The teenagers took a break from their digging. Using the old shovels they took from their grandpa’s tool shed as levers, they climbed out of the waist-deep hole. They tossed the shovels across mounds of loose dirt, then found shade under a spreading oak.
Sprawling out on the soft grass, Joss pulled his dusty T-shirt over his head. After shaking out the dirt, he wiped sweat from his face. Todd, the younger of the brothers by three minutes, didn’t go to the trouble of brushing off his shirt. Lifting up the hem, he tried to wipe off his face too, but only managed to smear mud around his forehead.
Amused at his twin’s mess, Joss balled up his tee and laid down. Todd ran his fingers through his damp hair, and shook wet hands at his smug brother.
“Whatta ya gonna put in’it?” Todd toed the metal trunk near the rim of the hole.
“Ain’t ‘cided yet,” Joss said. His fingers laced behind his head, he looked deep in thought
“Imma thinkin’ we’d toss in ‘is ol’ ta’backy pouch.” Todd ran a hand under his runny nose, adding more mud to his face.
“Gawd, Todd, yur thick.” Joss kicked at the other boy’s leg.
“T’ain’t.” Todd dodged the foot aimed at his thigh.
“Ever-body in th’ holler smokes ‘at ‘backy.” Joss lifted up on an elbow.
“Aight, wha d’in?” Todd shifted around to face his brother, making sure he was outside kicking distance.
“It’s gotta be sumpin’ so’s God’ll know’d it’s Gramps and remember ‘im at Rapture,” Joss said
Todd stood up and ran back to their old truck. Grabbing their grandpa’s fishing poles, he threw them into the hole. “Eeny body’d know d’em poles.”
Joss slapped his brother on the back. “Ya done good, Todd.”
After lowering the trunk holding their grandpa’s body into the hole, the boys back filled the dirt. A crude cross the only trace of his grave.