Such a Fun Age(62)
Alix’s delivery had arrived in the light tone she’d mentally practiced in cab rides, in the shower, and while she applied her mascara over the past week. She was merely supplying information for Emira’s benefit, not anyone else’s, and she’d said the words African American and culture without lowering her volume to a suburban hush. And yes, she remembered Tamra’s advice to not bring up what Kelley had done with her letter, but she didn’t say Alix couldn’t allude to the fact that he’d done something terrible. Alix expected Emira to pry—that was what Alix would have done—into what Kelley had done or said, and when. But Emira kept her hands between her legs. She swung her hair onto her back and said, “This was all like . . . sixteen years ago, right?”
“God, was it that long ago?” Alix laughed. It was fifteen years ago, but okay. “I know, it’s a lifetime ago. I’m also saying this to let you know why I may have come off as rude when I first saw him at the door.” Alix pivoted. “At first I was just so stunned to see him at all. But knowing him as well as I did, I became a little concerned about his reasons for dating you.”
Emira flinched and looked at the floor. “I don’t know. I think I’m like . . . pretty chill and dateable.”
“Oh, Emira. No no no. That’s not what I meant at all.” Alix used her right hand to shake her fingers and waft her words out of the air. The fuck fuck fuck feeling from Thanksgiving was once again pungent in her home and her stomach. “There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s smitten with you. But I’m just making sure it’s for all the right reasons.”
“I see . . .” Emira sighed. “Well, I definitely know what you’re talking about. And I’ve met guys who are like that, but I haven’t really seen that with Kelley so far? So yeah, I don’t know. I also did some really dumb things when I was in high school. Like, okay—this is really embarrassing, but I definitely thought that Asian people were just smarter. And I definitely used to say things like, ‘That’s so gay.’ And both of those things are so offensive and awful, and now I can’t believe I ever talked like that. So yeah. I really appreciate you telling me, but it would feel weird to make it a thing now when it hasn’t been a problem.”
Alix had definitely described things as gay in high school, too. She used the word Oriental until she was in college, and only stopped because a roommate told her to. And there was a point in time when—if someone was described as Indian—Alix thought it was funny to say, “Dot or feather?” But this was different, how did Emira not see that? Kelley had a penchant for othering black culture that had started in high school and continued to develop in adulthood. He still didn’t think that what he was doing was wrong. What had Kelley told Emira to make her reject this information? In high school, Kelley’s admiration for Robbie and his friends had been so palpable and excruciating. Had he been fetishizing black people for so long that he finally became believable? Alix knew she was doing the right thing, but she somehow felt the same way she had when her roommate had looked at her over a cup of noodles to say, “Dude, you can’t say Oriental unless you’re talking about a rug.”
Alix said, “Totally,” and she hugged Briar closer. “This is exactly what I wanted to hear. If it hasn’t been a problem, then, wonderful. I just wanted to—”
“Sorry.” Emira bit the side of her bottom lip and took her phone out of her pocket. Looking down at it she said, “The theater only has one showing today and I just wanna make sure we don’t miss it.”
“Oh, of course!” Alix placed Briar on the ground. She stood and immediately felt dazed and dehydrated. Briar sang, “Ella-meno-peeee,” as Alix took her phone from the counter thinking, How did I . . . What did she . . . What the fuck just happened?
“But you’re cool with it, though?” Emira stood too. She took a second and balanced her knee against the seat of the chair as Briar performed deep squats underneath the table. “I do realize that it’s extremely random and weird. I’m just making sure . . . you’re good with it, right?”
For a second Alix thought, If I said no, would you really stop dating him? But she shook her head violently and said, “Oh, a hundred percent!”
“Mira, look!” Briar reached her hand out from under the table. “Is dis my knuckles?”
“Kind of. Your knuckles are right there.”
Alix bent and kissed Briar’s cheeks. “You guys have so much fun!”
Emira slipped her jacket on, but she didn’t leave. Alix stood at the other end of the table and refreshed her Instagram for the third time in the last ten seconds. Emira kept standing. Alix finally looked up.
“Sorry . . .” Emira said. “Peter would just leave cash on the counter.”
Moments later, as Alix stood in the window and watched her sitter walk hand in hand with her firstborn child and thirty dollars in her pocket, she slipped her jacket over her back. She applied lipstick in the girls’ bathroom above the child-sized toothbrushes, toothpaste, and baby lotion. She pushed her hair in front of her shoulders, and then she walked out the front door with just her keys and her phone.
It was as if she’d taken a breath at the front stoop and landed herself on the snowy sidewalk, her gloves on and booties tapping beneath her. The last time she’d come from New York, Philadelphia all looked the same, but now she knew her way around. It was twelve sixteen p.m., just enough time to get there. She’d looked at Emira’s text messages enough to know where he worked and what time he went to lunch (Rittenhouse Square, twelve thirty p.m.).