“Not a lot of people know that you built the platform,” she says. “Does that bother you?”
The blood rushes to my face. “Not at all,” I say, attempting to cover up the fact that it bothers me like a mosquito bite on my eyelid. “Cyrus was and remains the inspiration for the algorithm. It’s his mind, his way of connecting ideas.”
The moderator says, “I think what our guest is trying to say is, do you feel like maybe he’s hogging the limelight? He does talk about you a lot in this article that just came out, doesn’t he? About how crazy he is about you. But not as much about how you built the tech.”
“We don’t want to be defined by the men in our lives,” Destiny announces. “If there’s a tiny amount of wisdom that Asha and I can impart, that would be it.”
* * *
Afterward, Destiny and I make the minimum amount of small talk, get a handful of business cards shoved into our palms, and we’re out of there and in a West Village café by nine, sharing a plate of truffle fries.
“I could read it so you don’t have to?” she offers, but I’m already halfway through. I start to read aloud. “？‘I had this vision for creating a platform that would help people to connect and coalesce around the things that mattered most to them. It was a natural extension of what I’d been doing for years. People used to call me a humanist spirit guide—I guess that’s what I’m bringing to WAI now, just on a larger stage.’
“He doesn’t even mention us. Doesn’t say anything about how Jules and I dragged him kicking and screaming into this. I wanted to create a platform. Cyrus just wanted to baptize cats.”
“To be fair, the Cat Baptism is one of the most shared rituals,” Destiny says, trying to lighten the tone. “Eight hundred thousand videos and counting.”
I keep going. “？‘I’m attracted to the solitary life, Jones says. You can imagine him in a monastery, although he’d have to cut off that halo around his head. In addition to creating a social network that millions of people are turning to for meaning and community, he is also taking care of his employees—he has just kicked off a mentorship program to give the women on his team the support they need to thrive in their roles.’？”
Destiny tells me to stop reading. “It’s just bullshit.”
I take a shaky deep breath. “That’s my mentorship program,” I whisper.
“Cyrus is telling them what he wants to hear. You and I both know that.”
I’m stammering now, but I keep going. “？‘He’s otherworldly but handsome in an almost comical way. His sentences are long, and when you’re in the middle of one, you wonder, where is this going? But he always manages to bring whatever he’s saying to a satisfying conclusion. Everything he says is mysterious and somehow obvious at the same time.’？”
At least this one is funny. I allow Destiny to laugh briefly.
I get to the last line. “？‘I have to say, I’m developing something of a crush.’？”
“Oh, for God’s sake, another woman in love with Cyrus. Take a number, sister.” Destiny leans over, reads the byline. “George Milos. Guess Cyrus appeals to all genders.”
As we get up to leave, she says, “I don’t think Cyrus is a bad person. He’s just basking in a sea of adoration, and it makes him think more of himself than he should.”
“Where does that leave me?”
“You have a tough gig. No one wants to be married to the guy everyone thinks is going to save the world.”
* * *
As I make my way home, it starts to snow. I’ve been trying not to cry this whole time, but now I let it happen, and the sting in my eyes mixes with the snow falling on my cheeks and makes my face burn hot. By the time I get to the apartment, I am sobbing. I don’t even try to hide it from the doorman, who turns his back discreetly as I get in the elevator.
Cyrus is home. I can tell from the way his shoes are lined up neatly on the shoe rack, his backpack on the hook where I have begged him to hang it so many times, that he’s been waiting for me and that he knows exactly how I have responded to his interview.
“It was edited all wrong,” he says. “I’ve already spoken with them.”
I throw my coat on the floor. “What are they going to do? Issue a correction? ‘In a recent issue of our magazine, we implied that Cyrus Jones is the sole visionary behind WAI when, in fact, he couldn’t have done it without his wife’？”