Alix fantasized about Emira discovering things about her that shaped what Alix saw as the truest version of herself. Like the fact that one of Alix’s closest friends was also black. That Alix’s new and favorite shoes were from Payless, and only cost eighteen dollars. That Alix had read everything that Toni Morrison had ever written. And that out of her group of friends, Alix and Peter actually had the smallest salaries, and that Tamra was the one who always flew first class. Alix often and unsuccessfully tried to drop these bits of information, but tomorrow, if things went Alix’s way, Emira could see all this in person.
Rachel, Jodi, and Tamra would be taking the train to Philadelphia on Thanksgiving morning. Rachel was thankful to not spend the holiday alone (Hudson would be with his father); Tamra would be coming with her daughters, Imani and Cleo (her husband was traveling for work in Tokyo), and Jodi’s entire family would be present (her husband, Walter; her four-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Prudence; and her one-year-old son, Payne). It was Thanksgiving that made Alix realize that her three best girlfriends hadn’t yet met Catherine, who was almost seven months old. Had it been that long? Catherine, who looked more like Alix every day, and was so easily toteable and darling and unconcerned with crawling that she made Briar seem borderline manic. Her girlfriends had joked about Alix showing them a traditional Murphy Thanksgiving complete with very suburban décor, fluffy turtlenecks in warm fall colors, DIY Pinterest projects and table toppers, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on repeat. But this joke had turned into an ironic theme that Alix couldn’t wait to execute.
Alix hired two caterers to pour drinks, hang coats, serve food, and remove plates. She filled the first floor of her home with pumpkins, gourds, wheat stalks, and acorns; a turkey piñata was waiting to be hung above the massive rented dining table set up in the stretch of the tiled foyer. With red twine, above a small table that held four different types of pies, Alix hung slips of brown craft paper where guests could write down what they were thankful for. She was delighted to consider the upcoming day, being around her three favorite women with a cheesy Thanksgiving scheme and tons of red wine, but just the idea of Emira being there too made her blush into her scarf.
Holding her last grocery store lot (bread, pink salt, butter, cookie dough, club soda), Alix said, “Hey!” and set the reusable bags on top of the counter. Catherine was drooling on a blanket while sitting in a Bumbo at the center of the room. Emira held Briar’s hips as she stood at the window seat and pointed out onto the street.
Briar said, “Mama? The window is biting my fingers.”
Emira turned and said, “I can’t believe you went out in this mess.”
Thank God for the weather, Alix thought. Most of her conversations with Emira in the last few days were fueled by weather management—if Briar should wear gloves, if an art class was snowed out, or if Emira needed to borrow an umbrella for her travels home. Alix rolled her eyes at her own actions. “It was insane, and kind of apocalyptic. I shouldn’t have made you come out today.”
“Nah, it’s cool. It’s only two days,” Emira said. She turned back to Briar and said, “I’m not gonna see you for a little bit, B.”
Briar’s top teeth popped out in response. “No,” she disagreed. “No, you see me.”
“So I usually see you three times a week?” Emira explained. She held up three fingers and Briar grabbed onto them. “But this week is Thanksgiving so I’ll only see you two.”
When Emira put her ring finger down, Briar looked offended. “Nuh-uh.” Briar shook her head. “No, you see me three.”
“But then I’m gonna see you every day next week. Isn’t that cool?”
“You’re really saving me next week,” Alix said. She opened the refrigerator door and the quickness of it made a loud suck of air. “Emira, I hate to say it”—she winced—“but you should really check on the status of your flight tonight.”
“Really?”
“Just to be safe.” Alix started moving containers and plates around in the refrigerator. “You can use the computer there.”
Was this cruel? Trying to win a best supporting Oscar as she waited for Emira to learn her flight was canceled? Who cared, she’d make up for it anyway. The realization that Emira could have a seat at their Thanksgiving table made Alix practically high. Suddenly, the fourth Thursday in November wasn’t just a holiday. It was four (or hopefully five or six) hours to finally make Emira family. It was a night to say through Malbecs and yams and candlelight and pie that Alix hadn’t forgotten about that night at Market Depot. That she thought about it every day, multiple times. That she’d never go to that grocery store again, even if it was an emergency, even if it was snowing the way it was now, even if Emira wasn’t her sitter. Emira moved to the computer and clicked and clicked as Alix prayed that Zara didn’t have family in Philadelphia.
Emira put her elbows on top of the desk, touched the sides of her face, and said, “Well, shoot.”
“Oh noooo,” Alix said. She closed the refrigerator door. She couldn’t overdo it, but she had to appear like this was in fact a tragedy. “Emira, my heart is breaking for you, I’m so sorry. I feel like I jinxed it.”
Emira kept staring at the screen. She bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath as Briar crawled into a nearby chair. “No, sorry. Is it okay if I call my mom real quick? They bought my ticket so they might know about a later flight.”
“Absolutely. Briar, get down.”
Briar said, “Mama, you can’t touch Mira’s water,” and as Alix set her on the ground, she said, “Okay, I won’t. Thank you for telling me.”
By the time Emira came back upstairs, Alix had turned music on low. Paula Cole played softly as Briar explained that even a snowman needs a nap sometimes. Alix picked up Catherine, who snuggled tightly into her chest. Emira sat down at the windowsill.
“Looks like I’m the last to know,” she said. “The earliest flight I can get is tomorrow night, which would make the trip pointless.”
“I’m so sorry, Emira.” Alix turned Catherine around, the back of her head leaning into Alix’s chest. Briar walked to Emira and began tapping on her knees. “Maybe it’s better to find out now than at the airport?”
“Yeah, I went home last summer so it’s okay. And there’s nothing I can do, I guess.”
“Emira.” While she rocked her second daughter in front of her stomach, Alix walked over to her sitter at the windowsill. “I know it’s not your first choice,” she said, “but we would absolutely love if you spent Thanksgiving with us.”
“Ohhh, wow, no no.” Emira shook her head.
“Okay, ’cause Mira?” Briar interrupted. “I . . . I’m your first choice.” Alix thought, Yes, Bri, good girl.