A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [165]
“I don’t wanna baby,” she groaned. “I just wanna life, that’s all, a normal fucking life like everybody else has.”
“You will, Ma.” Jada ached to put her arms around her, but was afraid.
“No, I won’t. I never will.” She doubled over, gagging and holding her belly. “Oh God, I’m so sick. I’m gonna die. I wish I could. I wish I could just die.” She was trembling so violently that her teeth banged together. “Get me something. Help me, baby. Help me,” she grunted, looking out in terror past Jada.
“Okay, Ma. Okay, I’ll get you some. See?” she said, fumbling a rock from her pocket. “Just this one, okay? I’ll get it ready, then tomorrow we’ll go down to rehab and get you all signed up, okay? Where’s the pipe, the bottle?” she asked, lifting her mother’s arms, feeling down between the cushions.
She ran into the bedroom and ripped the blanket off the bed, and the Mountain Dew bottle rolled onto the floor. She stuck the straw back in the side as she ran around, looking for a lighter. Matches. Anything. “Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! Just wait!” she panted, and dumped out her mother’s pocketbook on the couch. The first match hissed out. She struck another one and held the trembling flame to the rock.
“Here, here it is, Ma.” She put the straw in her mother’s mouth. Her mother’s eyes widened, glaring with such rage that Jada jerked back and held the bottle at arm’s length. “Inhale, Ma! C’mon! Try! You have to!”
With that her mother’s body shuddered. Head back, spine arched, she stiffened, seized by a groan from deep in her bowels, from a foul and wrenching darkness. Her eyes rolled back and her mouth hung open. She sagged forward and her chin hit her chest.
“Ma? Ma?” Jada cried, trying to pinch the slack lips around the straw. “Ma! Don’t! Don’t do this!” she screamed, throwing herself at her.
CHAPTER 26
The minute the guard opened the door, she changed her mind about showing Gordon the new picture of May Loo. Stiffly erect, he seemed as immovable as the metal table and chairs bolted to the floor. His face under the wire-caged ceiling lights was haggard and gray. Days after his arrest, the papers had been filled with stories of the first murder. She’d vowed not to read them, then spent hours poring over every word, looking for some portentous fact that had eluded her the first time. The details had evoked a new horror in her. She had been too young then. It had barely seemed real: the boy on trial, the murderer in the papers, was not the same Gordon Loomis she had known. But this man, this murderer, was someone she loved, which made her part of the ugliness and her life even more pathetic. As much as she wanted to comfort him, the new, strong voice in her head warned, Keep your distance.You have your own future to think of. And May Loo’s. She couldn’t even be sure of his innocence anymore. The impenetrable calm thickened around him like ice. She couldn’t tell if his was the inertia of shock or disinterest now with his forced half-smile. Her monologue felt like a flimsy boat she could barely cling to as they drifted further apart. Soon it would be over, and they both knew it.
She had just told him how the drug dealers were out in force again, back on the streets. “And here you sit, but I guess the police think that’s okay,” she said, wanting to agitate him, the guard, someone—or maybe just herself. Anything would be better than his funereal composure. How could he just sit there and let this happen all over again?
“It’s been cool these last few days, thank goodness. I’ve been painting the spare room.” She didn’t dare call it May Loo’s room. “Yellow walls, with the cutest border—these little ballet dancers. Now I’m going to do the bureau. It’s unfinished.” She had to take a deep breath. “You’ve done a lot of painting. How many coats do you think I should do?”
He blinked, trying to refocus. “I don’t know. I didn’t paint furniture.”
She glanced at her watch. This was a waste of time and a day’s pay. Her home visit was next week. She’d lose another day then.
“You should go,” he said, and she felt guilty in