A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [173]
“How’s she doing?” Gordon asked.
“Good. She’s deep into Father Hank’s youth thing, the new center, so she’s happy. Well, busy, anyway.”
Gordon seemed about to say something, but just then the waitress brought their meals. He ate with a fixed intensity Dennis could not watch. There was so much his brother needed. It’s more than food. Poor bastard, he’s never gotten any breaks, just the short end of the stick. Second best, far behind, it’s the only way he’s ever known. “Hey, Gord. Something’s been bothering the hell outta me ever since that night at the house—the police, and what I said. I’m sorry. I was way outta line.”
Gordon looked up, surprised and still chewing. “No. You weren’t. You weren’t at all. Of course you’d think that.” He gave that imploring little shrug. “Who wouldn’t?”
Anger flashed through Dennis at once again having his feelings, his efforts, so trivialized. There was no getting through the thickness. Ever. “And that’s okay? That’s all right?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but that’s the way it is.”
Gordon pushed back his plate. “Why do we keep doing this?” He spoke urgently, yet so softly that Dennis had to lean over the table to hear him. “What’s the point? You always end up mad at me. It can’t be very pleasant for you. So why bother?”
“Because we’re brothers!” Truly it was that simple, but for some reason that was the part Gordon least understood. They stared at each other a moment. “Jesus Christ,” Dennis said, shaking his head. “You really think this is a bother? Seeing you once a week? Calling you, checking to see how things’re going? See if you need anything? Or maybe it’s a bother to you. Maybe that’s it.” Yes. That’s exactly what it was.
“Of course not. It’s not a bother. I like to hear from you.” Gordon paused. “I enjoy your company,” he said so stiltedly, so formally and falsely earnest, that Dennis felt as if he’d just been punched in the chest.
For the first time he felt the vastness of the chasm between them. “No, you don’t. You never call. You’re not the least bit interested in me or my kids. There’s no feeling there. There never was. Even as a kid you were like that. You never got it. You still don’t. I mean, who’ve you got in your life if you don’t have family? Delores? That, that trampy kid, that what’s-her-name?”
“Jada.”
“Yeah, and what the hell’s she doing in a car with you? Are you nuts? Someone like that? She’s a lost cause, a quick trip to disaster! Jesus Christ, don’t you ever think things through? All right, so Delores is a flake, she’s a little light on top, but that doesn’t mean you—”
Gordon seized his wrist, squeezing so hard that it stung. “Shut up! Shut up, Dennis. For once, just shut up and listen.”
All the while his brother talked, Dennis smiled thinly, because it was all he knew to do, keep his chin up and smile, hang tough through the hard times, the grimness, the shame and helplessness.
“Leave Delores out of this. She’s a good person. She deserves better than me and Jada Fossum and everyone else she tries to help, but the thing is with Delores, she doesn’t know that. She thinks she’s lucky that people like us need her. She thinks that’s what life is all about. She really believes that, that people can be better. Me! And a kid like Jada, that we can be just like everybody else. You know? She does. She really does,” he added with a rueful chuckle.
“Same as me, Gordo.” His voice cracked. He rapped on the table a few times, then continued. “That’s all I’m trying to do, give you a fighting chance here, that’s all.”
Gordon looked down, then finally back, struggling to meet Dennis’s gaze. “Then trust me. Please?”
It was a raw, windy day, spring now after the long, stormy winter. The little stone house they passed was not a house at all, he realized when he saw the wide double doors in back. It was the repository where caskets were stored when the frozen ground couldn’t be dug. Their footsteps over the crushed white stone seemed all the noise on earth as he followed her down the hill. She knew exactly