The Better Half(91)
I run my hands over my belly, willing this baby not to give me a solid corner kick to the lower abdomen during my recitation. I clear my throat, stand, and stare out over a conference room full of people who look eager to get going on the agenda and then get on with their dinner plans. I drop into my lowest vocal register to deliver Dr. Angelou’s words.
“We delight in the beauty
of the butterfly . . .”
“Nina, we have a packed agenda, and I for one want to get to the meat of the evening. How about we just get a move on,” Winn interrupts me.
I press my palms together to keep myself from slapping him silly. As a Black, first-generation female, I’ve gone through a lot to get myself here, Winn Hawkins. I’ve worked twice as hard as most to prove, at every juncture of my journey, I have at least half a reason to be in a room filled with the likes of people like you. You WILL NOT dismiss my moment. I can’t say out loud what I’m thinking, so instead I start again from the top.
“We delight in the beauty
of the butterfly, but rarely
admit the changes it has
gone through to achieve
that beauty.”
Without looking, I know Winn’s leg’s rapidly jiggling, the energy radiating off him tense.
As I finish the quote, I turn to Winn with a smile dripping with sincerity that reads, no one, not even you, interrupts me, and then I introduce our guest presenter for the evening, Director of Admissions Roan Dawson.
Tonight, Roan will be offering a PowerPoint deck analyzing admissions numbers over the past five years and growth projection for the next three. This dog and pony show is shared with the board of trustees every April. Roan’s been agitating over his presentation ensemble for weeks. He’s hoping a glam slam will deflect from his fear of public speaking.
I move to sit back down and wince as a jolt of pain hits my pelvis. I clench down hard on my teeth. Roan’s eyes register that something more than a baby with a distaste for pulled pork is going on and opens his mouth to speak. I ever so perceptibly shake my head no. With concern, Roan makes his way to the front of the room, and I’m given ten to fifteen minutes to contemplate how I’m going to make it through the rest of this meeting.
Roan’s first slide goes up on the SMART Board. “I’m happy to report we’re continuing our three-year upward trend of about two percent increase in completed application submissions year over year.” As Roan continues on with statistics I’ve already committed to memory, I slide my phone off the table into my lap. With Marisol out of town and Fitzroy without a car, I text my next in case of emergency as coolly as I can, not wanting to sound any alarm bells quite yet.
Nina 6:48 PM
Hey Leo, I’m tied up at a board meeting and Marisol’s OOT. A little desperate here, any chance you can pick Xandra up at the airport for me? Her flight lands at 8:00 p.m.
Leo 6:48 PM
Sure. You okay?
“Of the five hundred and two total applicants this year, Nina and I are excited to share with you that thirty-six percent identify as persons of color, up from thirty-two percent last year,” Roan continues, glancing over at me every third second. I lie and give him an okay with my left hand, my right cradling my belly. Winn sits tall in his chair. I know he’s thinking his recruits are certainly part of these improved numbers.
My breath grows shallow. Why didn’t I revisit the birthing classes with Leo when he asked? Maybe I don’t actually remember how this goes after all these years.
Nina 6:50 PM
All good, just miscalculated timing of things tonight. Text me when you have my girl.
No need to send Leo into any type of new dad frenzy until I know my first baby’s taken care of. I put my phone back onto the table and pour myself some more water. Roan is killing it at his presentation, and I thank the Lord that all eyes are on his slides.
Winn raises his hand, index finger up, but doesn’t wait to be called on. “Roan, let’s move to the details of next year’s acceptances. I’m assuming Dontrelle and Marcus Burns are members of the incoming freshman class?”
Jared snaps his attention to Roan, interested in the meeting for the first time since I called it to order.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Save me! pleads Roan’s face. Damn, I have to haul myself up out of this chair and once and for all set Winn and Jared straight, publicly. I have limited time left to leave a lasting leadership impression, so it’s now or never. My water didn’t break with Xandra, so I cross my legs and hope this baby is not planning a slip-and-slide entrance into the world. I hold my breath during a contraction and slowly rise.
“The specifics of acceptances are confidential until each family has been informed of their status. Emails will be released to all families directly following this meeting.” I sweep my eyes around the room to make sure every board member is picking up what I’m putting down: the policy is acceptances to Royal-Hawkins are none of the trustees’ business. “And even after that, it’s up to each family to share their outcome or not. Roan and I do not share this information,” I conclude, forcing eye contact with Winn, then Jared, and lastly catching Courtney’s darting eyes. Her skin’s gone from a gray pallor to ghostly white and shiny with sweat. Is she sensing what’s going on with me and sympathy stressing, or is she losing it over not getting her way with the Royal-Hawkins athletics department?