Sledge sat on the rickety deck of Shelton's home and let his bare feet dangle over the edge; he ran a hand through his flame-coloured hair, his face a picture of utter contentment. In the week or so that he'd spent in Louisiana, he'd come to find a sort of peace in the marshy swamplands, far away from the pressure of his family. He loved his parents, of course, but they didn't seem to understand why he couldn't just forget the war, get married, and settle down; and Edward, too, didn't truly get it. Here, however, he didn't have to talk to his mother's friends or brave his father's sympathetic glances. Here, he was free.
As Eugene sat, lost in thought, he heard the soft pitter-patter of footsteps steadily approaching. He looked up at Shelton's two sons (Sledge still wondered how the hell Snafu of all people was a father) as they plopped down next to him on the porch. Soon after arriving, Snafu had told him, with a hint of pride, that the older one's name was Floyd, and the younger one's was Allen. Sledge still knew nothing about them, save for the fact that they seemed to follow each other everywhere. Allen, in particular, clung to his older brother like a leech; he was only three, while Floyd was about five. However, despite all this, Eugene had barely said a word to either of them during his short stay in Louisiana.
Allen fixed his enormous, Snafu-like eyes on him "Maman said we should show you around." Floyd nudged his brother and Allen quickly continued talking "An' she said we should take you to see grandmère and grandpère." Sledge nodded, pleased at the opportunity to see the small town fully, and stood up. As he followed the two boys, he mulled over the way that both they and their parents seemed to slip into French at random, such as how they had used the French version of grandma and grandpa. Maybe, he pondered, he could ask one of them to teach him. It would be a fantastic opportunity to learn another language.
The three of them traipsed through the swamplands together until they came to a small town. Sledge noted a few shops, some houses, a grocery, a diner, a schoolhouse, and a church. There were people milling around, who, Eugene noticed, were eyeing him rather suspiciously. He guessed that it wasn't often wealthy doctor's sons with collared shirts came to visit. He followed Floyd and Allen, who enthusiastically pointed out landmarks and called out to friends and neighbors. He was introduced to countless cousins and aunts and family friends throughout the course of the tour, all who seemed almost wary of his presence.
Finally, they led him to slightly ramshackle wooden house. It was painted a faded mint-green and had an ornate, cement porch; an iron wrought fence lead up the steps to the house, with it's blue-shuttered, floor to ceiling windows. Sitting on an old rocking chair in the front was a plump, dark-haired woman, who was not dissimilar in age from his own mother.
Her grey streaked curls were pulled back into a loose bun and she was wearing a clean, navy dress. She looked up when they arrived, and her mouth split into a wide grin. "Floyd, Allen!" She called, her words erupting into a train of French. After embracing the boys, she turned to Eugene "Ah, an' you must be the 'visitor' these boys have been telling me about." He nodded "Yes, ma'am." She smiled and introduced herself, "I'm Adelaide, these boys grandmère. I hear you came down here t' see my Merriell?"
He followed Mrs. Shelton inside, and was greeted by a small, sunny room. The floors were an old, dark wood and the walls were painted all white. A dark green chair, which looked like an antique, was positioned by a short lamp with beads dangling from it, and a small, wobbly table was by the door. Light blazed in from the tall windows and through the door. Unfortunately, it was no cooler in there than in the swelteringly hot outdoors, but it did feel slightly less muggy.
Mrs. Shelton led him and her grandsons to a colourful and cluttered kitchen, where an elderly man sat at a polished, wooden table, listlessly flipping through a book and sipping what looked like homemade lemonade. Eugene could empathise with the man's lethargic actions, the awful heat made him want to just lay down and never get up. "Bernard, honey, we got visitors." The man glanced up, a smile crinkling at the corners of his pale eyes, and his gaze landed flat on Sledge. He stood up and leaned forward to shake his hand, "You're the out-of-towner. I'm Bernard, Merl's papa."
Sledge, somewhat taken aback by the man's abruptness, shook his tanned, wrinkled hand. Floyd and Allen were already seated, taking big slurps of lemonade and speaking to each other in muted whispers while glancing around the room with wide eyes. Mrs. Shelton bustled to sit Eugene in a chair and give him something to drink, which Eugene gladly accepted, the heavy blanket of humidity had made him awfully thirsty.
"So, honey, what you doin' all the way down in St. Francisville? It ain't exactly a big tourist destination." Mrs. Shelton asked after he had settled down comfortably. "Well… I suppose I came to see Merriell, we knew each other in the war." She nodded "I see. He's been real different since then, but I ain't gonna talk to you about that in front of Floyd and Allen."
A couple hours later, after a pleasant afternoon of lemonade and chatter, Eugene and the boys took their leave of Mr. and Mrs. Shelton, and stepped out into the somewhat deteriorating heat. Floyd happily bounced up beside him "That's papa's parents!" He explained enthusiastically, something Sledge had already known. "Grandpère used t' be a fisherman, and he's got a little boat that we sometimes use." Eugene nodded, tuning out Floyd's words as the boy went on and on about all types of randomness, as only small children can do.
He used the time to think over the events of the day. Snaf's parents had actually turned out to be quite pleasant people, so he wondered why the hell Snafu was so damn crazy. It couldn't have just been the war, Sledge thought offhandedly, he would have had to been a little strange to begin with.
They walked up the dirt path that led to Snaf's house and stepped inside. Floyd and Allen immediately left to go help their mother with dinner, and Sledge found himself at a loss for what to do. After a moment of awkwardly standing in the hallway, he headed into the courtyard out back. There, he found Snafu leaning against the side of the house and smoking a cigarette. "Hey Snaf." He said casually, joining him.
Shelton grunted in response, and the two of them stood there in companionable silence, each thinking of something different. Eugene was thinking about how his mother must have been getting anxious for his return, and Snafu's mind was on Okinawa. He was trying to get the image of Hamm's being shot out of his head, but he just couldn't forget it. They stood there like this, lost in thought, for the next ten minutes, before Snafu broke the silence.
He stretched and rubbed his cigarette butt out on the wall "We should be gettin' in, dinner's likely ready by now." Eugene nodded and moved to follow him, then stopped. "Wait, Snaf," He gulped, and Snafu looked at him quizzically, "You never really did answer my question the other day. Why…. why did you leave me on the train?" Sledge gazed at him expectantly, but Snafu merely scowled. "I told ya, you were sleepin' an' I didn't want to wake you."
He started again to go inside, but Sledge pressed him for more. "No, that isn't why and you know it. If it was really just that, you would've woken me up." Like hell that's the reason, he thought. A pained expression crossed Snafu's face "I just ain't good at goodbyes." Before Sledge could ask more, Snaf had disappeared through the doorway. Heaving a sigh, Eugene went in as well, he'd question his friend some more another time.