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But I can’t.
She just reported me. As a thief.
She doesn’t trust me. She has no faith in me at all.
I drop the grocery bags. They slide to the floor with barely a murmur. I take a step back from the door, then another.
I’ve been many things, but I’m not a thief. Never have been, never will be. It would have made my life so much easier if I turned to stealing, but I’m not a thief.
I pull the wad out of my pocket and hurl it on top of the stuff. Then I turn and run.
I don’t look back. I couldn’t, anyway. I’m crying so hard I can’t even see.
Twenty-Seven
Helen
Sitting on the couch waiting for the cops, I can’t settle down. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this agitated. I’m angry with Roxy and I’m freaked out that she would steal from me, but I also feel terrible about what I’ve done.
I can’t remember a single time in my life that I’ve done something that might hurt another person. Even by accident.
I’ve never even reported a crime before. Tame dame Helen, turning someone into the cops to get back at them? No way. Most of my friends would be relieved to see I had that much emotion rather than be shocked, I think.
I think that might be an example of just how much Roxy affects me. I’ve gotten angry enough to want to hurt her. No, I don’t want to hurt her, not at all. Even though I feel like she hurt me, purposefully too—I don’t want to cause her pain.
My emotions are a messy tangle and I’m pretty upset about that, too. A whole lifetime of careful, measured actions and now I’ve gotten so out of my own head that I’ve reached out and slapped the person I love the most.
I can just see her waiting at a bus terminal or train station, waiting for her next big adventure. She’ll be doing her wild, free thing and then suddenly getting jumped by officers. I can see the look on her face, how terrified she would be. How trapped.
A beautiful panther, meant to be free, closed into a corner.
And I tried to tame her. Instead of just letting
her be, I had to try and make her into something she’s not. None of this would have happened if I had just kept my stupid mouth shut. Why did I have to wake up this morning and boss her around like that?
Thinking back on it I really did make it sound like I didn’t appreciate her as she is.
I want to take it all back. I want to call the cops and say that I made a mistake. But if I do that, how will I ever see her again? What can I possibly do to find her? The idea of never seeing her again is so terrifying I’m prepared to do just about anything.
I move over to the door, realizing it’s still open a crack and I dropped my handbag right beside it. I’m not usually so untidy or forgetful. I was so scared that she wouldn’t be here and so desperate to see her I guess I just forgot the door.
When I lean down to pick up my purse, I see something on the floor just outside it. There is only one other tenant on this level and their entrance is at the other end of the hallway. If there is a package out there, it must be for me. Who would leave a parcel this late?
When I swing open the door hot tears fill my eyes. The reaction is such a shock I really feel faint, as if hot needles are pricking sweat out of my pores.
Paper grocery sacks spill treats and snacks across the hall. One of them is torn and I see my favorite wine peeking out from the torn paper. There’s two bottles, one sweet and one dry. There’s granola snacks and fresh fruit as well as nuts, all my favorite snacks.
There’s a big fancy box of chocolates and they are my favorite hazelnut praline. Behind it all is a plastic bag which is still warm, the logo on the containers from my favorite Italian restaurant.
On top of it all sits the money.
I kneel down and pick it up. I don’t need to count it; I can see by what’s here that Roxy didn’t spend much. I flick through the notes just to check and she barely went over a hundred dollars.
Roxy did this. She did all of this for me. No doubt she wanted it set up by the time I got home so we could talk.
The only explanation for all this being dropped on the floor like this is that she heard me. It all comes together with terrible clarity, Roxy hurrying up the hallway, pausing when she heard me on the phone. She listened while I mercilessly painted her as a terrible criminal, then ran like hell. Shit!
I’m utterly mortified now. Panic rises in me and I gather up the stuff, shoving it just inside the door.
