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20
Three dayslater she was sitting in WFAI’s lobby in SoHo, hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. She was surprised by the organization’s offices, which so far looked more like someone’s eclectic living room than the headquarters of an up-and-comingNGO.
The floors looked like hardwood, but Nina suspected they were bamboo. The furniture in the lobby ran the gamut from a modern green sofa to chairs and side tables with a tribal vibe that made Nina wonder if they’d been sourced from Africa. Plants dotted the open space, and large-format photographs similar to the ones that had decorated the fundraiser at The Garden hung on thewalls.
Nina had met the front desk attendant, a young man with blue hair named Connor, at the fundraiser, and he’d greeted her warmly, asking if he could get her anything. She’d declined, assuming he wasn’t offering up Xanax, and taken a seat on the sofa. Across from her in one of the chairs, a woman with full, beautiful hair like Moni’s, had offered Nina a smile and turned her attention to the MacBook balanced on herlap.
“Nina!” She looked up as Jason Reid stepped into the lobby from a long hall. He wore a mustard yellow suit with a navy tie, his ankles again bare, this time over stylish oxfords. “It’s so nice to see youagain.”
She was going to shake his hand, but he leaned in and gave her the New York kiss — an air kiss on either cheek that Nina tried to mimic. “Thanks for inviting me,” she said. “These offices aregorgeous.”
“Aren’t they though?” He looked around. “I’m glad you didn’t have to see our former location.” Heshuddered.
She winced. “Thatbad?”
“We called it ‘70s City Chic’, but not because it had a disco ball — because the rats were practically payingrent.”
She laughed. “Oh mygod…”
Robin had told her Jason was one of the founding members of the organization over ten years ago when he was right out of college. Nina could see WFAI’s history as he took in the stylish lobby, could see how much he’d given to it and how much it meant to him. “We worked to get here, and let me tell you, our donations went up exponentially when we didn’t have to invite donors to the deli for apitch.”
“You didn’t invite them to ‘70s City Chic?” Ninaasked.
“God no! We’d have been done then and there. I’m not even sure our own water was fit to drink in that office.” He laughed. “Speaking of offices, let’s go back tomine.”
She followed him through the reception area and down the hall. She waved at several people she’d met at the fundraiser, and Jason stopped briefly to talk to someone about a supply problem inNicaragua.
They finally reached his office, a cozy space without a single window that made it clear Jason Reid wasn’t in the NGO business for fame and fortune. He eased his way through the narrow opening leading to his desk and Nina took a seat at one of the chairs across fromhim.
They made small talk for a few minutes, none of which shed any light on the reason for their meeting, and Nina handed over her portfolio. Liam had helped her whittle the collection to ten of her best pieces, explaining what made some of the pictures better than others. It had been so educational that Nina had kicked herself for not showing him her photographssooner.
She pretended to be patient, letting her eyes pass around the office while Jason flipped through the pictures. Like Liam, he made a second pass through the collection before closing the cover and leaning back in hischair.
“Why kids?” heasked.
It was the question everyone asked — from the parents of her subjects like Meredith, Lucy’s mom, to Moni and Robin — but while she’d always had an answer at the ready in the past, she’d been thinking about it a lot since Liam had mentioned her perspective, and she couldn’t help wondering if there was more toit.
“To be honest, I’m not sure,” she said. “I guess that’s not veryhelpful.”
“But you have theories?” heasked.
“A few.” She hesitated. “At first I thought it was because I don’t have children of my own. I thought maybe it was a way to have that experience, but after awhile it became more about their spontaneity, their way of occupying their own skin without the kind of obsessive thinking that characterizes adulthood for most people, andthen…”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Then?”
She sighed. “I’m still sorting it out. I’m sorry. I wish I had some grand artistic vision to roll out for you here, but the truth is, kids just… move me. They have such rich inner lives, and yet they’re so fullypresent.”
“It’s something I’ve noticed too, a universality among children regardless of their external differences. Of course, there are some places where…” His voice trailed off and he exhaled, looking suddenly weary and ten years older. “Let’s just say there are some places where circumstances don’t allow for innocence, not the way you and I defineit.”
“It must be so hard to see,” shesaid.
He nodded. “Not as hard as it must be to live. We do what we can, but sometimes bearing witness, being there, easing some small suffering, providing comfort, is all we cando.”
Her eyes were drawn to a picture on Jason’s wall: Jason holding a dark skinned boy while another man stood by smiling. “You’re doing more thanmost.”
He followed her gaze. “My partner and our son when we brought himhome.”
“He’s beautiful,” Nina said, taking in his wide smile, the light in his eyes visible even through thephotograph.
