6. Sebastian #3
The hallway to the conference room was narrow, lined with bulletin boards covered in photos and thank-you letters. I didn't see any of it. The door at the end was closed, and I pushed through it without knocking.
Evie was sitting at the conference table with a poster board spread out in front of her. Her shoulders were up near her ears. Aria was beside her, not touching her, but close.
They both looked up when I came in.
"Dad. It's not even four yet."
"What happened?"
Aria stood up. "It's nothing. Someone came to pick up his stuff. An old volunteer. He got upset about being let go and he was loud about it. Evie was in the room, but it's over now. He's gone."
"Someone yelled at her?"
"No. He yelled about the situation. About getting fired. I got him out of here in maybe five minutes, and that was it. It's done."
"You don't even have security here."
"We're a nonprofit in Brooklyn. We don’t need security." She crossed her arms. "I handled it. He's not coming back."
I looked at Evie. She was picking at her thumbnail, eyes down.
"She's twelve years old."
"I know how old she is."
"Well, she doesn't look fine to me."
"Dad, I'm literally right here," Evie said. Her voice cracked a little. "And I am fine. He was just being loud about getting fired. He wasn't even looking at me. Aria made him leave and it was like, two minutes. Maybe three."
"He shouldn't have been anywhere near you in the first place."
"Dad." She closed her eyes. "Stop."
I could feel my teeth grinding together. Aria was watching me, her chin up, not backing down. The room felt smaller than it had a minute ago.
"Dad, oh my god, stop it."
I looked at Evie. She was standing now, holding her poster against her chest with both hands. Her face was red, and I couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or angry or both.
"I'm fine. Okay? I promise I'm fine. Just… Can you stop?"
Nobody said anything. I could hear someone laughing in the hallway outside, and a phone ringing somewhere.
The poster had bright red letters across the top. YOUR HEALTH MATTERS. Below that, graphs and stats in different colors, all neat and organized. It looked professional. Too professional for a kid her age.
"Let me see that," I said.
"What?"
"The poster. Let me see it."
She glanced at Aria, then back at me. Held it out slowly, like she wasn't sure if this was a trick.
I took it. The statistics were actually good, clearly sourced, and easy to read.
She'd broken down screening rates by income level, by geography.
Color-coded the whole thing so you could see the patterns.
It looked like something I'd expect from an intern at the firm, not a kid doing a school project.
"Did you do all of this yourself?"
"Most of it. Aria helped me with the layout stuff because I couldn't figure out how to make it look, you know, not terrible. But I found all the research myself. I spent like three hours on it."
I kept looking at it. The numbers were solid. The presentation was clear. She'd actually thought about who would be reading this, what would make them care.
"It's good work," I said.
Evie's whole face changed. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. The data's solid. You made it clear without dumbing it down." I handed it back to her. "This is really good, Evie. You should be proud of this."
She pulled the poster back against her chest, and a smile broke across her face.
I looked at Aria. She was leaning against the table now, arms still crossed, watching us. Her expression was softer than before. Not quite a smile, but close.
"So. Monday, same time?" she said.
"Yeah. Monday."
I put my hand on Evie's shoulder and she leaned into me, just a little.
"Can we get ice cream on the way home?"
"It's almost dinnertime."
"I know, but like, ice cream can be dinner. Right? Aria says sometimes ice cream can totally be dinner if you want it to be." She stopped, looked between us, and bit her lip. "She said that once. When I was complaining about lunch."
I glanced at Aria.
"Did you say that?"
Aria's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "I may have said something along those lines. In a specific context."
"What context?"
"The context of it being her choice what she eats," Aria said. She lifted her chin as if she were daring me to argue. I didn’t see why I would when I agreed that it was Evie’s choice. But it was still my job to supervise.
We stood there for a second. Evie's poster board was crinkling slightly where she gripped it. A marker had rolled off the table onto the floor. I could still hear that phone ringing in another room.
I should probably say something. ‘Thank you,’ maybe. Or ‘I'm sorry for coming in here like that.’ Something that would acknowledge that I'd overreacted, that she'd handled it, that my daughter was standing here smiling for the first time in days.
I didn't say any of it. It was Aria Kealoha for goodness sake. I would sooner eat my own flesh then apologize to her.
"Come on," I said to Evie. "Let's go get ice cream."
At the door, I looked back. Aria was still there, still watching. She didn't look away when I met her eyes.
I held her gaze for a second longer than I needed to, then turned and walked out with my daughter.