“They did,” Annie says. “In a car accident, near Boston. They were on their way home after a week at Ships View, in fact.”
Matty looks at his watch. “Todayis July eighteenth,” he says.
“Exactly,” says Annie. “That’s why I wanted to come today. This is the twenty-seventh anniversary of their death.”
Matty inhales, exhales slowly. A sense of importance lays itself across his shoulders like a shawl. Annie could have taken Louisa or Abigail or Claire on this errand, but she chosehim. She chose Matty. He reaches out tentatively and takes her hand. He says, “I’m sorry, Granny.” He squeezes her hand once. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
She squeezes his back and says, “You’re a good boy, Matty. You’re a very good boy.” Annie points to an empty space next to her parents’ graves and says, “Your grandfather and I will go here, when the time comes. We’ve had these plots reserved for some time.” Now that she’s finished dabbing at her eyes she seems sort of nonchalant about the whole thing; she might be talking about a dinner reservation for next Saturday night. “There’s one more stop I want to make,” she says. “On the way back home.”
The stop, it turns out, is at the public library. Thelibrary!Inwardly, Matty groans. He has brought his summer reading book with him—Fahrenheit 451—but that is all he is planning to read until school resumes. Is his grandmother going to make him check out books? “I don’t know if I should go in,” he says. “My shorts are pretty short.”
Annie is unmoved. “They’re supposed to be short. They’re shorts. This will just take a minute, Matthew.”
In they go.
“This building in a national treasure,” she says when they are in the vestibule. “Andrew Carnegie donated the money to build it, you know.” She waits expectantly at the glass door, and Matty realizes he’s supposed to open it for her. When they are in the main part of the building Annie breathes deeply and says, “Smell. Isn’t it wonderful? I love the smell of a library.”
Matty inhales. He doesn’t smell anything specifically, but Annie is looking at him so he says, “Me too.” The other library patrons are grandmotherly types like Annie, and also young mothers with small children looking through books in the children’s room to the right. Annie leads Matty the opposite way and stops in front of a display case. One shelf holds a book calledA History of the Maine State Supreme Court,and on the shelf above it is a framed photo of men and two women, all in black robes.
“Look,” says Annie, lowering her voice to a respectful whisper and pointing at the glass. “Do you recognize this man?”
Matty peers at the photo. “No,” he says. He can’t help looking beyond the display case to a small courtyard outside the window, where there’s a stone bench and a tree that looks like it would be really fun to climb. Matty is light for his height, but he’s also strong, and both of these things make him an excellent tree climber.
“Look again.”
Underneath the photo is a small gold square that saysMaine State Supreme Court, 2005. “Your grandfather is in the front row, third from the left,” says Annie. Matty peers harder. “Before he was Chief.” She pauses. “Do you know why I’m showing you this?”
Matty shakes his head.
“I couldn’t hear your head rattle, Matthew.”
“No, Granny. I don’t know.”
“It’s because your grandfather’s brain is so diminished now. I still see him in there but I know not everybody does, or not all the time. And I don’t want people to forget who he was. In particular I don’t wantyouto forget who he was. Do you know why that is?”
Matty starts to shake his head again and then catches himself and says, “No.”
“Because you are the next male in line, his only living male blood relation. In the entire world. That’s an honor and a privilege, Matthew. Do you understand? At one time your grandfather had one of the sharpest minds in the state. Someday, when you’reolder, you’ll read more about him. You might even read some of his writings. But even now, even at your age, I should sayespeciallyat your age, I don’t want you to forget where you come from. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Granny,” he says. “I understand.”
He follows her back through the glass doors and the vestibule and out to the car. There has been no mention of lunch. He says, “Granny? Do you think maybe we could go to Wasses before we go home? For a hot dog?”
The look on Annie’s face is pure horror; Matty might have suggested lunching on songbirds. “Oh, Matthew,” she says. “Surely ahot dogis not the type of cuisine you want to put into your body to fuel all of this running. Pauline was at work on a nice haddock chowder this morning. We’ll go home and have some of that, why don’t we?”
Matty doesn’t want to have chowder for lunch; he closes the door to the Mercedes harder than he needs to, to show his displeasure.
“Right now, Matthew, with your father still in Brooklyn and you here with your mother and your sisters, and Grandpa not always himself, you are the man of the family.” They turn by the Walgreens, pass the coffee shop his mother likes, then, on the outskirts of town, the fancy restaurant Primo. They continue on for a while, and then turn on North Shore Drive.
“My mom doesn’t like that phrase,” Matty says eventually. Mostly he’s mad about the chowder, and about not having a hot dog from Wasses, so this statement, while true, is more a quiet act of rebellion than anything else.
Annie glances at him, then turns her eyes back to the road. “What phrase is that?”
“Man of the family.”
If Annie in fact knew how to roll her eyes Matty is certain she would be rolling them now.
“Why doesn’t she like it?”
