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I take a shower, get dressed in practical clothes, flat shoes, pants that don’t require a belt—you never know, what if they take it away from me? I think about these things.
I expected to hear back from June but there’s no message. Luis made some calls and has found me a lawyer. “He’s the best,” he says. I promise him that I’ll call this afternoon. I don’t tell him there’s no money, there probably never will be.
“Go to the studio if you have to work,” I say. “There’s nothing you can do here.”
He takes my hand. “You sure?”
“Of course. I want to visit June anyway.” I don’t add,While I still can.
I leave another message then drive over to June’s house. I’m actually getting worried about her. It’s not like her to not return my calls. Also, I desperately want to apologize. I should never have asked her to lie for me. Maybe she’s angry about that, that I got her mixed up in this whole mess. I’ll explain that I just panicked. I thought if the police knew I was there that they would come for me. In the end they did anyway.
I am thinking all this as I walk up to her porch, hugging a potted purple hyacinth because I read somewhere they signifyPlease forgive me. I ring the doorbell and after a moment I see her outline drawing near through the frosted glass pane. I quickly stand to the side with my arm extended so she’ll see the plant before she sees me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out as she opens the door, my head tilted, my eyebrows raised. “Please forgive me?”
“God!” She slaps her hand on her chest. “You scared the bejesus out me!”
I recoil in surprise. “I did? I’m sorry. I left you a bunch of messages. Well, three, anyway.”
I wait, holding my pot plant against my chest, but she doesn’t move.
“I’ve come bearing gifts—one gift anyway. And to say I’m sorry that I asked you to lie for me. That was wrong. You okay? They didn’t give you a hard time, I hope? I told them it was my fault.”
She stands there, a little shakily, and takes the plant from me. “Thank you. It’s very nice.” She’s smiling but it looks forced and makes her lips twitch.
I put one hand on my hip and tilt my head at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m kinda busy, that’s all.”
I blink. I imagined myself coming here, moving piles of baking magazines from her couch and sitting down with a cup of that chai tea she makes, holding onto one of her flowery cushions. It never occurred to me she wouldn’t want to see me.
“Can I come in?”
She glances over her shoulder.
“Oh? Sorry. You have guests?” Then it dawns on me, and I look around, try to pry through her front window. I lean forward and whisper. “Is it the police? They’re here?”
“No. The police aren’t here. Nobody’s here. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
I nod. “Of course. I should go. Oh god, June! I don’t want to go! I’m so sorry! I can’t say it enough. I’m probably going to be arrested, unless a miracle happens and I can’t imagine what that might be, so I might not see you again after this.” I pull out a used Kleenex from my coat pocket and wipe my nose.
She tilts her head and she looks so sad suddenly. We both are. She sighs and moves out of the way.
“Thank you,” I say in a small voice. “I won’t stay long.”
She sets down the hyacinth plant on the small table and makes no move to unwrap it.
“What happened, June? Is it because I asked you to lie for me? About the alibi? I’ll say anything you want me to say. I’ll tell them again, of course, that it’s my fault.”
I want her to say something, to make it better, offer solutions, do the June thing, but she just stands there, her arms crossed over her chest. We’ve moved into the living room but she hasn’t invited me to sit down yet. I glance around the room. As always, her coffee table is messy, covered with homemaking magazines, opened recipe books, empty cups and glasses and small plates with a scattering of crumbs. June still hasn’t moved. And then it dawns on me.
She’s afraid of me.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I found the necklace, in my bag.”
Both hands fly to my mouth. “Oh, no. Oh, please, let me explain.”
