The Buck Pass

Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

The Departure

  

They spent the rest of the year busting their butts. Mary, following Nadya's advice, began working part-time at the diner, serving burnt coffee to burnt-out Brooklyn-ites during the early morning breakfast rush, and spending the remainder of the day taking classes at Chrisholm College. The psychology coursework, which she needed in order to pursue her degree in social work, came easily to Mary, and she blossomed into a talented student.

Nadya, of course, continued to maintain the highest grade point average that Chrisholm College had ever seen. When the time came for her to apply to law schools, she had no problem collecting an assortment of glowing recommendations from her professors; they were more than happy to sing her praises. After acing the LSAT and typing up her resume, which boasted an impressive selection of extracurricular activities, such as president of the debate society and founding member of the Chisholm College logic club, Nadya was accepted eagerly by Harvard Law School. She could not have been more thrilled.

“Did you know that it's the oldest law school in the country?” she asked Mary one warm spring evening, as she sat on her bed flipping through the pages of the glossy brochure that had come in the mail with her acceptance letter.

“Mmmm,” Mary said noncommittally, as she sorted through a load of clean laundry and began folding it into neat piles.

“And that six out of nine of the current Supreme Court justices went to Harvard Law?”

“That's great,” Mary replied flatly.

Nadya's head jerked up from the brochure; she eyed Mary suspiciously. “What crawled up your butt?”

“Nothing,” said Mary quickly. Scooping up the piles of folded clothing, she turned her back to Nadya and began placing them into the tiny dresser that they shared.

“Bullshit.” Nadya tossed the Harvard brochure aside and jumped up from the bed. “What's wrong?” She stood next to Mary with her arms folded and her brow furrowed, demanding an answer.

“It's just...” Mary finished putting away the clothes and faced Nadya. “I'm really going to miss you,” she said sadly. “And you're gonna be away at Harvard, meeting a bunch of other geniuses...you'll probably forget all about me.”

“How the hell could I forget about you?” Nadya asked incredulously. “We're best friends. You're more like a sister, really.”

“But you'll be so busy all the time, and we'll probably hardly get to see each other...”

“I'll be back for all the holidays,” Nadya reassured her. “And you can come up to Boston whenever you want. Actually, I was hoping you would come up in a few weeks, after I get settled in.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Nadya replied. “Boston is supposed to have a lot of great museums and stuff we could check out. And also,” she smiled mischievously, “it's got Adele Sinclair.”

“Who's Adele Sinclair?”

“Oh, nobody important,” Nadya responded sarcastically. “Only the best family law attorney in the United States. She does pro bono work at one of Harvard's law clinics and we're going to get you an appointment with her. She'll be able to help you get back custody of Ben and James.”

Ben and James – her babies. During her most recent telephone call to her parents, Mary had asked tentatively how the boys were; she had been almost afraid to hear the answer. Physically, her parents had assured her, Ben and James seemed alright; there were no signs of serious injury. Emotionally, however, they were a mess. Confused as to why their mother had left and unhappy about living with their abusive father, the boys had developed numerous behavioral problems. For their sake as well as her own, Mary needed to get them back as soon as possible. She faced Nadya with questioning eyes.

“You really think that this Adele Sinclair can help me?”

“She's helped hundreds of other women,” Nadya said with confidence. “I have faith in her.”

“Well then, that's good enough for me,” Mary replied definitively. “Because I have faith in you.” She wrapped her arms around Nadya, pulling her into a tight hug. “My best friend. My sister.”

***

Nadya, having proved to Harvard that she was brilliant but broke, had been offered a small stipend to work in the Harvard Law School library during the Summer months, so that she would have the chance to earn some money before the official start of the semester. This was both good and bad. The good part was that the stipend paid much more than Nadya would have earned if she had spent the summer working at the diner; the bad part was that taking the job in the library meant that she would have to leave New York two months earlier than she had originally intended to. Sometimes, life can be bittersweet. Before they knew it, June had rolled around, and the pair found themselves standing in a terminal in LaGuardia airport, waiting for Nadya's flight to Boston.

“I'm dying of thirst,” Nadya announced as they sat on the floor, surrounded by three huge suitcases. “I gotta get a soda or something, my throat feels like it's made of sandpaper.” Pulling her backpack towards her, she dug through it until she found her wallet. “Damn,” she said, fingering through it in frustration. “I don't have any singles. Just a ten.”

“I'll go get it,” Mary volunteered. “You should stay with the bags anyway, in case they need to ask you about them or something.”

She strode over to the nearest soda machine, reached for her own wallet – and saw that, with the exception of some loose change, it was empty. Mary groaned in annoyance. She may have had a hundred grand stashed away in the bank and a decent-paying job, but Mary still considered herself poor. She never spent money unless she absolutely had to, and, being as she hardly ever had to, she hardly ever carried any.

“Crap,” she muttered, glancing over to where Nadya sat waiting; she hated the idea of disappointing her by being unable to do a simple thing like get her a drink. Looking around the airport terminal helplessly, she wondered what to do. And suddenly, Mary remembered – the dollar. She carried it with her always, in whatever pocket she had available, for no reason other than it seemed like the right thing to do. Each evening, she removed it carefully and placed it on the little night table by her little bed, so that it would be the first thing she saw in the morning. Mary had hoped that she would be able to keep the dollar forever, as a memento of the miraculous night when her luck had changed. But, somehow, she had always known that the dollar wasn't hers to keep. It belonged to everyone, and to no one. It was a buck that needed to be passed.

With a sigh, she pulled the dollar out of her jeans pocket and fed it to the machine; in an instant, it disappeared. After adding the coins, a bright light flashed, urging her to make a soda selection. Mary, feeling the weight of her loss, complied.

“Mary!” Nadya called down the length of the terminal, her voice tinged with urgency. “It's here!”

For what was probably the first known time in the recorded history of air travel, the plane had arrived early. Worried that she might miss the chance to say goodbye to Nadya before she boarded, Mary grabbed the bottle of soda from the machine and set off at a mad dash, sprinting through the terminal. She didn't think about how fast she was going, didn't notice that people were ducking and jumping frantically to get out of her way. She didn't see the young woman carrying the huge, pink duffle bag; Mary's brain hardly registered her – not, that is, until she ran right into her.