A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [118]
“. . . so anyway, that’s what I’m thinking. I know everyone in my family’s going to have a fit—but you know what?”
“No. I don’t. What?” He had no idea what she meant.
“I don’t care! How’s that?” She laughed. “They all have their own families. So why shouldn’t I? I mean, all this time I’ve been thinking I’m a failure because I don’t have anyone, because I don’t have a family like they all do. And then I was thinking how hard it must be for you. I mean, here you are, coming back here where everyone knows you, but you don’t let that get in the way. You just keep plugging along, determined to start over and make a life for yourself. I admire that about you. I look at you and I say to myself, The hell with what everyone thinks, just go for it, girl!” She was rummaging through her satchel-size purse that had somehow gotten mayonnaise smeared into the straw weave. She handed him a grainy photo of a somber Chinese child.
“Mary Catherine,” she said when he asked who it was. “Well, that’s what I’d call her. Now her name’s May Loo. So what do you think?”
“She’s cute. She’s pretty, but who is she? I mean, why are you changing her name?”
“Because I’m adopting her. That’s what I’ve been telling you. She’s almost a year old. She’s from the Holy Mother of Christ Mission Orphanage in Kawang. It takes at least six months to go through all the paperwork. And then she’ll be mine.” She rubbed the picture against her chest and sighed. “I haven’t even met her and I love her this much.” Her voice broke and she paused a moment. “I can’t imagine what it’ll be like actually holding this tiny little thing in my arms.”
He didn’t know what to say. He was confused. She wasn’t married. She didn’t even have a job. He thought of Jada’s pregnant mother, not only unmarried and unemployed, but a drug addict. The world had gone a little more haywire.
“I’m so happy, Gordon.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’ve never been happier in my whole life. About anything. And it’s all because of you. Because you’re such a good, strong man.”
He smiled and for a moment, for just a tick of time, wondered if it might be possible.
He aimed the remote, scanning the channels. Delores’s enormous television got ten times as many as his did.
“That’s because you’re not on cable.” She put the two slices of apple pie and ice cream on the coffee table, then sat next to him. “You should get it.”
“Why? All I have to do is come over here and watch it,” he said, mesmerized by the cascade of fleeting images.
“That’s right.” For the next few minutes they ate in silence.
“That was delicious,” he said, then realized once again he was finished and she was just starting. “You make the best apple pie.”
“Thank you, Gordon, but, sad to say, I won’t be making another one for a while.”
“Why?” He was embarrassed by the alarm in his voice.
“Because! I have to get healthy!” She picked up the girl’s picture from the table. “I can’t be this big, out-of-shape mother chasing that little bitty thing all over the playground.” She held out her arms. “Look, I’ve already lost ten pounds. The day I made up my mind, that’s when I started.”
“I thought there was something different,” he said, though it wasn’t a weight loss, he realized, but the calm that seemed to have settled over her, a resignation.
Delores leaned against him. “Oh Gordon . . .” She sighed and turned, her heavy breasts dragging across his chest as he turned with her. “Is it all right? Do you mind if we’re here?” she asked, her mouth at his ear, now his eyes, his mouth. “You can go home. I’ll stop if you want. I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you say, just tell me. Tell me what to do. . . .”
How could he? His brain boiled with color and heat. Incapable of thought or speech, he could only grunt and nod in assent and pleasure. She had unbuttoned her blouse. She placed his hand on her breast, then gasped and told him not to squeeze. “Just go easy, easy, easy now,” she whispered, taking his other hand, stroking herself, guiding