28. Odin
CHAPTER 28
ODIN
My mom insists on driving me to PT on Friday, which is sort of weird since she usually has court on Fridays. When I open the apartment door, she bounces on her toes a bit and looks excited. “It’s all set, babe! We did it.”
I arch a brow at her as I lock the door behind me. “What did we do?”
She swats my shoulder. “The scholarship! Your Uncle Tim worked it all out with the women’s law foundation, and Thora will receive the award tomorrow night at her diploma ceremony.” Mom wraps her arms around me and squeezes. “Want to be my date?”
“You’re going?” This feels risky. If we show up at her event on Saturday, Thora will absolutely know my family is involved.
Mom nods. “I was always going. I was a guest lecturer at the student law group a few times this year. I’m giving a little talk. And now I’m giving a new award! I saw her resume, honey, and this award should have existed anyway. Dad and I are very proud of you for wanting to help, but keep the spotlight off yourself for doing so.”
Mom talks about the importance of this kind of last-mile award as she carries my scooter down the stairs. I’ve perfected my monkey swing and we’re in the car in minutes. Unfortunately, she invites herself to watch my entire session, but Mom takes an academic interest in this sort of thing since she has a background in elite rowing.
She even asks the therapist if rowing is a reasonable expectation for me for cardio. Mom knows about adaptive rowing machines that don’t use the leg muscles at all, and I tune out while the two of them talk about my expanded workout potential. I can watch Thora receive this money. I can see her face when she realizes she doesn’t have to worry about her plane ticket.
Mom drops me at home, promising to pick me up early tomorrow and take me to dinner before the ceremony. I wish we could bring Thora with us, but I realize there’s absolutely no way to swing that without setting off her alarm bells. Instead, I text her a thank you for making sure my janky ass didn’t slip in the shower like a senior citizen.
On Saturday afternoon, I cram myself into my business on top best with the most respectable shorts I can find to pull over my cast. I search for my cufflinks, remembering that they’re in the top drawer of my desk where I hid the video game royalty check.
I look at the now-empty envelope, crumple it up, and toss it in the hall so someone can recycle it later. The whole scene makes me wish Wyatt were here, which is why I think I’m hallucinating when I hear his voice from the hall. “Littering now, O?”
I don’t fight the grin that splits my face. I open my arms and my cousin steps in for a hug. Well, as close as he can get around my roller. He pats my shoulder. “I came to check in on you. Mom said you’ve been conniving. ”
His voice and expression are pleasant. That’s unusual for him. “Um, yeah. Hey, man, you sound weird.”
“It’s called endorphins. I feel them now.” He laughs. Then he stops laughing. “I feel bad bringing that up. Sorry.”
“Nah. It’s okay.” I tug at my lapels and raise my brows at him. “Do I look okay for a smarty pants diploma thing?”
He laughs.
I return to my cufflinks and he reaches in to help. I watch his thick fingers struggle as much as mine, and ask, “Do you think Thora will hate this? The scholarship?”
Wyatt groans. “I think she will hate it if she knows you’re involved. She and Fern…they have this whole thing about handouts. You got any food?”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, but walks to the kitchen and returns a minute later crunching raw carrots. I say a quick prayer of thanks that I can at least eat proper snacks now that I’m not in training anymore.
I continue our analysis session, arguing, “It’s not a handout, though. She should have this money.”
“Mm-hmm.” He swallows and gestures at me with a carrot. “I agree. I tossed some more money at Dad’s foundation. They have a whole track now that funds the future lawyers, not just the legal funds for the women who need help. You did a good thing, dude.”
“Thanks, man. That was cool of you to throw some of your millions back at the foundation. You look…happy. Beyond the endorphins, I mean.”
“Speaking of,” he swallows again. “I’m down to just one individual session a week with the team psych. Even got the green light to miss a session while I’m here fetching Fern.” He grins.
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yeah. It means I’m dealing with my shit.” Wyatt sits on my bed with the carrots. “The team there has a whole staff for mental health. There’s a dedicated person who works with the injured guys.”
That gives me pause. I look at him in the mirror over my shoulder as I smooth out my hair. “That’s someone’s whole job? Talking to injured athletes?”
“It’s their whole ass job.”
I want to ask him more about this, but I hear the door and the sound of Mom greeting Gunnar. Wyatt hops up to hug her and tells me he has to get going to Fern’s award thing. I follow him into the living room, telling him to call me before he leaves town. Mom rolls her eyes when she sees me and pats my knee. “At least you wore a dress shoe.”
I shake my foot. “And a dress sock. This is one of Dad’s, I think.” It’s tall and yellow with tiny hockey sticks embroidered all over the material. She laughs, and we make our way to the car and onward to the ceremony.
We arrive at the law building, and Mom makes small talk with some of the professors, who acknowledge me the same way they did when I was ten. Like some kid who doesn’t really belong in this room. Which is true. There’s nothing for me here except Thora.
She walks in alone, wearing one of the outfits she got when we were at that store. Once again, it looks like it was custom-made for her. I slip away from Mom and roll toward my brilliant girl. Wait. Okay, fuck it. She’s brilliant, and for the next month or so, she can be mine. We’re at least friends. “Hey,” I tell her, and her eyes shoot upward, widening in surprise.
“What are you doing here? Did you set this up?”
Thora’s eyes dart around the room, and she fidgets with her purse.
“Did I set up a graduation ceremony for smart kids? No.” I laugh to try and set her at ease. “I’m here with my mom. She apparently has been a guest lecturer for you guys.”
Thora nods, and I watch her shoulders relax a bit. She bites her lip. “I called off work to be here. They were already mad at me about leaving halfway through Wednesday night…”
“Did Gunny not serve as a suitable replacement?”
That makes her laugh and I feel accomplished for a minute until someone in a suit bangs a spoon on a water glass and calls everyone to pay attention. “Good evening, scholars and families,” the suit guy says. “If you could all please find a seat, we’ll get started. I know we all have a busy day tomorrow!”
Some of the undergrads cheer and hug their families. Thora sits on the end of a row, alone. I try not to take it personally that she didn’t sit with me. I did tell her I’m here as my mom’s date. I zone out while they talk about how hard everyone worked for four years, how smart they all are, and how important political science is to society. I perk up when they start listing international fellowship awards and call Thora’s name as a Rhodes scholar. I whoop loudly. Mom smacks me, but Thora turns and smiles at me, so I don’t care.
Then, they call Mom to the mic. She gives one of her typical speeches about how she grew up in the foster care system and relied on scholarships and need-based aid to get through college and law school. She discusses the importance of family law to her judicial career and pivots to the women’s law foundation and the work they do supporting their clients.
“And that’s what really brings me here,” Mom says. “I have one last surprise award for a student who has volunteered countless hours in the law clinic on campus and who has helped others achieve the small legal victories they needed in order to achieve big things in their personal lives. It’s my pleasure to award a five-thousand-dollar grant to…” Mom points at Thora. “Thora Janssen!”
Thora turns white and stands with her hands over her mouth. I tug on my ear to make sure I heard correctly, but half the room is repeating the phrase “five thousand,” and I have no idea what is going on. I promised like twelve hundred bucks to my uncle’s foundation for the award, thinking I’d cover her plane ticket since that’s what she was worried about.
Thora makes her way to the stage and takes the check, shaking hands as people take her photo. Mom wraps an arm around her and smiles, then slips away while other bigwigs from the college congratulate Thora.
“Mom,” I hiss. “Five G?”
She waves a hand. “Oh, please. She needed way more than you donated, and once some of the other law firms heard about her, they all chipped in. This seemed like a nice number to get her from here to there, don’t you think?”
When I finally get Thora alone at the punch bowl, she’s still rather white and shaky. “You gonna make it?”
I hand her a glass of the sweet liquid. Usually, I’m not able to drink something with this much sugar, but I’m still enjoying a no-restrictions diet, so I clink my plastic cup against hers as she stares at me. “Ooh, this is gross.” I set my glass down on the catering tray in the corner.
Thora shakes her head. “Did you know about this?”
I sigh. “Thora. I had no idea you were getting five thousand dollars today,” I tell her in all honesty. “But I loved watching your face when you did.” I bump her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about shit now. You can just…fly off into the sunset.”
She nods and continues sipping the punch she obviously finds acceptable. “I’ve never experienced not worrying. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
I grin. “I can think of a few ideas if you’re stuck.” I wink at her, and she shoves me, so I pretend to lose my balance and roll back in my scooter, causing her face to twist in alarm. “Just fucking with you.”
“You are terrible,” she digs a finger into my shoulder. “And those socks are atrocious.”
“You love it. Come to my place and watch me take them off.”
She sighs and shakes her head, setting her empty punch cup on the tray by my full one. “Nah. I gotta go get ready to graduate tomorrow. Isn’t that wild?” She looks at the check sticking out of the pocket of her purse. “And I guess I need to stop by an ATM to deposit this.”
I clutch my heart. “Thora. Do you mean to tell me you don’t have mobile banking? There’s an app for that, sweetheart.”
She rolls her eyes. “Bye, Odin. See you around.”
She turns to leave. “Call me,” I beg, shooting my shot. “Let me take you out.”
She looks down at the check and back up at me, and I watch as she spends an eternity deciding what to say next. “Yeah, okay,” she says. “That would be fun.”
I try not to jump or pump my fist in victory as she leaves the ceremony.