Part 19 (2/2)
”Maybe she does. Well, anyway-”
”You'd think her mother would do something. I mean, doesn't she care? There's something about Jada-she's got this spark inside, you know, like a fire n.o.body's going to put out no matter what happens to her.” Delores almost sounded angry.
”I don't know,” he said, looking back now. ”I've seen a lot of fires go out.” Billy Leeman had gotten his head bashed in for nothing more than refusing to talk to his psychotic cellmate. All he had wanted was to be left alone so he could read race-car magazines and write letters to his wife.
”But yours never did, did it?”
”I never had one.”
”Of course you did. You do. It's how you've gotten through everything.”
”No. It wasn't that way with me. All I did was wait. That's all.”
She laid her hand over his, and he froze. ”You're a good man, Gordon. A really good man. I hope you know that. You need to know that.”
Jada's legs ached. She had walked from one end of the city to the other. It was all uphill now, and she was carrying Leonardo. He kept sitting down and she would have to drag him along on the rope to get him going again. This last time he began to howl, so she had to pick him up. She looked at every house, trying to find her uncle's. She hadn't been there in a couple of years, not since his adopted baby's christening party. b.i.t.c.hy Aunt Sue had accused her of stealing her fourteen-carat-gold kisses-and-hugs chain. Marvella had taken it, and what could Jada do but keep insisting it wasn't her? So then Aunt Sue pulled her out onto the porch, her beery, garlic voice hissing how they'd wasted a lot of time and money, a whole year of their lives, taking care of her when the state took her away from her mother, and how Uncle Bob was always telling her that underneath it all Jada was a nice kid, but this just proved she was like all the rest of the Fossums, trash from start to finish. Uncle Bob quit on her after that, which hurt, because he was the only relative who'd ever cared what happened to her.
”There it is!” she told Leonardo. The truck in the driveway said BOB'S SEPTIC SERVICE in gold letters on the green tank. The house was a duplex her uncle had converted into a three-family. An ankle-high white wire fence bordered the narrow strip of lawn. Lining both sides of the short front walk were small American flags her mother said he was always taking from people's graves. She put Leonardo down, then wet her fingers and tried to brush the dog hairs off her black T-s.h.i.+rt before she rang the bell.
Jada had lived with them for a year the first time Social Services took her away. Her mother said she'd never let them have her again because she'd come back ”spoiled rotten,” crying if her pants were wet or every time she was told no. It always pleased her to hear that. Not just because it meant her mother cared what happened to her, but because it seemed proof of some value, some genuine worth, about herself. When she was seven, the state took her again, but she had to go to a foster home because her aunt and uncle refused. They said it was too painful to have her sent back to her mother, who just undid all their good work.
”Hi, Uncle Bob!” She grinned as he opened the door. His hair was the same gingery color as hers. Anglo straight, though, not kinky like hers.
”Jada,” he said in a flat voice.
Leonardo barked. Her uncle stepped outside and closed the door. ”What's that?” He pointed down at the dog jumping on his legs.
”My dog. Leonardo. He really likes you!”
”You shouldn't have brought him here. Tiffany's allergic to animal dander. Deathly allergic,” he said with a look of horror.
”Oh! I didn't know that. Who's Tiffany?”
”My daughter.”
”Oh yeah, that's right. I forgot.” The fat drooling baby that wasn't even theirs. ”She's like, what, six or seven now?” It seemed that long since she'd been here.
”Tiffany's just turned four. Last month, as a matter of fact,” he said with the twinge of a smile.
”I'll bet she's really cute, huh?”
”She is. She is, she's really cute.”
”Hey, you ever need a baby-sitter, I got lots of experience,” she said, grinning.
”How'd you get here?” He looked toward the street.
”I walked. Me and Leonardo. Well, I I walked. But not him, the spoiled-rotten little thing, he got carried most of the way.” walked. But not him, the spoiled-rotten little thing, he got carried most of the way.”
”You walked? Why? What's wrong? You're not in some kind of trouble, are you?”
”No! I'm not in any trouble.” She laughed. ”I just need to borrow some money, that's all, and I was hoping maybe-”
”Why? What's going on with your mother?”
”Nothing. She's got some kind of flu thing or something. One of those viruses, I guess you call it, and she's been-”
”She sent you here to ask me for money?”
”No! No, she doesn't even know I'm here. I just figured you could help me out. I got this, like, field trip, this thing I gotta go on, and I'm supposed to bring the money in tomorrow. For the tickets. For the bus. The bus tickets.” She swallowed. ”It's gonna cost like . . . fifty dollars,” she said, plunging full-speed ahead. Might as well go for it, because from the look on his face she probably wasn't going to get anything anyway, so what the h.e.l.l.
”Where's the field trip to?”
”The aquarium.” The first place that came to mind. She had missed out on a lot of field trips there over the years.
”Fifty dollars to go a few miles into Boston?”
”No, not that aquarium. The one in New York. New York City.” Jesus Christ, she didn't even know if there was one there. Probably not, from the red-faced way he was staring down at her now, like something inside getting ready to explode.
”All right, look, Jada. I'm gonna help you, but just this one time. But first you gotta tell me the truth. Who's the money for, you or your mother?”
”Me! I swear!”
”Because if it's for her, all you're doing is helping her kill herself. You know that, right?”
Even her nod felt like betrayal.
”You know how many times your mother's screwed me? How many times she's lied and cheated and even stole things from me? Last summer we went to the beach for the weekend. One lousy weekend, and my house gets broken into. And all Sue's jewelry gone and her little TV in the kitchen. Right away I knew it was her.” He folded his arms. ”So tell me, tell me the truth, what do you really need money for?”
”The field trip.” If she said food, he'd know she was alone and he'd call Social Services again.
”You sure?”
”Yeah! I'm sure! I got a book all about it. I'm gonna read it tonight. All about whales, sharks, swordfish, codfish-” She stopped just short of saying cakes. cakes. ”Catfish.” ”Catfish.”
”Who's your teacher?”
”Mr. Ansaldo.” She watched his hand slip into his pocket.
”Sam Ansaldo? He's a client. I just pumped him out last fall. What time's school start?”
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