“Jesus, that’s a horrible thing to say,” Mark said. “Jesus, Tommy, I’m ashamed of you.”
“What’d he tell you about me coming into the business?”
The question lay between them as Sal brought coffee and took their empty plates away. Mark took a long time putting milk and sugar in his cup. Finally he said, “The old man told me October first you start as vice president of operations. He says you make five thousand a year more than me.”
Tommy laughed. “And you’re ashamed of me?” he said, leaning across the table until his forehead almost touched his brother’s. “God, Markey, I don’t want to piss on your life, but look at you. You’re a lackey for him. You don’t even have kids because he said adoption was no good. Do you hold it when he takes a piss, too? He’s got you just where he wants you. I thought he gave up on me a long time ago, because of Concetta, because I stepped out of line. Now I think he just waited until he knew I thought that, and then he came in for the kill.”
“Do you hear yourself? You make your own father sound like a monster.”
“You remember when we were kids and Sister Ann Elizabeth asked us to make a drawing of God? You remember? You made him tall and you made his hair yellow and his eyes blue. And so did I. She got such a kick out of that, that our pictures of God looked like the same person. That wasn’t just a coincidence, Mark.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark said. “I just want you to come into the business with me. You’d be good. We’d be good together. The old man doesn’t accept reality. The world is changing. The Church is changing. He’s not far off on his jokes about the kaiser rolls. What if they decide to go to using plain pieces of bread at communion? That’s a million bucks right down the toilet.”
“You’re talking to the wrong person about this. Go back to the hospital and talk to the owner of the company.”
“He’s not coming back, Tom,” Mark said.
Tommy felt a chill in his chest and, almost reflexively, his shoulders hunched in, like little wings. “Get out,” he said, but his voice was low.
“He’s in bad shape. He’s much worse than anyone thinks. James says the old man will never really be the same.”
“Get out,” Tommy said, his voice lower still.
“You come into the business with me, Tom. Take the house. It’s a nice house, much nicer than any of those development houses. Move your wife away from there. It’s not good for her. It’s not good for you.”
“She’s fine, Mark. I’m fine.”
“No you’re not,” Mark said.
“Yeah, we are.”
“Yeah? Where is your wife right now? Right at this very moment? I can tell you that Gail is at a white sale with Mom and that after that she’s going to play bridge with some of her friends and after that she’s having dinner with me. Where is Connie right now?”
“She’s home taking care of her kids,” Tommy said.
“If you’re sure of that, fine. If you’re sure of that I got nothing further to say. If you’re sure of that.”
14
MAGGIE LIT THE FIFTH FIRE HERSELF. She felt as though the match jumped from her hand to the big wet spot where the lighter fluid had collected on the plywood wall of the garage. The house was in the back of the development, up a little rise from the old creek, and its lumber was still orangy-yellow. It was the spot on the wall and the fresh look of the wood, she thought when she was finally alone, that made her think the flames would not spread, even as they covered the walls like a dazzling cape.
“Isn’t it incredible?” said Debbie, who was standing just behind her.
Maggie was struck by several things at once: by the damp smell of the night, by a persistent trickle of sweat down the back of her head and into the hollow at the base of her skull, by how hot the flames became so quickly. It crossed her mind that she was making a memory, and that she would never in her life be able to communicate the sick feeling that afflicted her the moment the fire began to leap around her, the nausea that rose up in her throat as she heard the three people behind her breathing heavily in the still air. She