Such a Fun Age(60)

Emira checked the clock on the microwave—it read 6:46 p.m.—and as she reached to remove the Velcro at the back of Briar’s bib, she caught herself thinking, Wait a second. I don’t want to give this part up either.

On her own and at her best, Briar was odd and charming, filled with intelligence and humor. But there was something about the actual work, the practice of caring for a small unstructured person, that left Emira feeling smart and in control. There was the gratifying reflex of being good at your job, and even better was the delightful good fortune of having a job you wanted to be good at. Without Briar, there were all these markers of time that would come to mean nothing. Was Emira just supposed to exist on her own at six forty-five? Knowing that somewhere else it was Briar’s bathtime? One day, when Emira would say good-bye to Briar, she’d also leave the joy of having somewhere to be, the satisfaction of understanding the rules, the comfort of knowing what’s coming next, and the privilege of finding a home within yourself.

Emira loved the ease in which she could lose herself in the rhythm of childcare. She didn’t have to worry about having interesting hobbies. The fact that she still slept on a twin bed meant nothing to Briar or any of their plans. Every day with Briar was a tiny victory that Emira didn’t want to give up. Seven o’clock was always a win. Here’s your kid. She’s happy and alive.





PART FOUR





Twenty-one


The moment Alix returned home from New York City she put Catherine down for a nap, set Briar up with the iPad, and quickly fucked her husband in the third-floor bathroom. Peter had his work clothes on and his face revealed a miraculous elation in the mirror as his belt buckle jingled across Alix’s hamstring. Alix had squeezed in a trim and blowout that morning in Manhattan before she boarded the train, and she liked watching her blond hair bounce as Peter plunged in from behind. They finished seconds before they heard Emira arrive and close the front door, which made Alix grin and hold her finger to her lips.

New York was like an ex who had worked out all summer. Alix had spent the last five days running through the city with Rachel, Jodi, and Tamra—sometimes just with Catherine—to all her favorite spots. She ate ice cream in a cone on 7th Street, standing under a lamppost in the snow. She bought Catherine a flowered beanie. And she wore heels for the first time in ten months when she attended an event for the Clinton campaign. Hillary Clinton herself wasn’t there, but hundreds of sharp, smart, and sexy women were. By the time her train pulled back into the 30th Street Station, she had an email in her inbox from a professor in communications at the New School: We’d love to talk about the upcoming semester. Let’s schedule a chat soon! Alix quickly responded, and then continued captioning future Instagram photos she’d taken in the city. She now had enough content for weeks to continue pretending that she still lived there.

“Hi!” With her pants back on, Alix jogged down the stairs and reveled in the flicks of fresh blond ends on her shoulders. Next to the kitchen table, Emira was kneeling in front of Briar, and Alix’s chest seemed to expand all the way up to her eyes. Oh, how she had missed both of them! Her chatty and nervous daughter, and the quiet, thoughtful person she paid to love her. It was enchanting to see that nothing had really changed. Briar still needed help putting her mittens on her hands. Emira still wore pilled neon socks below her black leggings. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in a week!”

Emira said, “I know, welcome back,” as Peter came downstairs. He slipped a jacket over his shoulders as he kissed Alix and Briar. Then he was gone and it was just the three of them.

“Have you guys been having fun?”

“Yeah,” Emira said. “Same ol’ stuff, I guess.”

Alix turned to retrieve her coffee from the counter. With the cup in her hands she turned back around, tucked her hair behind her ear, and said, “Emira.”

New York City had reminded Alix that if she could talk to more than four hundred women about asking for a promotion, she could definitely talk to Emira about Kelley Copeland. The past five days had reaffirmed the confidence she had in herself, as well as providing clarity about this conversation. It would be much simpler than she had imagined. She wouldn’t be pushy. She’d stick to the facts. And she wouldn’t expect Emira to do something right away. Alix had once been twenty-five herself, and all this time later, she could still remember the Kelley Copeland effect well. Regardless, Alix would protect her sitter. Thanksgiving was meant to mark a shift in their relationship, and her desire for this hadn’t changed. She would step in to be an advocate in Emira Tucker’s life, and not just on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Alix smiled into the side of her cup. “Do you want to talk for a minute?”

“Ummm, sure?” Emira stood up from the floor. “Well, I was actually thinking of changing it up today and taking Briar to a movie.”

“A movie!” Alix made a face at her daughter. “That’s so exciting.”

“How come these has fingers . . .” Briar said, pointing to Emira’s gloves, “and mine has no fingers?”

“Because yours are mittens. They’re very warm.”

“Well, I’ll warn you that her attention span isn’t great,” Alix said. “I can’t imagine her sitting still in a theater for too long.”