Part 4 — They Mocked Me for Dancing with My Grandmother at Graduation, but When I Turned Off the Music, the Principal Suddenly Went Pale

Merab turned off the phone, and for several seconds no one moved.

Then a loud banging sounded on the hall door.

“Open the door! Police!”

The principal immediately took out his phone.

“I’ll call my lawyer.”

He dialed the number, but after the second ring he heard a voice and his face grew tense.

“You can’t talk to me now?” he shouted. “You are my lawyer!”

I could not clearly hear the answer from the other side, but everything was written on the principal’s face.

“You’re terminating the contract? Right now?”

He slowly lowered the phone.

“He said he is no longer participating in the case,” he whispered.

Doris found my hand. Her fingers were cold.

The door opened and two investigators entered. Behind them stood the school accountant, holding a small bag.

“Mr. Rezo, we need to speak with you,” one of the investigators told the principal.

“This is a misunderstanding.”

“Then answering the questions will not be difficult for you.”

The principal pointed a finger at me.

“This boy is arranging everything. He wants this school’s money.”

For the first time I no longer felt the desire to defend myself.

Merab turned on the audio recording.

The principal’s own voice sounded through the hall.

“The boy owns nothing. As long as the old woman is alive, he will not find out anything.”

The words returned between the walls.

The principal froze.

“That is not my voice.”

“It is your voice,” said the accountant. “I recorded it myself.”

The principal lowered his eyes. For the first time he heard his own cruelty through another person’s voice and could no longer hide from it.

The investigator placed a folder in front of him.

“Sign.”

“I will not sign anything without a lawyer.”

“Your lawyer has already left.”

Doris sat down on a chair. At that moment the small copper barn fastened to her dress touched the floor and quietly fell off.

I bent down and picked it up.

“This belonged to your mother,” Grandmother told me.

“I know.”

“I was keeping it for you until you were ready.”

The investigators led the principal into the adjoining room. The students remaining in the hall stood silently. The boy who had shouted “cleaner” came up to me.

“Nika, I… I’m sorry.”

I looked at his face.

“Sorry is good. But never again think that a person’s work diminishes his dignity.”

He lowered his head.

That night we returned home by taxi. Doris took off her shoes at the door and put tea on in the kitchen. As if it had been an ordinary evening.

But the next morning our small apartment was full of calls.

Journalists were knocking at the door. Former employees were calling me. Some were telling the truth, while some were only trying to save themselves.

The principal sent me a message.

“I can offer you an agreement. The school will remain in your hands if you change your statement.”

I showed the message to Doris.

“What should I answer?”

She took the kettle off the heat.

“Nothing. Sometimes silence is the clearest answer.”

Three days later I gave a statement to the police. Doris gave a statement too. She explained in detail how they had threatened her, how they had forced her to sign, and how the principal had hidden the financial documents.

In court I sat beside her.

The principal no longer looked like the man who had looked down on everyone in the hall. His hands lay on his knees, and he avoided my gaze.

The judge turned on the recording.

His voice sounded again.

“The boy owns nothing.”

The principal raised his head. This time he could not say that the voice was not his.

The case ended in several months. He was charged with fraud and forgery of documents. The management of the school was temporarily transferred to a new council, while my mother’s share was officially registered in my name.

I did not become as rich as others had imagined. The first thing I did was set money aside for Grandmother’s treatment. Then I decided to open a free study center in one room of the school for children who did not have a place at home to study.

Doris arranged a small kitchen there.

Every Saturday she still baked pancakes.

One evening, several weeks later, an eight-year-old girl entered the room. She was holding colored pencils.

“Are you really the owner of this school?” she asked me.

“No,” I smiled. “I am only its temporary guardian.”

“Grandmother says that you knew how to dance.”

“I am still learning.”

The girl handed me a sheet of paper. Two people were drawn on it: one tall, the other small, both holding each other’s hands. Above them was a large yellow sun.

“These are you and your grandmother,” she told me. “Because that night you did not stop.”

Doris looked at the drawing and her eyes filled with tears.

“I almost ran away that night,” she said.

“But you did not run away,” I answered.

When winter came, the city changed. In the mornings thin lines of ice appeared on the center’s windows. The children came in holding warm tea, while Grandmother remembered their names.

One day I received another letter from the principal. This time it had been sent in the name of a lawyer.

“I want to speak with you personally. Everything can be fixed.”

Doris read the letter.

“Do you want to meet him?”

I stood by the window and watched the first snow in the yard.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“For the first time I am.”

I put the letter in a drawer, not because I wanted an answer, but because I was no longer afraid of him.

That evening I took Doris’s dress out of the closet. I carefully cleaned the small copper barn-shaped brooch and fastened it to the door of the center.

The children asked me what it meant.

“Home,” I told them. “A home that no one can take away from you if you stand beside one another.”

Doris stood at the door. Despite her age, that night she seemed taller than ever.

I held out my hand again.

“Shall we dance?”

She laughed.

“This time, who will turn on the music?”

“We will do it ourselves.”

Outside the window, snow was quietly falling. The children applauded. Doris took my hand and led me into the middle of the room.

The small copper barn swayed lightly on the door.

The home had returned.