Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dean
“They fired me,” I say, my voice sounding brittle and weak.
Solange pulls me inside her apartment, immediately drawing me into her warm embrace. “Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry.”
Today may have rocked me to my core, but being enveloped in Solange’s arms makes me feel grounded. There was never any question that I’d come to her. I respect her opinion. Value her perspective. She knows I’ve been chasing partnership for years and understands how devastating this is.
Solange draws back and grabs my shoulders, her worried gaze roving over my face. “What happened? Tell me.”
“Henderson ate it up and ran with it,” I say, my voice just above a whisper. “Technically, I’m resigning. Said it was the least they could do to thank me for my eight years of service to the firm.”
“Bastards,” she says, scowling. “They were looking for a reason to do this.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Unfortunately, I handed them one on a silver platter.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, as if she’s willing herself not to cry. “Shit. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for me. I took your mother to the shop, and it went downhill from there.”
I place a hand on her chin and lift it gently. “Look at me, Solange.”
She stares at me, her eyes glistening.
“This isn’t your fault,” I continue. “Everything that’s happened is one hundred percent on me. I chose to lie to the firm. I convinced you to lie on my behalf. Now I need to accept the consequences of my actions. End of story.”
She gives me a small nod. “Even so, I feel awful about it.”
“Because you care. I appreciate it more than I can say.”
We drift to the couch and sit side by side, our thighs pressed together. She strokes my hair, and I lean into her, desperately seeking her calming touch. I’m still agitated, though, and I doubt this feeling will be going away anytime soon. How the hell did everything go south so fast? Or is this how it was always going to play out? Did I miss the signs? Or did I ignore them?
I let out a harsh breath and drop my head. “You know, I’m seriously questioning if partnership was ever on the table. Maybe they would have promoted me eventually, but I don’t think they really wanted to. I didn’t bring in enough clients. Spent too much time on pro bono. Couldn’t even land Kimberly Bailey.” I draw back and meet her gaze. “I suppose the writing was on the wall, but I refused to see it.”
“Well, they don’t deserve you,” she says fiercely. “And one day, they’re going to regret letting you go.”
My heart swells. If there’s a scrap of joy I can salvage from this crap day, it’s that Solange and I are going to be okay.
“So what’s next?” she asks.
“I need to figure out what to do about my pro bono cases. I don’t want to abandon my clients, but who knows if the firm will help me through the transition. As for money, I have enough saved to cover my expenses for the rest of the year. Being a planner has its advantages.”
Still, I need to find a job. Help my mother get a new place. Figure out what the hell I’m going to do with my life now that being a partner at Olney & Henderson is no longer an option.
Solange takes my hand in hers. “You know, I think it’s telling that your first concern was your pro bono work. My mother once told me the things we value the most are the things we’re most afraid of losing. Keep that in mind as you sort out what to do next.”
I appreciate her insight, and I’ll take that into consideration as I overthink my life in the days ahead. But right now, I want to hear about her. “Tell me what’s going on with you. Have you decided what to do about Ohio? Or about your offer here?”
She nods. “I think so, and ironically, your firing is what’s giving me the final push. You’ve worked so hard for so long and still didn’t get the reward you’ve been chasing. Meanwhile, I’m being offered the opportunity to use my heart and talents at a place that’s already demonstrated it values me. Plus, I get to stay close to family and remain a part of the village that has supported me since forever. I’m kind of mad at myself that it took me this long to get my head out of my ass.” She studies my face. “I probably shouldn’t have said any of that out loud. The timing is terrible.”
“Are you kidding?” I say, cocking my head. “When life gives me lemons, you make lemonade for yourself. It’s part of your brand.”
With her face contorted in a playful grimace, she pretends to stab a dagger through her heart.
“But seriously,” I say, squeezing her hand, “I want you to be happy. And if this decision makes you happy, I’ll be in your corner one hundred percent.”
“Thanks,” she says, her expression sobering. “But enough about me. Do me a favor and focus on yourself today, okay?”
I take in a deep breath and expel it slowly. “Yeah, I should let my mother know what’s going on. She sounded pretty distraught on the phone.”
“Go easy on her, Dean. She feels just as bad as I do.”
“She’s probably blaming herself, but I’m not interested in putting any of this on her. I’d rather find a way for us to support each other. My childhood may not have been perfect, but she was there for me. It’s time to let go of the past and build a relationship with her based on the present.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
Solange walks me to her apartment door and draws me in for another hug. “You’re going to be all right,” she says softly. “I’m confident of that. Now go do what you need to do.”
“Thanks for listening,” I say, caressing her cheek.
Closing her eyes, she burrows into my touch for a moment, then she steps back and opens the door. “I’m here for you, Dean. Always.” She gestures behind her. “None of the other stuff is going to interfere with our friendship.”
“That means a lot, Solange. Probably more than you’ll ever realize.”
As I walk down the hall, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m headed in the wrong direction. That I should be moving toward Solange, not away from her. But I plod ahead anyway. I’ve made my choices. Now I need to live with them.
Solange
I’m taking a page from Dean’s playbook and making my own plan to get “unstuck.” One of the first steps is to meet with my former student Layla.
Not long ago, I convinced myself that Layla’s departure was further proof that committing to Victory would be a mistake; now I realize I was using it as an excuse to avoid making critical decisions about my future. No more. Layla’s important to me, and if I’m going to plant roots here in DC, I can’t think of a better person to be a part of my new village.
I watch Layla stride up the sidewalk; she’s wearing a cream blouse and a pair of black slacks. “Wow. Don’t you look stylish.”
She takes the chair opposite me. “Your wardrobe came in handy after all.”
We’re meeting at an outdoor café near her new job as a receptionist for a small accounting firm in Georgetown. She’s on a lunch break, so we don’t have much time. The server quickly takes our orders and sprints away to another (demanding) table.
“Poor guy,” I say.
“I couldn’t do it,” Layla says, shaking her head. “I’d be fired the first week.”
“I’d be fired the first day.”
She laughs, squinting against the sun’s rays. “So, what did you want to see me about?”
I twist my hands on my lap. I’m making too much of this, and if I don’t speak up soon, I’ll probably weird her out. Just go for it, Solange. “The class misses you.”
“Aww, I miss them too,” she replies, smiling. “Even big-head Darius.”
“I’ll pass along the message,” I say on a chuckle. “So listen, I know you need this job, and I totally support that, but I’d like us to stay in touch. I’d be happy to tutor you for the GED outside of school and give you career advice and be a general sounding board whenever you have an issue.” I wave my hands around. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. What do you say?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip as she studies me. “What about Victory? Will you still be working there?”
I haven’t formally accepted the offer, but I plan to later this afternoon.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m going to be working at Victory for the foreseeable future. It’s breaking news, though, so don’t tell anyone just yet.”
“I’m glad you’re staying, Ms. P. And I’d love for you to be my mentor. I could use all the help I can get.”
I give her a playful wink. “Well, now you’ll have mine.”
The waiter arrives with our entrées—salmon for me and a salad for Layla—and we dig in.
After a few bites, Layla takes a sip of water, then clears her throat. “Does being my mentor mean I can ask personal questions?”
“You can always ask. But I reserve the right not to respond. Depends on the question.”
“Whatever that means,” she mutters.
“Go ahead and ask your question,” I say, holding back a smile.
“That guy who came to class. The lawyer. What’s up with him?”
She doesn’t have enough time for this story. Besides, I wouldn’t share too much about Dean anyway. “His name’s Dean, and he’s just a friend.”
It’s the best answer I can give her, but it doesn’t sound right to my ears. I suppose I’m still getting used to the idea of putting our relationship in that specific box.
I’ll get there, though. Slowly. Surely. Eventually.
“That’s a shame,” Layla says.
My eyes go wide. “Watch it, Ms. Young.”
She giggles and holds up her hands. “He’s a cutie. I’m just sayin’.”
He’s so much more than that, but yeah, she has a point. Thinking about Dean isn’t part of my getting-unstuck plan, though. “When would you like to get started on tutoring?”
“I’m ready when you are,” she says. “How about this weekend?”
“Ooh, sorry. I’m heading to Vegas to celebrate my roommate’s birthday.”
Layla drops her shoulders, then tilts her head as she gazes at me dubiously. “Are you going to be a shady mentor?”
“What?” I say, grinning. “No. I just have plans, that’s all. I’ll be at your disposal any other weekend.”
She gives me a toothy grin. “I’m just kidding. I know you won’t let me down.”
She’s right. I won’t.
It feels good not to be floundering anymore.