He did. And he did not even have to call for you to go to him.
He lowers his hand and she feels it gone.
Where is your faith? he asks.
She kneels in front of him, her heart in her throat, and he pushes her hair from her face. He asks her to tell him the story of when she was in the hospital, the day that Lo was born. It fascinates him, and every now and then he wants to hear it: how Bea was so comforted in and by her mother’s arms. He’d never known anything like it and she tries so hard to let him know it through her. Bea tells him of the promise. Having a sister is a promise no one but the two of you can make—and no one but the two of you can break.
When she’s finished, he says, softly, Those who promise are faithful.
He asks her to make a promise to him.
Afterward, the two of them lie in bed, limbs entwined. Bea’s eyes are watering, her flesh blistered and smarting from the blessing burned on the inside of her thigh. She’s never felt a more perfect pain in her life. Lev has sealed the weaknesses in her faith with the strength of his own. He kisses her between her legs. When he asks her what it feels like, she says love.
FEBRUARY 2018
Paul storms into SVO Monday afternoon with murder in his eyes. The door slams against the wall and everyone watches, silent, as he stands before us, scrubbing his hand over his mouth, assessing the room.
“Somebody fucked up,” Lauren says under her breath.
“Denham, my office. Now.”
His tone makes my body go rigid, makes my heart rate rocket. I’ve heard him use it before—but always at other people. Never me. I stare at him a moment too long, can’t quite process being on the receiving end of it. It has to be a mistake.
“Now.”
I end up in his office, alone, with the door closed, waiting on him. I missed the whole high school experience: calls to the principal’s office—though I was such a timid kid, I doubt I would have ever found myself there—but I wasn’t looking to find it here.
The low murmurs of him and Lauren talking filter in and knowing that she’s getting briefed on whatever I fucked up before I do makes me hate him and by the time he finally enters the room, the only thing that’s kept me from leaving it is the dread anchoring me to my seat, and the question of what I could have possibly done to have earned this.
“You’re really putting me through it,” he says as he rounds his desk. “Jesus, Denham. You double booked my entire morning—”
“What? No, I didn’t—”
“Don’t,” he snaps, “argue with me.” He sits down and logs into his computer, then, after a few minutes, turns his monitor, putting the proof right in front of my eyes. In a month full of impeccably scheduled interviews, phone calls, conferences, appearances … today is a mess.
“Great job,” he says. “Explain it to me.”
“I don’t know how that happened.”
“Make an educated guess.”
I bite my tongue for three seconds, then swallow what I really want to say.
“It was an honest mistake, Paul.”
“An honest mistake is still a mistake and I’ve been doing damage control all morning. And once I had that off my plate, I went over the schedule and I found—and this is at a glance—about four other conflicts scattered through the month…”
I fade out while he lists them all, forcing myself to maintain eye contact because I don’t think Paul would respect anything less. When he asks me, again, how something like this could happen, I tell him I don’t know, but I do.
“This is unacceptable, do you understand?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Fix this. Make sure there aren’t any other errors you might have missed. And don’t let it happen again.” He shakes his head. “I mean, what is with you, Denham? I don’t even know where to start—”
“Are you serious?” My face turns red. “I’ve been working here for over a year and I slip up for what—the first time ever? And you’re reading me the riot act.”
“Don’t cop attitude with your boss when you’re in the wrong,” he says. “And it’s not just this. This is the result of a few things I’ve noticed lately, namely a lack of focus, engagement and participation. It’s like you just … I don’t know, you used to act like you had a stake in this and now you don’t anymore. Ever since I told you I couldn’t put you on staff. It’s a privilege to work here. A lot of people would kill to be in your place.”
“Funny, last time you told it to me, you were desperate for an assistant.”
“Thin ice.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are on thin ice right now. You know, it’s great that you can do your job well when everything is going well. If you want to prove something to me, prove you can show up when it really matters. Because that’ll make a huge difference for you in the long run.”
“I’m at the bottom of a ladder that only has one rung,” I snap. “Somehow I doubt that.”
When I leave his office, I close the door a little too hard behind me. Something just shy of a slam, but nothing that doesn’t suggest I’m not pissed at him.
“He’s working something big right now,” Lauren tells me. “Like, really big.”
“I know that.”
“Whatever you think you know, think again,” she says. “Paul’s got a lot invested in SVO. There are no small mistakes. The smoother things are running here, the better.”
“You know, I literally just got this lecture, Lauren,” I say. “So save it.”
2013
I want you to listen to something, Lev tells Bea.
He leads her to a quiet room, away from the rest of the house, his ThinkPad tucked under his arm. They sit together at a small table where he opens the laptop up. After a moment, a voice sounds from its speakers. Foster. She almost doesn’t recognize it at first, it’s so unlike anything she’s heard come from him—so small and sad and uncertain.
I have been … I have not strayed. I am still a believer. I have faith in Lev and The Unity Project, and the work but I am … I am losing faith in myself. I’m plagued by thoughts that make me more and more convinced I’m not strong enough to be here. I do not want to corrupt a hope of future glory with my weakness … I don’t know where my place is anymore …
Foster’s voice breaks and her heart shatters. She brings a hand to her chest, swallowing, waiting for more, but there is no more. Foster’s ragged breathing fills the room and the recording cuts off. She’s seen him every time he’s come to the house for Attestation and she has not once remembered him leaving the room looking as broken as he sounds on that recording.
He always found her afterward.
He was always so happy to see her.
When she looks up at Lev, there are tears in her eyes. He moves to her, crouches in front of her, reaches for the pendant at her neck. He runs his thumb over it, studying it.
She asks Lev if he’s going to bring Foster to the floor. A lack of faith requires correction and if he is willing to say it at Attestation, some part of him must be seeking it. But she doesn’t think she can bear to see Foster on the floor and she admits this to Lev. They will look at Foster, and they will know her faith was not enough.