All of This Is True Read online

  The Absolution of Brady Stevenson

  BY FATIMA RO

  (excerpt)

  The lunch tables in the courtyard were prime real estate at Morley Academy. Brady simply had to accept an invitation to sit there with the girls. The perfect early-autumn weather elevated his mood. He felt more social than usual. No one was paying any attention to him as he took a seat. It was as if he actually belonged. Sitting tall in his uniform, he liked being accepted in this school, with this group. He would just keep his mouth shut, that’s all, and everything would be fine.

  Marni and Sunny came straight from fifth-period AP English. They had veered Ms. Krauss away from her lesson on J. D. Salinger and initiated a lively class discussion on Thora Temple’s The Drowning. “Ms. Krauss went on a tangent about the love story. I didn’t get to finish my point about the extended metaphors,” Marni said, continuing the conversation as the lunch period began. “I was going to say that the castles are supposed to be a reference to heaven.”

  “Yes, I read into that, too, especially in the last few chapters.” Sunny nodded.

  Brady listened. The girls’ enthusiasm for a book and their ability to engage their English class on the topic impressed him.

  Marni unfolded a paper napkin across her lap. “There’s a line in the Bible about rooms in a mansion or something.”

  Sunny gestured with her fork as she spoke. “It’s like Jules’s mother is near death and about to enter the kingdom of heaven.”

  “Right.” Marni took her phone out and started Googling. “Ugh, what is that line?” she mumbled. “It’s going to annoy me all day if I don’t find it.”

  In my Father’s house are many mansions, Brady thought as he unwrapped his roast beef sandwich. He was Irish-Catholic and attended the five o’clock mass every Saturday night with his parents. Recently, he even went to chapel without them. This had surprised him. He had always thought that if given the freedom to choose, he would pass on church. It was comforting, though, so he couldn’t stay away.

  “Here it is,” Marni said, chewing on a stalk of celery dipped in peanut butter. “‘In my Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.’”

  There’s a Psalm of David that’s similar, which Brady knew, too. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

  “So, the castle represents God’s house.” Paloma looked from Marni to Sunny and waited for their approval.

  Marni glanced dismissively over her shoulder. “Obviously.”

  Deflated, Paloma sat back in her chair.

  “Sunny, did you notice that half the class has read The Drowning since we brought it up last time?” Marni asked.

  “Trendsetters!” Sunny and Marni said in unison as they snapped a selfie. The routine started last year when all three girls started wearing scarves with brooches and nearly the whole student body copied.

  Paloma sighed. “Have you read The Drowning?” she asked Brady. She didn’t know any boys who’d read it, but since Brady was gay, she figured that he might have.

  The book cover he’d seen online popped clearly into Brady’s mind. It was a photograph of the bottom of a concrete pool and bubbles rising to the top, the title handwritten in slick, black ink. “No,” he answered, keeping his knowledge of The Drowning to himself.

  “Oh, it’s brilliant. Really, truly.” Paloma smiled weakly. “We’re, like, uber fans.”

  Brady’s heart softened a bit toward Paloma for trying to include him in the conversation. At the same time, Paloma’s fondness for Brady grew an inch or two. She was relieved that he’d joined their group; she liked the calm, quiet way he balanced out the scale.

  Miri

  [scrolling through phone] I was just reading a bit of New York City mag while you were setting up. Soleil was so dramatic.

  Do you want to tell me more about her, since we’re on the topic? The camera’s on. I fixed the shades this time, the lighting looks great today.

  Thanks. [applies lip gloss] Well, there’s a lot I can say about Soleil. For one, that email from Fatima sent her into a spiral. I’d never seen Soleil that worked up before. Seriously, she showed up to school late, near tears. She wanted to please Fatima so badly. Looking back at it now, I think Soleil was developing a bit of an unhealthy obsession with her, honestly. She wouldn’t show me the email at the time, but it’s here now. [holds up phone] She asked Fatima to follow her overdue art project on Instagram. Who does that but the sad and the desperado? What an embarrassment. Anyway, Fatima requested that Soleil be more genuine. It all makes sense now. Soleil told me that she wanted to be more candid and share something of substance with Fatima.

  So, what did Soleil do about it?

  I told her what to do.

  Which was . . .

  To follow the most fundamental concept of human connections—show Fatima the precious truth. Soleil kept a journal practically every day, so I told her that she didn’t necessarily have to write anything new for Fatima. The most inside/out writing would be diary entries that she never thought anyone would ever read, right? Remember how Fatima asked to see Soleil’s notes at the Witches Brew?

  Yes.

  Fatima insisted that it not be edited in any way, so I knew that that’s what she wanted to see—Soleil’s authentic self, commenting on Jonah’s uncensored Jonah-ness. So, I don’t know what Penny has been telling you, but Soleil’s emails to Fatima were my idea, not Fatima’s. She never forced Soleil to write her anything.

  Aha.

  Soleil got a lot closer with Jonah and with Fatima after that, which was all she wanted. But ask me if I ever got a thank-you from Soleil out of it.

  Did you?

  [snorts]

  NEW YORK CITY MAGAZINE

  FOUR-PART SERIES

  * * *

  Stranger Than Fiction

  The True Story Behind the Controversial Novel

  The Absolution of Brady Stevenson

  SOLEIL JOHNSTON’S STORY, PART 2

  * * *

  DATE: September 29, 2016

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: stuff from my journal

  I thought you’d be interested in stuff from my journal instead? It’s unedited. I know that’s important to you.

  SEARCH: Jonah Nicholls wrestling team

  → Nicholls State University Athletics: NOT A MATCH

  → St. Bonaparte’s School, Camden, New Jersey

  → Photo: NOT A MATCH

  → Burbank High School, Burbank, California

  → Photo: NOT A MATCH

  SEARCH: Jonah Nicholls wrestler

  → Do you mean Jonah McNicholl?

  NO. I DO NOT.

  SEARCH VIDEOS: Jonah Nicholls

  → Jonah Hill Plays “Loser” High School Wrestler in SNL Video: NOT A MATCH

  → Ultimate Barbecue Tips with Jonah and Nick: NOT A MATCH

  → Nicholls Guitar Chords for cheaters: NOT A MATCH (but bookmark this page for the guitar chords)

  Damn it. WWJ????

  TO: [email protected]

  FROM: [email protected]

  SUBJECT: RE: stuff from my journal

  Better. More like this. Let’s keep trying to reach out to him. By the way, I looked at your Doors project on Instagram. Followed you. It’s a decent start, but if there’s a way to add even more depth to the concept, it could be much stronger. Think about Undertow; there’s a mother/daughter story, there’s a layer of romance, a layer of religious symbolism. Any time you can create depth in a piece of art, the better. Interested in seeing your progress.

  Penny

  [walks through the kitchen to the backyard] I thought we could talk out here today. It’s so nice out.

  This is perfect. What a great backyard. This is a ridi
culously amazing pool.

  Thanks. We just opened it. It’s almost warm enough to go in. [sits at outdoor table]

  Thank you for sitting with me again, Penny.

  You’re welcome. Our housekeeper made us a fruit platter. Help yourself.

  It’s beautiful. Thanks.

  Things have gotten a lot worse for me, like, in the media and everything. [shakes head] That headline yesterday . . .

  “Penny: Privileged Provocateur”?

  Yeah. [sighs] And that picture of me is everywhere. It’s from my cousin’s wedding! I was junior bridesmaid. That’s why I was wearing that jewelry. I changed out of my dress into sweats so that I could run around and do errands and decorate her wedding-night cabin before the reception. I don’t wear Cartier with sweats. That picture made me look like an Orange County Housewife! [cries]

  I’m sorry it’s been so difficult for you. It’s an awful headline. Terrible alliteration. How are you holding up?

  I don’t know. [composes herself] I guess I’m just avoiding the internet and TV and stuff. I’m trying to, anyway.

  That’s probably for the best.

  [places a spiral notebook on the table] My father said it’s important for me to share my side of things even if I don’t want to. He thinks that all the negativity toward me has been caused by lack of information and misunderstanding. That’s why we called you back.

  Your father’s a smart man.

  He said if I tell my side maybe I won’t get blamed as much. My parents hate that people are blaming me.

  Of course they do.

  Dad was the only one who didn’t like her, you know.

  Fatima?

  Yeah.

  Why was that?

  Um, well, it wasn’t so much her but the fact that me and my friends didn’t spend as much time here anymore. Dad didn’t grow up with money. He was basically a huge dork when he was my age, so he built this house to finally have, like, the cool place to hang out. He was proud to have lots of people around to enjoy it and keep him company. He works from home a lot. He books talent for concerts and TV specials.

  I see.

  But I was the first one to get a driver’s license, and my friends didn’t want to be here anymore. They wanted to go to Fatima’s house, so that’s where we went. It was also kinda nice to have, like, freedom. [pulls grapes from the platter]

  Sure it was.

  But when Mom told Dad that Fatima was, like, a legit author, he thought she’d be a good influence on me. He always wanted me to read more. [eats a grape] He hates her now, though.

  I understand.

  [looks toward the window] Dad! [leans forward] Don’t watch! Just go inside. God! I can do it. It’s fine. I got it. Go inside. [sits back] Sorry.

  That’s okay. He’s just concerned. It’s nice that he’s so supportive.

  I know. It’s not, like, a normal thing that happened. [glances at the window again] Plus, I think he’s mad at himself for not, like, following his instincts about her or something. I heard him talking to Mom about it.

  So now he wants to clear your side of the story.

  Uh-huh. [eats]

  You said over the phone that you wanted to talk about the Undertow meetings in particular?

  Yeah, um, Miri’s meetings?

  Right.

  Well, Miri wanted to start a group for Undertow fans at school to read aloud and analyze stuff. And she also wanted to teach about the theory of human connections. She thought it’d bring the student body closer, ’cause we have cliques and that kinda thing. [sighs] It’s hard being in my group. People think that because of money we get favoritism when we don’t. I know I don’t. I have a C average, and I got, like, three detentions for my skirt being two inches too short. Anyways, Miri wanted to break down social misconceptions at school or something like that. She gets crazy passionate.

  [opens her notebook] So, one night we were at the Witches Brew, and Fatima told us that there are actual steps you could follow in order to make authentic human connections. I took these notes. [flips through the pages] We all took notes; I kept a notebook, Miri kept a notebook, Soleil was on her laptop. Jonah didn’t take notes, but he listened and ate pork sliders.

  When Fatima spoke she was just, like, heartfelt. You paid attention to her. You know what I mean? You listened. [pause] She started out talking to the four of us about the steps and how they worked for her with strangers. And then in, like, fifteen minutes, the whole café started listening. People turned their chairs, and it became this thing.

  That’s amazing.

  For real. She was super charming, you know?

  It’s obvious.

  Here’s the stuff I wrote down. It’s weird to think about this, but there are random people from the café that night who wrote the same notes. Uh . . . [reading from a page] “Look each other in the eyes. This is the most basic principle of making an authentic connection, but it’s surprising how rarely people do this.” [flips pages] “Use the person’s name. This instantly makes your subject feel valued and seen.” Sometimes Fatima would pause after an important sentence and look at you and force you to think about it. Like, she said, “That’s all any of us wants, isn’t it? To be seen and valued.” And then she stopped right there and looked at everyone until that sentence sunk in. [shakes head]

  She was very charismatic.

  Uh-huh. [sighs] It’s kinda not fair.

  What do you mean?

  Well, most people are lucky if they’re talented at one thing. Like, you’d think it’d be enough for her to be a writer, but Fatima was good at speaking and theories, plus her style was Vogue-worthy. The rest of us are just, like, trying not to fail physics class, you know?

  I understand.

  But anyways, there’s more. [reads from notebook] “Be observant of your subject and make an observant statement. Mirror their body language. This makes people feel comfortable. Ask open-ended questions.” And then I took down a list of open-ended questions . . . [takes deep breath]

  You know, I realize Fatima’s delivery was intense, but the steps seem like sound advice to me, as far as techniques for effective communication are concerned.

  That’s what I thought, too, at first. But somewhere . . . somewhere it went wrong. I think it was the open-ended questions. [pauses] If she didn’t have so many of those maybe I wouldn’t have tried so hard to find answers.

  [Penny’s father calls from the window] Tell him about the cult meeting, Penny! Tell him that!

  [Penny looks to window] Dad! Stop! I’m fine! Just stay inside. And don’t call it that! [shoos him away] . . . Sorry.

  It’s okay.

  I was just going to tell you about the meeting.

  Go ahead.

  Well, Miri posted an announcement:

  UNDERTOW DISCUSSION and FATIMA RO’S THEORY REVEALED

  GRAHAM COURTYARD

  Saturday 9 p.m.

  Ahh, the courtyard at night . . .

  Yup.

  I see where this is going.

  Miri knew what she was doing.

  And the stars?

  They were perfect.

  The Absolution of Brady Stevenson

  BY FATIMA RO

  (excerpt)

  After a long day at school, Brady was happy to come home to Cletus, his eleven-year-old boxer mix. He rubbed his dog’s wrinkly face with both hands and greeted him. “Hey, Clee! Hey, my main man!” He secured Cletus’s leash and led him outside.

  When Brady was in middle school, he had too often been lazy about walking his dog. He’d come home tired and hungry from practice. All he wanted was a video game break or a nap. Sometimes he’d connect two leashes so he could stand in the doorway while the dog walked over the patio and peed on the grass. Brady had recently spent time apart from Cletus. He missed the simple presence of his dog breathing and existing beside him. When they reunited, Cletus’s muzzle was whiter than Brady remembered. It had been turning whiter and whiter since, a reminder of the preciousness of their time together. Th
ese days, Brady walked Cletus twice around the block every single afternoon, rain or shine, with a lump in his throat full of gratitude.

  The duo returned from their walk to a package from Amazon on the front stoop. “We got a package! See that?” Brady lifted the box and let Cletus sniff.

  Cletus wagged his tail and darted his head from side to side.

  “Does it smell good?” Brady asked in a high-pitched voice. “Does it smell like Axe and Bluetooth headphones?”

  Inside the house, Brady let the dog off the chain. He took the package up to his bedroom with a seltzer and a plate of leftover chicken drumsticks. A voicemail played in the kitchen. BEEP! “This is Michelle at Dr. Nihati’s office. Dr. Nihati needs to make a change in schedule and would like to move Brady’s session from five p.m. to four p.m. this Monday, if that’s okay. Please give us a call back to confirm. We apologize for any inconvenience. Thank you.” BEEP!

  Brady closed his bedroom door behind Cletus, who was licking his chops. “This chicken is not for you. Bones are bad news, bud. Bad, bad news.” Brady put his food on the desk and sliced the package open with a pair of scissors. Taking inventory of his Amazon order gave Brady a thrill. He could understand how easy it would be to form an addiction to online shopping, or anything, really—gambling or gaming or internet porn or whatever.

  iPhone water resistant case with built-in screen protector

  Anker wireless Bluetooth headphones with 8-hr. playtime

  Trashed: Famous Art Created from Garbage by Felix Woo

  AXE body spray, Excite, 4 oz. (pack of 3)

  Car console organizer with 6 large pockets + adjustable dividers for keeping miscellaneous items

  PUMA front-zip jacket with sherpa-lined hood

  2 packs of Calvin Klein men’s 3-pack cotton stretch boxer briefs in black

  Boys of ’67: From Vietnam to Iraq, The Extraordinary Story of a Few Good Men by Charles Jones

  The Drowning by Thora Temple

  Brady and Cletus lay on the bed surrounded by Brady’s new things. He unwrapped the body spray and placed each can in the compartments of the car caddy. He imagined the stock guy in the Amazon warehouse who had pulled his orders from the shelves. Brady could appreciate a quiet job like that. At Amazon, he could drive around in a little cart from aisle to aisle. He’d probably be allowed to listen to his music all day, too; that’d be a really nice perk. The best thing about it was that filling orders probably didn’t require much human interaction, yet the work would ultimately make people happy by fulfilling their wishes.