A Hole In The Universe Part 21

Dennis laughed. He couldn't help it. "What do you do here? What do you do when you come home?"

"I read. I watch television. Sometimes. If there's something good on."

"Tell me something. Am I the only one who ever comes here?"

"No," Gordon said, blinking.

"Is that where you sit?" He pointed to the chair in the corner. "It is, isn't it. That way you can see the street and the TV all at the same time." He chuckled. "Gordon's window on the world, huh?"

"Don't be mad at me, Dennis. I didn't do anything."

"But I did, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"You know all those letters you got? All the family news, the stupid jokes, the newspaper clippings? Well, did you ever wonder what was really going on here? Or did you think it was all the same?"

"I knew it was hard. How hurt you all were." Gordon stared down at the floor, head bobbing faintly up and down in that maddeningly goofy way that made him look so stupid and inept. "I know what it did to everyone."

"I don't mean that! You're still so caught up in self-pity you think everything's about you, don't you? Poor Gordon, nothing ever goes right for him, does it? Well, guess what, poor Gordon, while you were licking your wounds, I I was the one alone here. Because of you was the one alone here. Because of you I I didn't have a father or mother anymore. From that point on it was all up to me. Me! They expected didn't have a father or mother anymore. From that point on it was all up to me. Me! They expected me me to make everything right." to make everything right."

"I'm sorry, Dennis."

"You're sorry? Well, what the h.e.l.l good is that?" he exploded, fists so tightly clenched that the nails gouged his palms.

"What do you want? What do you want me to say?" came the slow, dead voice.

"Nothing." Dennis had forgotten just how obtusely cold his brother could be.

"The truth is, I didn't really think of what it did to you so much as what it did to Mom and Dad. You always seemed so lucky, I guess, so on top of everything all the time."

A chill pa.s.sed through Dennis and with it deflation, a sense of his own diminishment. He looked away. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to be having this conversation. What did he want, then? He didn't know, didn't even know why he'd come. Gordon droned on. Hearing Lisa's name, Dennis looked up.

"She sounded so sad. I didn't know what to say."

"What the f.u.c.k're you talking about?"

Gordon's face flushed. His chin quivered miserably. "You shouldn't . . . you shouldn't do that to her."

"You don't know what the h.e.l.l you're talking about." He stood up to leave and, seeing the two hideously wide white sneakers side by side at the bottom of the stairs, facing the door, waiting, wondered why, for what? For the same thing he had been waiting these twenty-five years? For nothing, he realized, for absolutely nothing, if it meant eating and sleeping, then waking again to discontent, this sense of illimitable loss. His brother was here, so what was this yearning for? It was supposed to be over now.

"You're married, Dennis. You should be faithful to your wife."

Dennis spun around. "Look, there's only one way this is going to work. You want to come back here and live like this, fine. But my my family is family is my my business, not yours. You got that, Gordo?" business, not yours. You got that, Gordo?"

They stared at each other until Gordon looked away. Dennis started to open the door.

"They're my family, too," Gordon said under his breath.

It usually took only a few swings to get the right momentum, but some of the trash bags felt like dead weight. Two crates of rotting cantaloupes had come in, and the supplier said to throw them out. Another shipment was on its way. Gordon grabbed the bag with both hands, ready to heave it, when he heard a loud clang inside the swill-streaked Dumpster. He froze, listening. Too loud to be a squirrel or a rat. Something heavier, big, like a racc.o.o.n, maybe. Or a skunk. He stepped back.

"f.u.c.k!" came a thin voice from inside.

He put down the bag and peered in, unable to see much over the piled trash. He jumped back as a crushed box of doughnuts flew past his head. He walked to the end of the Dumpster where a loaf of flattened bread and a deeply dented can of pineapple chunks lay on the ground among glinting splinters and rusted shards, the man-made till from years of trash haulings.

"f.u.c.k!" There was a painful groan.

"Who's that? Who's in there?" For a moment there wasn't another sound other than flies buzzing and, from the lone spindly tree beyond, the high-pitched, scolding chatter of a squirrel whose larder was being pilfered.

"I said, who's in there?"

Still no reply. Up on the loading dock, the metal door creaked open, then banged shut. Neil was dragging out another stack of cartons to flatten and pile against the building. Seeing Gordon's guarded stance, he hurried over. Gordon gestured to indicate someone was in there. Neil nodded, then disappeared for a moment under the loading dock. He returned dragging a long, rusted section of drainpipe. He began to pummel the trash in the Dumpster with it, all the while cackling, "Come on out, you beggar! You f.u.c.king beggar, you!"

A head popped up on the opposite end of the Dumpster, then came arms and a torso in a roll over the side, with Neil sprinting close behind. "Mother o' G.o.d, look at this," he said, pulling the girl from the straggle of paper-blown bushes. "Look what was in there, the very bottom of the food chain."

The long cut on her left arm was bleeding down her fingers onto her pants.

"Jada!" Gordon said. Her wild hair was snagged with bits of trash and what at first appeared to be torn flesh, until, seeing seeds, he realized it was the slimy skin of a rotten tomato.

"Tell him to let go-a me!" she snarled through clenched teeth.

"Tell her to shut up!" Breathless as a cat with prey, Neil grinned, eyes gleaming with the pure, high-octane thrill of her pain. "Nice, huh?" He pointed at her. "Nice country we live in."

Every time she tried to pull away, he yanked her back, laughing.

"What hole did you crawl out of?" he said.

"f.u.c.k you!" she shot back.

"Or maybe you live in there with the rest of the maggots."

"She's my neighbor. I know her. She lives across the street from me," Gordon said.

"I wouldn't admit that to too many people if I was you, Gloom."

"Tell the a.s.shole to let me go!" Jada shouted.

"I don't think she was doing anything wrong, Neil. See." He showed him the box of broken doughnuts. "She was probably just looking for food."

"Food? Jesus Christ, what planet are you from? She was out here trashing cars, and then she needed a place to hide."

"But there aren't any cars out here now," Gordon said.

"Yeah, because she trashes them all!" Neil cried. "Come on!" He jerked her arm, pulling her up the steps onto the loading dock. "I'm calling the cops. We'll let them figure out what to do with trash like this." He opened the door.

"Okay! Okay, you do that and I'll tell them you were tryna get me to do something on you and that's how I got cut-tryna get away from you, you creep, you pervert, you f.u.c.king molester, you. Help! Help!" she screamed. "A man's tryna molest me! Help! Somebody help me, please!"

Leo charged through the doorway, bloodied cleaver in hand.

Neil released her arm, and all at once in a long, feral streak, the girl sprang from the platform, disappearing into the verge of weedy trees behind the Dumpster. Leo stared in horror at Neil.

Jada had been avoiding Gordon. That same night he'd come to her door, rung the bell, knocked hesitantly, then hurried away. She hadn't seen him since. It was midafternoon, and she was hungry again as she walked home from school. Her stomach ached all the time now. Even when she'd be eating, it would feel empty because she'd start wondering where or when she'd eat again. She wasn't sure what day today was. Not Friday, she hoped, because the weekend meant no hot lunch, the one thing she looked forward to, her main reason for going to school. Today she had slipped an extra slice of pizza onto her tray to take home to Leonardo, but the b.i.t.c.hy aide made her put it back.

As she came by the drugstore, she looked to see who was working. Please, not the Indian guy with the turban and eyes like periscopes. Please, not the Indian guy with the turban and eyes like periscopes. He could see around corners. He had almost caught her with her hand in the box the other day. He could see around corners. He had almost caught her with her hand in the box the other day.

"Yes!" The girl in the cape was behind the register, the one who told everyone she was a witch. She bent over the counter, too busy polishing long black fingernails to even notice the tiny Cambodian woman's struggle to push her baby stroller in through the theft detectors. Jada held the door for the woman, then hurried to the back aisle where the few food shelves were. She reached behind the cookie display for the box she had opened last time. She stuffed a handful of Oreos into her pocket, then meandered over to the magazine display. She flipped through Cosmopolitan Cosmopolitan while the woman came down the aisle, balancing a jumbo package of diapers on top of the stroller. When the woman got to the register, Jada went back, filled her other pocket with the rest of the cookies, then shoved the empty box behind the others. "That's a very pretty baby you got there," she said on her way outside. while the woman came down the aisle, balancing a jumbo package of diapers on top of the stroller. When the woman got to the register, Jada went back, filled her other pocket with the rest of the cookies, then shoved the empty box behind the others. "That's a very pretty baby you got there," she said on her way outside.

"Sank you!" the woman called after her.

"No, sank you you," Jada said, laughing to herself.

She ate half the cookies before she got home. She wet her fingers, stuck them in her pocket, then licked off the crumbs. The other half were for Leonardo. Last night, Inez had made her a peanut-b.u.t.ter-and-jelly sandwich, which she'd tried to eat in the bathroom until Leonardo's whimpering snuffles along the door bottom had made her feel so guilty that she'd given him the crusts. She had told Inez that her mother was going to be late, so could she have something to eat just to tide her over. Jada could tell Inez didn't believe her, but the lie was easier between them.

Jada wasn't sure anymore how long her mother had been gone. She had come home in the middle of the night with a scrawny guy with long hair called Tron. When Jada came out with her pillow and blanket so they could have the bed, her mother said no, to stay there, she and Tron were on their way somewhere, but they needed to get high first. His nose was running, and he reeked of cigarettes and sweat. "Hey, little pooch," he said, and Leonardo jumped into his lap and licked his neck as he cut a hole in the empty Mountain Dew bottle. He stuck a straw in so they could smoke. Her mother went first.

Jada had drifted in and out of sleep to their crack-agitated voices from the other room. It was almost funny, the way they could talk to each other at the same time. Tron said he had been on the detox waiting list in Lowell for a long time. A h.e.l.l of a long time. He should let her know when he got the call, Marvella said. She'd been through it, so she'd help him. She knew the drill. She'd been there, so let her know and she'd go with him. Moral support, that was the most important part. Yeah, moral support. Because, see, like that's what she never got. Moral support. Yeah, that's all anyone needs. So as much as Jada hated being alone, it would all be worth it if her mother was in some detox center right now with Tron.

The minute she got home she jumped onto the couch and fed Leonardo the Oreos, one at a time. When they were gone he burrowed his snout into her pocket, looking for more. She closed her eyes, laughing as his scratchy tongue licked her face. "I love you. I love you so much," she said, holding him still so she could kiss her favorite place, the warm, musky underside of his silky ear. Everything would be different this time when her mother came home. Jada vowed to treat her better. She wouldn't b.i.t.c.h so much about everything, and she'd keep the apartment so clean her mother wouldn't want to ever leave it, and she'd study hard and get really good grades, so then her mother would probably start going to all those parents' nights things they were always having and she would come back and tell Jada how proud she was to have her for a daughter, and all the mean things she'd ever said, like calling her "the abortion that lived" all the time, how it hadn't been her talking but the drugs, because her Jada was the most beautiful girl in the whole world.

A loud banging made her sit up with a start. It was after five and she had fallen asleep watching television. Afraid Ronnie Feaster was back, pounding on the door again, she crept to the window and peered over the sill. Inez's son's old car idled at the curb, music booming from the speakers. In the distance came Gordon Loomis lumbering down the street with two full grocery bags. She didn't dare go out. Ronnie Feaster and Polie had come by twice in the last hour. The last time, he said he was sick of waiting for the money Marvella owed him. Jada hollered out that her mother wasn't there, but he didn't believe her. He said to open the door before he kicked it in. Inez leaned out her window then and yelled at him to go away or else she'd call the cops. After he left, Inez came downstairs and asked where her mother was. "Asleep," Jada lied, adding that she'd been sick for a few days. The whole thing was tricky: Jada had to be careful. She was pretty sure it was Inez who'd called Social Services the last time.

When he got to his porch steps she opened the door and ran across the street. "Gordon! You mad at me?" she asked with a big grin. She could tell he was.

"No." Even though his eyes held steady, his face, as usual, revealed nothing.

"I'm sorry for all that, but that guy, your boss, he, like, went psycho on me, and what was I gonna do, just, like, 'Oh, okay, here I am-have me arrested for looking through your friggin' garbage'? That's all I was doing. You saw me, right? What was I doing? Was I doing something wrong?"

"The Dumpster's private property. You shouldn't have been in it. Plus it's filthy. What if there was a rat in there or something?"

"What do you think, I'm scared of rats?"

"You should be, climbing into a Dumpster. They could bite you."

She laughed. "I was looking for a bone, that's all. A friggin' bone for Leonardo."

"How's the cut? I hope you put something on it. Ointment or something."

"Oh yeah, that." She lifted her sleeve and licked the scab. "See? That's all you have to do. It's like some kind of natural, antigerm juice in your mouth. Hey, you got anything good in there?" Something smelled good. She sniffed at the bags. Apples. Or maybe bananas. Her stomach was getting that weak, wavy feeling again. And the worst of it was, once she ate anything it would only feel even emptier right after, but she couldn't help herself. He held his bags close, as if he were sure she was going to grab something. Spooky guy, all he wanted was to do his own thing, same as her. She wasn't afraid of him like most people were. When he was out in his yard, Inez wouldn't leave her apartment, and the old lady, Mrs. Jukas, would move from window to window the way she was now, peeking out at him. Last week, when Polie tried to pull her inside the SUV, she told him Gordon was watching out his window. Then, to make it even better, she said Gordon told her to let him know if anyone tried to mess with her. Polie made some dirty remark about her and Gordon, but he'd let her go real fast.

"Here." He handed her a peach. "They're small, but they're really ripe. They're sweet."

She ate it so fast, it had no taste. She moved the pit around in her mouth, sucking on it as if it were hard candy.

"You're hungry, aren't you."

"Well, yeah! I mean, it's suppertime, right?" She took out the pit and nibbled off the stringy bits caught in the grooves, then stopped when she saw how he was looking at her. As if she were disgusting him. She put the pit into her pocket.

"How's school?"

"It's school." She shrugged.

"Do you get good grades?"

She just laughed.

"School's important, you know that, right?"

"Did you like school?"

"I tried to." He seemed to be struggling with a thought.

"But there were too many a.s.sholes around, right?"

He laughed. "I guess so. Something like that. But I did like it when I was older. I got a lot more out of it then."

"I had this one teacher, Mr. Cesster, once he gave me all these books to read. And I'd try, but it was like, Little House on the Prairie Little House on the Prairie! Give me a break, will ya? I mean, stuff like that-I can't get worked up because little Laura forgot to lock the gate and the friggin' goat gets out. I'm like, yeah? There's a lot worse things that can happen. How come n.o.body writes about those?"

"Well, maybe you should. Why don't you?"

"Yeah, right. Hey, can I have another one?" She tried to eat more slowly. This peach was so delicious it made her ache inside. "Hey, how's that friend of yours? That lady, the one that helped me with Leonardo." She wished she hadn't said anything about her mother being gone, but Delores had been cool about it.

"Delores?"

"Yeah, how's she doing?" She chewed each little piece.

"Good. She's doing good."

"I like her. She's a nice lady. And she really loves dogs, but where she lives she can't have one," she said between tiny bites. "She used to have a dog. When she was the same age as me, but then it bit one of her sisters, so she had to get rid of it. She said her father took it someplace and she cried for two whole weeks, and everyone kept getting mad at her and saying she felt badder about the stupid dog than she did her own sister. Which wasn't true because she loved her sister. What she really felt bad about was that it wasn't the dog's fault in a way." She held out her hands. "Because he was a dog! You know what I mean?"

"I remember that dog! Everyone was afraid of him." He smiled yet looked troubled.

"So what's the story? Are you and her going out?"

"We're just friends."

She didn't believe him. Not with the way Delores looked whenever she said his name. "Next time she comes over, will you let me know? I like talking to her." She dropped the second pit into her pocket.

Behind her a car door slammed. Gordon's eyes sank low again. Feaster was getting out of the SUV. Polie was at the wheel. Feaster called for her to come down off the porch. Just for a minute. He had to talk to her. No, she called back, enjoying his anger. She could hear him just fine from up here, she said.

"It's about your mother!" he shouted.

Thinking he'd seen her mother, she hurried down.

"Look," he growled, his unshaven face at hers. "You better tell me where she is."

"She went out. I don't know where."

"Don't tell me that. I don't wanna hear it."