The school had a program where upper classmen helped new students adjust. Most of the mentors didn't take it seriously. They'd meet their mentees once, maybe twice, then forget about them. I didn't do that. My mentee was a boy named Daniel Carter, 19 years old, from Atlanta.
Black kid, poor as dirt, brilliant mind. He was studying music business, which was rare. Most of us were performers or composers. But he saw the industry clearly, saw how it worked, saw where the power really lived. He also couldn't afford books, couldn't afford decent meals, couldn't afford warm clothes for a New York winter.
His dorm situation fell through second semester, and he was sleeping in the practice rooms, hoping nobody would notice. I noticed. I let him stay in my apartment, just a foldout couch, nothing fancy. I shared my food, introduced him to people who could help. Fought for him when professors tried to dismiss him.
Not because I wanted anything from him, just because that's what you do when you see someone drowning and you know how to swim. He never forgot that. We lost touch after he graduated. Life does that sometimes. But I kept track of him from a distance.
Watched him work his way up through the industry. Watched him become an executive, then a VP, then more. Last I heard, about 3 years ago, Daniel Carter was named CEO of a major television network. One of the youngest, one of the only black executives at that level. He's running a company that produces national shows now, big ones.
Amara's heart started pounding. She glanced up at the TV mounted on the lounge wall where highlights from previous seasons of Voices of America played on loop. In the corner of the screen, barely visible, a production of Carter Media Group. She looked back down at the letter Her pulse raced. If life ever corners you, baby, I'm afraid it will find him.
Find Daniel Carter. But listen to me carefully. Don't ask him for charity. Don't beg. Don't show up talking about how hard things are or how much you need help.
Show him what you can do. Show him who you are. Show him the work we did together, the music we made, the strength we built. Then let him choose what kind of man he wants to be. He'll remember me.
I know he will. And more importantly, he'll remember what it felt like to be the kid everyone counted out. The one who shouldn't have made it, but did. Daniel Carter hates injustice more than he loves comfort. I know that about him.
It's in his bones, just like music is in yours. Use that. I'm sorry I can't be there to help you, sweetheart. I'm sorry I couldn't fight the cancer longer. I'm sorry I'm leaving you with just a letter and a name and a hope.