A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [169]
“No. I’m fucking telling you,” he said, coming toward her.
She put her cell phone to her ear. “Nine, one, one,” she yelled, still dialing as he grabbed it and smashed it onto the porch floor. He ran down the steps.
“Delores!” Jada opened the door as Polie got into the Navigator and drove off. She hurried out, picked up the cracked phone, and listened, afraid a voice in her ear would demand to know what the problem was and where. When she came back, Delores stood just inside the doorway, trying to catch her breath. “It doesn’t work.” Jada held it out. She kept glancing past Delores, as if at any moment the bedroom door would swing open.
“The battery’s dead,” Delores gasped, hand at her heaving chest. “What was that all about? What did he want? What was so important?”
“I don’t know. He’s just an asshole, that’s all.”
“Was it about your mother? Is she home?”
She saw the sweaty woman’s shrewd eyes move between the closed doors. Like her, Delores had that extra sense, she just knew things, things beyond the telling. “He had a buy he wanted me to do. But I said no and he got mad.”
“A buy. You mean drugs?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you hungry, Jada?” Delores asked, hugging herself.
“I think so. I don’t know, I forget.” She slipped the statues into her pockets.
Jada had eaten half her French fries before they pulled out of the McDonald’s lot. Delores hadn’t ordered anything. She felt sick to her stomach. The girl’s head kept nodding back and forth, her rabbity cunning distorted by this glassy-eyed euphoria. She was high, but there was something else, something that had filled Delores with dread the minute she had stepped over the threshold. It clung to her still, like grease on her skin. She shouldn’t have gone back. Now that she had, she barely knew what to say, much less what to do with the girl. “Do you need anything while we’re out?”
Instead of answering, Jada chuckled softly, like a hunched cat purring as it ate.
“Anything from the drugstore?” She pointed ahead. “I have to get shampoo.”
“Sure.”
Delores was done, but she continued to move slowly up and down the aisles, so that Jada wouldn’t think she was being rushed back home. Yet she had the feeling that they were both killing time, going through the motions, each waiting for the other to strike. Jada was still at the front of the store. Delores watched her pick magazines from the rack, stare at the covers, then put them back.
“Want one?” Delores asked, coming down the aisle, her basket filled with shampoo, a yellow plastic duck for the tub, coloring books and crayons for May Loo.
“Sure,” Jada said, then just stood there.
“How about this one?” She handed her a Seventeen magazine. Jada opened it and, squinting, brought it close to her face, then held it out at arm’s length.
“Here.” Delores grabbed a pair of reading glasses from the display next to them. “Put these on. Now look at the page.”
“Whoa!” Jada drew her head back. “It’s, like, a magnifying glass. I can even see eyebrows. All kindsa shit.” She laughed and turned the pages.
“Try reading words now.” Delores had her try three more pair with increasingly stronger lenses.
Jada read like a child, emphasizing each syllable. “ ‘Ever since she was a little girl, Marka Stanley has been wearing . . . ’ ” She pointed.
“ ‘Haute couture,’ ” Delores read. “It’s French for high fashion.”
“Jesus, you can even read French with these.” Jada looked around to see what else might be possible.
Delores had the clerk snip off the price tags. Jada put them back on when they got outside. “Jesus, how come everything’s so friggin’ blurry?” She grabbed Delores’s arm as she tripped on the sidewalk. Delores told her to take them off; they were just for reading. “Well, what about everything else?” she asked with a sweep of her arm. As they got into the car, Delores explained that distance required other lenses, which would have to come from an eye doctor. If Jada wanted, Delores could make an appointment for her. “If it’s all right with your mother, that is.