Chapter 46

When he was grown, Edmund would realize that the hunting trip was not only the last time his grandfather gave him the medicine in secret, but also the last time his grandfather gave him the medicine period. However, over the course of the two years following the hunting trip, Edmund began to wonder why his grandfather never offered him the medicine even after some of his really bad fights. Like the one with the catcher that got him kicked off his junior high school baseball team.

Granted, Edmund threw the first punch, but the catcher had called Edmund a faggot because he didn’t feel like pitching hard that day. Edmund flew off the mound in a fury, but another player stepped in front of him just as he reached home plate, making Edmund’s punch go wild. The catcher, who was a big, fat kid, easily sidestepped their scuffle and tagged Edmund in the face—pushed the other player out of the way and tackled Edmund to the ground. He got in a few more punches before Edmund could connect with one of his own. And surely Edmund would have gotten the best of him had the coach and the other players not stepped in. But be- cause Edmund had thrown the first punch, he was told to gather up his things and never come back.

Claude Lambert had been really disappointed in his grandson for getting kicked off the baseball team. He even went down to the school and tried to reason with the coach, but the coach wouldn’t hear of taking Edmund back. Didn’t matter how good the kid was, he said. That kind of unsportsmanlike conduct simply would not be tolerated.

The old man went on a two-week bender after that. And oftentimes, Edmund would come home from school and find him down in the cellar by himself, the smell of licorice mixed with cigarette smoke wafting up the stairs and that weird French music playing in the background. It had been ages since Edmund had heard that music, and he couldn’t remember ever seeing his grandfather that way—depressed, distant, quiet. Rally seemed to look at him differently, too, and for weeks the two men only spoke to Edmund in spurts of yeses, nos, and maybes.

Eventually, the old man forgave him—never actually said anything, but Edmund could tell by the way he and Rally looked at him normally again. Edmund would get in many more fights that year, but still Claude Lambert never brought the medicine up from the cellar. The boy even went looking for it one night when his grandfather was passed out in the den—something he swore he would never do—but could not find it anywhere. Edmund still got spooked when he went down into the cellar alone, but strangely, not only did he find himself longing for the medicine, but more than anything else, Edmund also found himself longing for the General.

Edmund hadn’t dreamed of the General since even before the hunting trip; hadn’t talked about him with his grandfather since he was a boy and began to wonder if he had ever dreamed of him at all. And so he asked the school librarian about any Civil War battles fought in Wilson. She said she didn’t know of any and told him to look it up in the encyclo- pedia. Edmund did, and discovered that no Civil War battles had been fought in Wilson County ever. The closest one seemed to be the Battle of Bentonville, near the present-day town of Four Oaks—about forty miles away, by Edmund’s calculations, and certainly not close enough to warrant carrying the General all the way to his property.

He asked his grandfather about it.

“I reckon the General must’ve been someone you made up,” the old man replied. “You always had a hyperactive imagination, Eddie.”

“But you were the one who told me about the Civil War stuff.”

“I don’t remember,” said his grandfather. “I probably said all that just to make you feel better even though it wasn’t true. Like c’est mieux d’oublier. I used to say them words to you thinking they was magic. But look what happened? Them words ended up not being magic at all. If they was, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself kicked off the baseball team, now would ya? My own damn fault, I reckon. Wrong fucking equation and back to square one.”

Edmund had no idea what his grandfather was talking about, and asked, “But what about the medicine? You used to give it to me to make me feel better when I was hurt, but now you won’t anymore.”

“You’ve had too much of it,” his grandfather said simply. “Ain’t good for your head no more, I reckon. Besides, there ain’t none of it left.”