CHAPTER 174: Friday

POV: Avalon Pierce

The community center in the Mission smelled like coffee.

Kevin Walsh had arranged the room himself.

Just chairs in a circle, the way the symposium had been arranged, the way things were arranged when the point was conversation rather than performance.

Avalon arrived at nine thirty with Selene.

Kevin was already there with Evelyn, who was arranging chairs.

She looked at Selene when they walked in.

“Thirty two weeks,” Evelyn said.

“Yes,” Selene said.

“You should be resting,” Evelyn said.

“After today,” Selene said.

Evelyn looked at her for a moment.

People arrived in ones and twos.

Gloria Reyes came with her mother.

Esperanza Reyes was smaller than Avalon expected. Seventy nine years old woman with white hair and the quality of someone who had survived things.

She walked in and looked at the chairs, didn’t say anything and just sat down.

Patricia Ruiz came alone.

She sat across the circle from Esperanza.

They had never met and both didn't know they were connected. 

Edward Pierce arrived at nine fifty eight.

Two minutes early.

His lawyer was with him but waited outside at Avalon’s request. This wasn’t a legal proceeding.

Edward walked in with the careful movement of eighty one years and stopped when he saw the circle.

He looked at the people in it, his eyes stopped when they landed on Esperanza Reyes.

He didn’t know who she was specifically but something in his face said he understood the shape of who she was.

He pulled a chair and sat down.

The room was quiet for a moment.

Then Kevin said: “We’re here because some things need to be said in the right place by the right people. This is the right place.” He looked around the circle. “I’ll let others decide who speaks first.”

Edward Pierce spoke first.

“My name is Edward Pierce,” he said. “I am Richard Pierce’s brother. In 1978 I helped design a financial mechanism called a community displacement bond. It operated in this neighborhood and two others for thirteen years. It redirected development funding away from communities where people like you lived.” He looked at Esperanza directly. “It caused real harm to real families. I knew what it was but I told myself it was business. I knew it wasn’t.”

The room was very still.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said. “I’m eighty one years old and I know what I did and I know forgiveness isn’t mine to ask for. I’m here because the people this harmed deserve to hear it said plainly by the person who did it.” He paused. “I’m sorry. ”

Esperanza Reyes spoke next.

She didn’t look at Edward when she started.

She looked at her hands.

“My mother cleaned houses in this neighborhood for forty years,” she said. “She saved for twelve years to buy a building on Valencia Street. She bought it in 1979 and lost it in 1983 because the funding that would have helped her keep it was redirected by men in offices who decided her neighborhood wasn’t worth investing in.” She paused. “She worked until she was seventy four. She died in 2018 in a rented apartment and never had her building back.”

She looked up.

At Edward Pierce.

“You did that,” she said. “Your decision, mechanism and signature on documents that decided my mother’s life was less important than your investment strategy.”

“Yes,” Edward said.

“I need you to say it more completely than that,” she said. “I need you to say ‘I helped take your mother’s building’.”

A pause.

“I helped take your mother’s building,” Edward said. “I’m very sorry.”

Esperanza looked at him for a long time.

“I’m not forgiving you,” she said. “I just want that to be clear.”

“I know,” he said.

“But I needed to hear it from someone who was actually there. Who actually did it.” She looked at her hands again. “My mother used to say ‘someday someone will say it was wrong.’ She paused. “She was right.”

Patricia Ruiz spoke last.

She stood up and looked at Esperanza.

“My father’s name was Gerald Hart,” she said. “He was one of the other men in that room in 1978. He changed his name to Ruiz in 1984. He died in 2019.” She paused. “I’ve known since 2001 and I’ve been trying to fix it since 2001. I joined this committee because I needed to be somewhere that was actually doing something.” She looked at Esperanza directly. “I’m sorry for what my father did. I know that’s not the same as him saying it but it’s what I have.”

Esperanza looked at her.

“Sit down,” Esperanza said. “You didn’t do it.”

“No,” Patricia said. “But I carry it.”

“I know,” Esperanza said. “Sit down anyway.”

Patricia sat down.

Kevin Walsh entered the room at that moment with a folder.

He crossed to Esperanza and handed it to her.

“The land trust transaction,” he said quietly. “First completed transfer. A family in the Mission signed this morning.”

Esperanza opened the folder, read it and held it for a moment.

Like proof.

Selene found Avalon’s hand beside her and held on.

Around the circle people were quiet.

Evelyn Walsh was looking at the document in Esperanza’s hands.

Gloria Reyes had her arm around her mother’s shoulders.

Patricia Ruiz was looking at her own hands.

Edward Pierce was looking at the floor.

Kevin was standing at the edge of the room with the expression of a man who had spent years working toward a moment and had finally arrived at it and was letting himself feel that.

Selene leaned toward Avalon.

Afterwards, outside with the Mission morning around them, Selene stopped walking and put both hands on her stomach.

“Elena,” she said quietly. “Your great grand uncle sat in a room today and said what he did. A woman held a piece of paper that means a family gets to stay. A daughter apologized for her father.” She paused. “That’s what we’re building toward. That’s what your name is part of.”

Elena moved like she understood.

His phone rang.

Dr Okafor.

He answered.

“How is Selene?” Dr. Okafor said immediately.

“She’s been on her feet all morning,” he said.

“I know,” Dr. Okafor said. “I expected that but that’s not why I’m calling.” A pause. “Avalon, her  last blood work from yesterday is the reason I need her to come in today.”

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“Probably nothing,” Dr. Okafor said. “But her numbers shifted overnight and I want to see her before the weekend.”

He looked at Selene who was still talking quietly to Elena.

He had four seconds to decide whether to tell her now or get her in the car first.

“We’ll be there in thirty minutes,” he said.

He hung up.

Selene looked at him.

“What?” she asked.

“Dr. Okafor wants to see you today,” he said. 

“Why?” she asked.

“Your blood work,” he said. “She said probably nothing.”

“But?” 

“But today,” he said. 

Selene looked at him for a long moment.

Then she took his hand.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

They walked to the car.