker. He removed his necktie and tossed it into a public mailbox. “I don’t want to swindle those people, Joseph. They can have their stupid revival and shout at each other and wiggle like worms on the floor, for all I care. But I’m not taking their money.”

Joseph touched Coot’s arm. He was gagging on his own wind. “Easy, boy. Easy.” He started coughing. He coughed until he doubled over. “You win, we ain’t gotta swindle nobody. We’ll play it your way.”

The old man removed a bottle from his coat pocket and took a sip.

Fifty-Nine
Loud Noises