Such a Fun Age(22)
“You don’t seem like a thief but if you are, you’re terrible at it. Hassan will pick you up in three minutes.”
“Allentown,” Emira said. She stared, upside down, at the name of the city above her head and blinked as the letters went in and out. “Who do I know from Allentown?”
“You know me from Allentown.” Kelley made his way over to her, placed a bag of popcorn in her lap, and said, “Let’s start with your area code.”
Emira gave Kelley her phone number as she snacked on popcorn, her right arm draped deliriously over her head. On the blueprint behind her, two streets over from where her pinky hung, was the place Kelley Copeland completely ruined Alex Murphy’s senior year. Back in the spring of 2000, before she became Alix Chamberlain.
PART TWO
Six
In the vestibule of the Chamberlain home sat a small, teak table near the front door. On top was a porcelain cup that collected change, a wooden trough holding three sprouting succulents, and an upright phone charger from CB2 that was plugged in to the wall behind it. In the past few weeks, Alix had developed what she knew was an awful and invasive habit of returning home, closing the door quietly behind her, bending at the hip, and looking at Emira’s phone. The small entryway was protected by another door that entered into the main foyer, which made Alix feel as though she wasn’t quite at home, and that she wasn’t exactly looking through the phone. She didn’t know the passcode and she would never use it if she did, but the lock screen of Emira’s phone was always filled with information that was youthful, revealing, and completely addicting.
She never took Emira’s phone off the charger, and she rarely pressed any buttons (messages and notifications would light up on their own), but three times a week she scrolled with her middle finger as she listened to Emira cook dinner upstairs and tell Briar to blow in case it was hot. A month had gone by since the night at Market Depot, and in that time, Alix had developed feelings toward Emira that weren’t completely unlike a crush. She became excited to hear Emira’s key in the door, she felt disappointed when it was time for her to leave, and when Emira laughed or spoke without being prompted, Alix felt like she had done something right. The times when this happened were few and far between, which was why Alix kept peeking at her sitter’s cell phone. She would have just checked Emira’s social media channels instead, but from what she’d gathered from searching, Emira didn’t have any.
Emira had a group text titled Siblings where her brother and sister sent songs, memes, and trailers for upcoming movies. Emira was constantly texting Zara, labeled Kween Zara, who would often reply in clipped messages, one right after the other (No. Stop. Don’t you dare. I cannot). Zara and Emira went out nearly every weekend, and many of their texts discussed the logistics. One afternoon, Emira must have just placed her phone on the charger moments before Alix arrived, because it sat unlocked and waiting. Alix didn’t even have to scroll. Emira had texted What are you wearing, to which Zara replied Slut, and Emira had responded, Cool, same. When Alix went upstairs, Emira was playing on the floor with Briar and saying, “Okay, now you have to tell me your second favorite vegetable.”
Sometimes there were no conversations available for Alix to read, but there was always paused music. Some of the names Alix recognized, like Drake and Janet Jackson, OutKast and Usher, but most of them were strangers like J. Cole and Tyga, Big Sean and Travis Scott. Alix ended up Googling things like Is Childish Gambino a person or a band? How do you pronounce the name SZA? One evening, Alix memorized the name of a song and later Googled it in her room. Alix listened to the first verse in her headphones, which began with Let a nigga try me, try me / Imma get his whole motha-fuckin family. Alix’s eyebrows rose up into her forehead. She looked over at Catherine next to her and whispered, “Whoops.”
But out of all the information she’d gathered in the past few weeks, what was most intriguing as a future point of connection was the fact that Emira was definitely seeing someone new. Someone she’d labeled in her phone as Kenan&Kel. One afternoon—Alix saw this on her way out—he’d said, Maybe next time let me know that you don’t drink coffee, weirdo. On a Wednesday evening he’d said, Is basketball something you’d be interested in? And one time, Emira had sent a screenshot of her conversation with him to Zara, to which Zara replied, That boy doesn’t play. The messages between Emira and this new person were of that cool and careful variety that only exists at the beginning of something, as you try to exude spontaneity and effortless humor, and space out responses to appear busy and even-keeled. Alix was dying to ask Emira about him, to know if his name was Kenan, Kel, or neither. She wanted to cross a threshold where Emira would offer up information on her own, and more importantly, trust Alix to keep it. And tonight, after seeing Emira’s newest message (Excited to see you tonight, Miss Tucker.) inside her dirty and rubbery pink phone case, Alix decided to make this happen.
Alix walked upstairs into the kitchen. Briar looked up from her drawing and said, “Mama? Mama this is not a scary ghost, okay?” Alix put her purse on the counter and realized that the room had turned very sweet and warm. That morning, she had put out pumpkins and gourds at the center of the table and hung fall leaves (collected from the backyard) over the windows that looked out onto the street. Briar colored a picture of a very friendly ghost next to a plate of cucumbers, garbanzo beans, and plain pasta. On the fridge were new art projects: a googly-eyed witch made out of felt, and a purple paper that read BOO! The letters were colored in so nicely on one side that it was clear Emira had “helped” Briar complete it. Alix took off a drapey cardigan sweater, kissed Briar’s cheek, and received Catherine from Emira, who was already holding the baby up.