Not Ava Schultz but the manager, a man named Dwyer to whom you’d never spoken before. Dwyer is harsh, disgusted. Informing you that Orlando Metti has accused you of stealing from his apartment. He claims that you took jewelry, articles of clothing, money. Unless you give it back he will call the police and press charges.

You wonder if this is a joke. But no, Dwyer is panting on the phone. No joke.

Weakly you protest: Metti gave you gifts. All those items were gifts.

He’d given you a car, too. A Honda Civic. (But Metti isn’t accusing you of stealing the car, at least.)

Disgusted Dwyer commands you to come to the Agency and bring the “gifts” with you.

In the Honda Civic you drive to Maid Brigade Agency. You have brought with you the gifts your lover gave you in the first flush of his desire for the sorrowful virgin/Madonna: turquoise bead necklace, gold-plated bracelet with the tricky clasp, earrings that match the bracelet, gorgeous red silk scarf by Yves Saint Laurent.

You are uncertain what to do about the money Metti gave you over several months. You have never added it up but believe it must be nearly a thousand dollars, most of it spent in the effort of keeping yourself alive and the rest set aside to send to Ethel Johnson next February.

Have the bills been gifts, or tips?—impossible to know which might be which by the time of the breakup.

Damned if you will return tips to that man. These tips you have earned on your feet and on your back.

Deeply embarrassed, you lay the gift-items out on a counter for Dwyer to contemplate. Each object is clearly expensive, of high quality. You’d been thrilled to receive each, at the time. You’d worn the turquoise necklace most frequently, at the university; the other fancier items you’d worn solely in Metti’s company, which pleased him.

In fact, if you didn’t wear something Metti had given you, sulkily he’d ask why.

Does Dwyer believe you? Are these the first accusations Orlando Metti has brought against one of his cleaning women? With childlike vehemence you insist—I did not steal these things! I did not.

Yet you worry, your vehemence is not convincing. A truly innocent girl would be more crushed, perhaps. Wounded.

Since Dwyer is damned angry with you, he is in no hurry to give you the benefit of the doubt. No good reason for him to take your side in a disagreement with a customer. You will not be asked to work for the Agency again, but Orlando Metti is a valued customer.

Very embarrassing to concede to Dwyer, who questions you closely, that yes, you’d become “involved with” the client.

“Involved with”—what’s that? Slept with him?

Mortifying! The skin on your face seems to be contracting with shame.

Yes, you’d been warned. Very clearly you’d been warned. Naively you had not listened.

Impossible to claim—But I was in love with him. I thought.