Part 30 (1/2)

Henderson Swamp is eerily beautiful. Trunks and roots grow out of the opaque water, the whole scene in browns, grays, and blacks. The truck is parked on the sh.o.r.e of the bog as Kate sketches and F.M. looks at a map.

”Where are you from, F.M.?”

”Well, accordin' to my mama, heaven.”

Kate doesn't look up from her sketch pad. ”Must be nice, heaven.”

F.M. looks at her deadpan, but his eyes sparkle.

The next day Kate is sitting on a park bench in Natchez, sketching, when F.M. comes up behind her and places a big gift-wrapped box on the bench.

”What's this?”

”Aren't you supposed to open presents to find out?”

Kate opens the box and there's a very pretty dress inside. Kate pulls it out ever so gently, like it's made of b.u.t.terfly wings.

”Why?”

”Well ... frankly ... that outfit you've got on ...”

”Not exactly low-key?”

”No, ma'am, but that's not my point exactly. Well, I thought if you had another dress, we could do some laundry.”

”Are you saying I stink?”

”No! No, Kate. You don't-”

Kate sniffs her pits as an older woman walks by, looking at her disapprovingly, shaking her head. ”Oh, man! I sure as h.e.l.l do! Why didn't you say anything?”

”Well, it's not exactly the easiest subject to bring up.”

Kate laughs. ”How many days have I ... ?”

”Since yesterday. Least that's when I noticed it.”

”It's those little motel soaps. They don't lather up, and most times they just break into little pieces.” Kate looks at the dress. ”It's so ... different. Not exactly what I'd usually wear.”

”I hope it's the right size.”

Kate spots a filling station down the road. She heads toward it, the dress over her arm. ”Well, I'm gonna find out! Be right back!”

She hoofs it down the street while F.M. sits on the bench looking after her. She turns back for a moment. ”F.M.!”

He smiles and waves. Kate takes a good, long whiff of her armpits again as a knot of tourists hurries past her. She looks at them and rolls her eyes dramatically. ”Hey, it's not that bad!”