We have a little free time before dinner, so I cram myself into our one chair and write against the arm. Baird lounges on his cot, propped up with a pillow and the crook of his arm. He doesn't even take his boots off. I zone out as I think of the next line… the Founder's Day letter is always the hardest.
"What's that look for, fondly recalling fried chicken, corn bread, pinto beans, okra? Or maybe some of that nasty slop that passes for food—what was it? Collard greens? Cooked with a ham hock till condensed to off-color goo."
"Don't you talk shit about my momma's signature dish," I say, smile dropping, giving Baird a soul-searching look from under my eyebrows. I've been told I look scary when I'm not smiling. I use that knowledge to my advantage from time to time.
The effect was instant. His eyes shot wide, and he looked like he was stuck mouthing the letter O. "Jesus, Cole. Um." His cigarette falls from his lips. Fumbling for it, he burns all of his fingers and cusses up a storm in the process. It lands on the floor, and he stares at it as it fizzles out with a final "Fuck me…"
I chuckle despite myself, shaking my head. "You're a hot mess, Damon." He mumbles something under his breath, and turns towards the wall. I press the nub of a pencil to the paper again, careful not to catch the tip on the knot of the wood chair arm and tear the thin page. It's one of the last ones I have, and who knows when something like paper's ever gonna get made again.
I finally know what to write next, and a smile tugs at my lips. Momma, I know you, daddy, Sophia, gramma and pop-pop are gone, and every day that hurts, but I still got family, even if he is ornery as hell.
I keep going, wood and graphite scratching along with little noises and protests against the paper that make me nervous, until the entire back is filled with my smallest print, and I sign a Love, Gus.
"Stuffed ham," Baird says, finally deciding to roll over and face me again.
"Huh?"
"It's Founder's Day, yeah? But we don't have anything to do anything special or shit. So." He huffs, trying to act like the whole time he's been turned around he hasn't been thinking about this. "Stuffed ham. I miss it."
"What in the hell is a stuffed ham?"