Yelena

"Y

ou sewed the gown for Dratler?”

I nodded. My knees were shaking, I had to sit.

Yocheved’s eyes narrowed. “Can you… explain?” Her voice was low. Eerie.

“She asked me—” I swallowed. “She asked me, after she canceled — she was desperate. I said no at first, I refused.”

Yocheved was quiet, listening. My throat constricted.

“She begged me,” I blurted out. “I was under a lot of pressure. The whole… Anuradha, the lace for Kohlman. I-I’m sorry. It was wrong, a big mistake.”

“One minute, Yelena, I’m trying to understand. Where does Anuradha come in? And the Kohlmans? I’m confused.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all.” What was I saying? Why did I mention those names? What was Yocheved doing in my house? This was a nightmare. I couldn’t breathe.

But Yocheved didn’t seem angry. She was shaking her head, her forehead creased. “No, please, Yelena. Tell me the truth. I need to understand.”

Why did she need to hear this? To torture me?

And then it clicked. Mina. She was angry at her sister, about her daughter’s gown. This was not about me.

I breathed again and stood up. “Look, Yocheved, let me explain. Mina really, really did nothing wrong. Her Shevy, she’s friends with Dratler’s daughter, right? She bought the gown from her without knowing that I sewed it. The Dratlers didn’t tell her, I never told her, either. It was too…”

Yocheved twisted her lips. “I understand.”

It was quiet again. Yocheved raked fingers through her wig. She leaned back, her eyes sweeping the room, taking in the ripped couch, the lonely bulb on the ceiling. “Yelena, can I ask you a question?”

I nodded.

“Do you — are you having a hard time, financially? Is money tight?”

My skin tingled. So she’d seen the fridge. Probably noticed the ripped upholstery on the dinette chairs, the rotting linoleum on the kitchen floor. Heat rose in my cheeks. This was humiliating, it was worse than getting fired, worse than…

But suddenly, I didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore, everything had crashed, my whole life was a mess. I started talking, faster and faster, spilling everything. I told her about Mama, and Anna, about Benish and his cooking, about computer-scientist Moriz and cheap bananas, about trying to earn extra money with private work, about Olga’s help and Anzel’s surprise.

Yocheved listened quietly. My hands were shaking, my pulse raced.

I gazed at her, trying to read her face, but it was blank. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Tell me about Anuradha.”