Can Buy

Bail funds for roughly 66.6 to infinity citations for civil disobedience against the Dakota Pipeline-

“Runner-ups include Ms. Nicole Esquire-”

Unenthusiastic clapping. A slight bump in politeness as the woman who had been named must have stood somewhere in the dining hall, but I kept my gaze down.

Bottled water for roughly 1,282 people in Flint for a day-

Another name. More clapping.

Half of an adoption fee for one child-

Another name. Clapping. As long as my wife was still, I felt no inclination to pay attention.

15 percent of cancer treatment for average Ameri-

My pen ripped through the napkin that I had been furiously scribbling on. I remained motionless in dismay for a moment, then glanced around the table for an available napkin I might nab from an unsuspecting attendee. I briefly considered using my phone to take notes, as I usually did, but I knew the bright screen in the darkened room would make my inattention apparent to the point of rudeness.

Another name. More polite clapping.

My wife was clenching her napkin furiously, rendering it useless even if I had had the heart to interrupt her nervous lock-down in order to obtain it.

The elderly couple immediately to my right at our large round table had both used their napkins as coasters for their drinks. I focused my gaze on the couple across the table from my wife and I, only to find the woman looking back at me. She withdrew a small black notebook from her bag, and raised her eyebrows.

I nodded, half smiling to express my gratitude. The woman cautiously tossed the notebook across the table. I picked it up, nodded to her, smiled again, then opened its pages.

Things $20,000 Can Buy

Another name. Tired clapping.

I began to transcribe my list from the ripped napkin into the notebook, writing as quickly as I could in an attempt to keep up with my racing mind.

Two years of tuition for a Public In-State College, or one year of tuition for a Public, Out-of-State College-

“Charlize Acevedo.”

My wife’s name echoed through the poorly tuned amplification system. She stood, made an awkward attempt to wave in response to the crowd’s clapping, then sat back down. I clapped as well, watching her in case if she looked at me, so I could beam support through my eyes.

She did not look at me. There were a number of possible reasons; of them, the two most likely were that she did not want to subdue herself to someone who could tell she was nervous as efficiently as I could, or she did not want to be on the receiving end of my pandering support.

I tried to be anything but pandering, but my opinion on these types of ceremonies was a poorly kept secret; I had a difficult time hiding my disdain for divulging cash prizes to a room of eager capitalists looking for a leg up in society.

I returned to my list.

Spending money for 20 refugees-

“And the winner is-”

I could feel how slowly the woman on stage opened the envelope.

58 visa-applications for immediate-relative immigrants-

“Charlize Acevedo.”

Despite my shock, I managed to put my pen down to clap. I watched my wife as she stood in a daze, her hand to her chest as she gawked at the speaker. She turned to me, and I quickly stood to meet her in a quick hug before she walked to the stage. I could feel the eyes of the attendees at the table on me, but I rigorously avoided eye contact with any of them; it was an easy task, as I watched my wife walk up a small set of stairs onto the stage.

The speaker handed my wife the envelope. She hugged my wife, a gesture I always considered to be odd at award ceremonies, considering the lack of familiarity.

My wife took the mic, beaming, despite the unique combination of shock and shyness.

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

The clapping subsided. I resumed my seat with the rest of the crowd. I watched intently, knowing that I would be called to give specifics of the unfolding events during the car ride home. We both knew she would inevitably be victimized by post-stage insecurities, and my reassurance that she had spoken with poise and grace would be comforting .

"Wow, this is, uh. So amazing. What an honor. Thank you so much.”

She was hitting it out of the park so far. Humility, recognition, mixed with a charming quirkiness that revealed the common humanity within us all. These were all qualities that scored very high with rich people.

“I have to say, though, that the work that we do here, the work that we all do here, is so very important, and it’s such an honor to just... even be in the room with so many dedicated and talented individuals.”

Ten out of ten. Perhaps she would avoid the post-stage insecurities entirely.

“What are you going to do with the prize money?” the speaker piped in.

The crowd laughed, a hearty acknowledgment that a good number of people in the room, nominees, their friends, and their families, were jealous. They were most likely the same people who had clapped the loudest.

“Uh, I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it yet.”

Train wreck. Of course she had thought about it; we all knew that she had. But I certainly was not going to mention the momentary stumble, and thankfully, she recovered quickly.

“We’re all too busy working to day dream, but this will definitely help alleviate stress somewhere in my life. Oh, and before I go, I need to thank my husband, Mark Acevedo, for all his love and support.”

I smiled tightly, exuding pride in her direction, unsure of how else to respond to the applause and eyes towards me.

“Thank you again, thank you all so much. God bless you all.”

Solid ending. My wife walked down the stairs and back into the crowd as they clapped. I held my arms open to hug her as she returned to our table, aware that as many people were watching me as they were watching her. We hugged, and thankfully the speaker finally resumed her position at the microphone, diverting attention away from us.

“Congratulations, again, to Mrs. Acevedo, for her remarkable work.”

“Congratulations, honey,” I said, clutching her shoulders as she laughed to herself. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Are any of these real options?”

I turned towards the direction of the voice from across the table. The woman who had lent me the notebook had retrieved it during my wife’s speech, and had clearly read my list. She looked up at me inquisitively.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just, it’s just scribblings-” I stumbled.

“Are any of what real options?”

I panicked, which prohibited me from answering my wife right away. She could sense my panic as well as I could sense her nervousness.

The woman across the table extended the notebook, and my wife took it.

“I was just thinking, I was just, really, it’s not important-”

I drifted off as my wife read. I shot a glare towards the woman across the table, but she did not notice; she was watching my wife read.

“Mark. Oh my God.”

“I’m sorry, I swear, it was just thoughts, we can do whatever you want with the money.”

It was definitely not the right thing to say. But God help me if I knew what was the right to say. The Speaker was still talking, but I had no attention for what she was saying.

My wife turned towards the woman across the table.

“Do you work for The Daily?” My wife asked. She was already in damage control mode.

“No, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” the woman replied gracefully. Some tension lifted from my wife’s shoulders. “But you should take this.”

The woman stood up, retrieved a card from her wallet, and handed it to my wife. My wife took it, looked at it, then scoffed loudly.

I looked helplessly from one woman to the other, wishing more than anything for the moment to end.

“Thank you,” my wife replied.

“No problem,” the woman said. She nodded to me, then walked away. My wife watched her go. I watched my wife watch her go.

“What?” I finally asked, unable to stand the tension any longer. My wife gave me a look that could freeze an active volcano.

“I’m gonna go get the car.”

She shoved the card to my chest, which I took, before she stormed off. I flipped the card over and read its contents:

Melissa Tang.

Divorce Lawyer.

Contact for rates.