Nicole had been right: my middle-class whiteness just could not handle this. Mrs. Archina wailed, then swore at us, then buried her face in her husband's neck, pounding on his chest with her fists. Mr. Archina screamed so loud, everything in the room shook.
We had agreed that Rodrigo was the best of all of us to break the news, but just being there supporting him was hard. We were dressed in our snazzy Men-In-Black outfits, which always gave me confidence, but this was just raw pain. It was too much.
Mrs. Archina wailed again that she didn't understand, so Rodrigo repeated the story we'd all agreed on: Nicole had been near campus, when she saw a burning building. She had thought a lot of people were in danger, and without even thinking twice, she ran inside to try to save everyone. As a result, she had died.
No one was actually in danger, but Nicole had no way of knowing that. It was tragic that she hadn't been able to find anyone to actually save, but that didn't mean she wasn't a hero.
Mr.s Archina cursed her daughter's impulsiveness, then wept in awe at her daughter's selflessness, then just collapsed in her husband's arms. "I did not know her for very long," Rodrigo said. "But I couldn't help but respect her passion, brilliance, and dedication. I know this is true for everyone else she met at NHU."
Mr. Archina nodded dumbly, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Thank you," he said, stiffly. He shook his head. "How are we going to tell her brothers and sisters? They all..." He paused, gathered himself for a moment, and then nodded again. "Nicole was their light. I don't know what we'll do."
Rodrigo and I glanced at each other, and I took a step forward, gathering myself to actually try to speak. "Um. I'm sorry, I can't imagine how you're feeling. But there's something we want to do to make part of it easier."
I took a piece of paper out of my pocket and unfolded it. "Everyone knew how much she loved her family. And before she died, she actually wrote a list of all the people who meant the most to her." I handed the list over to them and let them read it. As I paused, I tried not to be too distracted by all the photos of Nicole, the framed awards, the newspaper clippings.
"Nicole was our friend," I said. "But more than that, she was an Ultimate. We're all furious that she was stolen from the world before she could really flourish. And we're furious she was stolen from you. We're here to promise that all of the people on this list will be financially supported for the rest of their lives."
They started to sputter, but Rodrigo quickly spoke up. "We fully understand if you do not wish to accept this assistance. Any money you turn away will automatically be given to a trusted charity supporting young, colorful women in the fashion industry."
"Women of color!" I corrected quickly.
"Ah. Yes." He blushed. "My apologies."
"We understand this is overwhelming!" I said. "None of it needs to be addressed now. Our contact information is on the card we gave you earlier. We just wanted you to know, to hopefully ease even a tiny bit of this horrible news."
They just stared at us, completely gobsmacked. I couldn't blame them. "Um, there was one final thing, before we left you alone," I said. "There's one name on this list we didn't understand. See? The one that just says 'Mrs. Jones.' That wasn't enough for us to find her. Do you know who that is?"
Mrs. Archina sob-laughed. "Mrs. Jones! Oh." She sniffled, grief not completely covering up the warmth of the memories she was having. "Mrs. Jones lived on our block when we were at the old house. Nicole would go over there when we couldn't pick her up from school, and they'd sew and talk..." A heartbroken smile broke through the tears. "But she died. She's been dead for five years. Nicole cried and cried for days when she heard."
Rodrigo looked to me. We shared a nod, and he smiled kindly back to Mrs. Archina. "I see. Although we can't help her friend, I'm very grateful to learn more about Nicole. Thank you."
As Rodrigo and I stepped out onto the Detroit sidewalk, I had to take a second to just collect myself.
"Are you all right, Saya?" he asked.
"Yeah, yeah, " I assured him. "That was just the hardest one yet. I knew it would be, but... woof."
He nodded. "It's exhausting. But I'm glad it's the two of us doing it. If I was alone, I'd be utterly overwhelmed."
"Yeah. Same here, buddy." I smiled at him and we began heading down the street to where we'd parked the car. "Do you remember who's next?"
"Therion; on Wednesday. Our plane to San Juan won't leave until tomorrow, so we got a hotel in town."
"Good. It'll be nice to spread out." I took out my phone and glanced at it; I had four messages. Two were business and one was a reminder about the chess tournament I'd signed up for next week in Oslo. But the fourth...
"Ohhhh, the bomb dropped," I said, wincing.
"Hm?"
"My mom wants to meet Jane." I sighed. "I tried to explain we're not really dating-dating, just... like... sort of half kinda dating, but it looks like that's not cutting it." My phone buzzed, and I looked down at it. "Aaaaand she just sent me a photo of the bisexual pride flag she's apparently hung up in her dining room, so that's a thing, too."
He nodded. "Rocky and I have yet to meet one another's parents. I admit that I find the prospect quite intimidating. I support you!"
I rolled my eyes playfully. "At least she's stopped asking me why I'm not with Katy. I told her, 'because w'ere best friends,' and she was like, 'Yes, but have you seen what your best friend looks like?' I'm not sure if she's really awkwardly trying to support me, or if she has a crush on Katy herself, and jesus christ now that I said that out loud I might never orgasm again."
"Having parents is strange," Rodrigo mused. "Although..."
"Hey, X-Files!"
We paused in confusion at the sudden interruption. We looked over to see a middle-aged man in raggedy clothes loping over to us. "I beg your pardon?" Rodrigo said.
"Your clothes! You all dressed up like X-Files! I bet y'all work for the government, huh?" The man stopped a couple of feet away. He was grinning, but his face was weathered and marked from standing in the sun.
"No," Rodrigo corrected him. "We... work for a university, actually."
"Whoa, big-brains!" the man enthused. "Hey, big brains, listen, I don't mean to bother you or the young lady, and so I won't take up much of your time. But my name is Robert K. Selsen, and I am a veteran of this here United States Armed Forces, I fought in Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan. And listen, I just need three dollars and forty-four cents for a bus to Oakland Avenue, because I prayed to Jesus Christ above and He gave me..."
I held up my hand, trying to interrupt his well-practiced speech. "Hey, Robert... hey. Sorry to cut you off. I don't think either of us carry any cash, but um... I think I have a Gatorade in the car. Do you want that?"
"Aw, that's great. Bless you!"
"No problem," I replied, blushing at his enthusiasm. "It's just at the other end of this block." He nodded and followed us as we headed towards our rental.
"Y'all really do look like the X-Files though," he remarked. "Little, pretty red-head, and big, handsome, brown-haired, white guy? You sure you ain't with some big conspiracy?" He laughed, rasping but genuine.
"No, just a university," I replied. Then, grinning: "We do fight aliens, though." He laughed.
When we got to the car, I unlocked it and reached in to get the bag from the convenience store. "Hm, it got kinda warm, but it should still be good," I said, handing it over.
"Jesus bless you, thank you very much," he said, and he opened up the bottle and took a big swig. He bowed his head, then turned and started walking back to his corner. But his boisterous laugh stayed with me.
"Hey, Mr. Selsen!" I called to him. He turned around, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think you can make it ten more years?"
He squinted in confusion. "What's that?"
"Just pray to Jesus to help you make it ten more years. That's all you need. Because after that... things will change. I promise."
He glanced around. I think he was getting worried this was some sort of set-up, so I clarified as much as I dared. "Our conspiracy."
He did not seem reassured or less confused, so I just waved awkwardly and hopped into the car. Rodrigo sat down next to me. We strapped on our seatbelts, and I pulled out into the street.