Such a Fun Age(13)
I need a conference call immediately, she texted. No death or sickness but very urgent.
Alix had said the names Rachel, Jodi, and Tamra so many times that there was no other way to say it. She hadn’t texted her group of girlfriends this way since her move—most of their recent conversations concerned other women they knew, product advice, articles and books they were reading, and complaints about their husbands—so seconds after this text was sent, it was met back with two Are you okay? texts and one Tamra, can you start it?
Jodi was a children’s casting director who had two redheaded children—ages four and one—who often appeared as crying extras on TV shows and movies. Rachel, proudly Jewish and Japanese, managed a firm that designed book covers while she tried to get her son to be not-so-good at soccer, because who the hell knew it was so intense? He was only five years old. And Tamra was the principal of a private school in Manhattan. Twice a year, the four women gorged on the wine, cheese, and hummus packages sent by parents trying to boost their children’s admission applications or keep their problem child enrolled. Tamra had two girls with inch-long dark afros, a two-and-a-half-year-old and a fully literate four-year-old who spoke beginner French. Tamra’s children referred to her as Memmy.
With her knees spread wide on the bench and cold sweat at her temples, Alix told them everything.
Rachel gasped and said, “What?!”
In an overly enunciated tone, Tamra said, “They wouldn’t let her leave?”
Jodi said, “All of this happened in one day?”
“Jesus Christ, that would never happen in New York,” Rachel said. “Hudson, get that out of your mouth! Sorry, we’re at soccer.”
Alix’s heart sped up to the same sickening point as it had the night before, when Peter returned without Emira and said, “Okay, everyone’s fine,” before he explained. Alix couldn’t help but ask what sounded like uselessly generic questions as soon as they left her lips. Was she crying? Was she mad? Did she seem really upset? If Alix had been asked about Emira and her mental state for all the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays in the last three months, she wouldn’t have had an answer. Most days, Alix practically threw Briar into Emira’s arms on her way out the door, calling over her shoulder that Briar hadn’t eaten lunch or hadn’t really pooped. The Tuesdays and Thursdays without Emira included swimming lessons at the Y, where Briar swam so hard and desperately that she ended up taking three-hour naps. These naps were followed by a movie on Netflix, and by the ending credits, Dada was walking through the front door. This pattern had sustained Alix so well that she had no idea if her babysitter was the type of person to cry, sue, or do nothing at all.
Tamra clicked her tongue. “You gotta call that girl right now.”
“I’m Googling Peter’s clip,” Jodi said. “Okay, five hundred views . . . that’s not awful.”
“Did anyone get a video of this?” Tamra asked.
“You guys could probably help her sue the store,” Rachel said.
“I don’t know. I’m freaking out.” Alix placed her elbows at her knees. “I’ve been terrible to her. She’s so good and she’s so on time . . . Briar adores her and I feel like I’m gonna lose her because of some stupid fucking grocery store cop.” Alix removed the side of the seat belt from Briar’s sleeping mouth, and looked around to make sure no one had heard her say the F-word in front of her children. “I’ve just been so sloppy with everything lately that it all feels like a big punishment. I’m late with my book, I’m gaining weight, and I have a dozen of Peter’s colleagues coming over today for Briar’s birthday, which Emira was supposed to help with. But the thought of losing her forever is making me physically ill. I’ll never be able to finish this book without her.”
“Hey.” Rachel cut her off. “You will finish this book no matter what. You’re a badass and you finish things, but right now, Emira is the first priority.”
Tamra said, “One hundred percent.”
“Prudence?” Jodi took her mouth away from the phone. “You have to share with your brother, is that understood?” Then, closer to the receiver, she said, “I agree with everything that was just said.”
“Of course. I get that. And I know I need to call her,” Alix said. “But what . . . how do I go about this?”
“Don’t tell her to write a letter,” Rachel mumbled.
Jodi said, “Rachel, this is serious,” in the same mom-ish way she spoke to her daughter.
“Honestly,” Tamra said, “she might not even answer. And you need to be prepared for that.”
Next to Alix, the bell attached to the coffee shop door rang as a couple came outside. The woman said, “I bet we can rent it on Amazon,” and the man replied, “But 3D was the entire point.” Alix dipped her head and sweat fell off her nose. “I’m literally gonna be sick.”
“Hey, if she does answer,” Tamra said, “just tell her that you’re so sorry that this happened, and that you support her in whatever she needs, whether that means lawyering up or doing absolutely nothing.”
“Yeah, just don’t get emotional,” Rachel told her. “Not that you would, but make it all about her. Hudson, it’s okay, bud!” Rachel could be heard clapping her hand to her thigh. “You wanna go home? No? Okay, fine.”