Hush Hush by Laura Lippman Page B

truths. Because if we don’t, others will speak them for us and we will look as if we’re trying to be duplicitous. False.
PW:
 
Sometimes you sound just like that preacher. Not the same words, you understand. But the way you say things.
HB:
 
Well, I’m not saying you have to do anything. I’m just explaining why things need to be done a certain way.
PW:
 
Is there a difference between those two things?
HB:
 
I think so, yes. I’m just telling you what Melisandre wants. Your friend, Melisandre.
PW:
 
My friend. Yeah. Okay. I took a kitchen knife and I stabbed my baby. More than once. She bled to death. [Walks o/c] I’m going to need a minute, okay? You might think it gets easier to say that. But it gets harder. Every time. It gets fucking harder, okay?
HB:
 
Camera going off here.
HB:
 
Camera back on. I’m sorry, Poppy. I know that was hard. You’re very brave.
PW:
 
Well, I guess I have to say it. To get paid.
HB:
 
I need to tell you again, for the record, Poppy, that you are not being paid to say anything. You are being paid for your time away from work, and your travel here.
PW:
 
I wish I got a thousand dollars a day at Sheetz. It was nice, sending a car for me. I’d never been in a Town Car before. And this hotel last night. It was really nice. I had room service for dinner, too. I hope that’s okay. I know you told me I could go out, but it was like a vacation for me, to sit in a room and have someone bring me dinner on a tray.
HB:
 
We wanted you to be rested. And, as agreed, we’re not going to tell people where you live now, or even where you work. We’ll edit out that part about Sheetz.
PW:
 
But if people see this, someone who knows me, but doesn’t, you know, know, might figure it out.
HB:
 
Probably. But it’s been in the newspaper, how you became friends in the hospital. People know the story.
PW:
 
People forget stories. Faces not so much. Can I change my mind?
HB:
 
Withdraw your release? Sure. You might have to pay the production back for certain costs, though.
PW:
 
Really? I hadn’t thought about that. Okay, so—surprise surprise—the two women who killed their daughters end up as roommates. They didn’t expect us to be friends, or comfort one another. They expected us to rat each other out. They wanted me to find out if Melisandre was really crazy.
HB:
 
Did someone tell you that?
PW:
 
Melisandre told me. She said: They put you in here to find out if I was crazy. They’re after me. And I’m not paranoid! That’s the kind of joke you make, when you’re in one of those places. I liked her right away for making a joke because it had been so long since anyone had made a joke to me. That’s one of the weird things about being me. Being us. There’s this whole piece of life that people think you don’t want to have anymore, when you need it more than ever. Jokes, silliness.
HB:
 
But didn’t someone on staff corroborate what Melisandre said? That you were there to spy on her?
PW:
 
You know, I’ve been thinking about that. I mean, I thought someone did, but the more I think about it—and, you know, my memory isn’t great because there’s a lot of stuff I want to forget—the more I’m not so sure. Would it make a difference?
HB:
 
We just want you to tell us what you remember. There are no right answers.
PW:
 
But do I get more? If I say someone on staff told me that?
HB:
 
Poppy, you are not being paid to say anything. You are being paid for your time. It’s important only that you tell the truth. That’s the only thing that matters. You are not being paid for your appearance in the film, but for your out-of-pocket costs.
PW:
 
My pocket’s never had a thousand dollars in it. There was this one TV producer who got in touch with me, but no one wanted my story. Everyone wanted Melisandre’s, but she could afford to say no. She was the hot ticket. Although if they had made a movie, I would have been in it. I mean, an actress would have played me. Not