Balance of Power, 16
… Concepcion Isabel DeCosta …
… Sabrina Delane…
… Josef Dzechnovik …
Sabrina returned to her seat and dropped the newly received diploma onto her lap as though it burned her fingers. As she sat there, the excited chatter of the other graduates surrounding her faded into a dull hum. Despite her resolution to try and enjoy the commencement she had worked so diligently to be a part of, Sabrina found her mind drifting to the troubling subject she could not escape – Michael Corleone.
She did not need to scan the crowd to know that he was there somewhere among the throng of family and friends. Sabrina imagined that she could feel the intensity of his dark eyes fixed upon her. That Michael Corleone was even a part of her life stymied Sabrina. Everything she had read about his ‘old world' Sicilian heritage suggested that a child of Sabrina's racial makeup was a source of deep embarrassment to its progenitor. Yet instead of using his power and resources to erase any connection to Sabrina, Michael Corleone had made several emphatic overtures her way.
A gentle nudge by the grinning young man seated next to her jolted Sabrina from her thoughts. With a sense of shock the young woman realized that the commencement ceremony was over. The singular event she had spent four years anticipating had come and gone virtually unobserved.
Sabrina did not bother to leave her seat. Absently she sat and watched as happy graduates laughed and celebrated with proud parents and friends. All too soon a shadow fell across Sabrina and she looked up. Just as expected, Michael Corleone stood before her. The young woman knew that an encounter with him was inevitable.
“Congratulations.”
His softly spoken praise stoked the resentment Sabrina fought to control. She could not erase President Campbell's snide insinuation from her mind, and the diploma she had received felt tainted as a result.
‘I couldn't have done it without you.' The sarcastic response teetered just on the edge of Sabrina's tongue. But as she looked into the eyes of the man who had fathered her, some buried instinct warned the young woman to keep the words unsaid. “Thank you,” she replied instead.
Michael Corleone extended a hand. “Come,” he directed Sabrina from her seat. “There are people for you to meet.”