A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [82]
“Come on in,” Dennis called before he could get away. He was filling a bowl with ice from the refrigerator-door dispenser. “Sure beats those old metal trays, remember?” Dennis said over the racket of cubes clunking into the bowl.
They both looked up with the gritty slide of the opening deck door. A perspiring, buxom woman leaned in to say Lisa needed the ice. “Not as much as you,” Dennis said, handing her the bowl.
“And Lisa says to take the cake out of the fridge,” she called as she left.
“Hey, will you look at this,” Dennis said, sliding out a cake decorated in the shape of a soccer field with goal nets, scoreboard, and miniature players kicking a ball. “Here, count the candles, just to be sure.” He held out the cake.
“Twelve? I thought he was eleven.” The card he’d bought said “For an Eleven-Year-Old.”
“He is, but one’s for good luck, right?”
“Oh, that’s right. Good luck. I forgot.”
“Hey, will you relax? Look at you, sweat pouring down your face, you’re a wreck. Those punk bastards, they’re not hassling you again, are they?”
“No. No, they haven’t been back.” He tensed, expecting more talk about that night, about Jilly.
“Good. You can’t ever show blood, Gordo. The least little thing and they’ll be on you like vultures. Remember that now.”
Gordon nodded, amazed. How did his brother think he had survived the vultures in prison? Was Dennis so blind about some things, or was it just a way of compartmentalizing his life? And wasn’t it the same for him, who wandered among these perfectly normal people as if he were every bit as decent as they were, as if no one knew who he really was?
“Hey!” Dennis called as he carried the cake onto the deck. “In my next life I want to come back as one of Lisa Harrington’s kids.”
“You already are one of her kids!” a woman shouted back, and no one laughed harder than Dennis.
Delores dragged a lawn chair close to Gordon’s under the sweet flowering linden tree. With the cake served and presents opened, the children were absolved of any responsibility to behave like guests. They ran between the yard next door and this one in fitful bursts of Frisbee and kickball and now for the most part were just running and shrieking. The adult voices and laughter came faster and louder. The almost frantic clamor reminded him of the prisoners in the last moments of rec time. He was tired. Just being here had been a strain. With rain threatening, the sky sagged low overhead.
“What a nice party this has been.” Delores sighed, settling into the chair. “See those two women over there? The one in the long blue skirt? She’s Albert’s sister-in-law’s cousin, Mary Bianci. She was two years ahead of us in high school. Apparently things haven’t been going too well this week for poor Albert. Mary said his daughter totaled her very expensive sports car, and then the next day his big beautiful house in Dearborn was broken into.” She shook her head. “So much for the safety of suburbia. You can say what you want about Collerton, but I’ve never been broken into, never once!”
“You live on the second floor, though.”
“So? I have a fire escape. They could get in that way. If they wanted to. Sometimes I even leave that window open on hot nights.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” he said, thinking of Mrs. Jukas.
“Why?”
He squirmed under her scrutiny. She probably thought his warning harkened back to his own crime. “It’s not safe, that’s all.” He broke off a blade of grass and wrapped it around his finger.
“There’s no such thing as safe.” She was looking at him.
“Uncle Gordon!” Annie cried, running up from behind. She leaned over the back of his chair. “Mommy said to ask you if you’re having a good time.”
“Yes, I am. A very good time. Thank you, Annie.”
She swung around the chair arm so that her pert, sweaty face was at his. “I’m supposed to find out if you want anything. Some more cake? Ice cream? Punch?”
“Punch would be nice.”