Page 75 of Gifted & Talented

It had been me who’d texted Arthur earlier that day, when Eilidh had caught him smiling at his phone. I’m not totally sure what had driven me to contact Arthur specifically, since all three of them—and Gillian—had given me their numbers. I guess I couldn’t be casual with Meredith; I didn’t really know Eilidh; Gillian was a total stranger.

So I had texted Arthur:By the way this is going to cost you

He found it amusing.How much?

Depends on the results

Arthur:If there are no results then I’m not paying

Me:Why are all rich people so cheap?

I thought you were a rich person now, Arthur admitted.I saw the announcement all those years ago about the software you sold to Tyche

I opted not to tell him yet about the details; the things that both were and weren’t loss.I’m not NOT a rich person. I own a house. That’s something

Arthur:You own that house? As in, you bought that house on purpose?

Me:Wow, the snobbery!

I shot him an eye roll and added,It’s close to my mom’s job. You missed her today, she was at work

Arthur was overwhelmed with sadness at the image of my kind and pretty mother still bent over a floor, scrubbing the grout with a toothbrush like fucking Cinderella.She’s still working?

Me:Of course. She’s only in her late fifties Arthur, we don’t just drop dead once we become unfuckable

Arthur smiled to himself.How do you know she’s unfuckable?

Gross, I said, and meant it.

Arthur:I just hope it’s not too hard on her

Me:What, accounting?

Arthur:What??

She’s an accountant, I said.Has been since I last saw you

Really???said Arthur, who despite his progressive, aspirational politics had still managed to forget about the concept of upward social mobility.

Me:She went to night school and got her degree while I was still at Ainsworth. She paid for my books and the first year in the dorms at Berkeley before I moved home and commuted. I lived with her until I sold my first start-up to Tyche. And it’s really only thanks to her that I could buy a house at all instead of spending every penny I had on my loans.

Arthur correctly identified that I was telling him this for a reason.You’re worried about what I think of you?

This is a good housewas all I said in response.

I’m sorry, Arthur said, considering saying many other things but didn’t, and I didn’t reply.

Then Arthur watched Philippa drink wine, and had a momentary seizure over the possibility that Riot would suffer, or that he wouldn’t be able to give Riot every single opportunity she deserved, or that Riot had never even existed. Which was the worst of several dismal options, because it meant so many other things about what Arthur believed to be real.

So, after he died and spontaneously resurrected, he reread the messages I’d sent him. He thought, again, of me.

And then he said,What’s your son’s name?

Aristotle, I replied.

Arthur:No! Is it really?

Me:Absolutely not you pretentious fuck

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