Usually, when me and Gran weed,
we talk about safe things,
like the weather and
what me and Charlie are doing
to keep ourselves busy this summer
and what Aunt Bee is feeding us
in place of Gran’s Thursday night meat loaf
and Sunday afternoon pot roast.
But today she’s brought up
Aunt Bee’s husband who left,
and since I’ve never met him,
I say, What was he like?
Gran looks at me, her face
turning from bright red to a
pale gray, a shadow I can’t read.
Then she looks down at the gloves
that carry dirt so her hands
don’t have to. Bee should never
have married him, she says.
Why? I say. I just
can’t help myself.
Gran pulls weeds out by their roots,
one after another.
It doesn’t work that way for me,
on account of stems breaking
before the roots come loose.
Gran says it’s important to get them out
her way, or else they’ll come right back,
but it’s not as easy
as she makes it look.
She keeps pulling, and I keep waiting,
thinking maybe she didn’t hear me.
Then she wipes her hands on
the apron she tied around her dress
and says, The only thing he was good for
was growing flower gardens,
painting pretty pictures,
and breaking hearts.
He was a painter? I say.
A good one, Gran says.
Problem was, painting was
more important than his family.
Gran looks at me for a minute
but doesn’t say anything else.
So I say, But they loved
each other, right? since
that’s why people get married.
Gran laughs, but it’s heavy.
Love had nothing to do with
that wedding. Gran says it in a whisper,
and she looks real quick at Granddad,
sitting on Aunt Bee’s porch,
rocking in a white chair.
So if people don’t get married
on account of love,
then why do they get married?
Gran pats my knee with her
dirty glove and says, Love is
a strange thing, Paulie.
It’s a lot like a flower.
looks greener than it did
the last time we weeded.
Sometimes it shows up, like a bloom,
after a person gets married.
Sometimes it’s there at the beginning
and then it leaves for good.
She stares at Aunt Bee’s house,
like she can see inside.
Sometimes it never shows up at all.
I don’t ask her which one it was
for Mama and my daddy.