By Monday morning, June had written a statement short enough to dislike every word separately.
She sent it to Ruby, not for permission, but so Ruby wouldn't be surprised.
Ruby called.
“Can you put in that you know me?”
“It says I'm your friend.”
“Eight years. That matters.”
June sat on the end of her bed with her shoes still in her hands.
“I don't want people thinking eight years means I can confirm a dinner I wasn't at.”
“You were at my actual dinner.”
“That's the problem.”
Ruby was silent. June heard a door closing on her end of the call.
“Could you say the story comes from real hurt?” Ruby asked.
“I'm saying you experienced real hurt. That's what I know.”
“It sounds so distant.”
“It's the thing I can say.”
Ruby let out a long breath. “All right.”
June put the shoes on after the call. She read the statement once more, then posted it.
Ruby is my friend, and I know she experienced real hurt. Eli was not her boyfriend. I cannot confirm the events described in the video, and I haven't claimed to. Please don't use my friendship with Ruby to treat those events as confirmed.
She put the phone down and left for work.
For the first half of the morning she didn't look at it. She served coffee, found a ticket that had fallen into the gap behind the counter, and told somebody the film she wanted was next Wednesday. Ordinary questions were welcome. They had answers that stayed answered.
At lunch, she told Nina about Eli.
“He was a paid stand-in,” she said. “That earlier clip made him recognizable. He says she was meant to explain it was scripted if people went after him.”
Nina put down her fork.
“Paid?”
“Yes. I've spoken to both of them. They weren't together.”
“And Ruby really was upset about somebody?”
“Yes. I checked that with the person. I'm not naming him.”
“So a dramatized piece about hurt, with a man performing a part.”
“That's how it looks to me. Not a list of things I can vouch for.”
Nina nodded. “I've read what you wrote. You didn't vouch for them.”
June picked at the edge of the lunch packet. “I'm hoping people read it.”
“Some will. Some read signs that say exit and ask if that's the exit.”
June laughed. Nina picked up her fork again.
That afternoon Eli sent her a message. A few people have backed off. My sister says thank you. So do I.
June asked if he was all right. He replied that he had had a conversation with an old colleague which hadn't included being called disgusting. He counted that as progress.
She smiled at the phone. There were replies to her statement that she didn't want to read, including one asking why she thought she was entitled to speak for other women. But someone else had thanked her for making the relationship part clear. Ruby had shared it.
For once, June felt she had found a way through without losing everybody. Sam's name was still private. Eli was no longer simply the man Ruby had accused. Ruby's hurt had not been dismissed as nothing.
When Ruby rang after work, June answered.
“You did it,” Ruby said.
“I said what I know.”
“I know. Thank you.”
June stood at her kitchen window, looking at the lit windows across the street.
“I wanted people to stop doing that to him,” she said.
“Of course.”
“And I didn't want them telling you you weren't allowed to be upset.”
Ruby's voice softened. “I knew you would understand once you knew.”
June didn't answer that. She asked whether Ruby was home, and Ruby told her about the bus driver who had waited while she ran.
They talked for ten minutes about things that hadn't been in the statement. When June hung up, her shoulders had come down from where she had been holding them all day.