Chương 4
Another.
Freya was visiting.
Leo carried my mug into the living room and kept his thumb over the rim.
That memory opened something else.
"Once he spilled it."
Ruiz looked up.
"When?"
"Maybe April."
"On you?"
"No."
"Where?"
"In the sink."
"Accidentally?"
"I thought so."
"What happened?"
"Freya picked up my mug."
Ruiz stopped writing.
"Why?"
"She thought it was hers."
"And Leo?"
"He knocked it out of her hand."
"Knocked it?"
"He hit the bottom of it."
I could see the tea splashing across the stainless-steel sink.
Freya swearing.
Leo laughing too loudly.
He said he had slipped while reaching for a dish towel.
Freya told him he was an idiot.
Then he made me another cup.
I had forgotten the whole thing.
Not forgotten exactly.
Filed it under nothing.
"What did he say afterward?" Ruiz asked.
"That it was too hot."
"For his mother?"
"Yes."
Ruiz looked down at her notes.
She did not need to say anything.
I covered my mouth.
The room tilted even though I was lying flat.
"If he knew."
Ruiz waited.
"If he knew she couldn't drink it."
My voice sounded distant.
"What does that mean?"
"It means we should find out."
"No."
I shook my head.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Talk like there's still a chance this is normal."
Her face softened, but not into pity.
"Judith, I don't know yet what happened."
"I think I do."
"You know pieces."
"He poisoned me."
"Possibly."
"Repeatedly."
"Possibly."
"For five months."
"Possibly."
I stared at her.
She held my gaze.
Her refusal to give me certainty felt cruel for three seconds.
Then I understood she was protecting the difference between fear and evidence.
Leo had spent months erasing that difference.
Ruiz would not.
A nurse came in to check my IV.
Neither of us spoke while she flushed the line.
The nurse asked whether I wanted lunch.
I almost laughed.
"What is it?"
"Turkey sandwich or pasta."
"That's the choice?"
"Hospitality is not our core business."
The laugh escaped before I could stop it.
It came out sharp and wrong.
The nurse smiled anyway.
"Pasta?"
"Sure."
When she left, Ruiz closed her notebook.
"Do you have somewhere else to stay when you're discharged?"
"My sister lives in Baltimore."
"Is that close enough for your medical follow-up?"
"I don't know."
"Anyone local?"
I thought of friends I had stopped seeing because every visit became difficult afterward.
Leo complained that Melissa was nosy.
He said Dana drank too much.
He said my old coworker Hannah flirted with married people, although I had never seen Hannah flirt with anyone except a bartender who gave her free olives.
Each friendship had become a small argument until staying home felt easier.
"No."
Ruiz nodded as if she had expected that.
"We can connect you with an advocate."
"I don't need a shelter."
"I didn't say shelter."
"I have a house."
"Right now, police are processing that house."
The words landed harder than they should have.
Our house.
The narrow brick place we had bought after three months of losing bidding wars.
The crooked pantry door I kept meaning to fix.
The pear tree in back that had never produced a decent pear.
The bedroom where Leo had slept beside me while whatever was happening to my body got worse.
"Can I go back there?"
"Not today."
"Later?"
"Maybe."
The answer made me angry.
It was easier than being afraid.
"That's my home."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
Ruiz let the irritation pass through the room.
Then she stood.
"You're right."
I looked away.
She put her notebook in her pocket.
"For what it's worth, anger is useful."
"I'm not angry."
"Okay."
"I am."
"Also okay."
"I hate when people say that."
A small corner of her mouth moved.
"Noted."
After she left, I called my sister.
Mara answered on the fourth ring.
She was nine years younger than me and had never learned to say hello without sounding suspicious.
"What happened?"
I started crying before I could speak.
"Judy?"
I hated Judy.
Only she called me that.
"Can you come?"
Her voice changed instantly.
"Where are you?"
"St. Vincent."
"What happened?"
"I can't move my legs."
There was silence.
Then a sound like something hitting a countertop.
"What?"
"And Leo might have poisoned me."
Another silence.
This one lasted longer.
"Say that again."
"I don't want to."
"I'm getting my keys."
"Mara."
"What?"
"Don't call him."
"Why would I call him?"
"Don't post anything."
"I wasn't going to post anything."
"Don't tell Mom yet."
"Judith."
"Please."
She exhaled.
"Fine."
"And drive normally."
"I'm hanging up now."
"Mara."
"What?"
"I mean it."
"I know."
She disconnected.
Twenty minutes later she texted me a photograph of her speedometer at sixty-five.
Under it she wrote, HAPPY?
I stared at the screen until I smiled.
Then Leo called again.
This time I answered.
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
His breathing came through the phone.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"At the station."
"Are you arrested?"
"No."
"Did you poison me?"
He inhaled slowly.
"Judith."
"Did you?"
"You need to be careful what you say."
I looked at my useless legs beneath the blanket.
"That's your answer?"
"No, it's not my answer."
"Then answer."
"You don't understand what's happening."
"Explain it."
"I can't over the phone."
"Why?"
"Because they're twisting everything."
"Who?"
"The police."
"What are they twisting?"
He went silent.
I could hear voices somewhere behind him.
A door closed.
Then he said, quieter, "My mother did something stupid."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"What did she do?"
"I don't know everything yet."
"You just said she did something."
"She was trying to help."
"Help who?"
Another pause.
"Me."
The word entered the room and stayed there.
I sat perfectly still.
"With what?"
"Judith, listen to me."
"No."
"Please."
"With what?"
His voice dropped further.
"We had financial problems."
I looked toward the window.
Cars moved along the street seven floors below.
May you like
Tiny people crossed at the light.
The world continued.
