“Mama, don’t talk like that.”

“That’s the truth, and I got to talk that way now. We ain’t got time for pretty words, just the truth. You save yourself from getting married till you’re old enough to know who and what you want. That Jerry Flynn you’re seeing. He’s a good boy. But you’re too young to think about marriage, and so’s he.”

“I ain’t said nothing about marriage.”

“No. But you could be thinking it. I thought it when I was your age. Got married and your daddy wasn’t through with other women. He wouldn’t never have been through with other women. I don’t know any more to say. Wouldn’t know what to say he died some other kind of way. But like this. There ain’t no words… Do you hate me?”

Karen shook her head. “I don’t know how I feel… What we gonna do now?”

“You could go to your grandma’s. You could stay there till I could figure some things out.”

“I don’t want to go there by myself.”

“You been there by yourself plenty.”

“I know. But Daddy’s there. Can’t we just go home?”

“There ain’t any home, Karen. It blowed away.”

“Can’t we just go there anyway?”

“If I can walk that far. I’m getting so stiff I can hardly move. Get there, all you’re gonna find is the house is blowed away. There’s just the floor.”

“I want to go.”

They walked out to the road, caught a ride with a man driving a rickety transport truck full of squawking chickens. The man, who had four teeth poorly arranged in his mouth, looked at Sunset when she climbed in next to him, Karen by the passenger door. He said, “You been in some kind of accident?”