"Pack up your shit an get the hell out of here" was his answer.

So that's what I done. I found out I was due to leave on a plane that night for the States. Didn't even have time to change my clothes. I put the little cans with Sue's and Dan's ashes in my pack an signed out for the last time. When I got on the plane, it was only half full. I got me a seat in the back, by mysef, cause my clothes, well, they had the stink of death on em, an I was embarrassed of the way I smelled. We was flyin high over the desert, an the moon was full an the clouds was silver all over the horizon. It was dark inside the plane an I begun to feel terribly alone an downcasted, when all of a sudden I look over at the seat across the aisle, an there is Jenny, just settin there, lookin at me! She is got a kind of sad expression on her face, too, an this time, she don't say nothin, but just looks at me an smiles.

I couldn't hep it. I reached out for her, but she waved me off. But also, she stayed there in the seat across the aisle, I reckon to keep me company, all the way home.

Chapter Thirteen

It was a cloudy an gray day when I got back to Mobile. I gone to Mrs. Curran's house, an she was settin inside in a rockin chair, knittin a doily or somethin. She was glad to finally see me.

"I don't know how much longer I could of lasted," she said. "Things have been pretty hard around here."

"Yeah," I says, "I can imagine."

"Forrest," she says, "like I told you in my letter, I gotta sell the house so's I can get into the Little Sisters of the Poor old folks home. But once I do, they'll take care of me for good, so I will turn over the money from the house to you to help raise little Forrest."

"Aw, no, Mrs. Curran," I says, "that's your money—I can't accept that."

"You got to, Forrest. I can't even get into the Little Sisters of the Poor home unless I'm dead broke. And little Forrest is my grandson and the only family I have left. Besides, you gonna need all the money you can get. You ain't even got a job."

"Well, you are right about that, I guess."

About that time the front door opened an a big ole young man come bustin in, says, "Gramma, I'm home."

I didn't recognize him at all at first. Last time I seen him was nearly three years ago. Now he has growed up to be almost a man, fine an straight an tall. Only thing is, he is wearin a earrin in his ear, which leads me to wonder what sort of underwear he has got on.

"So, you're back, huh?" he says.

"Looks that way."

"Yeah, for how long this time?"

"Well," I says, "way I got it figgered, for good."

"What you gonna do?" he ast.

"That one I ain't figgered out yet."

"I wouldn't of thought so," he says, an gone on back to his room.

Ain't nothin like a warm welcome home, is it?

Anyhow, next mornin I begun lookin for work. Unfortunately, it ain't as though I have got a lot of high-end skills, an so my choices are limited. Like becomin a ditchdigger or somethin. But even that was a hard card to play. Seems they weren't no big market for ditchdiggin at the moment, an besides, one of the bosses tole me I was too old for such work.

"We need up-an-comin young fellers who are lookin to make a career of this—not some old fart who is just wantin enough work to buy a quart of jug wine" was the way he put it.

After three or four days I got pretty discouraged, an after three or four weeks it become downright humiliatin.

Finally I took to lyin about it to Mrs. Curran an little Forrest.

I tole em I done found work so's I could support em, but the truth was, I begun usin up my separation pay from the army to pay the bills an spent my days at a soda fountain drinkin CokeCola an eatin Fritos, at least when I wadn't out poundin the pavement for a job.

One day I figgered I'd go on down to Bayou La Batre an see if they was anythin for me there. After all, one time I'd owned the biggest bidness in that town.

What I found in Bayou La Batre was pretty depressin. The ole Gump Srimp Company was in a sorry state—buildins an wharfs all dilapidated an fallin in, winders busted out, an the parkin lot's growed up in weeds. It was clear that part of my life was over.

I gone down to the docks, an they is a few srimp boats tied up, but ain't nobody hirin.

"Srimpin's finished down here, Gump," say one captain. "They done fished out all the srimp years ago. Now you gotta have a boat big enough to go all the way down to Mexico afore you can make a profit."

I was about to catch the bus back up to Mobile when it occurred to me I ought to visit poor ole Bubba's daddy. After all, I ain't seen him in nearly ten years. I gone out to where he lived, an sure enough, the ole house was still there, an Bubba's daddy was settin on the porch, drinkin a glass of iced tea.

"Well, I swear," he said when I come walkin up. "I'd heard you was in jail."

"I might of been," I said. "I guess it depends on when you heard it."

I ast him about the srimpin bidness an his picture was bleak as everbody else's.

"Nobody's catchin em, nobody's raisin em. Too few to catch an too cold to grow. Your operation was the heyday down here, Forrest. Ever since then, we been on hard times."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," I says. I set down, an Bubba's daddy fixed me a glass of tea.

"You ever catch up with them fellers that looted your company?" he ast.

"Which fellers?"

"That Lieutenant Dan, an ole Mr. Tribble—an that ape, too—what was its name?"

"Sue," I says.

"Yeah, them was the ones."

"Well, I don't think Dan an Sue was to blame. Besides, I guess it don't matter now, anyhow. They are dead."

"Yeah? How'd that happen?"

"It is a long story," I said, an Bubba's daddy, he didn't pursue it no further, for which I was grateful.

"So," he asts finally, "what you gonna do now?"

"I dunno," I says, "but I gotta do somethin."

"Well," say Bubba's daddy, "there is always oysters."

"Oysters?"

"Yeah. Ain't as profitable as srimp used to be, but there is some oyster beds still left out there. Problem is, people scared of eatin em raw these days—too much pollution or somethin. They can make you bad sick."

"Can a man make a livin catchin oysters?" I ast.

"Sometimes. Depends on a lot of things. Pollution gets bad, they close down the beds. Then there is storms an hurricanes an, of course, your competition."

"Competition? Who is that?"

"All them other fellers out there tryin to catch oysters," he says. "They don't take kindly to somebody new comin in here. An they is a very rough bunch, which I suppose you know."

"Yeah, I kinda remember em that way," I says. It was too true. Them oystermen was not people to fool around with, at least back in the ole days.

"So how do I get started?" I ast.

"Ain't too hard," say Bubba's daddy. "Just get you a ole skiff an some oyster tongs. Don't even have to buy a outboard motor if you don't want to—you can get some oars an row, like they did when I was young."

"That's all?"

"Pretty much, I reckon. I can show you where most of the oyster beds are. Course, you'll have to get a license from the state. That's probly the most expensive part."

"You know where I can buy me a skiff?"

"Matter of fact," says Bubba's daddy, "I got one mysef you can use. It's tied up behind the house. All you'll have to do is find some oars. Mine done broke ten or fifteen years ago."

So that's what I done.

Well, it seemed to me pretty ironic, me bein in the oyster bidness, after ole Lieutenant Dan was all the time talkin about gettin some good oysters to eat. Man, I wish he could be here today. He'd be in hog's heaven!