Sometimes there were no conversations available for Alix to read, but there was always paused music. Some of the names Alix recognized, like Drake and Janet Jackson, OutKast and Usher, but most of them were strangers like J. Cole and Tyga, Big Sean and Travis Scott. Alix ended up Googling things like Is Childish Gambino a person or a band? How do you pronounce the name SZA? One evening, Alix memorized the name of a song and later Googled it in her room. Alix listened to the first verse in her headphones, which began with Let a nigga try me, try me / Imma get his whole motha-fuckin family. Alix’s eyebrows rose up into her forehead. She looked over at Catherine next to her and whispered, “Whoops.”
But out of all the information she’d gathered in the past few weeks, what was most intriguing as a future point of connection was the fact that Emira was definitely seeing someone new. Someone she’d labeled in her phone as Kenan&Kel. One afternoon—Alix saw this on her way out—he’d said, Maybe next time let me know that you don’t drink coffee, weirdo. On a Wednesday evening he’d said, Is basketball something you’d be interested in? And one time, Emira had sent a screenshot of her conversation with him to Zara, to which Zara replied, That boy doesn’t play. The messages between Emira and this new person were of that cool and careful variety that only exists at the beginning of something, as you try to exude spontaneity and effortless humor, and space out responses to appear busy and even-keeled. Alix was dying to ask Emira about him, to know if his name was Kenan, Kel, or neither. She wanted to cross a threshold where Emira would offer up information on her own, and more importantly, trust Alix to keep it. And tonight, after seeing Emira’s newest message (Excited to see you tonight, Miss Tucker.) inside her dirty and rubbery pink phone case, Alix decided to make this happen.
Alix walked upstairs into the kitchen. Briar looked up from her drawing and said, “Mama? Mama this is not a scary ghost, okay?” Alix put her purse on the counter and realized that the room had turned very sweet and warm. That morning, she had put out pumpkins and gourds at the center of the table and hung fall leaves (collected from the backyard) over the windows that looked out onto the street. Briar colored a picture of a very friendly ghost next to a plate of cucumbers, garbanzo beans, and plain pasta. On the fridge were new art projects: a googly-eyed witch made out of felt, and a purple paper that read BOO! The letters were colored in so nicely on one side that it was clear Emira had “helped” Briar complete it. Alix took off a drapey cardigan sweater, kissed Briar’s cheek, and received Catherine from Emira, who was already holding the baby up.
“You guys have a good day?”
“Yeah.” Emira picked at dried food on the knee of her jeans. “I think we did pretty good, huh, B?”
Briar held up a crayon and said, “You do it.”
Emira sat down next to her. “I do what now?”
“Let’s say ‘please,’ Bri,” Alix said. “Emira,” she added, “do you drink wine?”
Emira carefully accepted a crayon from Briar. She blinked and said, “I mean . . . yeah.”
Alix took two glasses from a cupboard and thought, Yeah, you do. She sat down, and with a bottle of wine in between her legs, she somehow managed to uncork the bottle while holding Catherine. When Catherine looked up at her, Alix said, “Hi. Did you miss me or what?”
Alix told Emira she could take the wineglass into the bathroom with Briar, that she did it all the time. She hadn’t eaten since lunch (she’d lost five pounds since her very loving and supporting intervention) and as she sipped her glass of wine, cleaned up toys from the kitchen table, and listened to Emira give Briar a quick bath, she sensed those lax and wonderful feelings of decorum leaving her body. She lit two candles on the kitchen counter. She turned on a playlist with Fleetwood Mac and Tracy Chapman. And as she turned off the bright kitchen lights and left the chandelier blushing over the table, Alix recognized that she was very much courting her babysitter. But the evening reminded her of Fridays with Rachel, Jodi, and Tamra. She hadn’t poured a glass of wine for another woman in months.
Emira emerged with a few picture books beneath her arm, a glass half full, and Briar in tow, changed into her pajamas and wrapped in her tattered white blanket. Emira stopped at the kitchen counter and took another sip of her wine. “This is really good,” she said.
“I like it too.” From the table, Alix held up her glass and looked at the color. In her other arm, Catherine was receiving a bottle, which Alix administered with one hand. “Are you a wine person or no?”
“I mean, I like it,” Emira said. She set her glass at the other end of the table, then took the books from underneath her arm and set those down too. “But I’m used to drinking like . . . boxed wine, so yeah, I’m no connoisseur.”
There were moments like this that Alix tried to breeze over, but they got stuck somewhere between her heart and ears. She knew Emira had gone to college. She knew Emira had majored in English. But sometimes, after seeing her paused songs with titles like “Dope Bitch” and “Y’all Already Know,” and then hearing her use words like connoisseur, Alix was filled with feelings that went from confused and highly impressed to low and guilty in response to the first reaction. There was no reason for Emira to be unfamiliar with this word. And there was no reason for Alix to be impressed. Alix completely knew these things, but only when she reminded herself to stop thinking them in the first place.
“Well, I used to be a boxed wine fan myself,” Alix said, “but you know I didn’t buy this, right?”
Emira sat down and settled Briar on her lap. “Hmm?”
“Oh yeah, I don’t really buy wine anymore. Or a lot of other things.” Alix took another sip. “I’ve been doing this for years. I just write a wine company and say that I’m doing an event and I’m testing out wines. And then they send me a few bottles for free. This one is from”—she turned the bottle’s label toward her—“Michigan, I think.”
“So does that mean you have an event coming up?”
“When my book comes out, I will.” Alix winked.
Emira laughed and said, “Dang, okay.”
“I read dis now!” Briar announced, lifting up a board book. “I read dis one.”
Emira said, “Okay, go for it.”
Briar tolerated being read to during the day, but Alix’s child was the only toddler she knew of who didn’t enjoy partnered story time before bed. Instead, Briar liked to be held as she “read” to herself before her eyes cast a sleepy focus on the pages in front of her. She constantly shushed the person holding her, even when they hadn’t said a word. Alix tried to hold her voice at a smooth level to keep Briar happy and keep her sitter talking.
“Are you doing anything fun tonight?”
Emira nodded. “Just going to dinner.”