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I flip to the next page and discover the photo of my mom, the one Celia had surprised me with during the interview. It’s the photo where Mom’s just been crowned Miss South Africa, and she has big hair, shiny happy eyes, and an endless smile. My stomach heaves. I close the magazine, press it against my chest, and take a deep breath to slow my crazy pulse.
“In Celia’s defense, the story’s well done,” Harper says. “Strong writing, sympathetic storytelling. Nothing cringe-worthy.”
“That’s a plus.”
“I think you’ll see some positive feedback. And I think you’ll like tonight’s show. You’re wonderful in an interview format. The public will just fall in love with you all over again.”
I smile. But it’s not the public I want to fall in love with me. It’s Michael. And that’s the one person I don’t know how to reach. Not that I need to reach him. But if I did…
Michael calls me.
Wednesday night I’m eating macaroni and cheese for dinner— albeit Maria’s mac and cheese, which is the homemade kind, which means rich and fattening with just a hint of red pepper— in front of the TV, waiting for America Tonight to start, when he phones. I wipe off my milky mouth and mute the TV’s sound to take his call. “Hi,” I say, thinking I sound far too breathless.
“Just saw the new People. Cover girl.”
“What do you think?”
“I think they could have waited for you to get your stitches out. Other than that, it’s great. You came across beautifully. Especially when you were talking about your sisters.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you. I was worried about the story. Worried what people would think.”
He hesitates. “I have to admit I was surprised by the photos and interview. It’s not something I thought you’d do.”
Was that a criticism? “They don’t say it in the story, but they bought my photos and story. For a million dollars— ”
“A million dollars?”
“— to go to the charity of my choice.” I take another quick breath. “And I divided it between PSI Zambia and Rx Smile.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I wait, mouth dry, wondering if he heard me, wondering if he’s shocked or upset. And then he laughs softly. “Good for you, Tiana. Well done.”
Now is the time to invite him to the Tucson reception. Now is the time to ask him to go. But my mouth is so dry and my heart’s beating too hard and I’m so nervous because I’ve been rejected once and don’t want to be rejected again.
“My God, that’s brilliant. Good for you,” he repeats.
I glow a little, and caught up in the moment, I blurt out an invitation for Tucson. “I have an event on March fourteenth in Tucson, it’s the lifetime achievement award I was supposed to get February seventh, the day after I was hurt, and they’d like me to come out so they can present me with the award. I’d say a few words, and I know it’s a long way to go, but if you’re free I’d love it if you could go with me.” I stop talking abruptly, realizing I was almost rambling.
“March fourteenth?”
“Yes. They’re sending a jet for me. Kind of a fun way to travel.”
“Tiana, I’m already booked that day. There’s a medical conference in Boston and I’m speaking.”
“That’s okay,” I say quickly, tone light. “Thought I’d ask.”
“Glad you did. If things were different, I’d love to go.”
But things aren’t different, and he can’t go. We talk about nothing for a moment and then say good-bye.
Hanging up, I look at my flat-screen TV, and there I am in high-definition, in my white dress, with my shiny dark hair, lush mascara lashes, big cast, and the stunning bristly scar. I watch me in mute, watch my face as I speak to Celia, answering her questions. I look not at the scar on my cheek, but at my eyes and my lips, and I see the fire and emotion I’ve spent my life trying to hide. But the fire and emotion aren’t ugly. The fire and emotion are beautiful.
Hot emotion runs through me now, and I grab a pillow from the couch and press it to my chest. Even without a man, even without Michael, my heart is beautiful.
Chapter Twenty-one
The response from the People story and America Tonight segments has been overwhelmingly positive. I’m fielding calls right and left, ranging from interview requests to offers to make a guest appearance on talk shows. I need an agent, and a good one, but I’m not ready to rush into signing with an agent just because I’m feeling pressure. I’ll represent myself until I find the right person— and it will be the right person, someone who respects me, my values, and my goals.
I say yes to an appearance on The View to discuss Rx Smile. Yes to an appearance with Ellen DeGeneres to discuss Zambia and the need there. And yes to Kelly and Regis, who want to chat about life now.
There are requests from magazines and newspapers, including Redbook and O, and the “Lifestyle” section editor from USA Today, and I promise to follow up with each in the next week.
In the meantime, there’s the meeting with Glenn, and I prepare for it the way one would prepare for a boxing match. It’s going to be tough, it’s going to be painful, but it won’t last forever.
I wear a silver tank with the gray Donna Karan suit skirt and drape the jacket over my shoulders to accommodate my cast. I’m wearing more foundation than I usually do, but it covers most of the scar and gives me confidence. With South Sea pearls in my ears and a thick strand at my throat, I feel polished and confident and ready for whatever will come.
Russian John drives me, giving me a half hour to compose myself. One of three things will happen in this meeting. I’ll be given walking papers, I’ll be offered a new anchor contract, or I’ll be offered part-time work. What do I want?
The front desk receptionist greets me as I step off the elevator. Libby rushing through the halls shouts a hello. Madison scurries to hug me before I disappear into Glenn’s office. She’s wearing pink, I notice, and I check my smile.
Glenn rises, puts a hand to my shoulder, and kisses my cheek. “You look wonderful.”
“Thank you.”
I can see him scrutinizing my face, searching for the horrific scar flaunted on the front of this week’s People. “It’s not so bad,” he says, clearly surprised. “I expected much worse.”
“People didn’t want to wait for the stitches to come out.”
“Shock value, of course.” He gestures for me to take a chair and then sits once I’m seated. He looks at me for another long moment and then shakes his head. “This is difficult. This is really difficult. I wish the network heads were here now to see you, but they aren’t, and they made their decision based on the photos they saw in People, as well as your appearance on the show this week, and it was felt that your accident was too traumatic for our viewers— ” He breaks off, looks at me with sadness. “I’m sorry, Tiana, your contract won’t be renewed.”
I’m not surprised, but I’m disappointed. I expected a little more from the network. I expected at least an offer for part-time work, as a special correspondent or weekend anchor.
I meet his gaze directly. “So that’s how it is.”
“I fought hard for you.”
And Glenn probably did fight. But I don’t think his definition of hard matches mine. I can’t imagine him wanting me to make many waves, not when his own contract is up for renewal in June.
“You’ll continue to have temporary disability and then workers’ compensation. Helen in human resources will be able to cover all that with you.”
“Thank you.” I get to my feet, square my shoulders, and smile. I won’t leave here in tears. This is what I was looking for. New opportunity. Now I have it.
“Thank you,” he answers.
I turn to go, but he stops me at the door.
“Tonight’s the last of your Africa features, and I thought you should know that our ratings this week were our highest ever. Viewers loved your segments. I loved the segments. I’m proud to have
had the chance to work with you. You’re a gifted journalist, and you have a big future ahead of you.”
He’s right. I am going to have a big future. “Thank you, Glenn. All my best.”
Russian John is waiting to take me home, but I’m not ready to go home. I’m dressed, I feel beautiful, and I want to celebrate. One chapter in my life is closing so that I can begin a new one.
“John, the Beverly Hills Hotel, please. I think I’ll stop for a late lunch.”
At two forty-five, there’s no wait to be seated in the Polo Lounge. I order a salad and an iced tea and then take a deep breath to relax while I wait.
