Oh, right. The other massive pit in my stomach: the banquet. I tell her it is.
Elaine looks alive with determination, and Winnie seems to have caught the enthusiasm, whatever this is about. Winnie says, “We can set it live in today’s afternoon newscast!”
Um, that’d mean they’d have to get Editing to write MacKenzie’s lines introducing my piece. Seems like it’d get shut down right away. I try to sound kind, but it doesn’t come out right. “How’re you going to do that?”
MacKenzie still has not cracked a smile, like always (seriously, she is the prettiest, angriest person I’ve met), but there is a glimmer about her face. “Editing owes me a favor. If I want this piece to get in, it’s in. And I want it in, because Richard and his sexist ass can go to hell.”
Amah Asdvadz, this team is the absolute best; I do not deserve their goodness. I had no idea I had so many allies. Then something I thought would never happen, ever again, happens: I am feeling the tiniest bit less horrible. Erebuni might see thebroadcast, see my face on her TV or computer screen. She might reach out to me. The bubbles in my throat clear, and I manage, “You all. This is too much. But there are still roadblocks. So many potential points of failure—”
Elaine puts a hand on my shoulder and says, “There is no way we’re letting you leave here without getting that on air for you.”
That’s when I cry.
22
Can a rose survive the sea or a violet the fire?
?????? ? ????? ???? ??????,???????? ?????? ????? ???????:
—Armenian Proverb
Telling Mom willbe the worst. After I packed up my stuff and drove home, I flopped on the bed for a while. I guess she was out grabbing groceries. Then I find it in myself to get up and watch my final KTVA segment. I’m in the living room, squatting down beside the TV, flipping through the cable menu, mind utterly blank. Then our opening begins, “The Award-Winning Channel 8 News Team.” Award-winning my ass. That was an award our parent network gave to the best afternoon news team in the Peninsula, and they sure as hell weren’t going to give it to their competitors.
MacKenzie’s face appears. “Good afternoon, I’m MacKenzie Vanderberg. Our feature story tonight is an exclusive look at a cause near to Congresswoman Susan Grove’s heart. Nareh Bedrossian reports.”
Oh my God, they gave me the lead. And she pronounced my name a tad better than usual. My heart surges with gratitude for myteam for making this happen. Then my face looms on the screen, cheerful, radiant with the high of nailing a career-making interview. Of knowing your new girlfriend is going to be watching.
Hearing the din of the banquet hall in the background, I’m transported to that night. I smell the wine I drank, and phantom acidity tickles my throat. There’s a flash of Erebuni as I introduce the banquet. I know there’s more of her about to come. I can’t bear to watch. Right now I can’t stand to know if it ended up being a great segment or not. As soon as my standup finishes, I pause the TV, waiting for the live feed to run so I can fast-forward. Except I pause on Erebuni’s face. She’s about to explain the significance of the banquet, and it should be a straightforward intro, but the corners of her mouth are raised like she can’t help the happiness running through her.
I wonder if Erebuni’s going to watch this. Or if people will forward the segment to her saying they saw it. If there’s any chance she’ll get in touch with me. Then I remember how betrayed she was when she heard me talking to my mom, the slap of truth. Then, outside the school, the way she turned away from me, decisively. I didn’t see her final expression when she decided it was over.
Then Mom walks in. “What are you doing?”
I quickly turn off the TV, as if that’s going to make it better. She fully saw.
“Why you home? And watching her?”
Her.She might as well have added,That evil woman. I rub my eyes. “Mom. I got fired.”
“You what?” In her anger, herWcomes out like aV—Vhat?—and thatVis sharp flint jabbing itself into my flesh.
“How could this be? My daughter, fired.”
“I know.”
“What are you going to do now? You know it is hard to come back from something like this. You must have done something very wrong. What was it?”
It feels like back in the day whenever I got a bad grade. But this time I’m not going to fight back. Something has bored deep, driving into me and leaving me hollow.
“You didn’t get in friendly enough with your boss? No, you were not focused. You were too busy doing... doing...”
She glances up at the TV, now off, but the ghost of Erebuni’s face is fresh in both our minds. I say, “Yes, it was my fault, but she’s not why.”
My mom viciously ignores that. “What are we going to tell the family?”
Always them, this very real and also false construct of people who are ready to shame us at any moment. She’s embarrassed because of what they might think. And meanwhile, they’re in the world acting to avoid shame from us. But I don’t care what they do. I love my family. Wouldn’t they feel the same way about me?
•••
