I believe the Charbonneaus were poorly nourished; gaunt, even emaciated. Clifford seemed slow-witted. You couldn't tell about Margarite because she never spoke or participated. I liked them both. Clif, at least, was outgoing and would play with other kids. Margarite never played, just waited, watched, and thought. They took a lot of abuse for being poor and ugly, but I secretly liked their looks; a straight, skinny appearance. Their teeth were like mine; supernumerary canines that crowd the others and make them crooked.
Cob diving, jumping from the grain elevator into a pile of corn cobs, lasted a few weeks from corn-shelling time until Clifford and Margarite spirited it all away. The novelty had worn off by that time anyway. That reminds me of one time I heard Margarite speak. She and Clif would come with a gunny sack each, fill them from the pile's margin, and trudge home. Silently, without a word to or from the kids whooping and hollering about, they came and disappeared.
"Hey, Clif, wait up." I ran to catch up. "Did you ever go off the elevator into the pile?" To my surprise, he had done the highest level at dusk when no one was watching. (The two made trips until dark.) "Really did he, Margie?" She nodded affirmation. "Can I carry your sack for you, Margie? Why don't you guys use a wagon?" She didn't answer. Clif responded that they had no wagon.
"Loan us your wagon." she broke silence for the first time outside the class room. She sounded differently — like a real person.
"I ain't got one either."
"Not such a good idea then." and the silence returned.
That day, I followed them into the house. It was supper time. Mrs. Charbonneau's broken English was stark, "We can't have you for food, Billy, because there isn't enough." The old man, arriving home, asked her a question in French, she answered, and he nodded approval — she'd done right. I think the reason she breast fed the large baby continuously was so they would not have to feed it.
Sixty years later, I think of Margarite and wonder if our kids would have extra teeth. I wonder if she still has fire in her heart. It's best not to know — dream stuff is safer.
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