Beyond the Point(97)

A stream of tourists emerged from the train station and walked east along the sidewalk, smiling and chatting under their hats and umbrellas, anticipating the pleasures that awaited them down the road. Dani moved between them, parting them as if they were the Red Sea. As she stuffed the phone back into her pocket, she descended into the bowels of the tube. And somewhere along the way, without even noticing it, she forgot about the pain in her hip.

THAT NIGHT, AS Dani packed a bag and searched for flights online, she tried to call Avery, without success. She would keep trying. But in the meantime, she needed to pack a bag—if nothing else, just to have something to do.

Her suitcase opened up like a black mouth on her bed, while the heavy square phone vibrated against her nightstand. The name Wendy Bennett flashed at the center of the screen. Dani could picture her in the living room of their home at West Point, waiting for Dani to answer. At the thought of hearing Wendy’s voice, Dani’s eyes flooded. She pressed the green button and answered.

“Hi, Wendy.” Dani moved slowly to the side of her bedroom, leaned her back against a wall, and sank into the floor, listening to Wendy’s sobs on the other end of the line. After some time had passed, Wendy finally spoke.

“Has anyone heard from her?” Wendy asked, her words interrupted with a hiccupping cry. “At all?”

“I don’t know,” Dani said, wiping her eyes. “I haven’t. She won’t answer her phone.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Packing,” Dani said, though the word felt weak as it came out of her mouth. “I don’t know what else to do. I found a flight that leaves tomorrow, first thing. I haven’t bought it yet.” She sighed. “I just have to get there.”

“I understand,” Wendy said. “Did you tell your boss you’re leaving?”

“No,” Dani replied. “It doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t. Laura Klein would be angry that Dani had walked out of the meeting without an explanation. But there was no way she was going to stay at the office waiting for her boss’s permission to leave. Laura could get over it, or she could fire her. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Have you talked to Avery?” Wendy asked.

“No,” Dani said finally, her voice cracking with emotion. “I . . . I’m sorry, Wendy . . . I need to go.”

“Okay. I love you. I’m praying. I’m praying so hard.”

If only I’d kept my nose out of Hannah’s business, maybe Hannah and Tim would never have dated in the first place, Dani thought. Maybe then things would be different. If only I’d been commissioned into the Army. Then I would understand. If I’d lived through the war, maybe I would be less shocked.

In the place of combat boots, Dani’s bedroom floor was covered in designer shoes and limited-edition sneakers. A cream-colored cashmere scarf hung from the hook on the door, and her latest extravagance, a Cartier watch, mocked her with every click of the second hand. She ripped it off and threw it against the wall, then screamed, her face buried in the carpet on the floor.

Eventually, Dani moved to her bed and tried to close her eyes. Perhaps a few short minutes of sleep would help her to breathe easier. To calm down. As much as her soul ached, it soothed her to lie in one place and cry.

With her eyes closed, a memory appeared bright and clear in her mind. A crowd of children playing soccer in a schoolyard. They were laughing, all chasing around the ball. Rather than fight the memory, she let it come back to her. She focused on the little black girl sprinting down a green field, her braids flopping in the air as she ran. She was always so happy when she ran.

Back then, she had no limp. No pain. For this invitational soccer tournament, the coach had decided to move Dani, just twelve years old, up to the team of fourteen-year-olds. Her team wore bright yellow jerseys, and Dani stood a head shorter than the rest. She’d been so excited to play that day, Dani remembered. Eager to prove that she deserved the spot she’d been given.

The little brown-skinned girl tore up and down the field, sweating under the heat of the sun. Smiling. Her freckles jumping like little flecks of dark chocolate as she cut left and right, dribbling the ball deftly between defenders. She kicked a ball as hard as she could and it soared past the goalie into the top right corner of the net. Her teammates ran toward her, wrapping their arms around her in excitement. It was her first moment of athletic success. Her first taste of glory.

But as she’d walked off the field, a sound carried over the wind. The adults behind the opponent’s bench were laughing. A tan man with a swoop of brown hair had wrapped his hands around his mouth, shouting in Dani’s direction. She remembered looking at him, wondering if he was yelling at her or the referee.

“Bahh!” he’d shouted, his voice shaking like a sheep’s. “Bahhh!” he’d yelled, letting his arms drop to his sides. The other parents, dressed in red, all joined in laughing and bleating, some loudly, and some out of the corners of their mouths. They were bleating at her, the black sheep.

That night, still dressed in her yellow uniform, Dani had cried, sitting on the closed toilet in the bathroom. Her mother wiped her tears.

“Those people are ignorant,” Harper McNalley had said.

“They said I was a black sheep,” Dani cried. “Like I didn’t belong out there.”

“So what?” her mother had snapped defiantly. “So they say you’re different? Guess what. They’re right. You are different. You’re better.”