Then at Victor.
“And I received a lesson.”
Victor nodded.
Naomi turned toward the audience.
“People see what is easiest to see.”
She looked at the restaurant staff.
“A uniform.”
“A job title.”
“An accent.”
“A neighborhood.”
“A mistake.”
“A difficult past.”
“And then they decide who you are.”
She paused.
“But none of those things tell the whole story.”
The applause grew louder.
Naomi stepped away from the microphone.
But before she left, she said one final sentence.
“Never let someone else's limited imagination become the limit of your life.”
The audience stood.
Naomi smiled.
Later that evening, after everyone had gone, she sat alone at table twelve.
Victor came over.
“May I?”
She nodded.
He sat across from her.
For a while, neither spoke.
Finally, Victor said:
“Do you ever think about that night?”
“All the time.”
“Do you regret taking the bet?”
Naomi smiled.
“No.”
“Why?”
She looked around the restaurant.
At the scholarship certificates on the wall.
At the young employees cleaning tables.
At the books upstairs.
At the brass plaque.
“No.”
Victor nodded.
“Because of the money?”
“No.”
“Because of the career?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Naomi looked at him.
“Because if I hadn't taken the bet, I might never have realized how tired I was of living according to other people's expectations.”
Victor looked down.
“I gave you a hundred thousand dollars.”
Naomi smiled.
“No.”
“What?”
“You gave me a moment.”
She leaned back.
“I did the rest.”
Victor laughed softly.
“That sounds like you.”
Naomi smiled.
He stood.
Before leaving, he looked at the plaque.
“Do you know what the strangest part is?”
“What?”
“I thought I was testing you.”
“You were.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at Naomi.
“You were testing me.”
She smiled.
“Maybe.”
Victor walked away.
Naomi remained at table twelve.
Outside, San Francisco glittered beneath the night sky.
She thought about her mother.
About the tiny apartment.
About hospital corridors.
About textbooks.