“How about you, Erin?” Meena asks when Jazmine shoots her daughter a look that finally closes the subject. “Are you ready to put up a profile and see who else is out there?”
Emotions flit across Erin’s face far too quickly to categorize. This girl has matured so much in the months we’ve known her. She even managed to survive watching her ex-fiancé have the night of his life.
Erin steals a glance at her boss. “I will if Jazmine will.”
“Huh.” This is Jazmine’s only comment. But the look she aims at her daughter and her assistant speaks volumes.
“Come on, Mom,” Maya pushes, clearly not intimidated.
“And we’ll help,” Lyllie, Mollie, and Kerina promise.
“All right, then,” Meena says. “Maya, Mollie, and Kerina have offered to do makeup for anyone who wants it. Lyllie will help you download your chosen dating app and get you at least started on setup. Carlotta, to whom we are extremely grateful, will serve as wardrobe mistress. After everyone’s individual photo shoot, we’ll get a group shot for her.”
We stand up and get started. Some of us, make that all of us of legal age, grab a glass of wine.
“Oh, I almost forgot! I brought some music to get us in the mood.” Meena pulls out her phone, scrolls, and taps a couple times. And we are transported back to the late ’70s and the ’80s. Carole King feels the earth move. Whitney Houston wants to dance with somebody who loves her. It’s impossible to hear these songs and not feel good. Moving is required. Soon even Maya and the McBride girls are singing the bits they know along with their mothers as they apply makeup and arrange hair.
There’s noise and laughter. And plenty of faux catcalls when Vicki poses Chaz in the garden leaning against a tree trunk, his sunglasses low on his nose so that he can look over them directly at the camera.
I bob and sing. Annell and I take up positions on either side of the photographer, where we make faces that cause Dorothy to smile a smile that lights up her face. Everyone, even those who have no intention of using the photos online, takes their turn in front of the camera.
Then we pose together, letting Carlotta place and arrange us like mannequins, until the photographer gets the shots she’s looking for.
We’re about to disband when a new song begins. It’s Sister Sledge singing “We Are Family.” And every single one of us sings—or more accurately, shouts—along.
Because in this moment and in so many ways, that’s exactly what we are.
Twenty-Nine
Erin
It takes most of Sunday to finish my dating profile on Hinge. One of my biggest problems, other than freaking out about the whole idea in general, is how hard it is to come up with six photos of myself that don’t include Josh. Or some part of Josh. Or me staring up at Josh. In fact, I can hardly believe how few mementos or memories I have that are only about me.
I already downloaded the app, so now I answer prompts and upload photos—two of them taken yesterday at Between the Covers thanks to Carlotta, Meena, and her photographer, and one of me in the red dress at Katrina’s party that she sent me.
I feel like I’m practically naked in front of the world by the time I finish my profile, which will open me and my life up to a whole batch of strangers. Before I can freak out completely, I speed-dial Katrina, who is now an official resident of New York City.
“Hi.” She answers, and all I hear are traffic noises, car horns, a siren, people shouting.
“Where are you?”
“I, my friend, just left an incredible fashion exhibit at the Met and am now on my way into Central Park.”
“Oh my God! You are an actual New Yorker.”
“I am. It’s a whole other world, and I keep pinching myself to be sure I’m really here.”
“Is it wonderful?” I ask.
“Oh yeah. I mean, my apartment is the size of a postage stamp. And there is no dishwasher or washing machine or any other convenience, including an elevator. But the location’s great. I can walk to shops and restaurants, and to the park. And the subway is only five minutes away.”
“You ride the subway.” It’s a statement, not a question. The closest I’ve ever been to Manhattan is Sex and the City reruns.
“I do. Personal space takes on a whole new meaning in the subway at rush hour. In other words, there is none.”
“Is it awful?” If someone gets within two feet of you here in Atlanta, they’re most likely a relative.
“Sometimes. But it’s wonderful, too, you know. I just . . . everywhere I look there’s something interesting. And life. And . . . remember how the suburbs would be deserted at nine p.m.? Well, things don’t even get started here until then. How about you? You all right?”
“I’m okay,” I say, trying to sound it. “I’m on Hinge as of, like, fifteen minutes ago. And I’m feeling kind of unhinged about it.”
Katrina snorts. “Ha. Good for you. It’s about time you experience some of the rejection and heartache the rest of us have been living through for years.”
“I think I did that in one great big chunk,” I point out.
“True. You always were an overachiever,” she says. “Are you really okay?”
“Yeah. Just . . . it’s weird. He was such a part of my life for . . . forever.”
“I know, Erin. And I know it’s hard. But it’s time. You’re right to move on. Like Josh is.”
“I know. Only, I feel kind of like a balloon off its string, just sort of floating along with nothing to hold me in place.”
“You never needed Josh, Erin,” she says. “You know that, right? You drove that bus, and frankly, he was lucky to be on it. I don’t think he’d be where he is today without your drive and ambition for him.” There’s a brief pause. “You can do that for you now. You can tether yourself. Not so tightly that you can’t take off and fly, but not so loose or fast that you can’t control where you’re going.
“It’s called freedom. And it can be totally scary and totally fabulous, sometimes all at one time. I feel that here every time something new happens or I have to do something I’ve never done before. You just have to take a deep breath and know that everything you need is right inside of you.”
“Wow,” I say when she finishes. “You’re good. A little woo-woo but good. Maybe you should give up fashion and become a therapist.”
“Hey, as far as I’m concerned, fashion is therapy. It brightens the world. And when you get some time off, I want you to come up and visit. I’ll show you around. I think you’d really like it here.”