“Mrs. Grayson,” Teo said. “I’m going to leave, okay? I’m leaving.”
The anger fled my body as quickly as it arrived.
“No, stay.”
“Are you sure?”
“You have as much right to be here as I do.”
He pulled the cap from his head and shuffled it between his hands. “I’ve been meaning to reach out to you.”
“You have?”
“When I took that photograph, I didn’t know . . .”
“You didn’t know what?”
“What would happen. I shouldn’t have asked you for your permission then. I should’ve waited.”
A blast of cold air struck us. Sara twirled through the revolving door, the ends of her scarf flying.
“I had to park six blocks away,” she said, panting.
“Why are you out of breath?”
“I ran from the car.”
I felt Teo shift away, but I concentrated on Sara. “Why did you do that, silly?”
“I didn’t want to leave you alone for too long.”
“That’s sweet, but I was okay.”
And as I said it, I knew it was true. I’d felt okay talking to Teo, once that flash of murderous rage passed. Even at that very moment, something was tugging me toward him, some thread of connection that had been forged a few blocks away.
I just wasn’t ready to have it pulled on yet.
• • •
After coffee with Franny, I go back to the Initiative to find Teo. He’s in his boardroom down the hall from where our compensation meeting was, working on his wall of plot. Maggie’s taking notes. She’s sitting on the edge of the table, her short skirt riding up her toned thighs. Part of me wants to warn her—this is not the way to start out your life. The other part of me wants her to leave so I can have Teo to myself.
Which is interesting right there, to say the least.
“Cecily,” he says, his face breaking into a grin when he sees me.
“Hey, Teo. Maggie.”
Maggie hops down off the table. “Coffee, Teo?”
“I’m good. You, Cecily?”
“If I have any more coffee, I might levitate off the floor.”
Maggie rolls her eyes in a way she means for me to see, then leaves.
“Alone at last,” Teo says.
“Um, what?”
“Sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . .” He shuffles some of the cue cards on the table, a kaleidoscope that flashes pink, blue, green, yellow. “How did the vote go?”
“All in favor.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Off the record?”
“Anything you say to me when the camera isn’t rolling is off the record.”
I walk to the wall of plot. The Poster Child card is still front and center. I want to believe him when he says this, but I can’t.
“I’m super-happy for the Rings.”
The Rings are on here, too. Joshua, forty-five, Emily, six, and Julia, four. There are fewer cards below them, as if Teo hasn’t quite figured out what their story is yet. Today’s decision will help up the drama quotient in his film, though. Family denied compensation gets it in stunning reversal, if I were writing the headline. He’d asked to film our meeting, but they’re closed-door, confidential sessions. No exceptions. Perhaps he’ll reenact it. I wonder who will play me?
“And Franny?” he asks.
I search the board for Franny’s card. There it is in pink, off to the left. Beneath it are more cards with the words: Adopted, Outsider, Motivation?
“Of course,” I say.
“I never asked—how did you two become friends?”
“Maybe I’m standing in for her mother.”
“Perhaps.”
“You think I feel sorry for her?”
“Do you?”
I turn around. Teo’s only inches away. I can smell his soap and the mint of his toothpaste.
“Are you one of those people who brushes his teeth after every meal?”
“Busted.”
“Ha. See. You’re not the only one who can figure things out.”
“Your kids are good at that, too.”
“They are.”
“That was fun the other night.”
“It was?”
“Why are you surprised?”
“Bachelor like yourself, dinner with two teenagers . . . Doesn’t sound like the kind of thing you’d be into.”
“I like kids in general, and your kids especially.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It’s true.”
“How come you don’t have kids? You don’t have them, do you? I never asked. And that question was kind of aggressive. I don’t usually ask things like that. Sorry.”
Teo takes a step back, as if my stream of words pushed him. “It’s fine. And no. I was married once, in my twenties—I guess you’d call it a starter marriage now—but no kids.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It’s fine. Besides, I still have time.”
Teo’s forty-two. “Men have all the time in the world, it seems.”
I slap my hand across my mouth, the way I often did in the first days after October tenth when it seemed as if I’d lost control over the link between my brain and my mouth, like I was a kid again who didn’t understand social cues. What a terrible thing to say. No one has all the time in the world. Tom certainly didn’t, but I don’t need to be saying that out loud. What’s wrong with me today? Is it the vote? The lingering aftereffects of the memorial? I thought I was past all this.
Teo pulls my hand away, his fingers warm on my cold skin. “It’s fine. Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I hate when that happens. I used to have better control of myself. I thought I did again.”
“That’s life. And you’re right. Barring unforeseen events, I still have time to have kids, if I want. Which is good. Life is good.”
Teo turns and splays the cue cards out over the table, like he’s dealing a hand. We both look at them, seeing different things, I’m sure.
“So, what happens now?” Teo asks. “With the compensation?”
“It has to get approved by the Supra Board, but I’m sure it will go through.”
“Supra Board?”
“That’s what I call the muckety-mucks who administer the fund. We’re only the recommending body. They make the final decision.”
“Seems complicated.”
“You ever watch that film about the guy who was in charge of the 9/11 compensation?”
“I have, in fact.”
“Of course you
