having so little contact with people, so naturally he would remember exactly who had said what to him.
Lisa sat next to him and guillotined the wire cutter down through the block of cheese on the marble tray. She was tall, olive-skinned, with thick chestnut hair that shone in the light. Her long legs looped around the stool. She was attractive in a rangy, boyish way, certainly not the prettiest of the girlfriends his brother had brought to Fortley. Gordon had hated those visits. Self-conscious with women, especially women he didn’t even know, he could never think of anything to say. Not only did Dennis do most of the talking, but he would be so unusually loquacious, so focused on Gordon’s reticence, that he found it necessary to explain in painful detail exactly what his brother was thinking, feeling, or trying so dismally to express. Lisa had been the only one to cut Dennis short. Leaning toward the small microphone in the glass, she had said in a robotic monotone, “Earth to Gordon. Earth to Gordon. Your brother thinks you’ve disappeared. Please inform him you are sitting right here in front of him.”
As she passed him a slice of cheese, her hair fell across her face. He was glad she was growing it long again. Around her neck was a diamond-studded cross on a thin gold chain. Lisa taught a religious-education class one night a week and sang in St. Margaret’s choir every Sunday. Gordon had felt guilty when Dennis said he’d never been to hear her sing.
Until his arrest, they had always gone to church as a family. When he first got to Fortley, the familiar ritual of Mass seemed his last link to a life he could no longer have. But it was also there in the blue block walls of the austere little chapel that his anguish and remorse were the worst. He would bury his face in his hands to muffle the sobs. Evil had invaded his aimless, blundering life, and he didn’t know how he could live with the consequences of what he had done. He stopped going to church. Back home, so had his family.
“Is Delores coming?” Lisa asked. “Dennis said you were going to ask her.”
“No. She’s not. She’s not coming.”
“Oh no! Why?”
He felt guilty that he’d disappointed her. He’d been thinking only of himself.
“Does she have to work? Is that it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask her,” he added quickly.
“Well, that’s probably it.” She patted his wrist with consoling cheerfulness. “I’m sure that’s the only reason. She probably thinks she’d be too late. Why don’t you give her a call? Tell her to come when the store closes. Jimmy and Annie are still at swimming, and Lord knows when Dennis will get here.”
“No. What I meant was I didn’t ask her to come.”
“Why?” She blinked and shook her head. “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. I just didn’t want to, I guess.” He found it amazing how in their assumptions people tried to control others. Lisa and Dennis thought Delores would be good for him, so therefore it had to happen.
She looked at him a moment. “She’s awfully nice.”
“I know.”
“She’s so easy to talk to.” She slid off the stool and threw the cheese wrapping into the trash. When she picked up the pastry box, he grinned. “And she really cares about you, Gordon. She really, really does.” She put it into the refrigerator, and he was disappointed. He wanted her to know that he’d remembered. “Ooo!” She leaned over the counter. “I know that look. It’s the old Loomis ‘Get outta my face, lady.’ Okay!” She waved her hand. “I said what I had to say, and now not another word about Delores Dufault.”
“No! No.” He had offended her. “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about her. I guess I just don’t have a lot to say about her, that’s all. Or at least not now, anyway. I mean, I’ve just got so much else I’m trying to do right now.”
“You sound like your brother,” she said as she slid open the glass door. He followed her out
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