A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [2]
Everything. Gordon stared out the window. As if it were one of those crazy things kids do? A prank? Just break into a house and kill a sleeping woman. His eyes closed. “I hope you never forget! I hope every day of your miserable life is a living hell!” her raw-eyed mother screamed with the verdict. She had wanted him dead.
“So now you just have to show them what a normal, regular guy you really are.” Dennis grinned. “Plus, you’ve got all these letters.” The folder between them was thick with testaments to his good behavior and trustworthiness from chaplains, wardens, guards. “The best one though’s from Delores.”
“What do you mean, from Delores?”
“Her letter. I told you I was going to ask her.”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Well, I thought I did. I meant to. I must’ve forgot, that’s all. No big deal.” Dennis backed into the street, then had to wait while a chunky young woman in a skimpy sundress carried an infant while maneuvering a sagging stroller across the street. Roped onto the stroller was a television set.
“And where the hell do you think she got that?” Dennis sighed and shook his head. “Don’t forget: Keep everything locked. Mrs. Jukas said you even leave a window open and they’re in like rats.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. I can’t believe you asked Delores without asking me first.”
“What? What’re you talking about? It’s just Delores! What’s the big deal?” Dennis said. The minute the woman passed, he hit the gas and raced up the street.
“I don’t want her to write a letter.” He gripped the door handle. The contents of his stomach rose and fell with the blur of signs, sunstruck glass, cars passing, the honk of a horn. On the way home from Fortley, Dennis had to stop on the highway three times while Gordon dry-heaved alongside the car.
“What’re you talking about?” Dennis shouted. “She already did! She wrote it! All it says is how she’s known you all your life, and what a decent person you are. You know, things like that.”
“No! Take it out!”
“But it’s just a letter. She wanted to!” Dennis kept looking over, stunned. “It’s not like I put pressure on her or anything. You know how she feels about you.”
“No. I don’t want it in there.” Gordon reached for the file, but Dennis clamped his hand over it.
“Will you tell me why the hell not?”
“Because.” He felt breathless, as if he were running up a steep hill. “Because she shouldn’t have to have her name mixed up in this.” Because he didn’t want to owe her any more than he already did for all her letters and visits through the years. He had nothing to give. He had to be careful, careful of everything. More so now than ever before.
“Have her name mixed up in what? What do you mean? She’s your friend, that’s all.”
Gordon groped for the handle to roll down the window, then remembered. It was a button now. “Can you slow down a little?”
“You want to be late?”
“My stomach, it feels funny.”
“You’re nervous, that’s all.”
“No, it’s riding. The car, I’m still not used to it. It makes me feel sick.” Eyes closed, he turned his face to the open window.
“Jesus Christ,” Dennis muttered, slowing down. He said no more until they pulled into the Corcopax parking lot. “Oh, and one more thing. The only opening right now’s in Human Resources.”
“Human Resources? I thought you said laminating. They’re not going to hire me for a job like that. Why didn’t you tell me? I don’t want to do this.”
“Look, Gordon, let’s get something straight here. I’m doing the best I can. I’ve got one hell of a busy life. I’ve got my practice, my family. I’ve got a million things I could be doing, but right now this is the most important thing. This! Being here! Helping my brother get off to a good start, that’s all!”
“I’m sorry.” He hung his head.
“You want me to butt out, you just say the word.”
“No.”
“Because I got so much shit going on right now, I can’t begin to tell you,” Dennis said with a disgusted sigh.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s just a lot all at once. I mean . . .” No company was going to hire him to work with people. Unable to say it, to