“All right. Fine.” I breathed out, slowly. But I didn’t feel any calmer. “Who else might have suspected? If we’re eliminating all the people who actually know…”
“It could be anyone, really,” he said. “Anyone from the office might have looked at us and decided we seemed suspicious…who the hell knows, really. We both have a guilty conscience. I have no idea how something might have appeared to someone on the outside of the situation. God, what a nightmare.” He stopped, resting his head in his hands and raking his fingers through his hair. I knew how he felt. I was crawling out of my skin.
There was absolutely nothing I could say or do to comfort him, or myself. We both spent the rest of the afternoon absently Googling various things related to our predicament and wandering around the apartment, picking things up and putting them down again in random places. I sat in front of a blank sheet of paper for a while, charcoal in hand, but nothing came to me.
Late in the afternoon, the buzzer went off again. I don’t know why, but my heart leapt into my throat. Daniel hurried to answer it. Someone was delivering a package of some kind. I walked over, slowly, fists clenched.
Somehow, I knew, even before he looked up at me and I saw the hunted look in his eyes.
“What is it?” I reached out, and although he didn’t extend it to me, he didn’t try to pull it away.
It had come in a certified mail envelope. It was a single sheet of paper, typewritten.
I took it.
I’m sorry. I did what I did in anger, and I shouldn’t have done it, but it can’t be undone now.
I told the immigration people what you did.
You can imagine how I felt when I heard you were going out with her, of all people. I didn’t think it through, I just wanted to lash out, and I wish I hadn’t. When I found out it was fake, I couldn’t believe my luck at first, and I acted on my first instinct. It was a terrible idea. I’m sorry.
I don’t know if they will have contacted you by now, so I’m not sure if this is a warning, or just an apology. I hope that you can convince them I lied about you two. It shouldn’t be too hard. I’m sure I’ll get in trouble, but I’m not sure that I care anymore.
If you’re wondering how I knew, you might want to consult Mr. Wegman. He’s got a weakness for blondes, and he doesn’t lock up his papers very carefully at night when he’s been drinking. If I were you, I’d find a new lawyer.
I’m so sorry, darling. I couldn’t help it.
All my love,
Flo
“Florence?” I said, disbelieving. I looked up at him.
His face said everything I really needed to know.
“We were…” he hesitated for a long moment. “…involved…years ago. The breakup wasn’t…it was ugly. Neither one of us conducted ourselves well, I think. When she came to me later looking for work, I had my second thoughts of course…but I felt bad for how I’d treated her during that time; how could I turn her down when she needed my help?” He squeezed his eyes shut, still processing the whole thing. “And I suppose…I suppose…” His eyes flew open. “Christ. Wegman. I have to go over there - I have to make him burn the contract. Immediately. I have to…”
“Please don’t kill him,” I said, only half in jest.
“You think I want to add murder one to my already considerable list of crimes?” He grabbed his jacket and keys. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Just - don’t.”
Alone with my thoughts after he slammed the door behind him, I tried to imagine what kind of bitterness would lead someone to do what Florence did. I never would have counted her among my close friends, but it was still a shock to the system that she had the capacity to do something like that.
I lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, until Daniel got home. He looked exhausted. He threw his keys on the table and came over to the sofa, collapsing next to my feet.
“I’m sorry I never told you,” he said. “About me and Flo. I didn’t think it would matter.”
“You couldn’t have known,” I said. I wasn’t angry with him. Why should I expect him to tell me that he’d once dated her? What difference did it make? It wasn’t like we were in a relationship, or anything crazy like that.
I felt gnawed-out and empty inside. All my life, I’d run up against little stumbling blocks - annoyances, really - small things that felt much bigger at the time, but were ultimately solvable, more or less. But this was different. I’d never grappled with a problem that was truly bigger than I was. This was no overdue utility payment or busted transmission. This was a potential felony charge, this was five years in prison. This was my life, changed forever. And not in the way I’d signed on for.