Such a Fun Age(50)

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?

“Mm-hmm,” she said. “Exactly.”

“And when did it start?”

“Well . . . I started my business in 2009, so—”

“Oh wow, okay.” Kelley smiled across the table. “That’s a brief history.”

“Wait, when did we all meet?” Jodi stepped in. “2011?”

“Rachel, I can’t believe you were the experienced parent back then,” Tamra said.

“Taught you bitches everything I know,” Rachel said.

Imani and Cleo looked at their mother, seeking corroboration that a bad word had been said. Tamra shook her head in confirmation and put a finger to lips.

“You know what?” Peter said. “I want to make a toast.”

Alix thought both Oh Jesus and Thank God. Peter was so good at making things easy and sociable but only in a way that made it seem like a TV show was ending. With all 141 pounds of her being, Alix wished she could just turn this night off.

“I know it wasn’t easy for Alix to leave you ladies,” Peter said. “And believe it or not, I miss you all very much too. As Alix writes her book and her business continues to grow, I’ve seen how much she’s come to lean on you, how much you encourage her, and how much easier you make her life. And Emira, that includes you now too. I’m very happy, or should I say thankful, to be outnumbered by so many amazing women tonight. So here’s to you.”

Everyone raised their glasses and said cheers. Briar managed to get a green bean on her fork by herself. When she held it up and showed it to Walter, he said, “That’s tremendous.”





Sixteen


After Peter made a toast that made Emira so embarrassed she could barely speak, Peter handed Catherine over to Mrs. Chamberlain and the table broke off into smaller conversations. Walter asked Kelley what the heck net neutrality was anyway. Jodi said, “I can’t believe how much she looks like you,” and Mrs. Chamberlain said, “You should see our baby pictures side by side.” Across from Kelley, Briar said to no one, “My tummy doesn’t like that.”

Twice during dinner Kelley had squeezed Emira’s knee, but she hadn’t known what he was saying by it; they were still too new. Was he mad that she hadn’t filled him in on how she’d said they met, the lie she completely forgot that she’d told? Did he think Mrs. Chamberlain was lying when she said they’d met on the train, to cover up that awful night altogether? Was that why he was being so rude about her job and her book? And why would Mrs. Chamberlain tell her it was a history book when it obviously fucking wasn’t? When Mrs. Chamberlain ran out the door on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Emira imagined her going to the library and laying out big, dusty reference books and Post-it notes and maybe even using a magnifying glass. But a book about letter writing? Like—calligraphy and shit? It sounded like the kind of book you saw in the sale section at Barnes & Noble, or in the waiting line when you were shopping at Michaels. But Emira couldn’t wrap her head around this, or the impossible fact that Kelley and Mrs. Chamberlain had once dated each other, let alone known each other out of the context of Emira, because sitting to her right, Tamra began to relentlessly ask questions about Emira’s plans for her career and for the rest of her life.

“So you went to Temple . . .” Tamra said.

“Uh-huh.”

“And then you took some typing classes.”

“Yeah, that’s my other job.”

“Well, if you’re thinking of grad school it’s actually not too late to apply for next fall.”

Had someone told Tamra that Emira wanted to go to grad school? Because no one had told Emira. She’d gone to undergraduate school to figure out what she wanted to do . . . wasn’t graduate school for the students who had succeeded? Emira’s eyes went from Briar, who had turned strangely quiet, to Prudence, who was squeezing the sides of Imani’s face. Imani was giggling in awe at Prudence the way Emira would have when she was little, when she was still quite bemused by what white girls got away with. Jodi was saying, “Would you like it if I did that to your face?” and Prudence was saying, “Yes, I would.”

“What was your GPA at Temple?” Tamra asked.

“Oh . . . not awesome,” Emira said. She set her fork and knife at the side of her plate. “Like, a 3.1.”

“Hmmm, okay, okay.” Tamra nodded slowly. “So grad school may be out. But you know what, Emira? There are plenty of other options that will surprise you. In fact, my sister-in-law went to a certificate program for hotel management, and now she has a five-bedroom house and makes six figures, in Sacramento. Can you believe that?”

Briar hiccuped once and her cheeks turned red.

“Yeah, that’s crazy . . .” Emira said. She wiped her hands on the napkin in her lap and said across the table, “Is Briar okay?”

But Mrs. Chamberlain was passing Catherine to Jodi, and they were trying to get her to say hi once again. On the other side of Emira, Walter, Kelley, and Peter were discussing the new Penn State football coach and his six-year contract. And as Briar’s stare became more glazed and far away, Emira began to feel the way she had on the night she and Briar went to Market Depot, very much together but also brutally alone. Emira said, “B, are you okay?” Briar tapped her mother’s arm. “I want Mama,” she said.