A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [78]
“I asked her out to dinner, that’s all I did.”
“Well, the whole thing’s got her really freaked out now. You, me, her!”
Gordon’s face burned in a turmoil of shame and anger. “What about Lisa?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you two breaking up?” The words sickened him.
“No! Jesus Christ, is that what you’re thinking?” Dennis looked incredulous. “No! I’d never do that. Never! My family, I mean, that’s my whole life!”
CHAPTER 12
Gordon ran up the cellar stairs. Someone was ringing the bell and banging on the door. Jada. She looked terrible: acne on her forehead and nose, cold sores on her mouth, red, teary eyes. Leonardo had worms. Her little dog was dying, and she didn’t know what to do. He’d been on the bed whimpering all morning. He wouldn’t eat or drink anything. Gordon said he probably needed to see a vet. He might as well have told her the dog needed to go to Tibet. A vet? Where? How?
“Find one in the phone book.” His guide to life, everything he needed to know, was in there. “Veterinarians,” he said, thumbing through the pages. “Here they are. A whole page of them.”
She held the book close, then drew back her head. “They’re all someplace else. There aren’t any here.” She handed it back.
Dearborn, Hilliard, Plainfield: all in the suburbs. She was right. There weren’t any in the city.
“Maybe you can get a ride from somebody,” he said.
“I can’t.”
“What about your mother?”
“She doesn’t have a car, and besides, she’s not home.”
“When she comes back, then.”
“Can I have a piece?” She gestured to the loaf of bread on the counter.
He handed her a slice. “She might know someone to call.”
“Polie,” she said, chewing. “But I’m not going anywhere with him. That asshole.”
He offered her another slice. When he saw her devour that one, he asked if she’d like a ham sandwich. She grinned, watching closely as he made it. Did she want mustard? Yeah! A lot or a little? A lot, she said. Especially when she ate mustard sandwiches.
“I never heard of a mustard sandwich.”
“Well, yeah, if there’s nothing else to put in.”
He added another slice of ham. “Here. Sit down.” He started to put it on the table.
“That’s okay.” She ate standing by the counter. “What’s that?” She nodded at Delores’s tin.
“Nothing.” He was saving the last few cookies for dessert tonight.
When he turned to give her a glass of milk, the sandwich was gone. She guzzled down half the milk, then asked for a paper cup. A little milk might make Leonardo feel better. He didn’t have any paper cups. She could take it over in the glass if she brought it back. “Are you out of milk?” he asked.
“Yeah, but there’s still some Coke left,” she called back.
After she left he felt guilty. He should have given her the cookies, he thought as he cleared the table and counter. He hadn’t seen Marvella Fossum for a while. Maybe she was sick. No, because Jada said she wasn’t home. He remembered Jada’s ravenous consumption at the cookout that night. Like a stray no one dared confront. Her dog probably wasn’t even sick. She’d just needed an excuse to come begging. He stared out the window. Was it possible? Was there a hungry child over there? He couldn’t recall such a thing ever happening when he’d been a boy. Not here, not on Clover Street. There’d been an old man over on Liberty Street, once, who fell down his cellar stairs and broke his hip. Days later the mailman found him incoherent from hunger and dehydration. Twenty-five years, and everything was different now. Children screamed at their mothers every day in the Market. Holdups were so commonplace, Neil had gone through three in four months. Last week a gang of girls had beaten up Serena’s teenage niece in the school library for e-mailing one of their boyfriends. Expecting order and sanity, he had found a world gone awry, the planet tipped. Instead of meteors, airplane bolts and metal chunks fell from the sky. Untended babies plunged through open windows. But who was he, what right did he have to expectation, disappointment, indignation,