“Don’t rule it out.”
“Okay, enough about my digestive system.” I took a sip of my tea and winced as it burned my tongue. “Let’s do a thought experiment.”
“Okay?”
“What would you do if you were sent to prison?”
“Hm, for how long?”
“I don’t know. Let’s say until you’re thirty. So like eight or nine years.”
“A typical manslaughter sentence.”
“Yes, exactly.” I paused. “Wait, how did you know that?”
“I don’t know. True crime documentaries?”
“Right. Okay. Yeah, let’s say eight or nine.”
“Well, I’d probably try to spend a good portion of that time thinking about the people I hurt and how I would want to do better when I was out.”
I rolled my eyes. “I more meant, what would you do to get your life back together?”
“Hm,” she said. “Well, I think prisons have programs like theater and stuff, right? So I’d just try to join all the activities that I could. Keep my head low, come out with a clean record. Why are you asking? Are you planning to commit manslaughter?”
“Commit manslaughter and get caught, you mean.”
“Ha. Yeah. I mean, if you don’t get caught, then technically you’d just go on living life as usual. Honestly though, if you were ever arrested, I’d still bet on you somehow turning it into an advantage. Like I’d still bet on you being way more successful than the average person, even with a felony under your belt.”
I laughed. “How so?”
“I mean, come on, you’re you. You’d probably uncover some secret talent in prison and then come out of it as a huge success story. You’d go on all those daytime talk shows as the famous convict-turned-polyglot and sell your life rights or something. You always said you wanted to learn a bunch of languages but just never had the time, right?”
“That’s actually really comforting to hear.”
“So why do you ask? Are you planning to rob a bank or something?”
“No, I—” I was about to come up with a lie, but I felt like I was collapsing under the weight of all the information I had been withholding from the people I cared about the most. I was exhausted, as though I actually had the stomach flu. I found myself telling Eunjin about the police stopping by my dorm and bringing me in for questioning, the fear and claustrophobia I felt in that small little room. But I held myself back from mentioning anything about Laura. I pretended that I was only worried about getting charged for illegally purchasing Klonopin.
“Oh my god, Elizabeth,” Eunjin said. “What the fuck? Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe because I was ashamed? I’m not sure. But I’m fine now. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m fine.”
“Should you get a lawyer?”
I shook my head, then remembered that she couldn’t see me. “Not yet. If they actually charge me, then yes, but not yet.”
“That’s still terrifying though. Oh my god. I hope you’re okay.”
Just then, Alex arrived in Eunjin’s room. They were here to pick up some of their things. Alex asked how we were. I considered lying, but I was overcome with the relief of confessing at least a portion of my worries to Eunjin, and I wasn’t ready to let go of that relief. I repeated everything about the questioning from the police and the Klonopin.
“Jesus, Elizabeth. That’s terrible,” Alex said. “But I agree that it doesn’t seem like they’re trying to charge you or anything. I think they really were just looking for evidence on Emily. And you said that they let you go after you said the Venmo transaction had been for pizza, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Yeah, so they were definitely bluffing. I bet that’s the account she uses for those transactions so that’s why they called you in, but there’s no way they can prove that that transaction was for drugs.”
“I just think it’s weird though,” Eunjin said. “Like, if you aren’t the one who committed the big crime they care about, why would they go through the trouble of stopping by your dorm and literally bringing you into the station?”
