Things just aren’t right over there, said the Outside Girl. Perley’s struggling at school. No dad around. They don’t even know who the dad is, or they won’t say.

Grandma Barlow said, When Altemonte’s daddy comes around I lock the door and get the gun. You should see him, black as tar and bigger than this house. I ain’t racist, you understand, you know how much I love my grandbaby and he’s brown as sugar. I’m just saying when it comes to daddies sometimes you’re better off without one.

Perley’s mom has random adults living over there, said the Outside Girl. Involved in criminal mischief, just petty stuff, you understand, but no environment for a child. No adequate supervision.

I heard more coffee go, a sizzle, a chair scraped, I smelled a frying smell and my stomach sparkled, but I knew my mission was to remain stealthily incognito, and to hear Perley’s family get talked about with so much sad loving horror and even though it sounded like a different person, a different family, actually Perley was me and Perley’s family was my family. I touched my snakebite scar, felt it tingle. It better not fade in a year or two. It better not. I almost dribbled but then I remembered to flex and I flexed.

Grandma Barlow said, Everyone deserves comfort but in the end there’s no comfort. We’ll all be separated, especially from our children. I’ve got no words. Jesus can help, but then again sometimes there’s nothing can help. I know what I’m talking about. You take my Marg. She bore Altemonte and it was like she’d gone to war, she never was quite the same. Never enough money. Then there were pills, and not the healing ones. The forgetting ones. After that the fighting ones. And always hungry for more. Oh, for years.

How’s Marg doing? asked the Outside Girl. She’s working now?

Pipelining up north, said Grandma Barlow. Where all our kids seem to end up. This land here is like a funnel. Far from home, no job for a woman if anyone asked me, but she never did. Then again she works so hard I don’t think she has time for the drugs so that’s something. Sixteen-hour days. Don’t even go to church on a Sunday. Sends us money, that’s true. Got a letter from her this morning. So many kinds of pain. I’d like to get that boy in there some comfort, his mama, too.

Speaking of that, said the Outside Girl, I’ll make an appointment for him.

The sooner the better, said Grandma Barlow.

I can pick him up at school and drop him off here again afterward, said the Outside Girl.

I just don’t want to see him in pain, is all, said Grandma Barlow. Missing his mama. Nothing worse.