A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [102]
“What do you mean?” She wiped her eyes. “Gordon.” She touched his arm. “You actually said that? You told her to stop seeing your brother?”
“I had to. Dennis and Lisa, they’re my family. I can’t just stand by and do nothing. It’s not right. I mean, you’d do the same. You know you would.”
“No. No, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Yes, you would. You care for people. I’ve seen you. You speak up. Like that time with Jada. You dropped everything. You came right over.”
“Because you sounded so nervous.”
“Because you care for people,” he said, straining toward her, wanting to help, to convince her of her own worth.
“Because I care for you.”
He had an image of himself as a child walking out too far into the pond and then suddenly having to tread water. And in his panic realizing that if he stopped for even a moment, it would be over. “And I care very much about my brother. And his family. Lisa and Jimmy and Annie.”
Reaching over, she patted his hand. “Of course you do, Gordon. And even if he does get mad, at least you know you did the right thing. And that’s really all that matters, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“And who knows, maybe it’ll work. Maybe now she’ll break it off, that . . . that what’s-her-name.”
“Jilly,” he said, sinking into the warmth that came from speaking her name.
Delores touched his arm, stroking it with her fingertips. “Yes, and then everything will be the way it should be.” She brushed her lips against his cheek. For a moment his eyes felt much too heavy to open.
She followed him up the walk. She said she had to go to the bathroom. He didn’t believe her, and the odd thing was he didn’t really mind. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to be alone.
The minute the door opened, the sharp smell of mustard stung his nostrils. Then vinegar. He kicked something. The VCR. Why was it on the floor? He turned on the light.
“My God.” He looked toward the trashed kitchen, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
“Those bastards,” Delores muttered, stepping closer.
He looked at her. “Who?” She seemed to know what had happened here. He watched her pick up an unbroken saucer from the shards.
“Was there any money hidden in here?”
“No.”
“That’s why, then. They probably got mad.”
“Who?”
“Kids, probably.” She picked up an intact plate. Then a bowl. Another saucer. “Hopefully your insurance will cover it. You better call the police.”
“No.”
“But if you don’t report it, then—”
“No. I don’t want to.”
“Well, you better look around, then. Check the other rooms.”
He didn’t move, though. He stood there surveying the incomprehensible.
“We should start cleaning this up.” She stepped carefully through the mess. She righted the trash basket and began dropping large pieces of glass into it. It filled up quickly, and she removed the sagging bag, tied it, and set it out on the back landing. She shook out a new bag, which she began to fill. “Damn!” She sucked her thumb where glass had nicked it. She asked for a bandage. This snapped him from his paralysis. He hurried upstairs to get a bandage from the medicine cabinet. The phone was ringing. He hurried back down, but Delores had answered it. He was shocked to hear her glib invasion of his privacy. Had he come upon this alone, he would have told no one. No one at all. She had no idea how horrified he felt.
“It’s absolutely unbelievable. . . . Yes, the whole kitchen. Everything. Even the fridge,” she said, opening the door. The empty shelves were oddly dark. She peered in. “They even smashed the bulb. . . . No! I don’t know, but I’m assuming it was more than one person. . . .” Listening now, she looked at Gordon. Her mouth dropped open. “Are you sure? Well, tell Gordon, then. He’s right here. It’s your neighbor, Mrs. Jukas.” She handed him the phone.