CHAPTER 103: What She Said

POV: Selene Castellano

Claire called back within the hour.

Selene answered herself, it was her personal phone because Avalon had given Claire her number and said this was a conversation that belonged to her specifically.

“Mrs. Pierce,” Claire said.

“Selene,” she said. “Please.”

She paused.

“Selene.” Claire’s voice was careful. Like, the voice of someone choosing every word. “I want you to know the withdrawal wasn’t about the foundation’s work. It was about protecting what you’re building from—”

“From the awkwardness of your history with my husband,” Selene said.

“Yes.”

“I appreciate that,” Selene said. “And I’m asking you not to.”

Silence.

“The organization’s work is strong,” Selene said. “The governance is solid. The community relationships are real. Those things don’t change because of who you were to Avalon four years ago.” She paused. “The foundation makes decisions based on merit. This is me telling you yours is sufficient.”

Claire was quiet for a long moment.

“You’re remarkably composed about this,” she said.

“I’m not composed,” Selene said. “I’m clear.”

Another pause.

“He didn’t tell you about me,” Claire said. 

“No.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s between me and him,” Selene said. “Not you.”

“Fair.” A breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why?” Claire said. “Genuinely. Why keep the partnership? You could find another organization. San Francisco has dozens of nonprofits doing similar work. You don’t need mine.”

Selene thought about it honestly.

“Well, retreating from discomfort isn’t what the foundation is built for,” she said. “And because your forty two young people in housing programs deserve a case manager regardless of who you used to date.”

Silence.

“Forty two,” Claire said quietly.

“I spoke with Kevin Walsh yesterday,” Selene said. “He told me about his program. I’m guessing yours has similar numbers.”

“Thirty eight,” Claire said.

“Thirty eight young people,” Selene said. “That’s the number that matters, not our personal history.”

Claire was quiet for a long time.

Long enough that Selene checked the phone to see if the call had dropped.

“The partnership application stands,” Claire said finally.

“Good,” Selene said.

“Selene.”

“Yes.”

“He ended it because something was missing,” Claire said. “I want you to know I understood that even then. Even when it hurt.” A pause. “I know now what was missing.”

Selene felt her throat tighten.

“You don’t have to—” she started.

“I know I don’t.” Claire’s voice was even. “I want to, because ou’re going to see me in foundation meetings and I’d rather we both know where things stand.” She paused. “He loved me the way someone loves a place they’re visiting. Fully present. Genuinely there. But always knowing it wasn’t home.”

The apartment was very quiet.

Selene stood at the window.

At the city below.

“You were home,” Claire said simply. “Even when you were gone. You were home.”

She stood at the window for a long time even after the call ended.

Avalon came and stood beside her.

He’d heard her side of the conversation. Not Claire’s.

“She’s keeping the application,” he said.

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Selene looked at the street below.

At a man walking a dog with excessive enthusiasm.

At two women sharing something on a phone screen and laughing.

At the ordinary city doing its ordinary thing.

“That you loved her the way someone loves a place they’re visiting,” she said. “Fully present. But always knowing it wasn’t home.”

He said nothing.

“She said I was home,” Selene said. “Even when I was gone.”

“She’s right,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“Does it help?” he said. “Hearing it from her.”

“Yes,” she said. “Strangely. Yes.”

He turned to look at her.

She kept looking at the street.

“I’m still angry,” she said.

“I know.”

“Good.” She finally turned. “Because the anger about not telling is real and it needs to go somewhere.”

“Tell me where.”

“Into a promise,” she said. “The same one we made before but more specific.” She looked at him directly. “Nothing sits between us. Not for comfort. Not for protection. Not because you decided I could handle something at a later date.”

“Nothing sits between us,” he said.

“Everything that’s mine to know I know immediately.”

“Yes.”

“I mean it Avalon.”

“I know you mean it.” He held her gaze. “So do I.”

She looked at him.

He was standing here not defending it.

Just receiving it.

“Okay,” she said.

She turned back to the window.

He stayed beside her.

After a while his hand found hers.

She let it.

Maya appeared at seven.

Nobody had called her.

She just arrived with food and Maya instinct for when her presence was required without being requested.

She walked in and looked at them both, then set the food on the counter.

“Eat,” she said.

“Maya—” Selene started.

“I heard,” Maya said. “Not the details tho.” She looked at Avalon. “You should have told her.”

“I know,” he said.

“Good.” She opened the containers. “Now eat. Both of you. You’ve been through something real today and you’re both standing here like it was just a Tuesday.”

“It was a Tuesday,” Avalon said.

“It was a Tuesday where something hard happened and you both handled it.” Maya set plates on the counter. “That’s allowed to be something.”

Selene just looked at her sister.

She woke at 3 AM.

Avalon was still asleep beside her.

She lay in the dark and thought about Claire’s voice on the phone.

He loved me the way someone loves a place they’re visiting.

She thought about thirty eight young people.

About Kevin Walsh and his single case manager that would let him take twelve more.

About what it meant to build something that held the work above the personal.

She thought about Avalon keeping something from her.

She closed her eyes.

Then opened them.

Something was wrong.

Not with Avalon.

Not with Claire.

Something else.

A feeling she’d been having for three days that she’d been too busy to examine.

She sat up slowly.

Went to the bathroom and stood at the counter.

Counted back.

Counted again.

Her hands were not entirely steady when she opened the cabinet under the sink where she’d put it three weeks ago when she’d bought it quietly without telling anyone.

Just in case.

Just when they were ready.

She looked at the box in her hands.