Chapter 11 - The Photograph
Maya recognized the man.
Uncle Thomas.
Robert’s younger brother.
According to the family story, Thomas had left Illinois after a disagreement and never returned.
Maya had been nine.
She barely remembered him.
But the photograph was dated ten years later.
Maya, nineteen.
Thomas beside her.
Impossible.
She called Robert.
“Who sent this?”
Robert stared at the photograph.
His face changed.
“Where did you get it?”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Robert sat down.
Thomas had not disappeared.
He had become homeless after addiction destroyed his career and marriage.
At nineteen, Maya had encountered him near Northwestern.
She hadn’t recognized him.
Thomas recognized her.
Robert had later learned about the encounter but asked Thomas to stay away.
“Why?”
“I was ashamed.”
“Of him?”
“Of myself.”
Robert had spent his life worshiping stability because instability terrified him.
His brother represented everything he feared.
So when Maya began taking risks, Robert didn’t see entrepreneurship.
He saw Thomas.
Failure.
Chaos.
Loss.
Maya finally understood.
It did not excuse him.
But it explained him.
“Where is Thomas now?”
Robert looked down.
“Milwaukee.”
“Does he have housing?”
“Yes.”
“Is he sober?”
“Six years.”
Maya stood.
“Take me.”
They drove north together.
Thomas opened the door of a modest apartment.
He stared at Maya.
Then Robert.
Then he laughed.
“Took you long enough.”
Maya spent four hours listening.
Not fixing.
Listening.
Thomas told her about addiction, recovery, shame, and the years Robert secretly helped pay for treatment while telling everyone they were estranged.
Maya looked at her father differently afterward.
Robert had secrets too.
Not glamorous ones.
Human ones.
On the drive home, Maya said, “You know what our family’s problem is?”
Robert glanced over.
“We think silence protects people.”
Robert nodded.
“And mostly it protects fear.”
He nodded again.
Then he said, “I’m proud of you.”
Maya looked out the window.
“Don’t be proud because Forbes told you to be.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why?”
Robert thought.
“Because you walked into Thomas’s apartment and listened before judging him.”
Maya turned.
For once, her father had praised something that had nothing to do with money.
That mattered.
But when Maya checked her phone, she saw seventeen missed calls.
NorthStar.
Daniel.
Rachel.
Something had happened.
She called Rachel.
“What’s wrong?”
Rachel’s voice was shaking.
“Maya, turn on the news.”
Maya did.
NorthStar’s headquarters filled the screen.
Fire trucks surrounded the building.
Smoke rose from an upper floor.
Maya stopped breathing.
“Is everyone out?”
“We think so.”
“Think?”
“One employee is unaccounted for.”
“Who?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Sophie.”
Maya’s heart stopped.
May you like
Emily’s fourteen-year-old daughter had been visiting NorthStar for a school project.
And nobody could find her.
