A silence falls after my bellowed words, a silence teeming with the complexity of our admiration for each other, with our resentment, our shared convictions, our differences. I watch the anger melt from his face in phases, loosening feature by feature until all that’s left is a milder expression and uncertainty.
“She used my own words on me, you know,” he says, a wry grin tipping the edge of his stern mouth.
“What?” I shift my bag on my shoulder, needing to go but wanting to hear what he has to say. I keep hoping he’ll say something to demonstrate his perspective is changing.
“Your girl, Bristol. She had me sign her copy of Virus in a section on inherent bias.”
We share a grin because sometimes all you can do is laugh at the things Bristol does.
“She introduced herself as ‘Grip’s Bristol,’” he says, his grin deepening to a full-on smile.
Damn right she’s Grip’s Bristol.
“Oh yeah?”
“And she said if I hurt you again, I’d have to deal with her.” His smile dies off, and he looks down at the mess of papers littering his desk. “I didn’t mean to hurt—”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
It’s a lie. He did hurt me, but I haven’t given any man the satisfaction of truly hurting me since my dad walked away without looking back. I won’t let Iz know he held that place in my life until he said those things about Bristol.
“You’re just a smart guy with great ideas,” I continue, stiffening the words around any emotion left over. “I thought you were something that you’re not. My bad, not yours.”
If I didn’t know Iz better, didn’t know he doesn’t give a damn about anyone’s opinion, I’d think that’s guilt in his eyes. Whatever it is, he blinks and it’s gone.
“Yeah, well, okay. Good.” He takes his glasses off to polish them on the edge of his Howard University sweatshirt. “Well I’m still glad you’ll continue with my organization now that the semester is over. I’m ready to get out of the classroom and back to the real grind.”
“Of course. The cause is bigger than you and me.”
“Right.” He twists his lips around, frowns, and releases a sigh. “Look, tomorrow’s the exam, and I assume you’re leaving the city after.”
“Yeah, though we’re actually keeping our place here for another six-month lease. Bris has some Broadway stuff popping off for one of her clients, and we love the city, love our place. We’ll be back and forth.”
“You still want that spot on the board of directors?” he asks as if he doesn’t care, but somehow I know he does.
“Yeah, sure.” I shrug like I don’t care, but I want on that board like nobody’s business. “If you think it could work.”
“My assistant will send you details about our next meeting and papers you need to sign.” He hesitates before going on. “I know it’s . . . well, I’m sorry I was a . . . uh, disappointment to you, Grip.”
I study the regret marking his face and his words. I don’t say anything that would counter because he did disappoint me, and I refuse to make it easier for him.
“But I’m . . . well I’m honored that you moved here to study with me,” he mutters. “Shocked actually. It’s been really cool getting to know you this semester, and I look forward to, uh . . . well . . . what I’m trying to say is . . . fuck it.”
He reaches into his desk drawer and pulls something out, something badly wrapped in plain paper.
“Merry Christmas.” He practically spits the goodwill at me and extends the gift.
I just stare at it, and after a full five seconds, I accept it.
“I didn’t get you anything,” I mumble, tugging on the tatty ribbon.
“It’s not much, believe me. Uh, you can open it later.” He sits at his desk and pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’m getting ready for finals, if you could just close the door behind you.”
Iz is a PhD, and he must hold at least a master’s in dismissing people. I nod, suppressing the grin that tries to break past my restraint.
“A’ight,” I say casually over my shoulder. “Merry Christmas.”
I walk down the hall away from his office and down the stairs. In the stairwell, I drop my saddlebag and sit on the step, turning the gift over in my hands for a few moments before pulling the ribbon.