A Hole in the Universe - Mary McGarry Morris [98]
“I said I don’t want to talk about them. All right?” She paused, then shook Jada’s arm, her voice girlish and cozy again. “Guess what I ate every single night?”
“I don’t know.” There’s this and then there’s that, there’s here and there, but never any connections. Except me, Jada thought.
“Here’s a clue—it’s one of the most favorite things you like.”
Jada shivered. Without Leonardo’s warmth, she felt raw, as if a layer of skin had been stripped off.
“Come on, Jada! Every night I told everyone, I said the same thing, ‘This is my kid’s most favorite food in the whole world.’ Oh, all right. Shrimp cocktail!”
“So what about Tron? Was he there, too?”
“Tron?” There was a pause. “Oh, no, he wasn’t there.”
“How come? Did he go in detox?”
“Huh?”
“He was gonna go in detox and you said you were, too.”
“Tron’s an asshole.”
“He seemed nice to me.”
“He’s a crackhead, that’s all he is, baby. . . .” Her mother’s voice trailed off. “That’s all he’ll ever be.” She was already snoring.
Jada reached for the dog, but he growled through the darkness. “Leonardo,” she whispered, hurt.
“Jesus Christ,” her mother whined, then snored again.
Jada covered her face with her hands, refusing to cry. She slipped out of bed and groped along the floor for her mother’s purse. She opened it in the bathroom. Two twenties and a lot of ones. Three cellophane-wrapped rocks lay at the bottom of the purse among grains of sand, matches, hair clips, casino tokens, crimped roaches, and loose cigarettes. She held one rock over the toilet, smiling as she let it go. The minute it splashed she panicked. She scooped it out and wiped it on her shirt, then put it back.
She crept back into bed and drifted into fitful sleep, curled as close to Leonardo as she could get without waking her mother.
The next morning Jada sat on a stool in the Donut Shop, eating breakfast. She finished the onion bagel with cream cheese, then ordered a chocolate-covered jelly doughnut and another coffee. Reflected in the mirror behind the coffee urns were three boys coming down the street, Thurman and two buddies, Colt and Ray. She ran to the door. “Hey, Thurman! You guys want a doughnut or something? I’m paying,” she yelled, waving the twenty. They scrambled in and sat at the counter, careful to leave an empty stool between themselves and her. They each ordered two doughnuts, which they wolfed down in silence. When they were done they jumped up and hurried outside.
“Wait!” she called, running to catch up. They ran even faster. “Wait up! You want a smoke? Hey! I got some Camels here.”
The wind kept blowing out the match, so they went into the alley next to the drugstore and huddled over the flame. Thurman lit up first. Lighting hers last, she took a deep drag. As they continued walking, Thurman had them staggering with laughter. He was telling them about his crazy sister. She was always messing up her paper route, but nobody ever said much because she was the only one the newspaper could get to deliver, the neighborhood was so bad. If Thurman needed a few bucks, he’d go collect from some of her customers. Then when the time came she’d try to collect. Her customers would say they’d already paid, and she’d just get confused and think she’d forgotten to write it down.
“Who you talking about? Peggy Triker? She’s your sister?” Jada said, walking faster to keep pace. Peggy weighed at least three hundred pounds and delivered the papers on a gigantic tricycle. “She’s, like, grown-up. I mean, how can she be your sister, she’s too—” Old, she was about to say as Thurman shoved her against a parked car.
“Careful, freak-face, or else I’ll knock those crooked teeth right down your throat.”
“Go ahead, try it,” she grunted, laughing but mad as hell as she tried to knee him. His face was at hers. He butted his pelvis into hers. The two boys watched with ruttish glee.
“Hey! What’re you doing? Leave her alone!” a man called.
Heedless, Thurman was just about breaking her wrists.
“Thurman! I said, leave her alone. Get off her!” Gordon’s shadow fell