Mothered (20)

Some people had friends with benefits, but they usually discussed such matters first and were usually of the same orientation. Grace needed to pluck up the courage to just ask him, “Are we okay?” It was all the more confounding because she hadn’t gotten her period yet. She couldn’t remember if it had ever been even a day late. Something deep inside her itched a little, and she didn’t know how to scratch it.

When Allison suggested they get together for lunch, Grace agreed with exclamation points and smiley faces. She’d been hoping someone would propose meeting in person but hadn’t wanted to come out and say it, lest it came across like she was only networking for a job. In the guise of being a prince, she was quick to give her damsels practicable advice. All her alter egos would say, in a deeper version of her own voice, It’s okay to ask for what you want. But Grace hadn’t mastered taking all her princely advice yet.

They met at a chain restaurant in the South Hills, near where Allison worked—the kind of place that put enough food on a single plate to feed an entire family. A lot of restaurants were only available for takeout or delivery, but those with the space were offering outdoor seating.

“I never wanted an outdoor table before,” Allison said as they were led by a masked hostess to just such a table. “Who wants to look at a parking lot?”

Now they were grateful for the option to dine at a restaurant, even with the concrete view.

As they perused the menu, they made small talk, catching each other up on the last few months. But as soon as their orders were taken and the menus collected, Allison cut right to the chase.

“I can offer you Tuesdays and Thursdays if you can start this Thursday. And we’ll have more hours available when Ebony goes on maternity leave.”

“That would be perfect, thank you so much!” As Grace gushed her thanks she pictured the interior of her wallet. Her cash reserves were shrinking, but she felt obligated now to pay for both of their meals; at least she’d have leftovers to take home.

“I’m not gonna lie—business is way down. I’ve been doing a few home visits on the side.”

“Going to people’s houses?” For some reason Grace thought that sounded horrible.

“Yeah. We’re not supposed to, of course. But they pay cash, and some people won’t leave the house for anything. Like, anything.”

Allison took up most of their late lunch with the long story of how she’d landed her new position. Her hair skills were competent though not exceptional, but the younger woman’s confidence and ambition surpassed Grace’s. LuckyJamison or River or Preston might praise her pure determination, but Grace thought it all sounded like a lot of humblebragging. When Allison insisted on leaving the tip, Grace let her—after all, Grace had paid for the rest of the meal and it was obvious that Allison wasn’t hard up for cash. In addition to her ascension to management, her left hand—with its gumdrop-size diamond engagement ring—was permanently poised for a photo op. While her mouth bragged about her accomplishments, her hand bragged about her rich fiancé—as she held her sandwich, sipped from her drink, dabbed at her lips with a napkin.

They said their goodbyes with air hugs, the strange but necessary successor to air-kisses. Before Grace pulled out of her parking space she called the Oakland salon. Now that she was set to start working under Allison in three days, with shifts that overlapped, Grace had no choice but to immediately quit her current job. Freya answered the phone, and she seemed neither surprised nor put out that Grace wasn’t coming back; perhaps she’d always known Grace’s new hairstyle was the prelude to an exit.

She barely noticed the drive home, distracted by thoughts of the fancy graphic she would create for Instagram to announce her new location. And she also planned to email all her clients, past and present, to let them know where they could find her. Some of her clients might come back now that she had a chair in a classier salon. Her two days at the South Hills salon could potentially out-earn her three days in Oakland. And soon she’d have more hours. And Allison had mentioned that Demetri was working there part time, too, so it would feel like a mini-Barbara’s reunion.

By the time she got home, it was almost three o’clock and Grace was in a better mood than she’d been in in a long time. She dropped her purse on the entry table, decontaminated her hands, kicked off her shoes, and went to the kitchen to deposit her container of leftovers in the fridge.

Before heading up to her room, Grace stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened. “Mom?”

The house was quiet. How quickly she’d acclimated to coming home and finding Jackie on the couch, watching a game show or a shopping channel. Then she remembered her mother had a doctor’s appointment—set up before her move so Jackie could get established with a new primary care physician. With her mother not driving anymore, Grace had installed a rideshare app on Jackie’s phone and showed her how to use it. It was important that her mother maintain her independence. Slowly but surely, they were establishing how to live together, while not becoming too enmeshed in each other’s lives.

Alone in her house, Grace’s first thought was this would be a good time to check on her damsels. But her second thought . . .

She locked the door behind her, peering out the miniature window to make sure Jackie wasn’t stepping out of a cab. The coast was clear. Her mother’s appointment was at two thirty, but every doctor’s office ran late. Even if Jackie was on her way home, Grace should have at least a few minutes to herself. And it was the first opportunity she’d had to do a little snooping.