Jinxland Outpost

“We’re thinking about getting married next, Big Mama,” Clay said, throwing his arm around Lou’s shoulder as they got to the table.

“I believe Lou can do better a mite better than you,” Big Mama said, which was ridiculous. Clayton was her youngest child, and she loved him like he hung the moon. “Come here, girl, give me some sugar.”

Big Mama Goodnight was a big, big woman with a prominent beauty mark, big, big hair and breasts so large she always said she couldn’t wear enhancing brassieres due to the risk it posed to her windpipe. She pulled Lou into a completely engulfing hug, stooping down to kiss her wetly on each cheek.

“Howdy, Big Mama,” Lou said. She couldn’t wrap her arms around her. She wore a heavy dusting of scented powder, and Lou had to will herself not to sneeze. “Clayton’s just after some housewarming gifts, I reckon.”

“It’s so good to see you, puss,” Big Mama said, wiping the lipstick off Lou’s cheeks with her thumbs. “It’s been a long time. You’re looking lathy– of course, you’ve always been thin as a rail, ever since you was a girl, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lou said. She sat down next to Clay. “I don’t know if Clay said, but I had a hitch in my giddyup a while there. I’m doing a bit better, though.”

“She was deathly ill, Big Mama,” Clay said, which was what Lou had told him. She hadn’t told anyone that she had died, not even him. Not even Venus. “They had her in the hospital for half a daggone year.”

“Only four months,” Lou said. “And not the hospital hospital, not for most of it. Just the sanitarium. To rest, mostly.”

Big Mama slapped her palms down on the table, her many rings and bracelets clacking. “Let me make you up a plate, honey,” she said. She did not tolerate any of Lou’s protests.