VI
We don’t go far.
Just into a side corridor off the main hub, narrow and dim, the kind of space people pass through but don’t linger in. The noise from the work hub fades to a low murmur behind us.
Vi stops walking and turns to face me, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You pulled me out like I’m a child,” she says.
“You were acting like one,” I reply.
Her eyes flash. “She attacked me.”
“She baited you,” I correct. “And you took it.”
“What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let her insult me?”
“Yes. Exactly. Don’t give away your power to that bitch.” My words land solid.
Vi’s mouth opens, then closes. “You want me to just take it?” she asks.
“I want you to be smarter,” I say. “You gave her exactly what she wanted.”
“And what’s that?”
“Proof that you’re reactive,” I reply. “That you can be controlled. That all she has to do is say the right words and you’ll explode.”
“So I’m supposed to let her walk all over me.”
“You’re not listening to me,” I say. “You’re supposed to wait for the right moment.”
“And when is that?”
“When you can win,” I reply. “Not just survive.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her breathing still uneven. “She said I’m spreading my legs for you.”
My chest tightens. “I heard.”
“And you didn’t correct her.”
“Because correcting her in front of everyone would’ve made it worse,” I say. “It would’ve confirmed that we give a shit what the others think. And that she can get under your skin. That she has power over you rather than the other way around.”
Vi’s hands curl into fists again. “She does have power over me. She can say whatever she wants and I’m just supposed to stand there and take it.”
“You could look at it that way,” I say. “Or look at it differently.”
“You sound like a shrink now. That’s not fair.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s not.”
Silence stretches between us. I can see the war playingout on her face, anger, frustration, the desperate need to fight back against something, anything.
“They’re going to think I’m weak,” she says finally.
“No,” I reply immediately. “They’ll think you’re learning. And learning means making mistakes.”
“That wasn’t a mistake,” she says. “That was self-defense.”
“Down here,” I say, “self-defense is knowing when not to fight.”
