Last Summer with Maizon Read Online Free PDF Page A

poor baby.”
    â€œI hate death. I hate it that my daddy’s not coming home again!”
    â€œMy daddy never came home again,” Maizon said quietly.
    â€œBut your daddy didn’t die. He just went away,” Margaret said, lowering her voice.
    â€œHe might as well be dead,” Maizon said, lying back on the bed. Margaret knew Maizon’s father had left her with her grandmother when she was a baby, right after her mother died. Maizon had never known either of them but she had often wondered where her father was. She had not talked about him in a long time.
    â€œAt least there’s a chance he might come back, Maizon. My daddy’s never coming back.”
    Tears rolled down the side of Maizon’s face, collecting in her ears. Margaret cried too.
    â€œEven if he does come back, Margaret,” Maizon said, “I’ll treat him like he never even lived!”
    â€œDon’t let them take the life out of you, Daddy,” Margaret said silently. She saw him standing before her.
    â€œWhat’s makes you think your daddy’s gonna let something like that happen? It would take a lot for one of them skinny plastic tubes to bring this six-footer down.”
    Margaret heard her father laugh. The laughter sounded far away.
    â€œMargaret, are you listening to me?” Maizon nearly shouted. She jerked her head toward Margaret, then moved closer.
    â€œWhat did they do with my daddy?” Margaret whispered. She pushed her fist into her mouth to keep from screaming.
    â€œMargaret!” Maizon shouted. “Don’t, Margaret, you’re scaring me!”
    Margaret bounded off the bed and ran over to the window. “Where is my daddy?” she shouted into the storm, then crumpled to the floor. “Where is he, Maizon? Where’d they take my daddy to?” Her voice was ragged and tired.
    Maizon trembled as she walked toward Margaret. “He’s in heaven,” she said, kneeling down beside her. Her hand felt soft and warm on Margaret’s shoulder. Maizon leaned against the wall and Margaret rested her head on Maizon’s chest. She could hear Maizon’s heartbeat beneath the thin cotton shirt. The sound was soothing, very soothing.
    â€œWhy’d he have to die, Maizon?” she whispered. Maizon wrapped her arms around her and began rocking slowly back and forth.
    â€œMaybe heaven needs him now,” Maizon said. She began to sing. The song was about a place in heaven where good people have to go. It was about babies and mothers and old men. The lyrics brought fresh tears to Margaret’s eyes. She cried long and hard, but Maizon held on.

6
    T he funeral had been long and hot. Now Margaret and Maizon sat on the curb in front of Margaret’s building in matching black dresses and etched their names into the tar. Maizon dug a hole in the street over the i and Margaret wished for a moment that there were an i in her name so that she could do the same.
    In the distance they heard the sound of construction. A crew had started working on the lot on Palmetto Street.
    Margaret dropped the sharpened Popsicle stick she had been digging with and put her hands over her ears. Everything reminded her of death: the construction, the sticky black tar, the heat, their black dresses.
    A street cleaner made its way slowly down the street and they watched the truck sweep the discarded cans and paper bags away from the curb. Maizon held her nose as the spray of bleach-scented water wafted toward them.
    â€œThat street cleaner seems to be coming around more and more,” Margaret said, watching the truck disappear down the block.
    â€œThat’s because of the construction. Ms. Dell says rich people are going to move into those new buildings and if rich people want clean streets”—Maizon turned to Margaret and grimaced—“then rich people get clean streets.”
    â€œHattie says that’s going to be a grocery store,” Margaret