“Look, would you just get off her porch? All right? That’s all I’m asking.”
“You know how many cops’ve been by since we got here? How many, Polie?” Feaster asked.
Polie’s thick index finger met his thumb in a zero.
“I mean, somebody’s gotta do it,” Feaster said.
“You don’t want me to come up there, so why don’t you just get down?” Gordon’s throat was so dry, it hurt.
Feaster sighed and shook his head. “What? You’re gonna do something stupid, the cops’re gonna come, and all they’re gonna say is, ‘Loomis, what the fuck’re you doing with known felons?’ And what can I say? You think they’re gonna listen to me? No, you just go in your nice little house over there and everything’ll be cool, I promise. Really. Ask anybody, they’ll tell you. That’s what I do, right, Polie? Right, Thurm?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s right.”
It was a long walk to his door. He looked out from time to time. The boy squatted on the porch floor, smoking a joint. Feaster seemed to be dozing in the chair. Sometimes his cell phone would ring and Thurman would go running down the street. A while later Jada came out of her house, carrying the puppy. She set him down on the strip of yellow grass. Bending, she held on to the collar while the dog urinated. Polie got up and started across the street. She grabbed the dog and hurried back inside.
On Saturday morning Dennis stopped in with Lisa and the children. They brought him a quart of strawberries they’d just picked at a farm in Boxford. Dennis was leaving that night for a three-day dental conference in Hartford, so he and Lisa were spending the day doing whatever Jimmy and Annie wanted. The children asked if they could go outside and climb up the old maple tree. Dennis and Gordon both said no, but Lisa said they could as long as they didn’t leave the yard. Gordon kept getting up and going to the back door to check on them. Feaster and his pack weren’t out there. It usually wasn’t until late afternoon that they dragged onto Mrs. Jukas’s porch.
Lisa and Dennis invited Gordon into Boston with the four of them. They were going to the aquarium. While he made coffee he explained why he couldn’t go. Thurman had been let go yesterday after an argument with Neil. His grandmother had come into the store last night and begged Neil to take him back. He had already been expelled, and she was afraid with so much time on his hands he was going to get into some really big trouble. “So Neil finally said he would, but she wasn’t to tell him yet. He wants the boy to spend the weekend stewing. But the thing is, it’s only a matter of time before he ends up in detention or worse,” Gordon was telling them as he set their coffee cups on the table. Nervous when they first came, he was enjoying their company now. “The grandmother, she used to work for Neil, but in any event, I have to cover for him today.”
“So some kids flips out and you’re the only who can do his job?” Dennis asked.
“Well, no, I—”
“So come with us, then!” Dennis said.
“I already told Neil I’d do it.”
“So? Now you’ve got something else to do! Like the rest of the world! Just call and tell him you’re busy. No big deal.”
“I can’t. I’d like to, Dennis, but he’s counting on me.”
“That’s all right,” Lisa said uneasily, looking at Dennis.
“You don’t go anywhere. You don’t do anything. What kind of a life is that? Come on, we’re your family. Spend some time with us,” Dennis said.
“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, gold and silver heart-shaped frames containing Cheryl’s picture.
“I thought you said you’d never been here before,” he whispered.
“I didn’t go to the party. I just helped Albert, that’s all. There were so many things to do. Like the guest list, the invitations. And the menu. Albert’s no good with details. It was a surprise, so all the RSVPs had to come into the store, of course. It was almost like planning a wedding, which I also did, by the way, for my baby sister, Babbie. You probably don’t remember Babbie, though, do you?” The wine was light on her tongue. Her cheeks felt flushed. “She would have been just a little kid then when we knew each other.”
“No, I don’t remember her.”
“Babbie lives in Dearborn. She has two girls. They’re so adorable. Her husband’s in software. Dwayne, he makes all kinds of money. And I love him, but he is the cheapest man I have ever met. Whenever my sister buys clothes she has to lie and say they’re from me.” Delores could feel herself talking with the same reckless extravagance as Babbie’s shopping, the dizzying spree of confidences spent with full knowledge of the inevitable regret. Disloyalty was the greatest sin, yet intimacy continually demanded it of her. He asked about the sisters he remembered, Karen and Linda. They were finishing their racks of lamb when she realized she was still answering him. Stopping abruptly, she apologized. Here she was going on and on about herself while he just sat there being so polite.
“No, I’m really interested. There’s so much catching up to do. Everything’s so changed.” The neighborhood, for example; Ronnie Feaster and his crew hanging out every day now on Mrs. Jukas’s porch.
“Ronnie Feaster!” she said. “He’s horrible. Absolutely despicable. Albert caught him selling drugs once in the alley behind the store. He told him to leave or else he was calling the police, and that very night someone broke into the store and trashed the place. But worst of all, you know what they left on Albert’s desk?” She leaned forward. “A pile of—oh, I shouldn’t say it while we’re eating, but you know what I mean. It had to be the worst thing anyone ever did to Albert. He’s very finicky. Poor man, he can’t even stand the sound of someone blowing their nose. Turns his stomach. Some people are just so sensitive. It’s the same thing with being hot or cold. Or pain. It’s got to be something in the nerve endings. He just feels things so much more intensely than the average person.”
“Then how could he just fire you like that if he’s so sensitive?” Gordon asked.
“Because,” she began, relieved now as the busboy arrived to clear their plates. Because she had been too strong a force buffeting his delicate nature. Because her every offering had to be momentous, the biggest and best. Because her generosity frightened people, made them wonder what she wanted in return. “Because he had no other choice,” she explained after the busboy left.
“But he’s the boss. He should be able to find a place for you.”
“Well, I guess he couldn’t,” she said, teary-eyed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
Touched by his concern, she nodded. The blurred dining room with its flickering candles and myriad conversations seemed to flow into a low, dark thrum. She loved eating out. It was such a sensual atmosphere, feeding off everyone else’s hunger until her belly ached with it.
When was the last time he’d had a woman? If ever. My God, what would his first time be like? Stop it,
she thought, even now hearing her mother tell some aunt, neighbor, total stranger,
I’ve never seen such an appetite. She’s the only one of all the girls.
Before Delores could stop her, the waitress had handed the bill to Gordon, his brow knit, lips moving, as he stared at it. She asked him for it. After all, she was the one who had asked him out.
“I’ll pay for it.” He took a deep breath, then began counting out twenty-dollar bills onto the pewter bill tray. She removed his money and replaced it with her credit card. He tried to argue, but she absolutely insisted. Next time would be his treat, she allowed with breezy confidence as he followed her into the lobby, where a few couples sat on plump, tapestry-covered sofas, drinking brandy from cut-glass snifters. She waited by the door while Gordon went into the men’s room. She was reading a framed poem on the wall, “Ode to a Demanding Diner.” In the glass reflection she noticed a handsome couple coming down the stairs. They paused on the landing, laughing and leaning into each other. The young woman was a tiny blonde in a short red silk dress. The tanned man in the canary yellow blazer was Dennis Loomis. He and the woman waited arm in arm by the lectern for the maître d’ to lead them into the dining room. The men’s room door opened, and Gordon was walking toward them. They spoke at once, the woman joining in as if she knew Gordon. The maître d’ appeared, and Dennis gestured irritably for the woman to go on ahead into the dining room. He and Gordon stepped aside in the shadowed hallway. Dennis did all the talking.
For once she kept quiet. Gordon stared out the window as she drove.
“I can’t believe he’d do that to Lisa,” he finally said.
“Maybe it’s not even what you think it is.”
“He was mad. Mad that I caught them together. It was so obvious.”
“But you don’t know for sure. Maybe she’s just an old friend or something.”
“She’s twenty-five years old.”
“He told you that?”
“No. I know her. She’s a real estate agent. Jilly Cross. The one who showed me the condos. I can’t believe it,” he said again.
She drove slowly into Collerton. Seeing sexy Dennis and his clingy little girlfriend, along with the wine and the nearness of Gordon in the dark, rolling car, made her ache. She wanted to reach over and touch him. She pulled up in front of his house, trying to think of a way to invite herself inside.
“Well, thank you. And I’m sorry it had to end this way,” he said.
“What way?” she asked, alarmed.
“Well, seeing Dennis like that. I mean, it’s so disappointing. I never expected anything like that. Never in a million years.” He looked sick.
“Sometimes things like that happen. They just happen whether people want them to or not.”
“Lisa’s such a good person. She’s his wife. The mother of his children. I thought they loved each other.” He sounded so sad.
“I’m sure they do.”