Blood Sugar(73)

She looked at me. And I felt like a schoolgirl. Hurt and shunned on the playground. But with life-and-death stakes instead of hopscotch hierarchy. I knew I could handle the judge, especially with Roman by my side, but seeing Jesula made me feel vulnerable. It was hard to keep up my guile. And then I saw a shift as her face turned mournful. She too was feeling vulnerable.

The judge beckoned for Roman and me to sit, and said this was all very irregular. But it was necessary. Jesula had come to see him, and she requested she be able to explain her behavior to me, in a formal setting. Roman and I sat in the two chairs that matched the room. And we both looked toward her.

Jesula’s voice was usually smooth and confident, even when it was quiet. But it cracked and sputtered as she said, “Ruby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t sure what was coming, so I just listened. And she told her story.

“Gertrude Hollander came to my apartment. She found out where I lived because she followed me home from your house one day. About three months ago. I didn’t know who she was. Since, why would I? She was very friendly. Said she was Jason’s mother and that she wanted to help me. I knew he didn’t talk to her, but I thought maybe she had something important to say. So I let her in.”

My stomach turned, and I was sure I could feel my telomeres quiver in disgust.

“After a few minutes, I saw she wasn’t friendly. She was an enemy. And I understood why Jason didn’t talk to her. But then, she offered me ten thousand dollars to exaggerate stories about you. To say you were unhappy with Jason. To say you had a nasty temper. To help convince people that you murdered him.” Jesula stopped talking for a moment. Her shame got the best of her, and she needed a breath.

She continued, “I said no way. That I would never lie about you. And that I would never lie in court, to the American government. I kicked her out of my apartment. I thought to call you, but you were under so much stress already. So I was going to keep it secret. But then she came back the next day. I didn’t answer my door. But she came back again. And she wouldn’t go away. And she threatened to make sure I was deported out of the USA and taken away from my son.” Jesula was devastated by the thought of it. “My son!”

I nodded, starting to understand.

“Gertrude told me since I was an illegal immigrant from Haiti that I had no real rights. Unless I did what she wanted, she would make sure I was dragged away and put in a detention camp for years. And I watch the news. I’m not dumb. I know this happens to people, to immigrants, every single day. I couldn’t, I couldn’t take the chance this would happen to me and my son. So I took her money and I told the lies.”

I looked at Roman, unsure what all this would ultimately mean. Behind his solemn expression was a tiny grin. So tiny only someone who knew his face as well as their own could see it.

Jesula continued, “And once I took her money, I couldn’t keep coming to your house. I couldn’t look at your face and pretend that I wasn’t doing a horrible thing to you behind your back. And after you got arrested, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I could barely live with myself. I took the bribe to protect my son, and our life together, but what kind of mother could I ever be to him knowing my lies caused you, a person who has always been so kind to me, to live the rest of her life in prison?”

Now that she had gotten it all out, she was able to look at me again. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. Please.” I had already forgiven her. The second I heard the name Gertrude. I knew that woman was evil and cunning and manipulative and intelligent. And could turn good people into her pawns.

“I do forgive you. And I’m sorry that my life brought that woman into yours.”

I stood and Jesula stood and we hugged. And the judge watched. And Roman watched. And time stood still. The judge then spoke, and started time again. He let me know that Jesula came to him to tell him everything. That the guilt was driving her mad and so she had to come forward, and she just hoped and prayed that no one would take away her son or deport her. The judge looked at her now, and assured her she would not be deported. And no one would take her son. I believed him. Because he was the world’s best grandpa.

Jesula’s story was easy for the judge’s clerks to confirm. Exactly $10,000 had in fact been taken out of Gertrude’s savings account, and later that day Jesula cashed a money order for the same amount. More money than she had ever had at one time in her life. Of course Gertrude denied the whole thing, claiming it was Jesula who approached her, begging for money. Saying she would tell the truth about me to the police, but it would mean losing her job with me, so she needed money to cover lost wages. Gertrude, a grieving mother, was happy to pay for such worthwhile and damning testimony.

Now that I had heard how Gertrude had strong-armed Jesula, my hurt at her betrayal was replaced by immense gratitude that she had come forward with the truth. My belief in my instincts, in knowing people and reading people correctly, was restored. Jesula did care about me. She was not a resentful enemy all those years. And now everyone involved could see what I already knew. That Gertrude was the real and only bad guy in all of this.

We all left the judge’s chambers. I was so elated that Jesula was an ally that I wanted to celebrate. With good food. Fuck it if people stared. They couldn’t hurt me any more than I was already hurt. I invited Jesula to join us for lunch, but she declined. She was exhausted from the lies and from the truth.