Kara Lynn loved Elvis. Of course, everyone around here loved Elvis, but Kara Lynn loved only Elvis. She was the crazy, totally obsessed, baking him a cake on his birthday kind of fan. She hung posters of Elvis all over Daddy’s house and kept a photo album full of magazine articles and newspaper clipping about Elvis locked in a box under the bed. She also talked about him like he was still alive, like, “Elvis likes fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches,” or “I think Elvis should do another concert.”
An AM radio station out of Memphis played Elvis music nightly from seven to eight o’clock. Every Tuesday night, a few minutes before seven, Kara Lynn shut herself in the bedroom and turned up the radio.
“She does this every night?” I asked Daddy when Kara Lynn was locked up with Elvis in the bedroom. “Daddy. That’s so weird. He’s dead. Doesn’t she know that?”
“Leave her alone,” he laughed at me. “People gotta care about somethin’, right?”
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