"No."
He raised one eyebrow.
"Okay."
She sighed.
"Yes."
"Good."
"Good?"
"Means you're paying attention."
Sophie smiled.
"You're quoting my dad."
"Smart man."
She looked around.
"What if I hate college?"
"Then hate it for a while."
"What if I'm not good enough?"
"Then get better."
"What if I fail?"
Marcus shrugged.
"Then you'll finally have something in common with the rest of us."
She laughed.
Then became serious.
"Do you ever think about that morning?"
"At Rosy's?"
"Yeah."
"Sometimes."
"What if I hadn't seen Anthony?"
Marcus took his time answering.
"Don't."
"What?"
"Don't build your life around imaginary disasters."
"But..."
"You saw him."
Marcus pointed toward her.
"You acted."
"That's the story."
She stared at him.
"You would've died."
"Maybe."
"Marcus."
"Maybe."
He stepped closer.
"But if I spend the rest of my life thinking about every version where you didn't come outside, I waste the version where you did."
Sophie swallowed.
"That's annoyingly wise."
"I've been saving it."
"For eighteen years?"
"Cost me a lot of coffee."
She hugged him.
This time, Marcus did not complain.
Sophie attended college.
Then law school.
She returned to the city after graduation.
She passed the bar on her first attempt.
Marcus claimed he had never doubted it.
Elena produced text messages proving otherwise.
The first office Sophie rented was small.
Two rooms above a pharmacy.
The carpet was ugly.
The air conditioner rattled.
The window faced an alley.
Sophie loved it.
She specialized in housing rights, workplace safety and civil litigation.
She did not become famous.
That had never been the goal.
She represented tenants.
Workers.
Whistleblowers.
Families who did not have corporate attorneys.
Some cases she won.
Some she lost.
Every loss hurt.
Marcus reminded her of something she had taught him years earlier without knowing it.
"Trying doesn't mean failing."
She stared.
"I said that when I was seven?"
"Basically."
"I was obnoxious."
"Still are."
On one wall of her office hung her law degree.
On another hung a photograph of Rafael Martinez standing outside his mechanic shop with oil on his shirt and Sophie on his shoulders.
Between them hung the purple-crayon drawing.
MY HEROES.
Clients often asked about it.
Sophie always gave the same answer.
"It's a long story."
Marcus attended the opening of her practice wearing a suit.
The entire club mocked him.
Sophie took photographs.
He threatened legal action.
She reminded him she was now a lawyer.
Years later, a nervous construction worker walked into Sophie's office.
He had evidence that his employer was falsifying safety inspections.
He was terrified.
Two children.
Mortgage.
Immigration concerns involving members of his extended family.
He placed a flash drive on Sophie's desk.
"If I talk, they'll come after me."
Sophie looked at the man's shaking hands.
For a moment, she was seven again.
Pink backpack.
Hot asphalt.
A motorcycle.