Chương 3
“Is it online?” he asked.
She sat beside him. “Some of it.”
“Do I look stupid?”
“No.”
“Do I fall weird?”
“You fall like someone whose cane was kicked away.”
He pressed the wrapper flat with his thumbnail. “Kids are going to see it.”
The certainty in his voice hurt more than the question would have.
“We’ll talk to your school.”
“That means yes.”
She reached for him, but he leaned away, not angrily. He was embarrassed by the hospital, the exposed knee, the attention, and perhaps by needing comfort. At eight, he still crawled into her bed during thunderstorms. In public, he had begun to flinch when she kissed his hair.
Elena rested her hand on the chair between them.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For not catching you.”
Noah looked up. “You tried.”
“I should’ve been watching.”
“He kicked it when you were talking to Mrs. Cross.”
The hallway noise seemed to recede.
“You saw him?”
Noah nodded. “He looked at me first.”
“Are you certain?”
His mouth tightened. “I know where people look.”
She regretted the question immediately. Since the surgery, adults had asked Noah whether he was sure about pain, weakness, fatigue, and balance so often that certainty had become another test he was expected to pass.
“I believe you,” she said.
He unfolded the wrapper and began again. “He said I was blocking the picture.”
“What picture?”
“The photographer was taking one of him by the painting. He told me to move. I was moving.”
Elena sat very still.
“Did anyone else hear him?”
“The tray lady, maybe.”
“Maya?”
“I don’t know her name.”
“What happened right before he kicked the cane?”
Noah frowned, replaying it.
“He put paper in his pocket.”
“The invitation?”
“I guess. He tore it when the silver-haired lady was coming.”
“Margaret?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he say anything?”
Noah’s eyes moved toward the open doorway, checking for listeners. “He told a man, ‘She doesn’t get to stop this tonight.’”
“What man?”
“Red glasses.”
Elena knew no one with red glasses. At a gala filled with donors, trustees, curators, consultants, caterers, reporters, and spouses, the description could fit a dozen people.
“Would you recognize him?”
“Probably.”
The nurse returned with discharge papers before Elena could ask more. Noah became tired and irritable while Elena listened to instructions she had already heard. She signed three forms with a borrowed pen that skipped across the page.
In the parking garage, Claire called again.
Elena answered.
“Where are you?”
“Hospital. Noah’s okay.”
“What does okay mean?”
“Bruised knee, strained wrist. No fracture.”
Claire exhaled so loudly that Elena had to move the phone away. “I’m coming over.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“So?”
“So your children are asleep.”
“They have a father.”
Elena looked at Noah, who was leaning against the sedan while the driver opened the door. “Don’t bring them.”
“I wasn’t planning to bring a six-year-old and a toddler to your crisis.”
“It’s not a crisis.”
“Elena, you shoved Damian Cross into a table in front of two hundred people.”
“That part keeps being mentioned.”
“And the part where he kicked Noah’s cane?”
“The video missed it.”
Claire went silent.
Elena recognized the silence. Her sister was recalculating, changing the problem from outrage to danger.
“Come over,” Elena said.
Claire arrived before they did.
She had let herself into Elena’s apartment with the emergency key and made tea no one drank. She wore leggings, an old university sweatshirt, and two different socks. Her dark hair was clipped to the top of her head in a way that made her look younger than thirty-seven until she frowned.
Noah went straight to the couch with an ice pack and the blanket he had owned since preschool. Claire sat beside him and asked whether he wanted toast. He said no. She made it anyway and left it within reach without comment.
Elena changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt. When she returned to the living room, Claire was watching the video with the sound off.
“You look terrifying,” she said.
“I was terrified.”
“You don’t look terrified.”
“I know.”
Claire replayed the moment Damian extended his hand. “He touched you?”
“He tried.”
“And you hit his hand.”
“Yes.”
“Then shoved him.”
“Yes.”
“You understand there were security guards ten feet away.”
Elena crossed her arms. “Is this the part where you explain restraint to me?”
“This is the part where I tell you Damian’s attorneys will explain it to a judge.”
From the couch, Noah said, “He kicked my cane.”
Claire turned off the phone. “I know, sweetheart.”
“He did it on purpose.”
“I believe you.”
Noah looked at Elena, as if checking whether the adults remained aligned.
Claire lowered her voice. “Did security take statements?”
“Brief ones. I left for the hospital.”
“Did you talk to the police?”
“No.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire rubbed both hands over her face. She worked as an assistant district attorney, though not in the county where the museum stood, and she hated being treated as free family counsel. Elena hated asking. Their father had once joked that raising two stubborn daughters had been useful because they now argued with institutions on his behalf. He had died before discovering how exhausting that could become.
“What did Margaret say?” Claire asked.
“She accused him in front of everyone.”
“That helps.”
“She called once.”
“Call her back.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“She is Damian’s mother.”
“She is also the only wealthy person in the room who publicly supported Noah before you committed an assault.”
“I protected my son.”
“You can protect him and still have committed an assault.”
Noah turned his face toward the back of the couch.
Claire noticed. Her expression changed.
“Hey,” she said to him. “This is adult procedural nonsense. Your mother did not cause what happened to you.”
“But she might get arrested.”
“Probably not tonight.”
Elena stared at her.
“What?” Claire said. “I’m not lying to him.”
Noah pulled the blanket over his head.
May you like
The apartment buzzer sounded.
All three of them froze.
