Chapter 12
Six-thirty that evening, Colin was seated on the same bench by the academy’s entrance where he had waited for his father.
The other Sojourn students had been eating dinner when he slipped out.
Mrs. Fitzgerald had left for the weekend, and Camila had merely looked at him when he said he was having dinner off campus.
He left a note on the battered desk used by Grant, the night counselor, giving the Brooks’s address and saying he didn’t know when he would be back.
A solitary bird perched in the Carolina pine to his right, peeping softly as the twilight glowed against the streetlights.
The highway’s noise was a faint whisper in the background.
There was no wind, and the early spring heat still radiated from the earth at his feet.
He wore the same outfit he had worn for his interviews.
The feeling of weightless liberation that had propelled him through the afternoon meetings was with him still.
Every blade of grass, every needle on the branches overhead, gleamed with a special light.
Not even the memory of the dinner with his father’s new family could reach him.
Nor the ticking clock. He knew what had to happen.
Either he could find a way to move forward as he wanted, or he would confess everything to Arnold and Sandrine and Celeste.
Even though that way carried a far greater risk of defeat.
Just knowing the die was cast left him feeling calm.
He would give it another three days, then go to the academy leaders and lay it out.
Try to convince them that their natural reaction would lead to failure …
A horn beeped once as a Honda Pilot pulled through the entrance. Before it had fully stopped the passenger door opened. Then Mira popped out, shielding her eyes and pretending to gape at the arched entryway. “Where are all the other geniuses?”
“It’s Sunday. Genius gets the day off.” He waved through the open door. “Hi, Mr. Brooks.”
“Climb in, sport.”
“Sorry we’re late,” Mira said. She pointed him into the front passenger seat, slid open the side door, slipped inside, then leaned in close enough for Colin to smell the floral scent to her hair. “Daddy almost caught the house on fire.”
He pulled into traffic and replied, “Not even close.”
“He made an Everest of coals, then forgot he’d already put on the lighter fluid, did it again, and when he dropped in the match”—she made as large a circle with her arms as the car allowed—“boom.”
“Colin doesn’t need to be hearing this.”
“Mom says Daddy is a born pyromaniac. She says it comes from four years in Afghanistan. That’s where I’m from. Kabul.”
Mira’s father slowed and shot his daughter a look. Not angry, not worried. Just surprised. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
If Mira noticed her father’s reaction, she gave no sign. “I’m adopted. I guess you got that already. Daddy saved me. Which means I guess I have to excuse him for wanting to blow things up.”
Ethan Brooks lifted one hand from the wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror.
As if he needed to keep a closer watch on his daughter.
Passing headlights illuminated the scars around his collar and disappearing into the shirt’s sleeve.
The shadows were deeper now, the scars more pronounced.
Ethan noticed Colin’s eyes on him. “Maybe Colin doesn’t need to know our entire life history just yet. ”
Her natural effervescence filled the car with a joy as strong as light. “What kind of music do you like?”
“Jazz.”
She bounced back in her seat. “Boring.”
“Benny Goodman,” he said. “Big band. Swing.”
“My father likes Goodman,” Ethan said.
“Yeah, Daddy. My grandfather likes that stuff. It’s ancient history.”
“I love the precision,” Colin said. “It’s like calculus. Variations according to very precise input. It results in different outcomes, but all holding to the same foundational structure.”
The two of them were silent. Then Mira asked, “Do you understand what he just said?”
“Not even close.” But Ethan was smiling now. “I like hearing it just the same.”
The Brooks family home was in an older neighborhood of nice houses in Carolina Heights.
The street was partially covered by live oaks and yellow poplar, like they quietly sought to shelter the people who dwelled there.
Their home had a ground floor of Carolina brick and a smaller second floor framed in weathered cedar.
Their large backyard was lined with a wooden fence that matched the upper floor.
The young boy played with a Monster Truck while Mira’s baby sister sat in her mother’s arms.
A second family was present when Colin arrived, Ro land and Regina Perez and their son, Lucas.
The introductions were easy, casual, and led to a far-ranging conversation.
Colin sat on a lawn chair near Alexi and Gracie and mostly observed.
Lucas was a student at UNC Wilmington, studying history and political science.
He planned to study law. Which was also what Mira hoped to do, then according to her the two of them were going to create their own law firm and fight the good fight.
Which Lucas thought was a terrible idea, since they would do nothing but fight each other all day long.
But in their jesting exchange Colin heard the distinct undertones of love.
They had known each other since kindergarten, they went to the same church, they fought constantly.
All this he learned from the adults who sauntered over from time to time, explaining things as Ethan tended the grill and Regina set the table with Mira.
Lucas was tall and slender and as silent as his mother.
The Perez family were remarkably similar, very quick and alert, yet calmly content for others to dominate the conversation.
Colin thought Lucas and Mira were perfect for each other.
When the burgers were ready they gathered around a long trestle table and held hands while Mira prayed.
Colin watched the others bow their heads, and wondered at everything.
The easy manner, the accepted ways, the strangeness.
He felt like he was participating in some alien ritual.
One where he heard the words, but their meaning completely escaped him.
As they started eating, Colin recalled a book he had once read about explorers searching for the Nile’s headwaters.
How understanding the tribes they met became as great a challenge, and threat, as the journey itself.
How adapting swiftly made a daily difference between life and death.
The adults included Colin in their conversation by explaining things, mostly about themselves and what they were saying.
But they did not press him to reply. Colin found that one of the most remarkable elements of an incredible evening.
The food was excellent, burgers and a potato salad with pickles and boiled eggs and mayonnaise, cole slaw, grilled asparagus.
Iced tea and sodas to drink. Colin ate until his belly felt stretched to painful dimensions.
Alexi took the two little ones in for bed.
He joined the others in clearing the table while Regina made coffee and Mira set out cups and unwrapped two plates of cookies.
Colin refused both, asking instead for a glass of water.
The remaining adults jousted with old humor over politics.
Colin learned that Ethan and Alexi and Mira were staunch Republicans, Roland and Regina and Lucas vocal Democrats.
And how this defined so much of their lives.
And yet they were friends. Which they all pretended to think was impossible.
The good-natured jibes covered a great deal of passion and tension, none of which Colin understood.
Even so, he felt like this was a rare gift, being able to observe families who clearly cared for each other, despite the differences, despite everything.
By the time Alexi returned downstairs, he knew this was it. He was going to take the next step. The prospect made him feel queasy, as if the food had congealed in his stomach. His mouth was dry, but he didn’t want to raise the glass of water because it would have revealed the tremors in his hands.
He waited.
It was Alexi who offered him the opening. She took a sip from her cup, then used a pause in the conversation to look down the table at him. “Will you tell us something about yourself, Colin? I don’t mean to press—”
“Yes she does,” Mira said.
“My wife has a gentle hand with the scalpel,” Ethan said. “Sooner or later she’s going to pry you open.”
“You might as well get it over with,” Mira agreed. “Mom will only get worse, the longer you stay quiet.”
“Whatever you would like us to know,” Alexi persisted. “We’re fascinated with what little you’ve told us. Really.”
Colin took a long breath, then said, “I need to borrow ten thousand dollars.”