“Tyrell, can you please convey my apology to her?”
He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and cracked his knuckles. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt her, but tell you the truth, I haven’t seen her like this before.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know she’s been through a lot, like stuff she hasn’t even told me about. And you know, she’s a strong lady. Always keeps looking forward. But I feel like, talking about the fire, that landlord, your grandpa, it got to her. She usually knocks on my door every day, and she hasn’t left her apartment since that night.”
Sadie put her hands over her face.
“She’ll be all right. But I can’t help you.”
“I feel so guilty,” she exhaled.
“We don’t need your guilt, Sadie.”
She felt a lump in her throat, like she’d gulped a salt pebble.
“Go home,” Tyrell said calmly. “Ask yourself if you’re here for the right reasons.”
She looked at her lap. Put on her hat and walked to the door.
“I fucked up,” Sadie whispered. “I’m sorry.”
When she reached the stairs, Ms. Lina was still locked away in her apartment.
The following week, Sadie met with Wendy and Simon inNew Gotham’s conference room and told them the full story. Beyond its glass walls, a half dozen reporters worked cheerily away at their assignments—reporters, she imagined, who would never have made a mistake as grave as hers.
“We’ve talked about it,” said Wendy, “and we think it’s a good idea to transfer you to Sunset Park.”
Sadie nodded. A part of her had hoped her bosses would assure her it was no big deal, but they hadn’t done so. At least they hadn’t fired her.
“We need a reporter on Sunset Park,” Wendy continued. “And we recently met anamNewYorkreporter—Brian Parker. We’d like to offer him the position in Brownsville.”
“What about the story of the fire?”
Sadie didn’t mean to be so forward. She only wanted to know whether they were giving that to Brian too.
“There might be a story there,” Simon said, “and we can have Brian take a look at it, but you understand it really shouldn’t have been you pursuing this story by yourself, given the conflict of interest, and definitely not without informing us.”
For the rest of the day at the office, Sadie tried to keep it together. Stuffing her face with the coworking kitchen’s free almond croissants, she googled Brian atamNYand found that, as she had guessed, he was a Black man, and he had ten years working in the field.
Waiting at Broadway-Lafayette for the Brooklyn-bound F train, she thought to herself how much she’d wanted Brownsville to claim her as its own. But Brownsville had never needed her help. Maybe that had been some white savior shit.And yes, you are also white, in case you forgot, she told herself.And you’re not the first white person to try to fool themselves into a state of innocence.
The F train blew into the station. She grabbed a window seat and watched the tunnel lights loom and loom, disappearing right as they blinded her. For a moment, a train sped parallel to hers, and shecould see herself in the reflection of its windows. It was a train kaleidoscope, blurry versions of herself rippling out like ghosts, and she wondered if you could talk to the dead this way, trapped in a transit layer cake.
At dinner, she told her parents everything: about the argument at Ms. Lina’s house, her struggles reaching her contacts, and that she’d been transferred to Sunset Park. She tried to eat enough of her dad’s chicken to make it look like she was okay.
“Honestly, they shouldn’t have hired me to begin with,” Sadie declared when she’d finished explaining.
“I don’t think that choice was yours to make, honey,” her mother said. “Your responsibility was to do the best job you could.”
“My best job wasn’t good enough.”
Sadie pronged the bok choy.
“Well, Sunset Park. That’s a lot closer,” her father said.
Of course, he would be happy that she was in Sunset Park: no more panicked calls from Ngen Ngen each timeNY1covered a shooting in East Brooklyn.
