A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [152]
“So I can paint it,” he said, coughing. “Thanks,” he wheezed as Lisa handed him a napkin.
“I just had it painted. It cost me two thousand dollars and now you’re scraping it all off?”
“It was starting to peel. I did some, so then I figured I might as well keep going.”
“ ‘Keep going’? What do you mean, ‘keep going’?”
“The places that peeled, that’s all. So I can touch it up like Dad always did.”
Dennis stared at him. “Kaminski came by. What’s he talking about, you want to cut up Jukas’s tree? What the hell’s that all about?”
“No, a branch. A big branch, it—”
“What the hell’re you thinking?”
“I just offered. I thought it would help, that’s all.”
“Help? Help who, you?”
“Mrs. Jukas, of course.” He stiffened.
“Don’t you get it? Don’t you see what’s happening here?” Dennis rose from the shadows like a flame to oxygen. “They think you did it! Naturally! Of course they do!”
“They’ll find out I didn’t.” Fury burned in his chest.
“Yeah, and meanwhile they’re asking questions all over town about you.”
“Dennis,” Lisa warned. “What’s the point? Gordon knows what’s going on. You don’t have to make him feel more uncomfortable about it all. So let’s just drop it, please. Gordon,” she added quickly, “how about coming to dinner next Sunday? I thought we could do something special for Mum and Dad,” she was telling Dennis. “The next day they leave for Australia and they’ll be gone so long, over a month.”
“I don’t care. Do what you want. I’ll probably be in bed anyway.”
“No! No, you won’t, Dennis Loomis. I think you can sit down and have dinner with your family at least one night, especially before Mum and Dad’s trip.”
“That’s all right, Lisa. I can’t anyway, so—”
“I don’t ask much of you, Gordon, do I?” Her tone hardened. “So will you please do this for me and for your brother?”
Stunned, Gordon nodded. She had never spoken to him this way.
“He doesn’t want to.” Dennis seemed amused. “He wants to be left alone. He doesn’t need anybody. He doesn’t care about anybody. He never did, never in his whole life, so why the hell should he start now?”
Jada was lonely. She had been looking for Thurman. His cousin Antawan hadn’t seen him since he’d shaved his head. His older sister, Jesenia, on Margin Street, had heard that he’d gone to New York with a couple of gangbangers. “You Jada?” she asked as Jada went down the steps.
“Yeah!” she said, turning with a smile.
“If you’re smart, you’ll stay away from him.”
“Thurm’s cool. He’s good. He’s my friend.”
“He’s saying things about you. Bad things.”
She shrugged and continued on her way. She went into the drugstore and looked at the pictures in People until the Indian at the counter said buy it or leave, he wasn’t running any library here. She walked by the Market, slowing down just enough to flip the bird at the bitch with the tubes. She turned in to the parking lot, then pushed her way through spindly trees and trash-blown brush. Twigs snapped underfoot. Maybe Cootie’s dog was still alive. She should have gone back that day and given him something to eat. No sound came as she neared the cardboard lean-to, not a cry, nothing. Not wanting to look, she ran by. When she came to the flattened box on the ground, she sat down and hugged herself. If only someone would hold her like this, be close to her the way Thurman had. She closed her eyes to meditate the way she’d seen once on television. Sink into the dark, into the deep, deep, deep, deep, she tried to will herself. Instead, she thought about the baby and how much she already loved it, even if Polie was the father. Her mother was still on crack. She had promised Polie she was getting an abortion. Twice now he’d come to bring her into Boston, but she’d start throwing up and saying she was sick. Jada knew she was just too scared. Scared of everything and everyone. Yesterday a sheriff banged on the door. Her mother locked herself in the bathroom, shaking and sobbing that it wasn’t her, that the old lady was lying, but all the sheriff did was slide another eviction notice under the door. Jada almost hoped they did get evicted.