A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [130]
“We better go,” Jada said. The cleaning lady had driven off only minutes ago, but Gordon had left his house long before that. None of his errands ever took more than an hour. Thurman had told her a while ago that he’d gotten fired from the Market.
“There’s gotta be more,” her mother said from the closet. She’d check the pockets, then toss the suits and dresses back out onto the floor. Mothballs rolled under the bed. Jada kept sneezing. “There’s probably thousandsa dollars someplace here,” her mother said, straining to see what was on the cluttered shelf above. “Get me something to stand on.”
Jada ran into the bathroom for the aluminum stool she’d seen in the bathtub. It was still wet, she said, warning her mother to be careful. Her mother told her to climb onto it; she felt too dizzy. Jada lifted the dusty covers off each box. In the bags her hands were slick with sweat. “Just old shoes. Old men shoes,” she called back.
“Shit!” Her mother ran to the window. Outside, a horn honked. The car engine sputtered and backfired.
“We gotta go, Ma. What if it’s her? What if she comes up and finds us here?”
“It’s not her.” Her mother peered through the sheer curtain. “It’s that asshole Carlos. He’s carrying boxes out. I wonder if Inez is moving. That’s what it looks like.”
“Hey, maybe we could move up there, then.”
“What’re you being, stupid or something?”
“I know, but if we move someplace else and then Leonardo comes back, he’ll never find us.” This had been worrying her.
“Jesus Christ, I’m sicka hearing about that dog. Will you just throw down the boxes?”
Jada tossed them onto the bed, then climbed down.
“See! Look! I told you!” her mother crowed. In the toe of one shoe were a pair of onyx-and-gold cuff links and a man’s tarnished wristwatch.
“Can we go now?” From the doorway Jada kept glancing down the dim hallway to the stairs. “I think we should go. Please, Ma.”
Her mother was searching through the hallway closet. “Hey, look at this!” She held up a policeman’s uniform. She put the cap on Jada’s head, then burst out laughing. “Oh, Jesus!” She covered her mouth and staggered back. “You should see yourself. That’s the funniest thing I ever saw.” Jada tore off the cap and threw it down, which made her mother laugh more.
A shadow darkened the lower wall. Jada ran to the top of the stairs. Someone was on the porch. They’d just passed by the window.
“Who is it?” her mother hissed.
“I don’t know!”
The lock clicked.
“Ma!”
Her mother flattened herself in the alcove against the wall, hand at her mouth, frozen with fear. The door creaked open, then the slow drag of weary footsteps entering. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Rosie? It’s me. I’m back. How come you’re still here? You must’ve started late,” the old lady muttered as she trudged up the stairs, breathless with her labored ascent. “Or was the place that—Oh! Oh no!” The old woman stood in the bedroom doorway, looking in at the disarray.
Jada watched in horror from the opposite wall. Thinking she’d been seen, her mother sprang toward the stairs, trying to get past the old woman, who grabbed her arm in a desperate effort to keep her balance.
“Leave me alone. Let go-a me!” her mother screamed, thrashing and shoving her way free.
There came a sickening crack as Mrs. Jukas fell, landing on her hip. The one grotesquely swollen leg dangled over the steps, stiffly askew as if no longer hers.
As Marvella charged past, the old woman reached out. Whether this angered her mother or frightened her even more, Jada couldn’t tell, but Marvella pushed Mrs. Jukas away with both hands. The old woman rolled, hitting each step right behind her mother as if in some last-ditch, desperate attempt to stop her. She seized Marvella’s leg. “No! No! No!” the old woman groaned with her mother’s kicks. Each blow jerked the old woman’s head back.
“Stop