Chapter 6
ATHENA
Christopher and I had the best night yesterday. There’s a tiny part of me—okay, maybe not so tiny—that wishes things had gone a bit further than they did, but Christopher is a gentleman, and I know the last day of the congress doesn’t mean the end of this thing between us.
Whatever it is.
Christopher took me to a nice restaurant in town.
He held my hand, kissed my knuckles, and shot me the most loving looks ever from across the table.
He told me about growing up poor and the difficulties faced being a dark-skinned man in a career focused on the white and the rich.
How hard he had to work to pay for books and materials, and how lonely he felt in his first years.
Christopher’s stories inspire me. I’m honored by him sharing them with me.
And somehow, he’s interested in my stories, even when I am the white rich girl whose only difficulties were about overcoming the shadow of my mother.
I felt silly, but Christopher made it clear it wasn’t a competition.
Everyone has difficulties of their own, and he doesn’t want me to feel inferior because of mine.
I almost tell him. I almost tell him why I wear the long sleeves, but at the last second, I’m ashamed. My cheeks burn with self-consciousness, and I’m afraid he’ll run off if he finds out. He might think I’m too broken to be fixed. So I keep my mouth shut and enjoy the rest of our evening together.
He kisses me as we stand in my doorway, but he doesn’t come in. Though his eyes burn with the memory of what we did earlier in the day, he doesn’t press me, even when I kind of wanted him to.
I shake my head, dispelling the thoughts of yesterday.
Today is a new day and a huge one at that.
It’s the last day of the congress, with the closing panels and the announcement of the contest winners.
I stare at myself in the mirror, surprisingly calm.
My heart doesn’t race, and I’m not sweating with nerves.
Even if I don’t make first place, I know I’ve learned a lot and getting to know Christopher might be worth anything else.
After brushing my hair and applying some lipstick to look the best I can, I run my hands down my clothes and make my way to the door. For the first time, I can’t wait to see what lies ahead of me.
Down the elevator and toward the main hall I go.
The announcement of the winners will only happen in the afternoon, with the closing ceremony, so I don’t even worry about it now.
My focus is on finding Christopher. Maybe we can sit together during the morning panels.
The thought of being seen with him makes my stomach churn with expectation.
I’m so pumped at seeing him and having him hold my hand in public; I miss the first people whispering while they look at me.
The farther I get into the congress area, the harder it is to ignore them.
The whispers were common in the beginning, but they had diminished.
Now, several pairs of eyes stare at me, unabashedly, and I can’t help but feel the heat spreading across my cheeks.
Why is everyone interested in me again?
A couple of people raise their phones and point them in my direction. What? What is happening? I keep my head down, trying to find the room I’m having my first panel in today.
It’s then that I hear the raised voices.
The pleading to calm down, the shrieks. And the two people arguing sound familiar.
I could recognize both voices anywhere. Snapping my head up, I search for the source of the problem, finding a group of people gathered down the hall.
Right in the middle of the crowd, I see Christopher, too tall to be concealed, motioning in rage for the person standing in front of him. I force my way into the group.
What is my mother doing here?
“Mom?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
Mom turns around. The sight of her in this place is the last thing I hoped for.
Mom’s dark hair is pulled back into an elegant but strict bun, stretching the sides of her face into an uncomfortable position.
She forces a smile onto her face, the yellowish teeth proof of too many years of smoking, then she reaches her arms out to hold me.
It’s always been a weird thing to be held by her.
As if she never means to do it, as if her body doesn’t know how to.
“Athena. Stand behind me,” she says in a whisper that’s too loud.
“Why?” I shoot a glance at Christopher. His shoulders are hard blocks of nerves, his eyes wide with something I can’t discern.
His gaze darts between the two of us and the crowd, then he paces, two steps to the left, back, and two steps to the right.
I swallow hard, my heartbeat thundering. “What’s going on?”
“Sweetie,” Mom starts, gripping my shoulders. “You’re so brave, sweetie. I saw some videos of the congress, and I saw this, this...” She turns to Christopher, “this predator all over you. Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll get out of here, and he will never put a hand on you again.”
More phones rise in the crowd. My heart lodges itself in my throat. “Christopher’s not a predator,” I start, my voice failing. “What are you talking about?”
She taps my cheek twice. I turn away. I’ve already told her a hundred times I hate it when she does this.
“You’re too involved, sweetie,” says Mom.
“You can’t see it, but I do. Christopher is Mommy’s age, and I saw the pictures of him all over you.
He’s a predator, going for younger women like that.
You’re barely out of college. This,” and she turns to him for emphasis, “should be a crime.”
“Mom, I’m overage.”
“He’s still twenty years your senior, Athena. Don’t worry. It’s okay, Mommy’s here.” And she holds onto me, clings to me, always keeping her face toward the cameras. It’s obvious what Mom’s doing here. She’s using this as a publicity stunt, as she’s done so many times in our lives.
“Can we take this somewhere private, Vera?” Christopher hisses, stepping closer. He doesn’t meet my gaze, and he looks halfway to madness with those wide eyes. Is he that worried about his reputation? Does our relationship mean so little when his reputation is at risk?
I clench my jaw shut, my eyes burning. “He’s right...” I try to tell Mom because I am so done. Done at being used for her to feel better about herself.
“No!” Mom cries out, over-theatrical, too forced. “No, the people have to see what a predator he is and how he’s only giving you attention to suck on the reputation of my name! He’s a leech, that’s what he is.”
My cheeks warm further. “Mom. This isn’t about you.” God, she always thinks everything is about her, even when I spent my entire life trying to create distance between me and her name.
She shakes her head, tapping my cheek again. “You don’t see it, Athena, because he’s hypnotized you. It’s obvious he’s only close to you because he wants the fruits of my labor. He wants to take advantage of this.”
Christopher shakes his head, rushing a hand over his hair. “You’re mad, Vera. And you think the fucking universe revolves around you. Athena has her own talent, and she doesn’t need you to helicopter her like this.”
“Oh,” Mom says, cackling. “But she needs you?”
“I need no one,” I hiss, stepping out of her clutches.
“Mom. Please. Did you really come all this way because of some pictures? Christopher is not doing anything wrong; I’m overage, and I’m doing this willingly.
” Tears burn in the back of my eyes. “This congress was about distancing myself from your name. Why did you have to show up?”
She smiles. “You can never distance yourself from the Menken name, Athena. It’s who you are. This is such a big part of you that you made first place in the contest.” My heart drops. Her lips go into an O shape, and she giggles. “Oopsie, I told you too soon.”
I made first place, but victory doesn’t taste nearly as sweet as I hoped for.
Because she knows about it, and if she knows about it, it can only mean that she had something to do with it.
I didn’t make it because of my skills, but because of her name.
The whispers behind me agree—I only made it because of her.
Mom is right. I will never distance myself from her name. She might have ruined even my budding relationship with Christopher.
Before they can see me crying, I whirl around and run into the crowd. My heart shatters. Nothing good came from stepping out of my comfort zone.
The only thing I have now is my broken heart.