Such a Fun Age(77)

So on the brink of a new career and Internet persona, it seemed incredible, far-fetched, and slightly amusing when Zara returned with Emira’s backpack, closed the door behind her, and whispered, “So, we got a problem.” Zara dropped the backpack to the floor and pressed her lips together. She held her hands in prayer and placed her index fingers against her mouth.

Emira reached for her backpack and said, “I’m sure it just fell to the bottom.”

But Zara didn’t seem to hear her. With her right hand, Zara made a fist and pumped it in a small circle in the air. After she pressed her knuckles to her mouth she whispered, “Mira, I’m not playin’. Look at me.” Zara took a breath and said, “You can’t work here no more.”

Emira laughed and stood with her edges toothbrush in her hand. She let her backpack fall against her ankles and leaned a hip against the counter. “Excuse me?”

“You need to listen to me right now.”

“I am, what is wrong with you?”

“So I’m downstairs . . . kneeling down to get your heavy-ass backpack, and I hear your boss go into the bathroom.” Zara whispered this as she pointed down toward the floor, where just below them was the guest bathroom. “I’m getting your shit, and then I hear that woman ask if she’d done the right thing.” Zara put aggressive air quotes over the right thing. “And then that Uncle Tom Tamra woman told her, ‘one hundred percent,’ and that this video is the best thing to ever happen to you.”

Emira held the toothbrush in both hands and waved her thumb four times across the white and blue bristles. She set it down on the counter and it made a tiny click. “Okay, no . . . hold up.” She brought her own voice down to match. “She probably means this news thing. Like—this video we’re about to shoot.” But as she said it, Emira realized that if that was what Mrs. Chamberlain meant, then that hurt all on its own. Emira was constantly pointing out the instability of her current situation, specifically so that other people didn’t have to. The implications of Zara’s allegation took their time to be hardened in her mind, and for the moment, all Emira could think was, Mrs. Chamberlain was talking shit about me? I thought we had a deal.

Zara shook her head and held up a pointer finger. “Nuh-uh, girl. You said yes to this news thing. You didn’t say yes to the grocery store shit. That lady did something. Mira . . .” Zara trailed off as she stared into Emira’s face. “That lady leaked your tape.”

“Okay, no . . .” Emira was saying no to this accusation, but mostly she was saying no to the idea of having another conversation in which she had to examine who loved her least: Kelley or Mrs. Chamberlain. She crossed one arm and said, “Z, there’s no way. How would she even get it?”

“I don’t know,” Zara said. “Do you leave your phone out?”

“Sure, but it’s not like she has my code.”

“Do you bring your laptop here?”

“I don’t bring my laptop anywhere.”

“Okay, do you check your email on her laptop?” Zara pointed to the bathroom door. “Or the big-ass computer out there in the kitchen?”

Emira placed one hand against her opposite shoulder. For about eight seconds, her face stiffened into a position of almost remembering a simple word she’d somehow forgotten midconversation. Her mind rounded to three days prior, the day she turned twenty-six, and how short she was with Mrs. Chamberlain in her kitchen. She’d logged into her Gmail to send herself an address, but she didn’t remember logging out. She did remember peeking at the time on her phone to speed up the painfully practiced conversation that she didn’t allow Mrs. Chamberlain to have. And she’d taken Mrs. Chamberlain’s money and returned six hours later to drop off her child happy, sticky, and loved. Emira considered the fact that because she hadn’t let Mrs. Chamberlain endorse or even entertain a breakup with Kelley, that the mother of two had potentially done this legwork on her own. But weren’t they cool now? Wasn’t that why Mrs. Chamberlain had hired her as a nanny? But wait, shit . . . was this the reason she’d hired her as a nanny? Emira breathed out through her nose. She suddenly remembered the first time she stayed late to have a drink with Mrs. Chamberlain. The expensive wine she’d received for free. She’d asked if Mrs. Chamberlain had an event coming up. Mrs. Chamberlain had winked and said, “When my book comes out, I will.”

Emira looked up at Zara and whispered, “Fuck.”

“Okay, we can talk about this later? But your understanding of technology is truly problematic.”

“You told me that Kelley did it!” Emira shouted in a whisper. She reached forward and shoved Zara’s shoulder harder than she meant to. “What the fuck was I supposed to think?”

Zara dramatically brought her body back to center. “Okay, listen, I fucked up.” She held both her pointer fingers up as she explained. “I had way too many mojitos and maybe I jumped to things, but I was honestly just trying to protect you. And when you get a new man or go back to Kelley or whatever I swear to God I’ll chill out but—”

“Shhh shh, it’s fine it’s fine.” Emira stopped her. Not only was Zara getting too loud but the sound of Kelley’s name still stung. “Are you sure that’s what she meant?”

“Deadass?” Zara looked up to the ceiling as if she were swearing to both Emira and to God. “That is what I heard her say, and that is how I heard her say it.”