“Oh,” she said. “I don’t want to take it off. It’s keeping my head warm.”
A car in the driveway and it was the cops. But I was crazy. It wasn’t the cops. Chuck or the boys had forgotten something at home and they’d come back to get it.
The woman on the screen: “It ravages you. It takes everything you have. I hate chemo.”
Footsteps up the stairs. Onto the lanai. Two pairs of feet. The boys.
Ana, who was facing the door, looked up. The way she smiled. The way she said, “Welcome.”
I turned.
I froze.
“Hello,” I said, because it seemed like my turn to speak. Rapid-fire heartbeat in my ears. I took my foot off her lap and went to the door.
One was young, one was old. They stood in the same way, with their hands on their hips. Their navy-blue uniforms seemed out of place in this tropical palette. They wore reflective sunglasses, so I couldn’t see their eyes. It was just me, in four oval lenses, reflected back in miniature.
“Please.” I swallowed. “Come in.”
“With shoes, it’s okay?” the young one asked.
“Oh sure, yes. Yes, it’s fine, yes.” Don’t be awkward. Stay calm. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“I’m Bailey,” the young one said. He was Hawaiian. Buzz cut. Friendly voice.
“Crowley,” the old one said. Angular body. Wild eyebrows. He scared me more.
I put my hands in the pockets I didn’t have, rubbed my legs instead. “Nice to meet you both.” I shook their hands like a sweet little housewife. My palms were clammy. Theirs were dry.
“We’re here because we’re looking for someone,” the young one said.
“Ana Gersh,” the scary one said.
“That’s me!” Ana said from the couch. She waved. “Hello! Hi!”
Gersh? I thought her name was Ana Stevenson.
“Hello!” The young one sounded too excited.
“What can I do for you, officers?” she purred.
“We found one of your tarot cards,” the scary one said.
The young one held up a plastic bag. Inside was the card, partially covered in dirt.
I saw her eyes spin and then settle. “I looked better with my real hair.” She pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders hesitantly, like she was in pain, like every time she moved it hurt. Then she looked at each of them separately. I watched her gain their sympathy, or try. “I’m dying of cancer,” she whispered.
“What was that?” the scary one asked, emotionless, which terrified me.
Ana looked at me. Then the cops looked at me. “She’s dying of cancer,” I repeated for them.
“Sorry to hear that, ma’am,” the scary one said.
“How did you find me?” Ana asked. Her puppy dog eyes.
“Guy who made this card for you told us where you were,” the young one said.
“Hard lady to track down,” the scary one said.
“Me?” Ana’s hand on her heart. She was overdoing it.
“Your old landlady told us you were up here on Kaloko,” the young one said.
“Saw your car from the road,” the scary one said. “Hard to miss.”
I watched this exchange with wired eyes. Sweat was collecting on my hairline. I would have to wipe it soon and that would look bad. It would look like guilt.
“What’s the relation here?” the scary one asked. “You sisters?”
“No,” I said too loud.
The scary one looked at me. He looked at Ana. “You wear the same necklace.”
“We’re soul mates,” Ana said. Her hand on her stomach but she wasn’t wincing yet. Like she was getting ready for the pain.
“Either of you ladies know Peter Tackman?” The scary one looked at Ana, and then he looked at me.
I didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“Oh,” Ana said, as if she’d just remembered, “the guy who died, yeah? I think I saw him on the news.”
The way she said yeah at the end of that sentence. She was speaking their lingo, the lingo of Hawaii. She was trying to appeal to them.
“Any idea why he would have this card in his wallet?” the scary one asked.
Ana shrugged. “He must have come to the tarot stand,” she said. “Peter. I don’t know if I remember a Peter. Nan, do you remember a Peter?”
Abruptly, like a hiccup, I said, “No.”
“Wait,” Ana said, “I think I do remember. Did he chew toothpicks?”
“Yes, he did, ma’am,” the young one said, too excited again.
“Did you give this card to him?” the scary one asked.
Ana shook her head. She didn’t look worried at all. “No,” she said. “He must have stolen it. Which card is it, out of curiosity?”
The young one lifted the baggie to inspect.
But the scary one already knew the answer. “Wheel of Fortune,” he said. “I looked it up this morning. Means something about turning points. I wouldn’t consider that a lead.”
“No,” Ana said certainly, like she was his partner. “I wouldn’t consider that a lead either.”
A long pause. I stayed completely still. Ana rubbed her belly. The scary one reached for his belt and this was it, this was the moment. The cuffs and we need to take you in for questioning and it’s over now.
“Well,” the scary one said, scratching his back. “We probably wouldn’t have come to find you if this man had had more in his wallet. But there was only a credit card and this card of yours. Seemed strange.” He set his hand on his waist. “But neither of you ladies knew Peter?”
We shook our heads.
He glanced at my necklace, then at Ana’s. “Most likely a hit-and-run,” he said.
The young one nodded at his mentor. “Happens too much on these winding roads up here.”
“We need more signs. We’re working on it.” The scary one patted his chest. “Well, you two be careful on the road.”
“Absolutely, Officer,” Ana said, a little seductively.
“And sorry you’re sick. You take care of yourself, Ms. Gersh,” the young one said.
Her name was Ana Gersh.
“My soul mate’s taking care of me.” Ana winked at me.
“Mahalos,” the young one said.
“Bye now,” the scary one said.
We waited in silence until they had driven away. Ana lay back on the couch. She didn’t take her eyes off me. Feeling returned to my fingers. I wiped the sweat from my hairline.
“Gersh?”
“It’s my old name.”
“How many names do you have?”
“Names mean nothing, Nan.”
“You broke your promise,” I said. “You didn’t confess.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nan.”
“You said you would confess.”
“Please. You didn’t confess either.” Her dark eyes tightening.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, my voice hollow.
She set her finger on her cheek. “You sure about that?”
“Yes,” I fired back before I had time to think.
Ana tapped her lips. “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
The keys on the key ring. My purse by the door. I could leave now. I could be free from her.
Ana pulled the blanket off her shoulders. “You know what I just realized?”
I was already at the door. “I’m leaving.”
“This secret?” she boomed.
“I’m leaving!” I yelled, searching frantically through the pile of shoes.
“This secret binds you to me!”