Chapter 16
At sixteen, Marcus sat the examinations that would determine whether he could stay on for sixth form at the school he was attending or would need to look elsewhere. He was not worried about the results not from arrogance but from the particular confidence of someone who has prepared honestly and thoroughly but the weeks of examination period were taut with something that wasn't quite anxiety. More like the held breath before a door opens.
He called his mother the evening before the results were published.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Good. Either way, you'll handle it. You know that."
"I know."
"Either way not just if it goes well. Either way."
"I know, Mama."
The results came back with marks at the top of his year group. He received a letter from the school's scholarship board offering a full scholarship for sixth form with a commendation for exceptional academic performance. Mr. Okafor, who had written one of his reference letters, stopped him in the corridor to shake his hand with a gravity that matched the occasion.
"This is the beginning," he said. "Not the destination."
"I know," Marcus said.
"Do you?" Mr. Okafor looked at him carefully. "A lot of students think achievement is the destination. It's not. It's the road becoming easier. What you do on the easier road matters just as much."
Marcus thought about this for a long time.
He called his mother with the results.
Her voice, when she heard, did something he had never quite heard it do. Not crying his mother didn't cry, or at least not on the phone, or at least not where he could hear. But a quality of release. Like something held for a long time, carefully, with effort, being set down gently.
"My son," she said. Just that.
It was enough.