I only take a few steps back towards the exit before my indignation grows too great. I spin on my heel so that I can glare at him again.
‘I didn’t give Andrew any of my money, Leo – although it would have been none of your damned business if I had. I set up the Foundation with Declan’s shares, and the Foundation bought this building and funded the renovations. The charity is just a conduit – people like your father register programmes and corporations get tax deductibility by sponsoring them. I don’t have a bloody clue how to enact positive social change, all I do is enable the people like Drew to do their work. If you’d stop making assumptions about me for five minutes so I could explain, you’d see that the model here works because wealthy white people don’t get a chance to tell communities what they need.’
Leo stares at me unflinchingly. ‘You didn’t explain yourself properly,’ he says stiffly.
I realise that this is the version of Leo that has been missing since his accident – the arrogant side, the somewhat superior side – the ugly side to him that I saw only later in our marriage. This is the side of Leo Stephens that I hate – if only because I have no idea how to deal with it.
‘At what point in this conversation did you give me enough space to explain any of that?’
‘I’m sorry, Molly,’ he says, and he exhales heavily. ‘This is confronting. This place meant so much to me, and it’s nothing at all like I remember it.’
‘Isn’t it better?’ I ask, bewildered.
‘It’s… overwhelming.’
The fight drains out of me. ‘Maybe this was a bad idea.’
‘No,’ he says, and he moves towards me. ‘I’m sorry. This is amazing, and you are amazing, and I am an idiot. Can you please show me the rest? Where’s the martial arts studio?’
‘Are you sure? We can leave it here today. We can try again tomorrow.’
He shakes his head. ‘No, let’s do this today.’
It takes hours to show Leo around the facilities we have built. He is a little quiet, but he seems engaged, and he’s particularly excited when he sees the weights room and the martial arts studio.
‘I can’t wait to get back on my feet and use some of this gear,’ he says. ‘And air conditioning? Heating? This is brilliant!’
This reaction is the one I was looking for, but I’m feeling so tender and bewildered by that argument on the basketball court that I can’t enjoy his enthusiasm as much as I want to.
As the afternoon progresses the kids start to filter in after school and gradually Leo is mobbed by adoring fans; he’s always been something of a hero to the kids at the Centre. His theory has always been that his karate classes have earned him that respect but I know it’s much more than that: Leo is proof that a poor start to life does not have to limit them. More than a role model, he is living, breathing hope.
Andrew joins us eventually, and we stand at the back of the studio talking while the kids for the first class of the afternoon assemble at the front.
‘I’m thinking I might stay and watch this junior brown belt class, if you don’t mind,’ Leo tells me. ‘I don’t remember most of the kids in the class and I can’t help, obviously, but…’
‘Of course,’ I say, and I motion towards the chairs in the viewing area behind us. ‘I’ll wait too – I haven’t watched a class in a while.’
‘Sensei Leo, please, will you run the class tonight?’ the young instructor calls suddenly from the front of the room. All of the kids in the class turn to stare, and Leo winces.
‘Not really in a position to do that just yet, Joe.’
‘But you could just coach us. It’s a brown belt class so we know our stuff – we’re mostly working on fitness and technique – just assign the exercises. If you need anything demonstrated, I can do it.’
‘Do I teach this class often?’ Leo asks Andrew quietly.
‘You haven’t really been here to teach, especially this last year or so. But all the more reason to do so now if you’re up for it.’
Leo hesitates a moment or two, but then I see his posture straighten and he moves the wheelchair to the front of the studio as he barks at the class, ‘Three minutes skipping for warm up, let’s go!’
‘He’s looking good,’ Andrew remarks.
‘Definitely better every day.’
‘His memory?’
‘Returning quite quickly, I think.’
‘And walking? Standing? Anything?’
I shake my head, and Andrew sighs.
‘I’ve been doing some research. There are modified styles of karate for students in wheelchairs – I reckon we could advertise… Find enough kids to run a class or two if he was keen, maybe it will help him to accept what’s happened. I’m just not sure if I should suggest he look into it yet.’
‘He doesn’t need to accept this, he needs to focus on his recovery.’
‘Okay, love. You know best,’ Andrew says quietly ‘He’s lucky to have you.’
‘He’d be fine either way. You of all people know what that man is like when faced with a challenge.’
‘And how are you doing? You’ve had to deal with so much of this on your own.’