Re: Quicklog: Marvel, Clem & Jake
[Clem's place probably smelled like perfume and ozone, nothing like the busy place at Jake's back which mostly smelled like dish detergent and sweat. But even if he missed that soft, pretty place some it wasn't a man's thing to do, to go hankering after soft and pretty and quiet. This place, it was busy and the other people living there were his own age, and Jake thought taking money from family, any one of them, was like being taken care of. There was a house sitting empty, but it made him think of Graham and a passel of people tumbling in and out, and he was real set on living out long enough by himself he didn't need any one of them. It was pride, and he knew that was a sin wide and long as the river back home, but his granddaddy wasn't around to tell him again, and he knew pride ran in families, like blood.
Besides, Clementine's tries at setting him up were like being patted at: they didn't go ruffling any. It made Jake think of Joy, who might grow up stubborn and real fixed on dirty clothes and stupid, or with an affection for strong perfume and pretty.
He climbed into the seat, and spread knees comfortably, taking up as much room as he felt like.] You look real fine, Aunt Clem. [His grandma had taught him manners, pretty as you please, but it wasn't dutiful rote, but admiring. That pink made him think of flowers, the kind that grew together in thick clumps, cheerful as sunshine.]