Such a Fun Age(59)
“Then use Emira.” Tamra said this slowly and like a song. “No one said you couldn’t come to the city once or twice a week. You and Emira? You two need each other. I feel very strongly about this. You need a release, you need to get back on top of your business, and Emira? The more time she’s spending in your house, the better. Let me help you fix this.”
Tamra breathed into her ample chest and it almost felt like she was taking a breath for the both of them. Alix knew then that she was done crying and ready to put her feelings into action. This moment, this was why she had missed her friends so much. They knew how to bring her back to herself. “Thank you,” she said.
“You don’t have to thank me for anything. Now listen.” Tamra put her cell phone in her pocket and grinned. “We’re gonna go back in there and order some mimosas. We’re gonna get you back in the city and feeling like yourself. And when you get back, you’re gonna tell your sitter what you know, and do whatever you can to protect her.”
Twenty
On Monday morning, the Chamberlain house was empty and charged with possibilities. Mrs. Chamberlain and Catherine were another state away, and after standing in the heat of Peter’s gratitude for coming to Thanksgiving, and for looking after Briar so much this week, Emira sat next to Briar’s big-girl seat. In her hand she held the forty dollars that Peter had left on the countertop. Emira leaned in to the three-year-old and said, “You wanna do something special today?”
Emira took Briar on the train for the first time and they rode between passengers with bags of presents and gift wrap and bows. On the street they held hands and walked two more blocks, until Emira opened the door to the House of Tea. Beneath a wall of hundreds of teas from all over the world, at a tiny table for two, Emira asked the waitress to bring out an arrangement of different tea bags but no mugs (the waitress said, “Umm, das weird, but okay”). For over an hour, in a puffy purple jacket and rain boots, Briar arranged the teas in an order that made sense to her, across the table and on top of her legs. “This is the baby tea.” Briar introduced a packet of English Breakfast. “No, no, you have to wait,” she told a decaf cinnamon spice. “And you have to go in the potty like a big girl.” Emira sipped an iced water and watched.
Tuesday was for sledding. After several trips up and down a snowy and slight hill—Briar expelling a happy screech the entire way down—the little girl fell asleep over a Dixie cup of hot chocolate that Emira poured from a thermos in her purse. Emira woke her up to make a snow angel, which was very cute but not as fun. Briar lay in the snow with a confused expression and said, “Mira, this isn’t a bedtime party, okay?” She insisted on pulling the sled for the entire walk home.
On Wednesday, Briar and Emira went to the mall located next to the hospital where Zara worked. In her scrubs and holding a plastic Subway sandwich bag, Zara ran to the front of the Santa Claus line, where Emira and Briar stood. As Zara stepped over a plush velvet rope, she grinned at Emira and said, “You are so stupid right now.” They walked away with three different card holders that read Santa and Me! in red across the top. One photo showed Santa and Briar midsneeze; one was with Santa, Emira, and Briar, all of whom were magically smiling; and one featured Emira, Zara, and Santa. Next to Santa’s lap, Emira crossed her legs and put her hands in her hair, a doe-eyed expression on her face. With her back to the camera, Zara squatted in front of Santa with her hands on her knees, and her face turned profile (when Zara Instagrammed the photo, the caption read, Ho Ho Ho, Up To Snow Good). Briar’s head could be seen in the corner as she waited and asked an elf if she felt scared of Santa sometimes.
And on Thursday, Emira took Briar to Camden, New Jersey. By then, she didn’t even think to ask. She and Briar were a unit, Mrs. Chamberlain wasn’t there, and Briar fucking loved fish. At Adventure Aquarium, Briar struggled to keep her mouth closed because so much wonderment kept spilling out. Emira was reminded of the insanity of being a child: seeing all the things you learned about in books as actual breathing creatures, swimming right in front of your face. Briar marveled at hippos and sharks and penguins and turtles. And somehow, magically, Santa made an appearance at the aquarium to say hello and talk about recycling. Emira told Briar to whisper as she asked over and over, “Who picks Santa up from the mall?”
In a reflecting blue hallway of glass and water, Emira and Briar walked beneath angelfish and guppies, eels and bottom-feeding sharks. Briar stood at one side and tapped the glass lightly with her hands, her little fingers in front of neon algae and rocks. “Mira, yes yes yes.” Emira bent down next to her.
“Hey, you. Pickle-head,” she said. “Hey, I love you.”
Briar laughed from her nose—it almost seemed as if she were trying to blow something out of it—and she put her cheek on Emira’s shoulder. Just then, the lights went off in their end of the aquarium to signal that closing time was near. Briar screamed out, “Mira, I can’t find me!” Emira held her closer and said, “I still see you.” The lights came back on.
The bus got them home by six p.m. and Briar looked sleepy, which meant Emira had to hustle. She liked having dinner on the table by six fifteen, so that Briar could avoid a second wind before bath time at six forty-five. Emira cooked scrambled eggs and toast. She used a fork to smash half an avocado onto the bread while Briar sang to herself from the kitchen floor, occasionally sniffing a sticker on her shirt (Emira didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was not the kind that smells). In the last section of Briar’s divided plate, Emira placed bright orange pieces of a peach. For maybe the two hundredth time, the two girls sat side by side at the kitchen table.