Chương 5
Adrian watched her thumb move against the pink blanket.
“You could have told me,” he said.
“I tried.”
“You said you needed space.”
“I didn’t have better words.”
“So you left me with an eleven-day-old baby and better words were my responsibility?”
Maya’s face hardened. “You think because you can make bottles and say one good thing into a microphone, you’re the only person who is scared?”
“I never said I was.”
“You don’t have to. The whole country said it for you.”
Rachel stepped forward. “That’s enough.”
Maya looked down at Lucy. “No. It isn’t.”
Her breathing had become shallow. Adrian recognized the same panic he felt whenever Lucy coughed.
He stood.
Maya tightened her hold. “Don’t take her.”
“I’m getting you water.”
“Oh.”
The word was small.
He went to the kitchen because it gave both of them somewhere else to look.
Rachel followed.
At the sink, she kept her voice low. “She has a therapy appointment Thursday.”
“Good.”
“She may need medication.”
“Okay.”
“She is not weak.”
“I didn’t say she was.”
“You think things very loudly.”
Adrian filled a glass. “She thinks I’m angry.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Rachel nodded once. “So is she.”
He handed her the glass.
She did not take it.
“You made a promise yesterday,” Rachel said. “People applauded because promises are easy to applaud.”
“I know.”
“No, you know how the sentence sounded. The knowing comes later.”
When Adrian returned to the living room, Maya had begun to cry without making noise. Tears moved down both sides of her face while she watched Lucy sleep.
Adrian placed the water on the table.
He sat beside her, leaving several inches between them.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For the video?”
“For answering like I’m the only one doing something hard.”
Maya wiped her cheek with her shoulder because both hands were occupied.
“I’m sorry I left you with everything,” she said.
“You had surgery.”
“I still left.”
“You went somewhere you felt safe.”
She gave him a tired look. “That sounded almost reasonable.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice today.”
Her mouth moved as if she might smile, but did not.
When Lucy woke, Maya fed her while Adrian watched from the opposite side of the room. He corrected nothing. Once, the bottle angle slipped and Lucy swallowed air. Maya noticed, adjusted it, and continued.
Rachel sat in the kitchen where they could see her pretending not to listen.
The scholarship review was held the following afternoon in the foundation’s conference room above the Riverton Public Library.
Adrian arrived in dark trousers and the white shirt from graduation. Elena had washed it at midnight because formula had dried near the collar. His black tie remained at home. The simple wristwatch felt too tight, though it had not changed.
Ms. Patel met them beside the elevator.
“You do not need to perform,” she told him.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You performed yesterday.”
“I spoke.”
“In front of twelve hundred people.”
“They laughed first.”
“That does not make the microphone less public.”
Elena touched Adrian’s sleeve. “She is helping.”
“I know.”
“You have a face that says otherwise.”
“I only have one face.”
“You have at least seven. Five are unpleasant.”
The elevator opened.
Margaret Bell sat at the center of a long table with four other foundation members. She wore a pale-blue jacket instead of beige. Her pearl earrings were the same.
She stood when Elena entered.
“Ms. Cole.”
Elena did not offer her hand. “Mrs. Bell.”
Margaret’s eyes flicked toward Adrian. “Before we begin, I owe both of you an apology.”
The other members shifted in their seats.
Margaret continued. “My comment yesterday was unkind and indefensible. I was embarrassed by the disruption and said something I had no right to say.”
Elena’s expression did not change. “You were embarrassed.”
“Yes.”
“My son was carrying a newborn.”
“I understand that now.”
“You understood it then.”
Margaret’s mouth tightened. “You are right.”
Adrian had expected excuses. The direct admission unsettled him.
Margaret looked at him. “I am sorry.”
He nodded because he did not know what forgiveness was supposed to look like in a conference room.
A gray-haired board member introduced himself as Thomas Greene, a retired accountant. Beside him sat Dr. Karen Wu from the community college, Reverend Paul Ames, and a real-estate broker named Denise Carter. The foundation’s attorney joined by speakerphone.
Mr. Greene opened a folder.
“This is not a disciplinary hearing,” he said.
“Then why am I here?” Adrian asked.
“It is an eligibility review.”
“Of my grades?”
“Of the circumstances surrounding an unscheduled public statement made during a school event.”
“The scholarship letter says nothing about public statements.”
Elena placed a copy on the table.
Mr. Greene glanced at it. “We are aware.”
Ms. Patel set down a printed text exchange between Adrian and Assistant Principal Lowe.
ADRIAN: MY MOM IS SICK AND I HAVE THE BABY. SHOULD I LEAVE?
LOWE: KEEP HER WITH YOU FOR NOW. YOUR ROW IS MOVING. WE’LL HANDLE IT AFTER.
“The school directed him to keep the child with him,” Ms. Patel said.
Margaret looked at the page for longer than the others.
Mr. Greene removed his glasses. “No one is reviewing the child’s presence.”
“Then this is about what he said,” Elena replied.
The speakerphone crackled. The attorney’s voice came through. “It is about whether foundation recipients may use ceremonial access for unauthorized advocacy.”
Adrian stared at the black device in the center of the table.
“Advocacy for what?”
There was a pause.
“Teen-parent support, perhaps.”
“I thanked my mother.”
“Publicly.”
“At my graduation.”
Reverend Ames cleared his throat. “Adrian, many of us found your words moving.”
“That sounds like it has a second half.”
The reverend looked uncomfortable. “The foundation has to consider precedent.”
“What precedent?”
“Future recipients using school events to promote personal causes.”
“My mother is not a cause.”
May you like
Elena’s hand closed around his wrist beneath the table.
Dr. Wu spoke for the first time. “The question is whether the award was granted for past performance or as an ongoing representation of the foundation.”
