A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [66]
“Well, maybe next week.”
“You know who you’re reminding me of, don’t you?” Dennis said over his raised cup.
Sighing, Lisa stared at her husband. Gordon returned the milk to the refrigerator, then looked out the back door. The children were hanging from the lowest branch.
“Dad never went anywhere. God, I used to hate coming here, see him sitting there in front of the television with the blinds closed.”
“Dennis!” Lisa pleaded.
“You’ve got to grow, you’ve got to do things, Gord. You can’t just be here.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are! Tell me one thing you’ve done since you’ve been home, one place you’ve gone.”
The condos with Jilly Cross, though he knew better than to say it. He stared into his coffee. Dennis had no idea. The simplest things seemed so difficult, like picking up the phone to call Delores and ask how she was doing. He wanted to, knew he should, but by the time he had considered every possible scenario—whether she might be busy or embarrassed or think he was interfering—all his resolve would be gone.
“Dennis just wants you to be happy. We both do.” Lisa patted his hand.
“I want you to have a life, Gordo. That’s all,” Dennis said with a jab at his forearm.
After they left he went outside and picked up twigs the children had broken from the tree. Their footprints were deep in the newly seeded patch of lawn by the fence. The watering can had been knocked over, and the garage door was open. He closed it but couldn’t find the key. They weren’t very well behaved children. Dennis was too quick-tempered, and Lisa was too easy on them.
He was getting ready for work when the phone rang. It was Delores, inviting him out to dinner tonight.
“It’s last minute and I know you’re probably busy, but I figured I might as well try,” she said.
“Oh. Well, I have to work. In fact, I’m getting ready now, but I—”
“That’s all right,” she said quickly. “I should’ve called earlier. I’ll let you go, then.”
He paused, his entire body tensing with the effort to force out the words. “Well, I was just going to say I get off at seven. Is that too late?”
“No! Not at all! Seven’s perfect. That’s a good time. A really good time. Where do you want to go?”
“Well, I’m not sure.” He couldn’t remember. That place Jilly had mentioned. “I can’t think. It’s something about bricks. Yellow bricks.” He’d show Dennis that his life was more than the Nash Street Market.
Poor Gordon, Delores kept thinking through dinner. It was all new. Everything. He had been so self-conscious and stiff giving his order that the waitress began talking to him as if he were retarded. Watching him replace his water goblet at the point of his knife, Delores wondered if he thought it had to be exactly where the busboy had placed it. He kept glancing around as if to make sure everything he did was in accordance with other diners. She should have suggested something less formal. He had been quite talkative during the fifty-five-minute drive here, but as soon as he stepped into the candlelit foyer he fell silent. His conversation since then came in hushed tones of wonder.
“That was the most interesting salad I ever ate,” he whispered as the waitress took their plates away. He glanced around. “What were those little black beads?”
“Caviar.”
He smiled. “Really? Huh. Imagine that! I just ate caviar,” he said so softly she had to lean forward to hear him.
“I thought you saw it on the menu.”
“It was making me too nervous. I didn’t really read it. That’s why I ordered the same as you.”
“Don’t be nervous. Most of these people are probably here for the first time.”
He looked around more slowly now, moving only his eyes. “How do you know?”
“It’s not the kind of place you come to every week.”
“It’s not?”
“No, it’s more of a special occasion kind of place.”
“Oh.” Looking vaguely troubled, he nodded.
She began to tell him about Cheryl Smick’s surprise party here for her fiftieth birthday. Delores had planned everything, the jazz band, party hats in lavender, Cheryl’s favorite color, and the favors,