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I reach across the desk and put a hand on hers. “Maria. You came to me because you knew that I could do what you needed, and you wouldn’t have to worry anymore. I know that. But it’s not true that you had no-one else you could turn to. You made a choice.”
I fix her eye, steadily. “You could have dealt with that man yourself. It might have been hard. It could even have been dangerous, but you could have done it. He wasn’t all that, you know.”
She bites her lip and looks down. I tell her, “You could have talked to your daughter. What he was doing was wrong and she’s not to blame in any way. But she did have a choice. She could have removed herself from that situation.”
Maria’s brow pinches. I say, “It may have been hard, but there were a number of ways you could have dealt with it. You could have asked the police for help. Or another friend. But you came to me. You wanted to have it handled. You wanted it done. Neat and with your hands left clean. You had options and you made a choice.”
“I needed to be sure that my daughter was safe. That’s all. What’s wrong with that?”
“Of course you did. And nothing’s wrong with it. Only, you didn’t want to have to do it yourself. You could have been sure by making sure.” I tilt my head. “Did you just come to me straightaway, or did you think about it for a while first?”
She looks up, pleading. “No. I thought about it, Lucia. I did. I thought about it long and hard.”
“That’s what I thought. You knew what you were doing. What you were getting yourself into.”
“Lucia. I thought that because we were old friends…”
“You changed our relationship, Maria, not me. It was you who flipped us from being two old school friends into somebody who wanted something done, and the person who could do it for them. That was your choice, not mine. I never would have taken things that way. And, when you decided to ask, did you think about something you could do for me first, did you stop to consider what might be an appropriate way to repay me? No. Did you come to me with a proposal? No. You simply came and asked for a favor.”
I feel the warmth fall out of my voice now, as we finally come to finish the conversation that she started in the little diner where we met for coffee.
“You switched us from being friends into a client and a service provider, okay? That was your choice. Now, here’s the bill.”
As I stand, I tell her, “This is for someone I care very much about, too, Maria.”
In the Life, you do favors. All the time. And you never forget a favor.
Now I’m really starting to remember who I am.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
This hospital is an enormous maze. I wander, apparently endlessly and aimlessly down identical passageways that seem to go on forever, only to turn into dead ends that make you walk all the way back the way that you came.
Corridors and hallways lead anywhere and everywhere other than where you thought the signs were telling you to go. Right-angled twists and turns that make you re-trace your steps for miles every time you go astray. And all the walls and floors look exactly the same, yet no two floors are laid out in any way alike.
I’m convinced either that all of the doctors, nurses, orderlies and ancillaries are able to read the colored lines on the floor like they’re Hogwarts’ ancient runes that they learned and memorized since childhood or, perhaps more likely, they only ever visit the place where they work, the canteen, and their locker rooms, and everywhere else they’d be just as lost as I am.
While I meander, lost and angry, I try to piece together the words and pictures that have been coming into focus in my memory. Making connections. Feeling my way. Putting names to faces where I can. Picturing times and places. It still feels like mybrain is a Swiss cheese, with more holes and empty space than yummy protein.
The family and the business, I feel like I have that clear. Who I am in the big picture. Most of the details, though, are still a blurry haze. I have no clear idea what happened that I wound up getting kidnapped. And why?
Like, it’s not hard to imagine a million reasons why a woman in my position, a woman like me, would be a target. But I want to know the real reasons. Who did it. And why?
I need to find them. Because how else will I be able to repay them?
I stumble around like a blind person or what seems like hours, wishing I’d brought a bag of poppy seeds I could lay a trail with, or a loaf of bread that I could crumble. But that’s probably only because I’m so impatient and anxious to get things moving.
By the time I get back to Mikey’s room, Bruno is there. I can hear Diabolo’s tireless panting.
The fine cane corso lifts his head and tips it back, raising his paw, panting extra hard, and thumping the floor with his tail to show how pleased he is to see me, and to be here with Mikey. And he just happens to be straining his big brown eyes from slipping sideways to the ward sister, for no reason that need concern anyone.
As I step around the door, I’m just in time to see Sister Tharpe crouching to give him a bowl of water and a pat. As she begins to straighten up, she sees me and I’m sure that I see her hand, which was headed for her front pocket, take a detour to smooth the tunic over her thigh.
We make eye-contact and give each other nods that are so slight, I believe they would be undetectable to anyone but us, and we would deny them flat out and bare-faced.
And so, I am not aware of any treats that she might have in her pocket for doggies and if she did, they too would remain a secret to the grave, between her and Diabolo.
“Thanks so much, Sister,” Bruno shakes her hand and he favors her with a twinkle that I’m sure she will remember.
