“The good Lord’s tryin’ to tell you somethin’,” the preacher baritoned to the cowed parishioners. Aaron rolled his eyes. More fire and brimstone, he supposed.
“You live your life like Sister Mona, you’re goin’ to suffer for it. The lesson of Sodom and Gomorroh …”
He droned on but Aaron couldn’t listen any longer. He just wanted to report back to Ethel what Mona’s funeral had been like. Besides the hell-breathing preacher, it was rather pretty here in Mobile, this spring day back in ’40. And Ethel’s family … well, they treated him real nice when he told them he came as one of Mona’s friends from the city. They didn’t care if he was the only whitefolk at the funeral.
But Aaron didn’t know what to tell Ethel when he got back to Aunt Wilhelmina’s. From the looks of it, Mona led a pretty colorful existence. How would he tell Ethel about the row upon row of weeping male lovers at the funeral?
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