See, Jodie wasn't my real sister, although that's the way she was brought up. She was really my cousin, Mama's sister's little girl. What happened was...that Jodie's daddy, my Uncle Jethro, got killed in a mine cave-in back before the war. Well, her mama was of a fragile nature, and she just wasn't up to dealing with his death. When she got the news, she went plum nuts, ranting and screaming and everything. She never got over it, and the sheriff finally had to come and haul her off to the crazy. For a long time, while she shivered and coughed, I soothed her and caressed her hair, kissing her burning hot forehead and singing her favorite songs, trying to sound like Kurt Cobain, Bradley Nowell and Jack White, until she finally dozed off. I quickly fell asleep myself, holding Judy's feverish frame in my arms. The morning after, her fever broke and mine spiked up. But it was worth it. Judy was deeply moved by the fact that I had got sick trying to make her feel better, she saw it as a. More

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