Raymond froze a moment, there on his knees, remembering them. The chocolate cake, and the way they had noticed how he’d seemed dispirited and tired. The way they had wanted to help, even though they didn’t know him. The way the teenage girl’s hand brushed against his hair as she placed the religious medal around his neck. The way the Spanish-speaking abuela had more or less suggested it would be a good idea for the girl to give the medal up for Raymond.
His hand came up and touched the medallion through his clean white dress shirt. He wondered briefly if his and Mrs. G’s cause was still hopeless. All he wanted was for Mrs. G to find some solace in the trial. And maybe some closure for himself. She had already made it clear that she anticipated finding no such thing.
He stuffed the paper deep into the front pocket of his good slacks and trotted downstairs to Mrs. G’s apartment.
“It’s me,” he called, after doing his special Raymond knock. Which was silly, because he had just done his special Raymond knock. Who else could it have been?
Then he let himself in with the key.
She was sitting on the couch, wearing a dark-blue dress and heavy black shoes, a patterned knitted shawl around her shoulders. She was clutching her purse tightly against herself. She did not look up or speak to him. She appeared to be lost in thought. She also looked deeply frightened, but Raymond chose not to say so.
“Would it be okay if I used your phone to make a very fast call?” he asked instead.
She didn’t answer in words. Just flipped her head in the direction of the old-fashioned landline telephone.
“If it turns out to be a toll call, I promise I’ll pay you back for it.”
She turned her face in his direction and sighed deeply.
“Oh, what does it matter, Raymond?”
That just hung in the air for a moment, as if Raymond could continue to listen to the words long after they had been spoken. The longer he listened, the more it sounded as though she were asking “What does anything matter?”
He didn’t know what to say or do about it, though. So he just pulled the scrap of paper out of his pocket and walked to the phone. Dialed the number. Well, punched the buttons for the number. It wasn’t literally a rotary dial. It wasn’t that old.
It rang and rang, then clicked over to voicemail.
Luis’s deep, booming voice invited him to leave a message.
“Hi,” he said. “It’s Raymond. Maybe you don’t remember me, but I was at your apartment last fall. Looking for a Luis Velez who turned out not to be you. I said I’d call when I found him, but I forgot. I’m sorry. But it was nice of you to want to know how it turned out. Well, everything about you was nice. So I wanted to let you know what I found out, even though it’s not a happy ending. Turns out Luis had . . . passed away. But anyway, I found his family, which is a good thing. And at least this way we know. So . . . you know. Just to tell you that. And to thank you again for being so nice.”
Raymond took a deep breath and replaced the receiver.
“We should go,” he said to Mrs. G.
“All right,” she said.
But she showed no signs of moving.
“Did you eat any breakfast?”
“I couldn’t stomach anything, no.”
“Would you eat a granola bar on the way if I gave you one?”
“For you, at least I would try.”
She shifted her weight forward in preparation for getting up, and Raymond hurried to her and held his arm out, placing one of her hands on it. He bore her weight as she rose to her feet.
It seemed to Raymond that every time he did so there was less of her weight to bear.
“Hey!” he said to her. “There’s Isabel!”
His voice sounded barely audible over the din of so many other voices.
They were in a hallway of the courthouse. It was three minutes until 9:00 a.m. The hallway was lined with doors to individual courtrooms. Apparently each courtroom had a trial scheduled, and each trial began in three minutes.
Men and women in business suits hurried along, some carrying briefcases, others wheeling cases of records that looked like a series of suitcases on wheels, only more heavy and complex. Uniformed officers and bailiffs herded groups of jurors. Everyone seemed to be talking about everything, and all at once.
Raymond had his right arm around Mrs. G’s shoulders for safety, his left hand gripping her elbow.
He raised a hand and caught Isabel’s eye. Then he looked back down at Mrs. G, and just in time.
A man wheeling cases behind him was passing far too close to her legs, and he veered suddenly to avoid a woman who almost slammed into him. The cart was headed fast for Mrs. G’s feet.