by Kiley Reid
“Okay . . . just a coincidence.” Alix reached her hand into the neck of her sweater and tried to create space between her sweating armpits and her top.
“What a shame though, right?” Rachel took another sip of wine. “Their kids would be gorgeous.”
Fourteen
When Mrs. Chamberlain had opened the front door, Emira had to stifle her laughter. Mrs. Chamberlain’s face had landed at a similar bewilderment as it had the first time they met. Five months ago, Emira watched Mrs. Chamberlain swing her door open to reveal a person she’d created in her head, and surprise!, it was someone much darker. Mrs. Chamberlain was so graciously confused at the sight of Emira that she even apologized for herself (“Sorry, hi. You’re so pretty! Come on in”), and her reaction to Kelley on Thanksgiving was much akin to this. But as Emira waited for her to apologize for herself, Kelley called her Alex. Emira’s knowing giggles turned into nervous laughter and Mrs. Chamberlain’s face curved down. Before she could get an answer, Emira was pulled into a Thankful Wonderland and ambushed by three other moms. The women shoved a glass of red wine into her hands as they asked where she was from and where she went to school and if she was caught up on a sitcom called Black-ish. When Emira said she hadn’t seen it, Tamra touched her arm with a solid hold and said, “Oh Emira, you have to see it. It’s a very important show.”
After the three women all headed upstairs, Emira spotted Briar in the living room in a plaid and uncomfortable-looking dress sitting next to two other little girls, one with bright red hair and the other with a tiny afro held back by a flowered headband. Emira tapped Briar on the shoulder. “Hey, pickle.”
Briar stood. She solemnly wrapped her arms around Emira’s neck. “I don’t like fancy shoes in the house.”
“You wanna come meet my friend?”
Briar didn’t say yes, but Emira picked the little girl up and walked back toward the front hall where Peter, Kelley, and another man were talking.
“This is my . . . this is mine,” Briar said to the man Emira didn’t know. “This is my friend.”
“That’s terrific,” he said. He had huge cheeks, big shoulders, and looked like a young Santa Claus in a white sweater with knit swirls. “We haven’t met yet. Walter. I think you already met my wife, Jodi. All the redheads you see are mine.”
“Emira, nice to meet you.” She smiled. “Hey, B. This is my friend Kelley. Can you say hi?”
Briar tucked her head into Emira’s neck at what looked like a painful angle; she could still inspect Kelley even though her face was almost upside down. She stuck out two fingers and said, “I’m three.”
Kelley turned toward the little girl and said, “No way. I’m three, too.”
Briar eyed him and grinned. “Noooo.”
“I’m just big for my age,” he said. “Well, I’m actually three and a half.” Emira’s lips mushed against each other and she felt so pleased. Of course he was completely wonderful and easy with children. Of course he had a scripted show of how to entertain new ones before they became familiar. But as Tamra came down the stairs, Jodi, Rachel, and Mrs. Chamberlain in tow, Kelley ended his routine early. He placed his hand to Emira’s back and said, “Can we talk for a second?”
Emira said, “Hmm?” but Tamra interrupted their gaze.
“Briar, I know you’re so glad your buddy is here today. Emira, can you lend me a hand in the kitchen?” She passed Cleo to Jodi and headed back upstairs. The woman’s question sounded more like a command, and from the way she threw back her shoulders as she walked, it seemed like she very much expected Emira to be coming right behind her.
Emira set Briar on the ground. “I guess I’ll be right back.”
On top of the upstairs table was fancy silverware Emira had never seen before, and a pile of cloth napkins next to it. “I just need a hand folding this silverware real quick,” Tamra said. “I’m sure you know how.”
Emira said, “Sure,” but this all felt very strange. Not only did she not know how to fold silverware into napkins, but the pile of hand towels seemed careless in a way that didn’t match Mrs. Chamberlain. Mrs. Chamberlain definitely would have completed this task before guests arrived. Had Tamra unassembled them just so she and Emira could have this moment? Weren’t they all about to have dinner together anyway? Emira looked down and she was almost startled to find her own olive green dress, instead of the oversized white polo she wore every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
Tamra laid the knife down first, and Emira copied her steps. After completing the first roll of silverware and tossing it into a wicker basket, Tamra reached over and gently tugged the bottom of Emira’s braid. “So what’s up underneath here, huh? I’m guessing you’re afraid to go natural.”
“Oh.” Emira laughed, more out of discomfort than indifference. She’d been to several events where another black party guest was foisted on her by a well-meaning but ignorant host, but Tamra appeared to be conducting this interaction on her own. It reminded Emira of the one time she’d watched an episode of The Bachelorette at Shaunie’s apartment. Four times she had to witness “hometown dates” in which the father of a white woman stood up at a staged dinner table and asked the Bachelor if they could have a man-to-man chat. Each time Emira cringed more than the last. “I don’t know,” Emira said. “I like it long, I guess.”
“Wanna know what I use on my girls’ hair?” Tamra stood up straight and counted the ingredients on her fingers. “I put coconut oil, water, and grapeseed oil in a spray jar, comb it out once a week, and honestly, that’s all you need. How long is your real hair, honey?”
Emira almost flinched. She was suddenly so grateful to need both of her hands as she tucked a corner of a napkin into a crooked fold. She could already hear Zara’s response to this question, which would be a wide-eyed, She asked you what? “Umm.” Emira kept her brown eyes low. “Like, chin length maybe.”
“Okay, that’s something!” Tamra congratulated her. “I can definitely see you with some curls, girl.”
“Memmy?” Imani appeared at the top of the stairs and Emira felt her breath come back into her shoulders. She turned to the little girl and said, “Hey there, I haven’t met you yet.” Emira continued to question Imani about being a big sister until all the silverware was wrapped.
When Emira came back downstairs she set the basket of silverware on the table and found Kelley on his way to the bathroom. “Sorry, that was weird,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”
Kelley said, “Mm-hmm,” and then, “I need you to check your phone,” before he slid into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Briar intercepted Emira in the foyer and Emira swung her up onto her hip. She kept her there as she snuck away to the front vestibule, moving coats and scarves aside to dig into her purse.
“Prudence has a big cat,” Briar said.
“Yeah?” Emira clicked into her messages. “What’s its name?”
There were three texts from Kelley on her phone, and she read them as Briar explained that cats don’t pick their own names, and that the mama gets to pick.
The first message from Kelley said, Your boss was my high school girlfriend.
The second said, The one who only flew first class.
The third said, I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE.
Fifteen
Jodi was meant to sit next to her daughter Prudence, but Prudence had quickly remembered her obsession with a now very tipsy Rachel and begged her mother to switch. Peter and Catherine settled in at the head of the table, next to Walter and Payne. Next to Alix, Briar fiddled with the strap that buckled her into her booster seat. Across from Alix, Emira reached forward and touched a hideously sparkled pumpkin that read Give Thanks! in gold around its plastic body. “This is all so nice,” she said.
“Oh. It’s not . . .” Alix threw her hair behind her shoulders as she sat down. She tried to explain, but like everything else she’d
said in the last hour it was more for Kelley than anyone else, which meant she couldn’t find her words. Kelley took his seat next to Emira and winked at Briar in front of him. “Well, it was kind of a joke,” Alix said. “But it’s silly, though—”
“She’s right, A.” Jodi stepped in and saved her. “This is absolutely lovely. Pru?” Jodi looked to her left and squared her daughter’s face. “This is a very special treat that you are sitting next to Miss Rachel, so you need to behave, okay?”
Prudence did the same sneaky face she always did when Jodi alluded to such a thing as consequences. Rachel high-fived Prudence and said, “Us single ladies will be fine over here, right, Cleo?”
Two-year-old Cleo shook her head. “No, thank you.”
Peter looked over at Alix but said to the entire group, “Should we say grace of some kind?”
Walter raised his chin at his daughter from the other side of the table. “Pru knows a prayer, don’t you, Pru?”
Jodi mumbled, “Oh, God.”
“That’s perfect,” Alix said. “Do you wanna help us out?”
Prudence looked around the table as if she were about to execute a very rude and smelly prank. She folded her hands on the table and giggled to herself. “For food and health and happy days, receive our gratitude and praise. And when we serve others may we, repay our debt of love to thee. Amen.”
The adults at the table said, “Amen,” and Walter echoed, “That’s fantastic, kiddo.”
Tamra leaned forward. “They taught her that at preschool?”
Jodi reached for a pot of sweet potatoes. “Don’t even get me started.”
Alix encouraged everyone to dig in, and those wonderful jingles of dinnerware hitting plates and porcelain started to drift up toward the ceiling.
Everything sounded like the Thanksgiving she wanted, which made the evening even more eerie. The guests looked festive and warm under the glow of the chandelier. The snow swirled effortlessly behind the front window panes. And the front hall of her home had switched to a dining room quite easily; it smelled like a mix of berries, brown sugar, baked crusts, and burning flames. Briar pointed to every item of food that Alix put on her plate and asked, “Mama? Mama, is dis hot?” Payne stood on Walter’s knee and bounced adorably with a binky in his hand. Rachel applied strawberry ChapStick to Prudence’s little lips, to which Jodi prompted, “What do you say, Pru?” Tamra replied to Imani’s interest in this activity by raising her eyebrows and saying, “Don’t even think about it.” Everything sounded so homey and sweet and domestic, but across from Alix was her beloved babysitter, Emira, with what seemed from above the table like Kelley Copeland’s hand on her left knee. As Alix spooned asparagus for Briar, she tried not to look at Emira while wondering, How much do you know? In a lull, Peter looked over to Emira and Kelley and asked, “So how did you two meet?”
Alix watched Kelley and Emira wait for the other one to answer, and this private language between them made her writhe in her seat. “They met on the train, honey.” She said this as she cut Briar’s turkey. “Isn’t that right?”
“Ummm . . .” Kelley reached for his glass of wine and then, at the last second, grabbed his water. “That is . . . incorrect.”
“Well.” Emira looked at him. “Not entirely, though.”
“Uh-ohhh,” Walter boomed. “What’s the real story then, Kelley? Come on, now. Let’s have it.”
At the other end of the table, Prudence blew bubbles into a plastic cup of milk. Jodi eyed her and whispered, “Prudence? That’s one.”
“I don’t . . . uhh . . .” Kelley looked unbearably cute as he struggled, and Alix had to look into her lap. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate.”
“Ohmygod,” Rachel said. “They had a one-night stand.” This seemed to please her greatly, and the fact that she sat next to two four-year-olds and across from a two-year-old did not interfere with her excitement. “Do not be shy, girl. We’ve all been there. These two met on a one-night stand”—she pointed a fork at Walter and Jodi—“and look at them now.”
Around a cheekful of mashed potatoes, Jodi said, “Really, Rach?” as Walter said, “Hear, hear!”
“We didn’t have a one-night stand,” Kelley said. Alix swallowed her food. She watched Kelley look at Emira. Emira examined the details of her plate. Kelley stopped cutting into a turkey leg to say, “I met Emira at Market Depot, when she was being held by the police.”
Alix’s mouth cupped open and she quickly closed it. The table collectively took in this information as Prudence held up a marshmallow that was melted to black on one side. Prudence showed it to Imani and whispered, “This looks like a caca doo-doo.”
Tamra leaned forward to see around Emira to Kelley. “You were there?”
“Yeah, I saw what was happening and I pulled out my phone.”
“Wait a second, you’re kidding.” Peter sat back in his chair. In his left arm, Catherine started to wake up. “I remember you now.”
Rachel snorted and said, “Whoops.”
“Sorry, yeah,” Kelley said to Peter. “I didn’t expect you to remember me. You definitely had other things to worry about.”
“You had your phone up,” Peter remembered, “and you were recording.”
“There’s a video?” Tamra asked. She looked to Alix with a face that said, I knew it.
“Well, yes, but that’s Emira’s property now. Sorry.” Kelley half laughed. “This isn’t exactly Thanksgiving conversation. I probably should have said we met on Tinder or something. I’m sorry.” This time he apologized to Emira.
Alix stared across the table at her sitter, feeling as if she’d been very publicly uninvited to a gathering that she herself had organized. The betrayal Alix felt (Why wouldn’t you just tell me where you really met? Why would you say the train?) was quickly replaced by a new backstabbing confusion (Why did you call Peter that night? Why wouldn’t you just call me?).
Emira adjusted her earring and picked her fork up again. “No, it’s fine. We did meet for real on the train a few days later, though,” she promised. “And then we just . . . kept seeing each other.”
“Well, Jesus, Kelley. I’m glad you’re here,” Peter said. “And I’m glad that something good came out of that night. Emira, you’re a saint for not suing that entire franchise. Which you could definitely do if there’s a video.”
Walter raised his glass to himself. “Abso-friggin-lutely.”
“Oh, yeah no.” Emira shook her head. “No, I would die if that video got out. I haven’t even watched it.”
“I’d be the same way,” Jodi said.
“But umm . . .” Emira pivoted. “How did you guys meet, Mrs. Chamberlain? I guess I’ve never asked.”
“You mean,” Peter said, “how did Alix pursue me at the most disgusting bar I’ve ever been to?”
Alix forced a laugh. “Pursue is generous.”
“Mama,” Briar said, “I want to open the pie.”
Alix shushed her. “Pie is for later.”
Peter went on to tell a story that Alix had heard many times but never really annoyed her until now. The whole evening she found herself falling in and out of love with her husband quite abruptly, and through his account of how they met, she was both pleased that he depicted Alix as stunning, waving and buying him a beer from across a bar, and irked that he mentioned her being so nervous that she drank the beer herself. With Kelley sitting so close to her, Alix continued to switch from offense to defense. When Peter finished his story, she thought, That’s right, Kelley. I drink beer now. With my husband, who I’ve had sex with more than one time.
Tamra looked to Alix and asked, “Is that when you were working at Hunter?”
“Yes, it was.” Alix nodded. She wanted to say something about the obnoxious dollar drink specials this bar had provided, and how appreciated these specials were because she was making less than forty grand at
the time, but Kelley seemingly took her tiny pause as an opportunity to ask, rather loudly, “And what do you do now, Alex? Emira said you’re writing a history book. Is that right?”
Rachel said, “A history book?” as Peter said, “Now that’s being generous.”
Emira’s eyes went small as she looked up at Alix.
Alix’s face and neck turned hot against the sweater she now wished she had changed out of. She waved her head side to side and took up her glass of wine. “Bri, sit up my love,” she said. “Well, it’s umm”—she took a sip—“it’s my little history.” On my, she placed a hand to her chest, and it reminded her of hugging Emira the morning after Market Depot, and how Emira just sort of leaned in as if she’d had trouble hearing, instead of just hugging her back. “I have a book coming out with HarperCollins, and it’ll have the best letters I’ve written and received since I started my business.”
“That’s really only half of it.” Tamra turned to Emira as she went on. “I’m sure you’ve seen her Instagram and all the things she has her hands in.”
“Oh, no.” Emira smiled. “I don’t have Instagram.”
“Girl!” Tamra feigned dramatic shock. “We have got to get you caught up!”
“You don’t have Instagram?” Next to Alix, Jodi’s amazement was more genuine. “That’s amazing. Even Prudence has one.”
Emira said, “Really?”
“Well, I run it, and it’s private,” Jodi assured her, “but it keeps our distant family members very happy.”
“So it’s like a history of your business?” Kelley wouldn’t let it go. Alix knew exactly what he was doing, but how could she fight him at the dinner table, in front of her friends and in front of Emira?