Such a Fun Age(47)
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.