Seven Days in June(34)

“Give me a couple days,” spat Eva, spinning on her heel. With her hand on the doorknob, she said, “You really are so corrupt, Bridget.”

“This is your daughter’s academic career,” Bridget said, stubbing out her cigarette on the windowsill. “I’ve done worse for less.”

“But enough about your helmet hair,” Eva clapped back. Then she slammed the door so hard the hinges shook.



Eva found Audre leaning against a wall, eyes squeezed shut. Her Vans were placed shoulder-width apart, and she was breathing steadily in and out. Meditating. Eva knew it.

“Audre Zora Toni Mercy-Moore.”

Audre’s eyes flew open, and then she crashed into Eva, enveloping her in a one-sided embrace. “Mommy, I’m so sorry.”

“I try to be the best mom I can be.” Eva was speaking more to herself than to Audre. “How is my daughter facing suspension? How?”

“I’m sorry!” stage-whispered Audre.

Sorry don’t fix the lamp, bé, she heard her mother say.

Get out of my head!

Eva grabbed Audre’s forearm and marched her to a private alcove by the girls’ bathroom. She spun her around so they faced each other. “I’m pretty sure you broke up a marriage. Do you get the ramifications of that?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “But husbands cheat all the time with no repercussions. In a way, it’s like I’m dismantling the patriarchy?”

“Oh, grow up. This isn’t about the patriarchy.”

“You say everything’s about the patriarchy!” Audre began to weep. Her tears left blotchy streaks in her cotton-candy-pink blush (the only makeup she was allowed to wear). She looked so young, like when she was a first grader playing in Eva’s makeup.

“Do you realize that I’ll have to sell my fucking soul to keep you enrolled?”

Nodding and sobbing, Audre saw a classmate walk down the hall—and quickly shielded her eyes with her hand.

“All I ask,” reasoned Eva, “is that you kill it in school, excel in art, stay kind, and cuddle with me during Stranger Things. Ruining your academic career does not fit into this scenario.”

Audre’s tear-shiny eyes narrowed into slits. With head-spinning quickness, she went from sad to seething.

“Maybe I want more than good grades and Stranger Things,” she blurted out. “I want to be a butterfly! Fly around, following my heart. Guess what? I don’t even love art. I do it ’cause I’m awesome at it and it’s your dream for me. My dream is to be a celebrity therapist. Possibly with a nail-salon franchise. Which you’ve never supported, BTW.”

“You’ve never mentioned a nail franchise!”

“Well, I’ve thought about it.” Audre took a step away from Eva, her fists on her hips. “Look, I messed up. Noted. I’m not perfect, like you.”

Eva threw her hands up. “You know I’m not perfect.”

“You are! Because you don’t live. You just write books you hate, and obsess over me. You don’t have boyfriends or travel or do fun stuff or want anything more than you’ve got.” She took a breath. “You write about love, but you won’t go get it. You don’t want anything.”

Eva’s hurt was instant and excruciating. “How…dare you psychoanalyze me?”

Emboldened by her speech, she went further. “Quick question. Why did Daddy leave? Was he not perfect enough for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not a person,” said Audre, with disdain. “You’re a robot.”

And then the only thing between them was endless, temple-throbbing silence. Another kid came barreling down the hallway. This time Audre turned away from her mom, waved, and smiled. But when she faced Eva and saw her stunned expression, she wilted. Her bravado gone.

“You done?”

Audre nodded, instantly sorry.

“You’re right,” said Eva, voice trembling. “I’m a robot. A robot who’s set up your life so you have the freedom to try new things and make messes and still have a life to come back to. I’m the reason you get to be a butterfly, you ungrateful…tween.”

Hot tears stung her eyes. No. She had to keep her cool.

“And another thing!” yelped Eva, decidedly not keeping her cool. “When would I date? With what time, energy? I give it all to you, kid. There’s nothing left over for anyone else! Think about that the next time you fuck up and then have the unbelievably reckless audacity to critique my life choices.”

“Mommy, I’m—”

“Sorry. I know,” Eva spat. “I’m on deadline. I gotta go,” she said, storming off. Abruptly, she paused. “And gimme my ring,” she said, slipping it off Audre’s finger.

With that, she left her precious child standing alone in the storied hallways of Cheshire Prep.

Once she was outside on the blazing-hot, brownstone-lined Park Slope street, she sank down onto the school steps. She was in too much pain to walk home. So she swallowed a pain pill and brooded.

Eva did want things. She wanted the world for her daughter. She wanted to see her characters on the big screen, racially intact. And deep down—fathoms deep, where she buried her weightiest wants—she wanted to go to Louisiana and research her dream book. The one that might turn her and Audre’s life upside down. The one uncovering the truth about her bloodline, the incorrigibly untamed, dangerously wild Mercier women.