A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [54]
He gazed out the window as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink. Bright yellow dandelions covered Mrs. Jukas’s yard. Yesterday she had been out in her bathrobe, stuffing blown papers and twigs into a trash bag. When he’d gotten home from work last night, a woman in a pink uniform and dreadlocks had been shaking rag rugs over the back railing. Mistaking her for a nurse, he had asked if Mrs. Jukas was sick.
“If she is, she didn’t tell me,” the woman said, then told him she was the cleaning lady. She came once a month.
He sprayed glass cleaner into the sink, then dried it with a square of paper toweling he kept there for just that purpose. Every week he’d start a new square. Thriftiness gave him some small sense of control in his life. The hardest part of freedom was his accessibility. Like Tom Ferguson and Jada Fossum and Delores, anyone could get to him at any time. Instead of being pleased, he was irritated by invitations. He didn’t want to go to Jimmy’s birthday party. He dreaded meeting Lisa’s parents and seeing the horror in their eyes. At least Jilly Cross had been honest about her reaction. So far no one at work had said anything, but he could feel them watching him. Serena and June had become nervously solicitous, as if they needed to stay in his good graces now more than ever. Neil hadn’t said another word about the incident with Ferguson. He had given Gordon two hundred and fifty dollars yesterday to thank him for all his hard work and for never saying no to him. Not once, no matter what he ever asked him to do, he had said.
Gordon made up his mind. As soon as he finished breakfast, he would call Jilly. His toast had just popped up when the doorbell rang.
“Hey!” Jada grinned up at him through the screen. “I was calling you. Didn’t you hear me?”
“What is it?” he said, unable to hide his irritation.
“Here!” She held up a fistful of bills with a furtive glance back at her house.
He opened the door and took the money. She dropped a handful of change onto the bills. “I was in kind of a hurry, so if it’s not right, let me know and I’ll bring over the rest.”
“Thank you,” he said after a quick count. Eighty-nine cents short, but he’d let it go.
“You didn’t think I was going to pay you back, huh.”
“Well, yes. Of course I did.”
“Good, cuz I’m very honest, you know.”
“Yes, well, anyway, thank you for bringing this over.” He started to close the door.
“Umm, that smells good.” She sniffed against the screen. “What kind of coffee’s that?”
“Just regular, that’s all.”
“High test, that’s what I drink. That decaf stuff, it’s like, ugh. I mean, why bother?”
“Well, anyway—”
“Could I have a cup? We don’t have any. We ran out.”
Saying he’d be right back, he went inside and quickly poured her a cup. He glanced at the clock. Jilly would be leaving for work soon. When he came back with the coffee, Jada was in the living room. She asked if he had any milk. She could drink it black, but if he had milk, she’d like it a lot more, she said, following him into the kitchen. He had a really nice house, she said, looking around.
This was a mistake. She was taking over, but he couldn’t very well ask her to leave. He handed her the milk carton.
“Thanks!” She pulled out a chair and sat at the table. She poured milk into her cup, then took a long, slurpy sip. “Hey! Don’t forget your toast.” She pointed to the toaster. After each sip she added more milk. “What do you put, butter on your toast? Or jelly?” Sip. “I like both.” Sip. “Actually, I like everything.” Sip. “I don’t care, I’ll, like, try anything.” Sip. “I’m, like, always hungry.” Sip. “Sometimes my mother says, ‘I think you got worms, you must—nobody can eat that much food and be so skinny.’ ” Sip. The cup was filled with milk. “You gonna eat that toast?”
“In a minute.” Determined to outwait her, he wet the sponge and wiped off the countertop.
“If you don’t want it, I’ll eat it.” Her eyes fixed on his with a hard swallow.