“Good evening, everyone, and thank you for joining us in raising money for children’s healthcare at this year’s Boston Hospital Foundation Gala,” the CEO says, and applause fills the room. He drones on about the importance of research and development in advancing medical practices and technology. He also goes off-script and announces the staff recognition award super early. Typically, it’s done towards the end of the night.
“This year, we’ve decided to bestow the Clinical Excellence awardearlier because a special guest has graciously offered to present a grant to this year’s recipient,” he announces, and the crowd livens up. The buzz among the staff is incredible. Yaz’s words come to mind, and for a second, I imagine winning it. But I’d never win because of who I am and, most importantly, how much pushback I give the administration.
“To present the award, I call on our sponsor, Vincent Carr.”
I can’t believe my ears. As if we’re connected, my eyes find Sewa’s.
“No way,” she mouths, and I gesture, “I know, right?”
Accompanying Mercury is a gorgeous woman, who I’m guessing is Venus. She holds the massive check, looking radiant in her mustard dress.
“The name’s Vinny, not Vincent, by the way,” Mercury says, and the CEO turns redder than rodo. “My family and I”—Mercury begins and gestures to Venus, who grins—“are very interested in improving people’s lives, especially those of children. Changing lives requires a lot of money, expertise, and most importantly, time.”
I look around for the Master of Time himself, but I only see Sewa, my blind date, and surprisingly, Anjie coming towards me. The girls put their hands on my shoulders, and I kiss the backs of their hands. I’m no longer checking for Niyi. These two are my pillars. Come rain, come sun, they’re always here. The guy they set me up with, whose name I’ve already forgotten, gives me a curt smile.
“We cannot give these deserving children more time or expertise; you’re the professionals in the room,” Mercury jokes, and everyone—except us—laughs on cue. “But we can donate money.” Another round of laughter. “Along with my lovely cousin, I’m happy to present this year’s Clinical Excellence award recipient with a check for one hundred thousand dollars to invest in their practice.”
The “wows” in the room are hushed, but they echo. Mercury pauses to give people time to collect themselves.
“Hopefully that is enough to impact some change in this world,” Mercury says.
After my first year at the hospital, I knew not to get my hopes up about winning the award because they would never give it to a person likeme—headstrong, always pushing back against admin, and focused more on patient satisfaction than productivity. This year is no different, but getting money towards my work sounds like a dream. There’s so much I could do. Too much research on pediatric developmental issues is focused on white children, and there’s barely anything on the Black children of the world. But with access to funds like this? I could do surveys and adequately compensate people.
I could open a clinic.
Once the idea enters my mind, it’s a done deal. A clinic to better serve minority populations in Dorchester and Roxbury, where most of my pro bono clients have been from. Fuck the need for insurance or for patients and their families paying out of pocket. Or even worse, fighting red tape. A free clinic is what I’ll build if I get the money. It’s decided.
“Without further ado, since I can see you’re all vibrating in your seats”—Mercury pauses for the wave of laughter, nervous this time—“the grant recipient, for her stellar work, as recommended by her peers and bosses, is Dr. Moyo Adegbite.”
It doesn’t register as my name till Sewa nudges me and Anjie says, “Girl, get on stage.”
Anjie and Sewa practically carry me to the stage, where I hug Mercury and Venus.
“Thank you,” I say, addressing the crowd. The spotlight makes it hard to see anyone below the stage. “This is an honor. I’m so grateful toCupid’s Bowfor this incredible donation. This money isn’t only for me but for the nurses, psychologists, OTs, PTs, SLPs, neurologists, psychiatrists, and everyone else I am most likely forgetting because of my nerves and this bright spotlight,” I say, and the crowd chuckles. “I can’t wait to brainstorm ideas and use this money to serve our wonderful clients and offer our services to those who currently can’t afford them. Again, thank you.” This time, my gratitude is directed towards the two celestials.
Once I’m out of the spotlight, I am greeted by my girls and the guy.
“You were amazing up there, and now you have a shit-ton of money!” Anjie squeals.
“It’s work money, it’s not mine. But yes, it is a lot!”
“Knew you were going to win.” Sewa beams. “Pay up.” She gestures at the new guy, who reaches into his wallet and pulls out ten dollars.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I laugh.
“I like easy money,” Sewa says with a shrug.
The four of us make our way back to our table. The girls walk ahead while the guy, the one Sewa called Alex, lingers behind with me. He spends most of the time watching me accept congratulations and cheers from people as we walk to the back of the room.
“Congratulations! Your friend Sewa talked you up,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.Like Niyi used to do.
“Thank you. But you should know that if you let her, she’ll take you for everything you own.”
Alex moves closer, allowing me to hear him better above the mingling room. “How about you? Will you let me take you out sometime?”
He’s smiling at me with his nice suit and his nice manners, and he’s sufficiently mingled with the overwhelming women I call family. But something is missing.
“I’m still getting over someone,” I say. This is the first time I’ve admitted it to someone other than my friends.
