Maya was laughing on the phone.
“Yes.”
“When do you start?”
“Monday.”
Sophie hugged me around the waist.
I heard another voice near Maya.
Elena.
Crying a little.
Laughing too.
Then Maya said, “There’s something else.”
My old instinct returned instantly.
“What happened?”
“Nothing bad.”
I exhaled.
“The committee approved the sponsor form.”
“You signed it?”
“Mom signed her section.”
“And you?”
“I told them I wanted to.”
Something inside me loosened.
Not triumph.
Not the satisfaction of solving a problem.
Something quieter.
Trust offered carefully.
I knew enough now not to treat it casually.
“I’ll sign this afternoon.”
“Okay.”
“Maya?”
“Yeah?”
“Congratulations.”
A pause.
“Thanks, Mr. Harrison.”
Sophie shouted toward the phone.
“Tell her she has to call you Daniel now!”
“No, she does not.”
“Yes, she does!”
Maya laughed again.
“See you Monday.”
The line ended.
Sophie looked up at me.
“Can we celebrate?”
“I have a meeting at noon.”
Her face fell.
I pulled out my phone.
Then stopped.
“What kind of celebration?”
Her eyes brightened.
“Pizza.”
“Reasonable.”
“And cake.”
“Less reasonable.”
“And Maya and Elena.”
“Obviously.”
“And Thomas.”
I smiled.
“Definitely Thomas.”
“And Dr. Patel.”
I stared at her.
“Your therapist?”
“She likes cake.”
“Does everyone you know need to attend?”
Sophie thought.
“Ms. Bennett.”
I canceled my noon meeting.
That evening, seven people sat around our dining table eating pizza from cardboard boxes.
Our formal dining room had hosted executives, politicians, foundation directors, and investors.
It had never felt as important as it did with tomato sauce on the linen napkins.
Thomas told Sophie embarrassing stories about my inability to use the navigation system in my own car.
Ms. Bennett and Elena discussed transportation schedules.
Maya pretended not to be nervous about Monday.
Dr. Patel arrived with a small plant as a gift.
“For new beginnings,” she said.
Sophie examined it.
“What kind?”
“A pothos.”
“Does Dad have to remember to water it?”
Everyone shouted, “No.”
Even me.
Later, after everyone left, Sophie found me gathering plates.
“You’re cleaning.”
“I am capable of basic domestic tasks.”
“You put a fork in the trash.”
I looked down.
I had.
She rescued it.
“Mom would be shocked.”
“Your mother had very limited confidence in me.”
Sophie leaned against the table.
“Can I show you my letter now?”
Claire’s letter.
I stopped.
“Only if you want to.”
She took it from her pocket.
The paper had already been folded and unfolded enough to soften the creases.
