We Are Not Like Them(103)

But also a fear too, that this is the most important thing in my life and Riley won’t understand what I’m going through. All the things she won’t care about and will have to pretend to be interested in—sleep training, Chase’s first teeth, the specific agony of breastfeeding, how I hate it but never want to give it up.

But I see the way she looks at Chase now and I know it will be okay. She loves my baby, I can tell, and that’s all that matters. No, what really matters is this baby wouldn’t even be here without her. I can give her her money back, but it will still be a debt I can never repay.

I get up to get the check, in my wallet on the counter. When I turnaround, Riley has a look on her face, that I have to tell you something look, and my stomach plummets.





Chapter Seventeen RILEY




Jen slips back into her chair, a slip of paper in her hand. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“You have a look on your face like you’re about to tell me something awful. Is something wrong with Shaun? Your mom?”

“No. It’s nothing bad. It’s just news.” It’s strange recounting my life to Jenny like this, in person, sitting at a table, when she used to just know things about me because I would text her everything as it happened. And even though she’s still the first person I want to tell when something good or happy happens, that’s not where we are right now. I’m still not sure whether we’ll ever get back to that exact place.

“Did you hear about the anchor job?”

“Actually, I did.” Jen isn’t the only one who has big news.

“Annnnndd? Come on, don’t keep me waiting. I saw they announced Candace’s retirement.”

“I got it!” I can feel my mouth form itself into a grin big enough for the billboard I’ll be on soon.

Jenny squeals and hugs me before I can get the rest out—the catch.

“Well, it’s not permanent though. Quinn and I are going to trade off. Scotty’s testing us out… or pitting us against each other. We’ll see.” I rein in my big cheese and my excitement. It’s still too early to celebrate. But I’m closer, closer than ever. And I know exactly why; so does Jen. It sits there between us, the reason for my rather swift promotion: covering the shooting was my big break. It put me on the national stage, just as I hoped it would. I’ve heard from a few network and cable news execs, feelers to keep in touch, invites to lunch or coffee the next time I’m in New York or Atlanta.

“That wasn’t what I was going to tell you though… it’s something else.” In my pause, I see Jen brace herself. I hurry up and blurt it out lest she think this is another big scary talk we need to have.

“I saw Corey! I may still be in love with Corey.” Now I brace myself for her reaction. Part of me doesn’t know how I feel about something until I know how Jenny feels—it’s always been like that. She doesn’t squeal and hug me this time. She looks confused, maybe even a little worried.

“Whoa? That’s huge. Tell me everything.”

I do, I tell her everything. Starting with finally explaining why we broke up in the first place, how he wasn’t the one who broke up with me, how it was me, all me. I ignore that she has the same hurt look on her face as Corey did; otherwise I wouldn’t be able to get it all out.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?” The pain is in her voice, too.

“Well… you’ve had your own stuff going on the last few weeks. I didn’t want to bother you with the fact that my ex-boyfriend wanted to meet up. And we’ve been in a bad place and—”

“No, I mean back then. Last year. When you broke up with him, when Shaun got arrested. Jesus. If I had known, I could have been with you.”

“You’d just found out that the IVF didn’t work again. You were a mess. I didn’t want to burden you. And also, honestly, I really didn’t want to talk about it. I was trying to shut everyone and everything out. I guess that doesn’t work so well.”

“No, it doesn’t work. It hasn’t been working. Riley… you have to tell me things.”

“I know I do, Jenny.” And I mean that. I really do. I also know that I can no longer be gentle with her. I will have to call her out sometimes. I’ll have to push her to think harder, to get outside her little bubble, a bubble I worry will grow smaller in the Florida suburbs.

“So what now, I mean with Corey?”

I start nervously folding a pile of onesies sitting haphazardly on the table, turning them into neat little squares. “We’ll see. He’s going to come down next month again and we’ll have dinner.”

“That’s great. It’s good you’re open to this. I have a good feeling.”

It is great. Hearing Jen say it confirms it. This is good. I let myself be excited. Even though I’m scared of so many things, that long distance won’t work, that I will always feel judged for dating a white dude, that if we do decide to have children, he won’t understand what it’s like to raise a Black man in our fucked-up world. I worry about keeping this anchor chair, about being at the top of my game and having to choose between being a big fish in Philadelphia or giving it up to be a little fish in New York and live with Corey. Could I ever ask him to move here to be closer to me? But I’m learning that feelings are okay, or at least unavoidable, even having more than one at once. And right now we’re still in the fun stage, the dirty-texting stage, the weekend visits. But this isn’t something new. We have history, and we will be right back in that serious make-or-break place before we know it. But I want to be optimistic. I want to feel good about something in my life after these months, this year of dread. I deserve it. I’m starting to believe that.