Page 112 of Someone Else's Shoes
And then, before the sense of panic can set in, her phone pings.
Yes this is still my number
Juliana.
33
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’ Nisha swallows. ‘Thank you for picking up.’
‘It’s fine. I’m just … surprised. How are you?’
Juliana’s voice is polite, wary. The way she used to speak to their employers, all the Brooklyn girl ironed out for something professional, somethingacceptable.She remembers how Carl used to talk about Juliana, how Nisha shouldn’t be hanging out with a maid now they were married, how she was too coarse, too uneducated, a bad influence, his fury when she insisted Juliana was to be Ray’s godmother, instead of one of his moneyed friends. What he meant, she understood now, was that Juliana was simplytoo poor.
‘I – Listen. I don’t know how much credit I have on this phone. But I have a favour to ask.’
Juliana’s voice hardens. ‘Right.’
‘Look, I know I don’t deserve to ask you anything, but it’s about your godson. It’s Ray.’
‘Ray? Is he okay?’ Juliana’s tone switches immediately.
‘Not really. I know it’s been a long time and it’s a big ask but I need someone I trust to check on him. I’m stuck in England – it’s a long story – and he’s … Juliana, he’s really low. He’s had some big problems and some of them are my fault and I – I need someone I trust to see him. To just – I don’t know – tell him I’m coming. Tell him it’s going to be okay.’
There is a long pause.
‘Tell me where he is.’
‘You’ll do it?’
‘You have to ask?’
And then Nisha is crying. The tears come out of nowhere, tears of relief, of guilt and release. She covers her face with her other hand, trying to wipe them away, to get her voice under control. ‘Really? You’d do that? After all this?’
‘Text me the address. I’ll go straight to him once I’ve finished work.’
‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’ Nisha cannot stop. She is shaking.
‘Will he know who I am?’
‘Yes. We still talk about you.’
‘I still think about him. All the time. Sweet boy.’
Nisha screws her eyes shut, her shoulders heaving as she tries to gather herself, to hide the emotion in her voice. They discuss a few details, so that Juliana has an idea of where she’s headed, what she might expect. She tells her – in bursts – that she is no longer with Carl. That she is doing everything she can to get back to her son. Juliana tells her in turn that she is married now. Two children, eleven and thirteen. The fact that these seismic things have happened in Juliana’s life and Nisha knows nothing of them causes something in her to constrict painfully. And then a recorded message tells her she has almost reached her credit limit.
‘I’ll text you, okay?’ Juliana says. ‘Once I’ve seen him.’
The feeling of relief is overwhelming. Juliana will do what she says she’ll do. The most honest, the most straightforward person she has ever met. And then the tears come again.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Nisha says abruptly. ‘You were right. About everything. I’ve made such a mess. I missed you so much. I just got swept up in everything. I’ve wanted to call you so many times. I’m so, so sorry.’
There is a long silence. She wonders, briefly, whether she shouldn’t have gone there. What right has she to ask anythingof Juliana after all? But when Juliana’s voice comes back on the line, it is thick with emotion. ‘Me too. I’m here, baby. Okay? I’m going to go see your boy.’
Sam leaves Andrea’s, where she had ended up sleeping, and walks the short distance home through the quiet morning streets. Her head is still buzzing with the conversations she and Andrea had the previous evening, the shocked acknowledgement of what she had been harbouring under her feet. It made them laugh out loud – the randomness of it – ‘Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes’! – but every time Sam thinks about the kind of man Nisha had been married to it makes her think of Phil. His kindness. His tenderness towards her. The insane idea that Phil would ever care so little for her that he’d have made her do something like that. She had seen this understanding dawn on Nisha’s face while everyone else had been excited about her haul – and what Sam had seen, unnoticed by anyone else, had been sad, and ugly, the final insult on an already steaming pile.
After they left, she and Andrea had sat in Andrea’s little front room until the small hours, high on adrenalin and conversation, and she had finally told Andrea about Phil leaving. Andrea had hugged her and said he would be back, of course he would. Sam checks her phone again, wondering whether to text him, but it’s early in the morning and she has no idea what to say. Or how honest to be. She wants things to be back to the way they were, when they had felt like a team. When it had felt like she was married to her best friend, before his dad got sick and he lost his job and she developed a crush on the one person who was listening to her. Was that even a reasonable thing to ask? Was it possible to resurrect a marriage when so much damage had been done?
