A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [63]
“Excuse me, sir,” the woman said when the last child was on the sidewalk. “Can I help you?”
“No. No, I’m just watching the children, that’s all.” He smiled at her.
“Why? Are you waiting for someone?” She came toward him.
“No, I was just going by. It brought back memories, that’s all, seeing all the children.” He could see it in her probing eyes. Something was wrong here. She could tell. There was something odd about him. Too nervous. Too furtive. The twitchy smile. His flat voice. “Well, anyway. I guess I better get going.”
“Do you live around here?”
“A few blocks away. Not too far.”
“Do I know you? You look awfully familiar.”
“I work at the Market. The Nash Street Market? Maybe that’s it.”
“No, you look like someone I used to know. A long time ago. When I was a kid. I’m Cecilia Reardon.”
“I’m Gordon . . . Loomis.”
“Oh. Yes,” she said quietly. “I was a little girl. You were a couple years older than I was.” She could control her voice, but not the mind-racing shock on her face. The little girl’s bogeyman had come home.
“Yes, well, it’s been very nice meeting you.” He nodded, then hurried down the street, wanting to run, hide, disappear. Anything was better than being out here alone. Had she run into the school yard to tell all the teachers? Or was she on the phone calling the police: Guess who I just stopped, standing there, staring at innocent children? This must have been his family’s humiliation all those years. Running into neighbors, old friends, strangers who knew everything there was to know about them. The shame, the terrible shame he had brought upon them. Turning the corner, he realized Delores’s store was somewhere near here.
The pitcher of iced tea and Albert’s favorite butterscotch squares sat on his desk as he delivered his dismal accounting of the Collerton store’s sales in the last six months. His eyes were rimmed red, as if he’d been up all night. Everything she wanted to say dissolved when she saw his agitation and fatigue. She couldn’t bear to be angry with him. None of her calls had been returned other than a terse notice of this meeting, and that had been left on her answering machine at home when he knew she’d be here. There was an edge to his voice, as if it were somehow all her fault: the neighborhood’s steady decline, his old customers’ reluctance to come here, their preference for the safer, tree-lined streets of bucolic downtown Dearborn. “This is so hard.” He sighed. “I’ve been dreading this moment.”
“I know. All right, so the store’s closing, Albert. You don’t have to keep telling me why. I know why! So let’s just get on with it. I can handle it. What do you think, this place is my whole life? That I can’t function anywhere else? You think I can’t handle working in the Dearborn store? For God’s sake, Albert, you know me better than that. God, I’m probably the most flexible person you know.” She sat down so that he could be the taller one. She was trying to make this as easy for him as possible, but he wouldn’t even look at her. He was always too hard on himself.
“I don’t think you understand. I mean, I know what you’ve done here, how hard you’ve worked, and not just that, but your loyalty to me. I mean, all that we’ve . . . the thing is, I don’t need you in the Dearborn store. Katie’s the manager there.”
“That’s okay!” Her voice trembled, but she forced a smile. “I’d just as soon be a salesgirl anyway. Do me good,