CHAPTER 154: Thursday

POV: Selene Castellano

Kevin’s mother was nothing like Selene expected.

She’d imagined someone quieter. 

Evelyn Walsh was loud, specific, and had opinions about everything including the foundation’s website which she’d apparently read in full.

“The photo on the about page,” she said, the moment Kevin introduced them. “Change it. You look like you’re at a board meeting. You should look like you’re at the program.”

“Mom,” Kevin said.

“I’m right,” Evelyn said. “Am I right?” She looked at Selene.

“You’re right,” Selene said.

Kevin looked at the ceiling.

“See,” Evelyn said.

They walked the program together.

Evelyn knew everyone by name, story, or what they were working on. She moved through space the way people moved through places like she has whole self behind.

“This is Marcus,” she said, stopping at a young man who was reading at a table. “He’s been here six weeks. He’s taking his GED in June.”

“That’s right,” Marcus said, not looking up from the book.

“He’s going to pass,” Evelyn said.

“Probably,” Marcus said.

“Definitely,” Evelyn said. She looked at Selene. “He says probably. I say definitely. We’ll see who’s right in June.”

“I’ll be right,” Marcus said, still not looking up.

“See,” Evelyn said. “He already knows.”

Afterward Evelyn and Selene sat in Kevin’s small office with tea that Evelyn had produced from somewhere.

“The foundation,” Evelyn said. “Tell me what you’re actually trying to do. Not the website version. The real version.”

“The website version is the real version,” Selene said.

“It’s the clean version,” Evelyn said. “Clean and real aren’t always the same thing.”

Selene looked at her.

“We’re trying to close a gap,” she said. “Between what exists and what should exist. Between what people need and what systems provide.”

“That’s still the website,” Evelyn said.

“Alright,” Selene said. “We’re trying to make sure Darius has a case manager who knows his name. We’re trying to make sure Marcus has somewhere stable enough that he can focus on a GED instead of survival. We’re trying to make it so Kevin doesn’t have to fight the same fights in year ten that he was fighting in year one.”

Evelyn looked at her.

“That’s better,” she said. “See? Real.”

“You’re very direct,” Selene said.

“Kevin’s father was the same way,” Evelyn said. “He lost his house in 1983. He spent twenty years angry about it. Rightfully.” She wrapped both hands around her cup. “When Kevin started this program his father said — finally. That’s all he said.”

“Is he still—”

“He died in 2019 before any of this,” Evelyn said. “Before the acknowledgment, before the land trust. He never saw it.”

“I’m sorry,” Selene said.

“Don’t be sorry,” Evelyn said. “Be consistent. That’s what he would have wanted. Not an apology but consistency.”

Selene looked at her.

“I can do that,” she said.

“Good,” Evelyn said. She looked at Selene’s stomach. “When are you due.”

“July,” Selene said.

“First?”

“Yes.”

“It changes everything,” Evelyn said. “People say that and it sounds like a warning. It’s not. It’s just true. Everything changes and most of the changes are better than you expected.” She stood up. “Come back next Thursday. Marcus will be here and you can check his progress.”

“I’ll be here,” Selene said.

She told Avalon at dinner.

“Evelyn Walsh told me to change the photo on the about page,” she said.

“She’s right,” he said.

“Not you too.”

“You do look like you’re at a board meeting.”

“I was at a board meeting when it was taken.”

“That’s the problem,” he said.

She pointed at him with her fork again.

“You and Evelyn Walsh would get along terrifyingly well,” she said.

“Introduce me sometime,” he said.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “I don’t need two of you.”

He smiled.

“How was the program?” he asked. 

She put down her fork.

“Marcus is taking his GED in June,” she said. “He said probably but Evelyn said definitely. He said probably again.” She paused. “He’s going to pass.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he said probably the way people say probably when they mean definitely but don’t want to jinx it,” she said. “I know that probably.”

Avalon looked at her.

“You’re good at this,” he said.

“At what?”

“People,” he said. “Knowing what they mean.”

She picked up her fork again.

“I learned from someone who was terrible at it,” she said. “Good teacher.”

He laughed.