“If they do, let it be because I earned it.”
The doors closed.
That night, Naomi returned to her apartment after nine.
She removed her heels near the door.
Set her bag on the kitchen counter.
Then stood alone in silence.
Only then did her hands begin shaking.
People confused composure with absence of feeling.
Naomi had been furious all day.
The shove replayed.
The slap against the credential wallet.
The kick.
That sentence.
Diversity-program souvenir.
She poured water.
Did not drink it.
Her phone rang.
Mother.
Naomi considered ignoring it.
Answered.
“Hi.”
Her mother said:
“You sound tired.”
“I am.”
“What happened?”
“Long day.”
Her mother paused.
“Naomi.”
Mothers developed investigative skills without badges.
Naomi sat at the counter.
“Somebody put hands on me.”
Silence.
“What?”
“I’m fine.”
“Who?”
“Police lieutenant.”
Another silence.
Then:
“Do I need to come there?”
Despite everything, Naomi laughed.
“Mom.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m thirty-six.”
“And?”
Naomi rubbed her forehead.
“I’m okay.”
“You report him?”
“Yes.”
“You arrest him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because being an ass isn't automatically the crime we’re investigating.”
Her mother muttered something.
Naomi smiled faintly.
Then the smile disappeared.
“He said something.”
Her mother waited.
Naomi told her.
Diversity-program souvenir.
There was a long silence.
Finally:
“Did you believe him?”
Naomi almost became angry.
“Of course not.”
Her mother’s voice remained calm.
“I didn't ask whether he was right.”
“I asked whether any part of you believed him.”
Naomi looked toward the dark kitchen window.
That was different.
She thought about law school.
First courtroom.
First federal interview.
Every room where somebody looked surprised when she introduced herself.
Every compliment with an invisible qualifier.
Articulate.
Polished.
Impressive.
For someone like you.
Naomi whispered:
“For half a second.”
Her mother answered:
“Then he found the bruise.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Everybody has one.”
“What?”
“A bruise somebody else didn't make.”
Her mother continued.
“Something already tender.”
“People like him survive by pressing old bruises.”
Naomi sat quietly.
“Don't let him convince you he created your doubt.”
“He found it.”
“That means you can heal it.”
Naomi finally drank the water.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You still want me to come?”
“No.”
“Shame.”
“Goodnight.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Naomi slept badly.
At 6:10 the next morning, Agent Devin Shaw called.
“Storage unit.”
She sat up.
“What?”
“We found the one Grant mentioned.”
“Warrant?”
“Approved.”
“Team?”