Chapter 3: What Simone Saw
Simone Reed marched across the ballroom in a dark green gown and the expression of a woman trying very hard not to commit a felony at a charity event.
"Where is she?""
Malcolm sighed.
"Hello to you too.""
"Where. Is. Vanessa?""
"Gone.""
"Good. Which door?""
Nia covered a smile.
Malcolm pointed at his sister.
"Don't encourage her.""
"I didn't say anything," Nia replied.
Simone reached them.
She looked Malcolm over quickly.
Not because she doubted he was all right.
Because after the accident, Simone had developed the habit of visually checking him from head to toe whenever something stressful happened.
"Did she touch you?""
"No.""
"The chair?""
Malcolm hesitated.
Simone's nostrils flared.
"Oh, hell no.""
"Simone.""
"She kicked your chair?""
"She pushed it with her foot.""
"That is just kicking with better public relations.""
Nia laughed before she could stop herself.
Simone looked at her.
"And you are?""
"Nia Carter.""
"Did you see it?""
"Unfortunately.""
Simone pointed toward the doors.
"Thank you. Witness.""
Malcolm rubbed his forehead.
"Nobody is pressing charges.""
"I didn't say charges.""
"That worries me more.""
Simone finally exhaled.
Then her anger cracked.
Her eyes filled.
She crouched in front of him.
"You stood.""
Malcolm's expression softened.
"Yeah.""
"In front of everybody?""
"Apparently.""
Simone slapped one hand over her mouth.
Malcolm smiled.
"Don't cry.""
"I'm not crying.""
"You are absolutely crying.""
"I'm moisturizing aggressively.""
Nia turned away, grinning.
Simone hugged Malcolm carefully.
He closed his eyes.
This was different from the applause.
Different from Vanessa's shock.
Simone had seen the whole thing.
The hospitals.
The infections.
The sleepless nights.
The first time Malcolm tried to move his toes and nothing happened.
The day he threw a drinking glass against the wall because he couldn't transfer himself from the chair to the bed without help.
Simone had never promised him he would walk again.
She had promised something better.
That whatever happened, his life was still his.
When she pulled back, Malcolm wiped beneath one eye.
"Now who's crying?""
"You.""
"Absolutely not.""
Nia quietly handed him a cocktail napkin.
Malcolm accepted it.
"Traitor.""
Simone stood.
"How long could you do that?""
"Stand?""
"Yes.""
"A couple weeks.""
Her face changed.
"Weeks?""
"Don't start.""
"You didn't tell me?""
"I wanted to be sure.""
"Malcolm.""
"Simone.""
"You tell me when your microwave makes a weird noise.""
"That's because you bought it.""
"But standing wasn't worth a text?""
Malcolm looked away.
The truth was harder than the joke.
He hadn't told Simone because hope frightened him.
Every improvement after the accident came with the possibility of reversal.
A muscle responding on Monday might fail on Wednesday.
A good therapy session could be followed by three terrible ones.
Malcolm had stopped announcing progress because announcing it made setbacks feel like public failures.
Simone understood before he explained.
Her anger softened.
"Oh.""
Malcolm nodded.
"Yeah.""
She squeezed his shoulder.
"I still would've wanted to know.""
"I know.""
Nia glanced toward the service area.
"I should get back.""
Malcolm looked up.
"Of course.""
She started away.
"Wait.""
Nia turned.
"I didn't get a chance to properly thank you.""
"You already did.""
"No.""
Malcolm glanced toward the ballroom.
"Most people watched.""
Then he looked at her.
"You stepped in.""
Nia shifted the tray against her hip.
"My grandmother raised me. She would've climbed out of her grave and slapped me herself if I stood there and watched somebody get treated like that.""
Simone smiled.
"I like your grandmother.""
"Everybody did.""
The past tense changed Nia's expression for half a second.
Malcolm noticed.
Before he could ask anything else, a supervisor called Nia's name.
She nodded.
"I really have to go.""
Malcolm watched her disappear between tables.
Simone watched Malcolm watching her.
"No.""
He looked at his sister.
"What?""
"I know that face.""
"What face?""
"That interested face.""
Malcolm stared at her.
"She gave me water.""
"Mm-hmm.""
"She defended me.""
"Mm-hmm.""
"Don't.""
"I didn't say anything.""
"You said two entire paragraphs with your eyebrows.""
Simone laughed.
For several minutes, the night returned to something close to normal.
Charles gave his speech.
Scholarship recipients were introduced.
Malcolm listened as a seventeen-year-old student named Jordan Price described wanting to become an aerospace engineer after losing his father at thirteen.
That was why Malcolm had come.
Not Vanessa.
Not the gala politics.
This.
When Jordan stepped down from the stage, Malcolm asked Simone to bring him over.
The teenager approached nervously.
"Mr. Reed?""
"Malcolm.""
Jordan smiled.
"I watched your panel last year.""
"I apologize.""
Jordan laughed.
They spoke for ten minutes about engineering programs and internships.
By the time Jordan left, Malcolm felt grounded again.
Then his phone vibrated.
He glanced down.
Unknown number.
*We need to talk.*
Malcolm stared at the message.
Simone leaned over.
"Who is it?""
"No idea.""
Another message appeared.
*You embarrassed me tonight.*
Malcolm didn't need the name anymore.
Vanessa.
He locked the screen.
Simone had already seen enough.
"Block her.""
"I will.""
"Now.""
"I said I will.""
She held out her hand.
Malcolm laughed.
"I'm thirty-five.""
"And apparently unable to operate basic telecommunications.""
He blocked the number.
Simone nodded approvingly.
"Growth.""
Ten seconds later, his phone rang.
Different unknown number.
Malcolm stared.
Simone stared.
"Oh, she's lost it.""
He declined the call.
It rang again.
Then a message arrived.
*You owe me an explanation.*
Malcolm's smile vanished.
That sentence bothered him more than the insults.
Because it revealed that Vanessa still believed access to him was something she possessed.
He typed three words.
*I owe nothing.*
Then blocked that number too.
"Good," Simone said.
But the night wasn't finished.
A hotel manager approached.
"Mr. Reed?""
"Yes?""
"I'm sorry to bother you. There's someone asking for you near the lobby.""
Malcolm's stomach tightened.
"Vanessa?""
"No, sir.""
The manager hesitated.
"A reporter.""
Simone groaned.
"Of course.""
Malcolm looked around.
"Reporter from where?""
"Channel Eight.""
He nearly laughed.
"How?""
The manager looked uncomfortable.
"Someone posted a video.""
Malcolm froze.
"What video?""
The manager didn't need to answer.
Simone pulled out her phone.
Her fingers moved quickly.
Then she stopped.
"Oh no.""
Malcolm held out his hand.
Simone hesitated.
"Give it to me.""
She did.
A social media video filled the screen.
The caption read:
*WOMAN HUMILIATES DISABLED EX AT CHARITY GALA—THEN THIS HAPPENS.*
Malcolm pressed play.
He saw Vanessa's silver heel touch his wheelchair.
He heard her laughing.
Then he watched himself stand.
The clip ended after his words:
Everyone in this room just saw who you really are.
Views: 48,000.
Then the number refreshed.
51,000.
Malcolm's chest tightened.
Simone crouched beside him.
"Malcolm.""
"Who recorded this?""
"I don't know.""
"I don't want this online.""
"I know.""
"No.""
His voice sharpened.
People nearby turned.
Malcolm lowered it again.
"I don't want to become some inspirational clip.""
Simone understood immediately.
He had spent nearly a year fighting strangers' assumptions.
Some spoke to him like a child.
Others told him he was "so inspiring" for doing ordinary things like buying groceries.
Malcolm didn't want millions of people reducing the most humiliating night of his life to a thirty-second lesson about overcoming adversity.
The manager spoke carefully.
"We can escort you through a private exit.""
Malcolm handed Simone the phone.
"Please.""
As they prepared to leave, Malcolm looked around for Nia.
He didn't see her.
For some reason, that disappointed him.
The hotel manager guided Malcolm and Simone toward a side corridor.
They were nearly through the service door when someone called behind them.
"Mr. Reed.""
Malcolm turned.
Nia hurried toward them.
She was holding something small and black.
"Sir, you dropped this.""
His wallet.
Malcolm touched his jacket pocket.
Empty.
"Thank you.""
She handed it over.
Their fingers brushed briefly.
Then Nia looked past him toward the lobby.
"There are cameras outside.""
"I heard.""
Her expression tightened.
"I'm sorry.""
"You didn't post anything.""
"No.""
"But people are already talking about it.""
Malcolm studied her.
"You saw the video?""
"Half the staff has.""
He nodded.
Nia hesitated.
Then she said, "People are focused on the wrong part.""
Malcolm looked at her.
"They keep talking about you standing.""
She shook her head.
"The important part happened before that.""
"What part?""
Nia's gaze held his.
"You were still worthy of respect when you were sitting.""
Malcolm forgot the cameras.
Forgot Vanessa.
Forgot everything for one quiet second.
May you like
Because Nia Carter had just said the one thing nobody else seemed to understand.
And Malcolm suddenly wondered who she was when she wasn't wearing a hotel name tag.
