Page 13 of Pride and Protest
Now the weather was of a different sort. It swirled around him, but instead of wind and rain, it was made of gossamer, electricity, murmurs, and images. Aninternet storm. He had never been in a meme before; now he was in two. The “I’ll pass” meme was less famous but cut Dorsey the deepest. He winced at the harshness of his tone. Every time he rewatched it, new little nuances came alive: her mother’s protective frown, Liza’s moment of genuine surprise and embarrassment, then the cool hardening of her face to indifference, and that perfect mouth turning down into a frown. In the other meme, she had photobombed his interview with Jennifer. A GIF of Liza holding out her protest napkin played on a loop with various phrases added to it. “When your ex shows up with his new girlfriend” was one of his favorites. Liza’s curls bounced as she jostled the napkin.Why did I make fun of her hair?Now it was all he thought about.
Sure, it was intense now, but this curiosity would fizzle out like so many of his relationships.
“Rigid.” “Cold.” “Distant.” These were the words people leveled at him when they were tired of pretending to like him because of his money. Some of his past romantic partners were what Gigi called energy vampires, so he always felt tooonfor them. Most of his relationships would fizzle out from pure exhaustion on his part.
But Liza—and god help him, he couldn’t even have a thought without that woman finding her way in—Liza seemed a little like his best friend, Joseph. Dorsey didn’t feel pressure to perform for her; he wasdelightedto. He had even teased her outside of the rec center.What do you think I do?It was more fun than most of his first dates, actually.
He met a lot of women through introductions from some well-meaning friend or his meddling sister. But it was hard to get over that hump of awkward emptiness that settled in just before the drinks came.
Then there was the money. People laughed louder at his jokes because of it. They nodded approvingly at his ideas, even when he was full of shit. It was confusing. You either bought into the false adoration and thought you were God’s gift to women or became cynical about everyone’s motives. He had been leaning too far in the cynical direction lately.
But Liza disliked him precisely because of his money, which he found... different. She had, in fact, liked himbetterwhen she thought he was the waitstaff and invited herself dancing with him.
You’re not even a real Latino.
She had hurled it like the worst insult. Dorsey laughed again.
But his smile faltered at the memory of turning her down. He had been too hasty. He had been wrapped up in his anxiety and his need for everything to go perfectly and had only seen her as an irritant, a fly in the ointment. But now that the event was over, he faced the realization that he had publicly turned down the most provocative woman he’d ever encountered. Her beauty was not the heavy-handed type that knocked you over. No—her entire persona was like binge-watching true-crime documentaries. You tell yourself,I’m only half-interested. I’ll only watch the first half hour.Next thing you know it’s six a.m., you’ve overeaten, and you’re still frantically pressing next episode.
His cell phone rang. Gigi.
“Hey, Mr. Meme.”
Dorsey rolled his eyes. “Yes, Gigi. I know you’re enjoying the hell out of this.”
“Why are you so awkward?” Gigi teased. “I watched it again, and I saw you doing that thing with your hand like you’re jingling keys. Chances are one hundred percent you were smoking like a chimney last night.”
“Just one.”
“Of your precious Treasurers, right?”
“Leave my ridiculous cigarettes alone.”
“I still can’t believe you know her.”
“Who, Liza Bennett? Is she someone to know?”
Holy shit, am I cool?
“Have you ever read any of her stuff? She’s sharp.”
“No, I haven’t,” Dorsey lied. He couldn’t give this shark even one drop of blood.
“You need to read more. And speaking of, I want to send you something.”
Dorsey prickled with uneasiness. “What?”
“Some pages from an article I want to write. About my past.” Gigi had always struggled with belonging, even more than he had. It had driven her to some extreme behaviors, including a few altercations with their adoptive parents she would later admit to regretting.
“Gigi, can’t you just come out on Twitter like everybody else?” He paused for a beat. Oh. She was talking about theotherthing. “I thought you wanted to lead this company. No one will let you near any boardroom if you write about all of that.”
“Dorsey, I have a record. If that record would keep me from serving, it always would. Quiet or out loud.” The pause was heavier than Dorsey liked.
“Don’t you want to protect our parents’ legacy?” Dorsey faltered. “I mean, we owe it to them to keep the Fitzgerald name—”
“Get real,Datu. No one sees you as a Fitzgerald.” It felt likea hot slap in the face. “No one sees me as one either. I’m an African girl with the right last name.”
“Youarea Fitzgerald. Those labels—African, Black, whatever—don’t define you.”
