“Well,” I said, “she’s got some grandchildren. She’s got them.”

“Huh! I got a girl eighteen, was never in a bit a trouble her whole life. Just up and run off last year with a goddamn sand nigger. Now what about that?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I need another beer!” she said, and she popped her can down on the bar pretty hard. Everybody turned and looked at us. I nodded to Harry and he brought a cold one over. But he looked a little pissed.

“Let me tell you somethin,” she said. “People don’t give a shit if you ain’t got a place to sleep ner nothin to eat. They don’t care. That son of a bitch,” she said. “He won’t be there when we git there. If we ever git there.” And she slammed her face down on the bar, and started crying, loud, holding onto both beers.

Everybody stopped what they were doing. The people shooting pool stopped. The guys on the shuffleboard machine just stopped and turned around.

“Get her out of here,” Harry said. “Frank, you brought her in here, you get her out.”

I got down off my stool and went around to the other side of her, and I took her arm.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go back outside.”

I tugged on her arm. She raised her head and looked straight at Harry.

“Fuck you,” she said. “You don’t know nothin about me. You ain’t fit to judge.”

“Out,” he said, and he pointed toward the door. “Frank,” he said.

“Come on,” I told her. “Let’s go.”

It hadn’t cooled off any, but the sun was a little lower in the sky. Three of the kids were asleep in the backseat, their hair plastered to their heads with sweat. The old woman was sitting in the car with her feet in the parking lot, spitting brown juice out the open door. She didn’t even turn her head when we walked back to the car. The woman had the rest of the beer in one hand, the pack of Marlboro Lights in the other. She leaned against the fender when we stopped.

“You think your car will make it?” I said. I was looking at the tires and thinking of the miles they had to go. She shook her head slowly and stared at me.

“I done changed my mind,” she said. “I’m gonna stay here with you. I love you.”

Her eyes were all teary and bitter, drunk-looking already, and I knew that she had been stomped on all her life, and had probably been forced to do no telling what. And I just shook my head.

“You can’t do that,” I said.

She looked at the motel across the street.

“Let’s go over there and git us a room,” she said. “I want to.”