The lollipop must be from her, I thought. But I was confused about why she was sending this to me now. Was it a secret message? Or a sign? She had avoided me ever since our hug in the judge’s office. As I searched for an answer, I also searched the box. And found a note inside that had fallen underneath the sea of tissue. It read, “Ask Roman.”
I called him immediately. After a pause, he said he did feel there had been enough time and distance to tell me the whole truth. “What whole truth!?” He wouldn’t say over the phone. Leaving me to wonder in my nondescript week-to-week rental apartment until his flight arrived at LAX. He only had an hour to talk. Then had to turn around and go right back to DC. So I met him in baggage claim. It felt fitting.
We sat on a row of plastic airport chairs and watched as travelers impatiently waited for their luggage to spin around on the metal centipede. He explained to me that he set everything up in regard to Jesula and Gertrude. I was stunned, but also, at the same time, not surprised. He left nothing to chance, ever, not even a friendly game of Trivial Pursuit. Not even a college midterm. Why should he have to study for a test when the answers already existed in the world, available for the taking? Why not guarantee success? Maybe this was cheating, but to him, it was also a much better use of his time and a surefire way to win. So of course he never left my own fate up to chance either.
Roman told me that he knew Jesula was on our side from the moment he interviewed her. He interviewed almost everyone who had ever met me, to get a sense of who was truly my friend and who was not on my side. And his instincts about people in this regard were spot-on. He knew how to bring out people’s true feelings, and then use those feelings as leverage one way or the other.
It was Jesula, following Roman’s instructions to the letter, who did in fact first approach Gertrude for money. Roman used Gertrude’s own evilness against her, knowing that although it was illegal and unethical, she would be more than happy to pay for the testimony that would take me down. Had Gertrude refused to pay and reported this wrongdoing immediately, Roman’s plan would not have worked. But in the game of justice, using one person’s bad character to your advantage is just as important as using another person’s good character.
Money in hand, Jesula then said all those nasty things about me and my marriage to the grand jury, only so she would later be able to take them back. Roman had her build up the strength of the opposition’s case so she could then tear it down. He was in control all along, knowing that when Jesula stepped forward and admitted her lies to the judge, the prosecutor’s plan of attack would crumble. Roman kept me in the dark about all this because he had to make sure none of it could ever come back on me. Jesula played her role impeccably, knowing it would devastate me in the short term, but was worth it in order to save me in the long run.
Roman confirmed my belief that Jesula was in fact a United States citizen. He made sure of it before he put his plan into action. So that if his plan somehow backfired, she would never actually be in danger of being deported. If she was pressed, her citizenship was something she could easily pretend she was confused about. She could claim Gertrude scared her, telling her lies about poor Black immigrants being shipped away. Jesula was so often overlooked because she was a Haitian maid who spoke English with a thick accent, and she was thrilled to finally have a chance to use this usual disadvantage to her advantage and help me, because I was the one person who had never overlooked her.
Roman told me that package was a sign. Jesula’s decision to be the pawn that would save my future all came down to a lollipop. I couldn’t believe such a small gesture, so many years ago, would pave the way for her to feel such loyalty. And as Roman spoke, quietly yet still audibly over the din of the hordes of people picking up loads of baggage, I thought about my gesture of covering for him in college. Two people who had never met before had acted together to protect me when I needed it, because I was good to them. It was my kindness that saved me in the long run, not my cunning.
I sent Jesula a package back. No return address. Just a stuffed kangaroo. It was in this way that we communicated secretly for years. I would eventually use some of the money from Jason’s life insurance policy, which was paid out to me once all the charges were dropped, to set up a college fund for Jesula’s son. By the time he was a senior in high school, there would be enough for a private college education and graduate school if he so chose. If not, it would sit and accrue interest, and once he turned thirty and was mature enough to make good decisions, the money would be his to use as he pleased. I could never overtly thank Jesula for what she had done for me. Roman advised against that, legally. But there were other ways I could show my deep appreciation. Jesula helped to give me a better future; it seemed right that I help give her son a better future to return the favor.
CHAPTER 53
AUNT
I watched Mr. Cat lounge in the dry warmth of the West Coast sun while my niece, Molly, played pretend under the shade of the avocado tree. Ellie and I pooled our finances and together had the money to buy a spacious, airy four-bedroom house in Santa Monica. I was close enough to the beach to feel sort of a sense of home. But I would never get used to having the ocean on the wrong side.
Just like when we were kids, Ellie and I once again slept under the same roof. Sometimes through the walls I could hear her cry at night, but this time I knew it was healthy and cathartic and I wasn’t worried about her in the long term.
I took the California state licensing boards and passed, so I could slowly start to rebuild my psychology practice. I liked my new office. It was three blocks from the Pacific Ocean. And I didn’t need an orchid because right outside the window was a giant bright pink bougainvillea. I could ask my very first West Coast patient, Jennifer B., to describe the color, the shape, the movement of the flowers. And when I wasn’t working, I made time for my new hobby, hiking.
As I stood on the edge of a canyon, wearing my trail shoes and long-sleeve wicking top, items I never would have dreamed of owning in Miami, I remembered Alisha telling me that some people are afraid of heights for fear they might fling themselves off into the abyss. I had no desire to do this, but my closeness to the drop did make my hiking partner, Ameena, extremely uncomfortable.
She barked at me like I was one of her sons. “Hey! Too close! Get away from there.” I appreciated that she cared, so I stepped back from the precipice.
Ameena was in LA a lot because of conferences. She of course had followed my legal horrors, and never for a second believed any of it, but she couldn’t leave her kids and her wife and her job again so soon after taking a full week off to come to my wedding and another full week off to come to Jason’s funeral. So she had not seen me in a long time. She was my only friend, other than Roman, who stood by me through it all.
We hiked for at least five miles and covered every topic from hairstyles to reincarnation. She asked if I had considered dating again. I said, “Not yet.”
Then she said, sort of wistfully, “I always thought you would end up with him, you know?”
I didn’t know. “Him who?”
“Roman.”