by Irene Hannon
“Thanks, Ella.” As she returned to her desk, David rose and walked to the doorway. “Come in, Jared.”
The boy pushed away from the wall and moved toward David, taking his time. When David offered his hand, the boy hesitated for a brief second before he took it.
“Come on in and make yourself comfortable.” David gestured toward the table. “Would you like a soft drink?”
“No.” As an afterthought, he tacked on a mumbled, “Thanks.”
David reached for Jared’s application from his desk, then took a seat at the table beside him. With his baggy, low-slung pants, torn jacket, scuffed sneakers and dreadlocked hair, he didn’t look anything like a typical Uplink applicant. David suspected that if the board were present right now, Jared would get a thumbs-down before he even had a chance to speak. But David was determined not to make any rash judgments.
“I saw some of your photographs on the wall at the school. Very impressive.”
The boy shrugged. “They’re okay, I guess.”
“Tell me a little about your photography. How did you get involved with it?”
“I did some photos for an art project last year with a disposable camera. I guess Mrs. Thompson, the teacher, thought they were pretty good, because she let me borrow the department camera so I could do more complicated stuff.”
“What kind of camera is it?”
“An old Olympus manual thirty-five millimeter. Some rich dude donated it to the school when he got tired of it.”
“Who taught you to use it?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I just played around with it until I figured it out. And I’ve read some books about photography.”
Self-taught. Impressive. “Why black-and-white instead of color?” David asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I do color, too. But black-and-white is better for...ideas.”
“That’s what my brother used to say.”
“Is he into photography?”
“He was a photojournalist with the Associated Press. Spent years covering the world’s trouble spots. He was even nominated for a Pulitzer prize once.”
A flicker of interest sparked to life in Jared’s eyes. “Is he still doing that?”
“No. He was killed by a suicide bomber in the Middle East while he was on assignment.”
The shocked look that ricocheted across Jared’s face before his mask of indifference fell back into place told David that the boy wasn’t quite as thick-skinned as he tried to appear. “That’s tough,” he said.
“Yeah. He was very gifted.”
“Is he the reason you noticed my stuff on the wall at school?”
“I guess it would be fair to say that. After Michael got involved with photography, I learned to appreciate the power of a camera in the right hands. And I learned to recognize talent.” When Jared didn’t seem to know how to react to that compliment, David switched gears. “Tell me why you want to be part of Uplink.”
“It’s all in the essay.” Jared gestured to the application lying on the table in front of David.
“I want to hear it from you.”
“Look, man, I’m not that good with words.”
“That’s not what your English teacher said in her letter of recommendation.”
“Words on paper, that’s okay. I don’t speak words that well.”
That could be true, David conceded. Some people expressed themselves better in writing—or through photos—than they did verbally. Still, he needed more from Jared. The boy didn’t exactly seem to be bubbling over with enthusiasm about the opportunities Uplink provided, and David couldn’t offer an internship to someone who didn’t appreciate it when dozens of others were desperate for the chance.
Pulling Jared’s essay toward him, David scanned it again. It was concise and well-written, but it didn’t convey compelling interest. Maybe David should let this go. Maybe he was only pursuing this because something in Jared had reminded him of Michael in his younger days. His brother had also been directionless and floundering until someone had recognized his talent and given him an entrée into the world of photography, putting him on a path that had changed his life. But once discovered, Michael’s passion for photography had consumed him, his fervor so intense it was almost tangible. David wasn’t sensing anything close to that in Jared. It either wasn’t there, or the boy was hiding it well.
Laying the essay back down, David leveled a direct look at the young man across from him. “Let me give this to you straight, Jared. I saw something in your photography the day I was at your school that impressed me. That’s why your application stood out—even though your grades overall aren’t as high as those of students we’ve considered for this program in the past. I decided to talk with you because I respect your creative gift. But that gift isn’t enough. I want students in Uplink who are passionate about the things they love to do, who have dreams and who are willing to work hard to overcome any obstacles that life might have put in their way to achieve those dreams. I look for drive and determination and commitment. I can overlook grades to some extent if all of those other things are present. But to be honest, I’m not picking up enough energy or ambition or intense motivation from you to convince me to go out on a limb and take a chance.”
For several long seconds, the boy stared back at him. Indecision and defiance battled in his eyes. Defiance won.
“Hey, man, I don’t need this program. Not enough to grovel.” He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, squeezing his hands into tight fists.
“I don’t expect you to grovel. I just expect you to show some interest and enthusiasm. I need people who are willing to make a commitment to the program and work hard while they’re in it. I couldn’t tell your level of commitment from your application, but I thought I might be able to in person. I was wrong. I can’t get inside your head, Jared. You’re very good at masking your feelings.”
The boy glared at him, his shoulders stiff. “It’s called survival, man.” He turned and strode toward the door, tossing a parting remark, laden with sarcasm, over his shoulder before he exited. “Thanks for your time.” A few seconds later, David heard the front door open, then close.
Frustrated, David raked his fingers through his hair. All his years of experience working with hard-nosed business people hadn’t helped him one iota in dealing with Jared. The boy was as tight as a clam with his feelings. Yet he had to be interested. He wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of applying otherwise. But none of that came through in person. There was no way David could send a student like Jared into any of the current Uplink hosting companies. They wouldn’t put up with his attitude.
“That boy has got one big chip on his shoulder.” Hands on her hips, Ella regarded him from the doorway.
“Yeah. Tell me about it.”
“He’s got a big hurt in his heart, too.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You can see it in his eyes.”
“All I saw was defiance. And suspicion.”
Shaking her head, Ella folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve got a lot to learn about young people.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” David rose and walked over to the window, then stared out at the trees. Each day, coaxed by the sun, the buds were opening a little more, revealing their inner beauty bit by bit.
“It’ll come. You’ve got to remember that these kids aren’t rich businessmen who are into power and money. Those folks are confident and they’re successful. If one deal falls through, it’s not a big thing. They know there’s always another one coming along. A lot of the kids in the poorer neighborhoods have never tasted success. They have no confidence. All they know about life is that it stinks. They’ve never had a break, and even when one comes their way, they’re suspicious. Why shouldn’t they be? They’ve learned that nothing come
s free. They’ve been conditioned to believe that they’re losers. It takes a lot of guts for a kid like Jared to even take a first step like this.”
“Are you saying that I should consider him for Uplink?” David turned back to her.
“That’s your call. I’m just saying that maybe he wants it more than you think.”
“Even if he does, I can’t overlook his insolent manner. And I doubt any of our sponsoring companies could, either. They don’t need or want people with attitudes. The only photography/writing slot I have available is at the Post, and I guarantee they wouldn’t tolerate that chip on his shoulder for a day.”
“Maybe you could find another place for him, with someone who’s a little more tolerant and willing to take a personal interest in his development.”
An image of Caroline flashed through his mind. She struck him as someone who would be willing to look deeper, who would take the time to dig through the layers of defiance and wariness to find the real Jared. Under her tutelage, the boy might blossom.
But even if he was willing to contact her again—and that was a big if—Jared still represented a major risk. Until Ella had walked into the office, he’d been prepared to write off the boy—albeit with regret. Now he wondered if he’d been too hasty.
As he pondered that, a movement down the street caught his attention. A city bus had come to a stop with a squeal of breaks, and as the doors folded open, he saw Jared disengage himself from his slouched position against one of the flowering trees and walk toward the door. His shoulders were slumped, and the confident strut he’d used in the Uplink office had become a weary shuffle. With his hands in his pockets, and his head bowed, his posture spoke of discouragement and despair. He stepped on board, the doors closed and the bus rumbled off.
All at once, the significance of what has just transpired became clear. Jared had taken a bus—probably several—to get to this interview after school. Without a car, public transportation had been the only option available to him. Yet he’d made the effort—again confirming his seriousness about the program. In fact, all of his actions spoke of his interest. It just hadn’t come across in person. Yet Ella had seen something in him that he’d missed.
He turned back to the receptionist. She was still standing in the doorway, her head tilted to one side, her arms folded across her chest, her face placid and nonjudgmental. That’s one of the things he liked about her. She was always willing to express her opinions, which were well thought out and insightful, but she didn’t take offense if he disagreed. She respected his views, just as he respected hers.
“I think I’ll give this a little more thought,” he told her.
“Good idea. We always make better decisions when we think things through. Don’t forget you have that conference call at five o’clock with Feldman and Associates.”
“Right. Thanks.” The architectural firm was considering taking an Uplink intern for the summer, and David strode toward his desk, shifting gears as he prepared to do a sell job with the management of the company. The addition of that firm would be a real plus for Uplink.
The question was, would Jared?
Lord, please give me some direction on this, David prayed as he gathered up his notes in preparation for the conference call. I want to help Jared, but I don’t want to hurt Uplink. Help me make the right decision.
* * *
“That’s a new necklace, isn’t it?”
Reaching up, Caroline fingered the pewter anchor that hung on a slender chain around her neck. She’d begun wearing it on a regular basis, but she hadn’t thought about her weekly dinner at her mother’s home when she’d put it on this morning. If she had, she wouldn’t have worn it, knowing it would prompt questions. “Yes. I gave it to Michael right before we became engaged.”
“I don’t remember ever seeing you wear it before.”
“That’s because I didn’t have it until a couple of weeks ago. David dropped it off at the office. He found it among Michael’s things when he was packing for his move.”
“You’ve seen David?”
Her mother’s startled reaction didn’t surprise Caroline. Her meeting with David would have been a logical bit of news to share during one of their frequent phone conversations or at dinner. Caroline wasn’t sure why she hadn’t.
“Yes. He stopped by the Chronicle for a few minutes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was only a quick conversation. Nothing worth reporting.” The excuse was lame, and Caroline knew it. The meeting alone would have been worthy of mention in her mother’s mind.
“Of course it was! He seems like a nice young man. And I told you when I ran into him.”
There was no arguing with that. “It was no big deal, Mom.”
“Well...considering how you reacted when I mentioned his name a few weeks ago, I suspect it was a bigger deal than you’re letting on.” Her mother shoved her green beans around on her plate with more force than necessary.
Feeling guilty, Caroline tried to make amends through further disclosure. “Actually, my visit with him yesterday was more interesting.”
Her mother went from miffed to curious in a heartbeat. “You’ve seen him twice?”
“Yes. Tess is doing a feature story about the organization he heads, and when she had a family emergency yesterday, I interviewed him in her place.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
It was a hedge, but at least her mother let it pass. “So what is he doing these days?”
“He’s the executive director of an organization that sets up summer internships for talented high school students from impoverished backgrounds.”
“Sounds very worthwhile. But isn’t that quite a switch for him? Didn’t you tell me once that he was an investment banker?”
“Close. He handled merger and acquisition negotiations for multinational companies.”
“What prompted the change?”
“He said it was something the Lord had called him to do.”
“Then he’s a religious man?” Her mother looked pleased.
“It seems so.”
“Well, good for him. It’s not often you hear of someone giving up a successful career to take a job for far less money, just because they think it’s the right thing to do. It sounds like he has good values, and a lot of integrity.”
Yes, it did sound that way, Caroline acknowledged. But she knew what he’d done to his mother. And it wasn’t consistent with either of those qualities.
“You look puzzled, dear.”
Her mother didn’t miss a thing, that was for sure. “I’m just trying to reconcile this David with the one I met two years ago.”
“Has he changed?”
Shrugging, Caroline speared a bite of pork tenderloin. “All I know is that he did something a few weeks before Michael died that doesn’t seem in keeping with either good values or integrity.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
The rift between the two brothers wasn’t something Caroline had ever talked about. It had seemed too personal. But it was history now, and her mom did have good instincts. Maybe she could shed a little light on the situation that would give Caroline some new insights.
After taking a sip of water, Caroline set her glass back on the oak table in her mother’s breakfast room, where so many confidences had been exchanged over the years.
“Remember I told you that Michael’s mother had Alzheimer’s?”
“Yes. Poor woman! What a terrible disease.”
“I know. When I met Michael’s mother the Christmas we got engaged, she seemed a little vague, but she was a very kind, sweet lady. I wouldn’t call anything she did abnormal. But I overheard Michael and David talking about her while we were there, and Mic
hael told me later that David wanted to break a promise they’d made to her years before and put her in an extended-care facility. Michael was upset, and I didn’t blame him. At the time, she was still living on her own, and David had arranged to have someone stay with her during the day. There didn’t seem to be an immediate need to take more dramatic measures.”
“What happened then?”
“David agreed to wait. But a few weeks later he called Michael and reneged. They had a huge argument about it, and Michael asked him to hold off making any decision until we came home for the wedding, when they could discuss it in person. But David refused and moved ahead. They didn’t talk again until the night before Michael was...before he died...when David called to say that their mother had had a mild heart attack. It was a bad situation all around.”
The story had held Judy’s rapt attention, and when Caroline finished her mother leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. “Did Michael tell you why David wouldn’t wait?”
“He said that according to David, we’d seen their mother on a few good days, and that she’d gotten much worse in the weeks that followed. David thought she needed constant care and was worried about leaving her alone. Not just at night, but even long enough for a caregiver to run to the grocery store or take a shower.”
At Caroline’s skeptical tone, Judy sent her a curious look. “And you don’t believe that?”
“It doesn’t matter if I believe it or not. All I know is that Michael didn’t. He knew David’s career was demanding, and he figured he just didn’t want to be bothered.”
“That’s easy to say if you’re thousands of miles away and not the one who has to deal with a situation like that day after day.”
Shocked, Caroline stared at her mother. “You think David was right to break the promise he and Michael made to their mother?”
“I’m not going to judge him, Caroline. All I know is that Alzheimer’s patients can be a handful. Remember Rose Candici?”