Way it didn’t happen. Chairperson says “… is Robert Bermmeister for his novel Scorch, published by…” “I can’t believe it,” he says to his wife, kissing her. “I can’t believe it, this is impossible,” he yells to the table. The editor’s hugging the publisher. She jumps out of her chair and runs around the table to Rob and hugs him. “Do you believe it, do you believe it?” he says to her. “I mean, being a finalist was more than enough, right? But this, it’s crazy, how’d we do it?” and she says “You deserved it, silly,” and he says “Ah, those blessed judges, I could kiss them all.” The publisher’s stretching across the table to shake his hand and can only reach his elbow and squeezes it. “Stand, Robert, stand,” and he says “Me?” and the publisher says “Sure, you, you have to go up there and make a speech and take your bows,” and he says “Me, a speech? I didn’t think I’d win. This is ridiculous, I’ve never been so happy,” and he stands, waves to the applause, yells to his wife “What do I do, what do I say?” and she says “Whatever you want to, it’s your moment, though just be nice,” and he says “You’re right,” kisses her, turns to the editor to kiss her and is blinded by the spotlight, shields his eyes, a voice from the podium says “Come on up here to be officially congratulated and to accept your statuette and check, Robert, please come up, as you’re also delaying the entrée,” and the crowd laughs, and two young women, probably AFF workers, take his arms, one says “Follow us, sir,” and they escort him around the tables to the stage, people seated and standing pat his back, arms, someone musses his hair, and he looks at the guy and doesn’t know him but smiles at him, grab his hands as he passes, say “Wonderful,” “Congratulations,” “Bravo, Robert,” “Glad you got it, terrific book,” he turns to some of them and recognizes no one, keeps smiling, is near to crying, reaches the stage, woman holding his right arm says “There are four steps altogether, Mr. Bermmeister, and they’re awfully steep, so be careful,” and he says “Thanks, got a cane? Only kidding, thanks very much,” and they let go of him, and he walks up the steps and over to the podium, shakes the chairperson’s extended hand, hand of the president of AFF, two other people’s, all four say “Congratulations, Robert,” the president gives him the statuette and check and says “When they’re done applauding, please say something,” and Rob steps up to the mike, looks out, bows, waves, too many lights, wants to see his wife but can’t make her out, glasses are wet, dries them with a handkerchief, they’re stained now and even worse to see out of than before, breathes hard on the lenses and then rubs them on his jacket sleeve, applause is dying down, looks up, smiles, puts the check away, takes the paper with notes out of his pocket and holds it below the podium and reads it, nothing he can use and has to remember to call Ned sometime in the next hour, what’s he going to say now? Just thanks to everyone and get off of here, looks up, sees his wife, and she waves at him, he blows a kiss to her, “That’s my wife I did that to, I want you to understand,” people laugh, then the room’s quiet except for some buzzing, flash bulbs, cameras clicking, ice in glasses tinkling, everyone’s seated, and he says “Thank you. Really, thanks. Everyone. I can’t believe this,” holding up the statuette and patting the jacket pocket with the check, then realizes they wouldn’t know what that means. “I mean, I’m beginning to but it’s still hard. That’s what I yelled when I first heard”—can’t come up with her name—“the chairperson say my book won; how it couldn’t be possible. I thought anyone else but me. They were all so deserving. Each of the other four finalists deserved it and, in my mind, more so than I. It’s true; it’s what I thought. You can ask my wife; she’s honest to the core and wouldn’t lie about this for me. So this is all so maddeningly surprising, really. Not maddeningly; it’s just crazy, crazily surprising and silencing, beyond words. I didn’t, as you see, prepare a speech because I didn’t expect to win, honestly. In fact, if any of you saw me peeking at a piece of paper below the podium before, it was my losing speech if anyone was going to ask me for one. It’s the truth, or sort of. I prepared it for the book review editor of the