That was frighteningly accurate. He flashed back to the time that Mrs. Mann had caught him and his buddy Toby stealing the principal’s car for a prank, and had just winked at them and pretended she didn’t see anything. They’d gotten the car up to the roof of one of the outbuildings of the school, and the principal went ballistic, but no one ever told him who did it. Would Mrs. Mann have done the same thing if it had been Malik, who was in his AP Chemistry class, she’d seen in the driver’s seat instead? He wanted to think so, but too much in the world had told him otherwise. What would have happened to him?
He felt like he was tiptoeing through this conversation right now. He wanted to ask questions, he wanted her to keep talking, but he didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing, and he had no idea what the right thing was. While he thought, he slid another slice of the now lukewarm pizza on her plate. She smiled her thanks but didn’t pick it up. And she still didn’t look at him.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “You’re right. That’s exactly how it happened with me. I should have . . . I should have thought of that. What happened to your sister?”
To his relief, she answered.
“She was arrested, along with all of her friends. It was . . . it was a pretty terrible night. I . . .” She started to say something else and trailed off.
“Did she have to go to jail?”
She shook her head. “In Oakland then, there was a pilot program sort of like TARP.” Her voice went back to her chief of staff cadence. “It only lasted for a year, but it was just at the right time for Olivia, so instead of having to serve a sentence or have it on her record, she did the program. And since I know what a difference it made for her, I feel like it could . . . it would make a difference for teens in Berkeley today. Olivia got to achieve everything she wanted to, because people gave her a chance.”
She still wasn’t looking at him. He picked up his wineglass, put it down.
“What are you not telling me?”
She shifted on the couch, pulled her knees up, and put her arms around them so her body was one tight ball.
“Oh, Drew, I was so mean to her.” Her voice caught. She stopped, closed her eyes, and swallowed before continuing. “I was mean and snotty and insulting. I made her feel so bad for what happened. I did it on purpose! I became a tattletale to our parents for everything I thought she was doing wrong. We barely spoke for the better part of a year, and even after that, our relationship was fractious and difficult for years. We didn’t really start becoming friends again until I was in college, and even then, it took years for us to be close.” She paused, clearly lost in thought, and shook her head. “I feel like . . . if I manage to make this happen, it would be my way of making up for everything.”
He moved across the couch and put his arm around her. She was so tense he wasn’t sure how she’d react to his touch. But she relaxed against him and released her knees.
“And if you don’t manage to make this happen? What then?”
She shook her head as it rested against his shoulder. He turned toward her and kissed her hair. He felt her sigh.
“Then it’s me failing her again. If I can’t do this one thing for my sister, for my family, for all of those other kids who need something like this like she did . . .”
He pulled her closer to him, so happy to be with her. It felt wrong to be happy when she was on the point of tears, but he was honored that she was sharing this with him. This conversation felt like a gift.
“You know that’s not true, right? That if it doesn’t pass this time it’s not your fault? That all you can do is give everything you have to this, and you know you have been? You do know all that?”
She shrugged and turned away from him. Okay. Did that mean she didn’t want to talk about this anymore? He wasn’t sure if he should keep talking, but he had one more question for her.
“Have you talked to Olivia about this? Have you told her what you’re trying to do, and why?”
She hesitated and shook her head.
“We haven’t . . . We don’t really talk about that at all. At first, I was too ashamed to say anything, and now it seems like it’s been too long.”
He didn’t respond at first, not quite sure what to say. She reached for the slice of pizza he’d put on her plate and had eaten half of it before he spoke again.
“So, if TARP did pass, how were you going to tell her? You were going to tell her, right?”
She swallowed, took a sip of her wine, and swallowed again.
“Yeah. I’ve thought about that. I was going to email her a link to a news article about it. With something like, ‘Look what your little sister has been up to?’ or, ‘Terrible name, great program, right?’” She sighed. “Okay, maybe both of those ideas are stupid, but you know what I mean.”
He laughed and squeezed her hand. The tense look on her face relaxed and she squeezed back.
“Maybe you should talk to her. Before the hearing, I mean. About TARP, yeah—this is a great thing you’re trying to do, and I know she’d be proud. But also about the other stuff you told me. I’m sure she would want to know.”
She shook her head again but didn’t let go of his hand.
“It was so hard for me to tell you, Drew. I don’t even know how I would tell her how I felt, or what I would say.”
He turned her so that her legs were draped over his and took her face in both his hands.
“Say to her what you said to me. Just think about it, okay? I think it would make you feel better.”
She leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, and they sat there for a while, breathing each other in.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. He moved an inch closer to her, and their lips clung together slowly, gently. He wanted to deepen the kiss but pulled away.
“Now, finish that slice of pizza so you don’t have a hangover in the morning. Your doctor insists on it.”
She laughed, as he’d been hoping she would.
“How many children do you have to advise about hangovers, Dr. Nichols?”