ThankyoufordownloadingthisSimon&Schusterebook.GetaFREEebookwhenyoujoinourmailinglist.Plus,getupdatesonnewreleases,deals,recommendedreads,andmorefromSimon&Schuster.Clickbelowtosignupandseetermsandconditions.CLICKHERETOSIGNUPAlreadyasubscriber?Provideyouremailagainsowecanregisterthisebookandsendyoumoreofwhatyouliketoread.Youwillcontinuetoreceiveexclusiveoffersinyourinbox.Formyfamily—presentandpastBlackhistoryisBlackhorror.—TananariveDue,HorrorNoire:AHistoryofBlackHorrorPrologue
December1983
GrandCentralTerminal
Midtown,Manhattan
Stopfussingatit,now.Leaveitalone.
Butmynailsfoundmyscalpanyway,runningfromfronttobacktofrontagain.Myrewardwasamomentofsweetrelief,followedbyafamiliarfloodofdry,searingpain.
Stopit.Stopit.
I’dalreadylearnedthatthemoreIscratched,themoreit’dresembletheburnofabadperm—abadpermthathadbeenstungbyfiftywaspsandthensousedwithmoonshine.Mysmallopportunityforreprievewouldcomeonlyafterthetrainstartedmoving,whenIcouldfinallyclosemyeyesandtakecomfortinthegrowingdistancebetweenmeandNewYorkCity.Still,Icontinuedtoscrapeattheitchincessantly,myattentionshiftingtoanotherstartlingconcern:Weweren’tmovingyet.
Myeyesdartedtothestripoftrainplatformvisiblethroughtheopendoors,mymindmovingfasterthanI’dmovedthroughGrandCentralTerminaljustminutesearlier.Whatifsomeonefollowedmehere?
Slowly,carefully,Iraisedmyselfuptocheck.Ontheleftsideofthecarwereayoungbrunettemotherandherbaby,cladinmatchingitchy-lookingredwintercoatswithblackvelvetlapels.Ontherightwasagray-haired,greasy-lookingmanwithhisforeheadsmashedagainsttheglasswindow,snoringsoloudlythatIcouldalmostfeelthetraincarshake.Wewerestillthesamefourwe’dbeenwhenI’dduckedintothiscarfiveminutesearlier.
Good.
Iexhaledandsatbackdownonmyhands,willingthewaveofmildreliefthathadwashedovermybraintowashovermyheart,too.Butthelatterorganhadn’tgottenthememoyet,andasuddenflashofashadowpassingbytheopendoorsetmybrainoffagain.
Didanyoneseemegetintothecab?
WhatthehellamIdoing?
Whatthehellaretheydoing?
Ishookmyheadandcrossedmylegs,mynylonsscrapingagainstoneanotherliketwoblackpiecesofsandpaper,theroundtoeofmytoo-tightheelsrubbingthebottomoftheseatinfrontofme.IhatedthesetightsandtheseshoesandthispeacoatI’dthrownoninthedark;Ihatedhowstiffmyentirebodyfelt—cold,numb,likeithadbeendippedinatankfulloficewater.
ButIcouldfixallthatlater.WhatconcernedmemorewerethethingsIcouldn’tname.Thethingsthatwerecausingmetobuzzandburnandwanttofleenotjustmyhome,butthetighteningconstraintsofmyskinitself.
Therewasthesoundofabell,followedbyacallingvoice.Amalevoice.IttookmeamomenttorealizethattheshadowI’dseenpassingbythedoorbelongedtotheconductor.Hewasinthebackofmycarnow,workinghiswayuptothefront.“Sir,”hewassaying,inapoliteattempttowakethesnoringmanforhisticket.“Sir.”
Ifumblednervouslyformyshoulderbag.IknewIhadenoughmoneyonme;beforesneakingoutofmyapartment,I’dmadesuretograbthesavingsfromthattornpairofpolka-dottedpantiesIkepthiddeninthebottomofmysockdrawer.ButnowIwashere,abouttogetgoing,andIstilldidn’tknowwhereIwasgetgoingto.I’dmeanttomakesmallchatwiththebrotherdrivingthetaxi—flashhimsometeethintherearviewmirrorthewayIusedtodobeforeeveryoneknewmyname,seeifheknewanypartsofupstateNewYorkthatwereparticularlycordialtoourkindofpeople—butmymindhadbeentoofixatedonwhathadsentmerunninginthefirstplace.WhatI’doverheardhersaytohimonthephone.
Imanisaysit’snotsupposedtoburn.
IuncrossedmylegsasIconsideredhowlongIcouldstaymissing.Judgingbyhowhardmynamewasbeingdraggedthroughthepapers,itwouldn’tbedifficultforanyonetobelieveI’dwantto“takeabreak”fromthespotlight.Buthowlongwouldtheyleavemealone?HowlongwouldtheybekindtoTracebeforedemandinganswers?Theyweren’tgoingtoletmeoffthehookthateasily.NotafterwhatIhaddone.
Allthosecareers,jeopardized.Anote,slippedundermydoorinthedeadofthenightbyaBlackwriterI’didolizedformuchofmyyouth:Youcouldn’tjustletthingsbe?
Moreburning.Moresearingpain.Iwasscratchingatmyneckagain,gratefulforanykindofdistractionfromthosewords,whenahandgrippedmyshoulder.Iletoutasmallshriekandbatteditaway,onlytorealizeitbelongedtotheequallyfrightened-lookingconductor.
NeverhadIbeensoexcitedtoseeawhitemalestrangerinmyentirelife.
“Ididn’tmeantostartleyou,”hesaid,“butI’mgoingtoneedtoseeyourticket,ma’am.”
“Oh.”Ipulledoutacrisptwentyfrommywallet.WhenIlookedbackupathim,hewasleaningagainsttheseatacrosstherowfrommine,waitingpatientlywithasmallsmile.Heappearedtobeinhismid-twenties,atmostfiveyearsyoungerthanme,andhehadakindenoughfacewhenheaskedwhereIwasheaded.
“Goodquestion,”Isaid,justasthesnoringstartedbackupagainafewrowsbehindme.“What’sthemostnorthernstoponthistrain?”
Theconductor’ssmilewidenedwithcuriosityashemovedtoacceptthebill.“Poughkeepsie,ma’am,”hesaid.“Abouttwohoursnorth,andit’llbefourseventy-fivetogetthere.”
“Okay.Actually,holdon—Imighthaveseventy-five…”Ireachedformywalletagaintounearthafewquarters.Onlyafterhehandedmemyticketandmychangedidhepunchtheairinfrontofhimandsay,eyesflickering,“Right!I’vegotit.IknowwhereI’veseenyoubefore.”
Iswallowed,shookmyheadonce.No,no,no.
“Iwasjustreadingaboutyouthismorning,”hesaid,pointingatsomethinginhisbackpocket.Arolled-upnewspaper.Thetwinkleinhiseyeswentout,andwhenhespokeagain,hiswordscameslowly,likehewasdecidingifIwasworthwastingthemon.“Iwasabigfanofyours.SoIwasreallysurprisedtolearnhowyoureallyfeel.”
Lookaway.ThatwaswhatItoldmyeyestodo.Butinsteadofavertingmyeyes,insteadoftellingthisman,Leavemealone,Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,Ididsomethingthatsurprisedhim,andsurprisedmyselfevenmore.
Ilookedhimintheface.AndIsmiled.
“Oh,heavens—youmeanthatwitchyladyfromthenews,right?”Icrowed.“Why,thathappenedtomeonthewayhere.Mytaxidrivermadethesamemistake.Canyouimaginethat?Twiceinoneday!Ireckonit’sagoodthingI’mleavingthecitynow,ain’tit?”
Whenthelastoftheshrill,inhumansoundescapedmylips—laughter,itwassupposedtobe—someofthatearlytwinklereturnedtotheconductor’seyes.
Hemovedcloser,sizingmeupalittletoolong.ButIkeptmysmilebigandboldandharmless,justlikeGrandmaJodideverymorningshetraveledacrosstowntocleanwhitefolks’houses.
“Ah.Iseeitnow.Theeyes,”theconductordecided,finally.“Youlookfartooyoungtobeher.”Heturnedtoleave.“Well,youhaveagoodday,ma’am.AndI’mrealsorryaboutthat.”
Ashemadehiswaytothenextcar,Iheardhimchuckle.“Witchindeed,”hemuttered.
Ibreathedoutatinypoofofair.Thatwaseasy—tooeasy.ButIcouldn’tsitwithitfortoolong.Therewasanotherbell;amomentlater,thetraindoorsslidshut.
Relieved,Icastonemoreglancetowardthedoor,thesuddenmovementcausingmetoshrinkfromthepain.Theitchinesshadn’tjustreturned;itwasall-consuming.Unyielding.Ireachedupagaintoscratch—stopit,stopit—buttheitchsimplymovedtoanewsite,andIhadtobitemyliptokeepfromscreaming.Onescratchwouldalwaysleadtoanother,thenanother.I’dbescratchinguntiltheendoftheline.AndonceIgottotheendoftheline,thatwouldn’tbeit.I’dstillbescratching.AndI’dprobablystillberunning,too.
Igroanedandslidoverinmyseattorestmyheadagainstthewindow.Itwasaswarmandsweatyastheskinbeneathmycollar,butasthetrainspedup,eachswathoftunnelpassingseamlesslyintothenext,Iclosedmyeyesanyway.Icouldpretend,atleastforthistrainride,thateverythingwasokay.Thatitwasn’ttoolate.
PartI
1
July23,2018
WagnerBooks
Midtown,Manhattan
Thefirstsignwasthesmellofcocoabutter.
Whenitinitiallycreptaroundthewallofhercubicle,Nellawastoobusyfilingastackofpagesatherdesk,aligningeachandeveryonesothatthemanuscriptwasperfectlyflush.Shewassointentoncompletingthistask—VeraParinineededeverythingtobeflush,always—thatshehadthenervetoignorethesmell.Onlywhenitincheduphernostrilsandlatchedontoadeeppartofherbraindidshestopwhatshewasdoingandliftherheadwithsuddeninterest.
Itwasn’tthescentalonethatgaveherpause.NellaRogerswasusedtoallkindsofuninvitedsmellscreepingintohercubicle—usuallyterribleones.SinceshewasmerelyaneditorialassistantatWagnerBooks,shehadnoprivateoffice,andthereforenowallsorwindows.Sheandtheotheropen-spaceassistantswereatthemercyofahard-boiledeggorthepassingofgas;theywereoftenlefttosuffertheconsequencesforwhatfeltlikeanhourafterward.
AdjustingtosuchcloseproximityhadbeensodifficultforNelladuringherfirstfewweeksatWagnerthatshe’dpracticedbreathingthroughhermouthevenwhenitwasn’tcalledfor,likewhenshewasdecidingbetweengranolasatthegrocerystore,orwhenshewashavingsexwithherboyfriend,Owen.Afteraboutthreemonthsoffailedself-training,shehadbrokendownandpurchasedalavenderreeddiffuserthathadthewordsJUSTBREATHEscrawledacrossitsfrontingoldcursiveletters.Itshomewasthefarcornerofherdesk,whereitsatjustbeneaththefirsteditionofKindredthatOwenhadgivenhershortlyaftertheystarteddating.
Nellaeyedthegoldfoillettersandfrowned.Couldithavebeenthelavenderdiffusershesmelled?Sheinhaledagain,craningherneckupwardsothatallshecouldseewerethegrayandwhitetilesthatlinedtheceiling.No.She’dbeencorrect—thatwascocoabutter,alright.Anditwasn’tjustanycocoabutter.ItwasBrownButtah,herfavoritebrandofhairgrease.
Nellalookedaround.Onceshewassurethecoastwasclear,shestuckherhandintoherthickblackhairandpulledapieceofitasclosetohernoseasshecould.She’dbeenproudlygrowinganafrooverthelastthreeyears,butthestrandstilllandedunsatisfyinglybetweenhernoseandhercheek.Nonetheless,itfellcloseenoughtotellherthattheBrownButtahsmellwasn’tcomingfromherownhair.Whatshewassmellingwasfresh,acoatappliedwithinthelasthourorso,sheguessed.
Thismeantoneoftwothings:OneofherwhitecolleagueshadstartedusingBrownButtah.Or—morelikely,sinceshewasprettysurenoneofthemhadaccidentallystumbledintothenaturalhaircareaisle—therewasanotherBlackgirlonthethirteenthfloor.
Nella’sheartflutteredasshefeltsomethingshesupposedresembledahotflash.Haditfinallyhappened?HadallofhercampaigningformorediversityatWagnerfinallypaidoff?
Herthoughtswerecutshortbytheloud,familiarcackleofMaisyGlendower,asquirrellyeditorwhoappreciatedmodulationonlywhensomeoneelsewaspracticingit.Nellacombedthroughthebray,listeninghardforthehushedvoicethathadmadeMaisylaugh.Diditbelongtoapersonofadarkerhue?
“Hay-girl-hay!”
Startled,Nellalookedupfromherdesk.ButitwasjustSophiestandingaboveher,armswrappedsnuglyaroundthesideofhercubiclewall,eyesaswideandgreenascucumbers.
Nellagroanedinwardlyandclenchedafistbeneathherdesk.“Sophie,”shemumbled,“hi.”
“Haaaay!What’sup?Howareyou?How’syourTuesdaygoing?”
“I’mfine,”Nellasaid,keepinghervoicelowincaseanymoreaudiblecluesfloatedherway.Sophiehadtamedhereyesdownabit,thankgoodness,butshewasstillstaringatNellaasthoughtherewassomethingshewantedtosay,butcouldn’t.
Thiswasn’tunusualforaCubicleFloaterlikeSophie.AsCubicleFloaterswent,shewasn’ttheworst.Shedidn’tplayfavorites,whichmeantthatyourchancesofseeinghermorethanonceaweekwereslim.Shewasusuallytoobusyhoveringbesidethecubicleofanotherassistant,herlazysmileremindingyouofhowgoodyoudidn’thaveit.Bytheluckofthedraw,SophieworkedforKimberly,aneditorwho’dbeenatWagnerBooksforforty-oneyears.Kimberlyhadeditedherfirstandlastbestsellerin1986,butbecausethisbestsellerhadnotbeenjustabestseller—ithadbeenadaptedintoatelevisionshow,ablockbusterfilm,agraphicnovel,anadultfilm,amusical,apodcast,aminiseries,andanotherblockbusterfilm(in4DX)—shewasgrantedapassoneverynon-bestsellerthatfollowed.Royaltieswerenothingtolaughat.
Nownearingtheendofherlongcareer,Kimberlyspentmostofhertimeoutoftheoffice,andNellasuspectedSophiespentmostofhertimewaitingforKimberlytokindlyretirealreadysothatshecouldtakeherplace.Inayear,maybeless,itwoulddawnonSophiethatherbosswasn’tgoinganywhereunlesssomeonetoldherto,andnooneeverwould.Butfornow,Sophiehungonnaively,justaseverysingleoneofherpredecessorshad.
“Kim’sstillout,”Sophieexplained,eventhoughNellahadn’tasked.“Shesoundedawfulonthephoneyesterday.”
“Whichprocedureisshegettingdonethistime?”
Sophiegrabbedthetautbitoffleshbetweenherchinandherclavicleandwiggleditaround.
“Ah.Thecrucialone.”
Sophierolledhereyes.“Yep.Sheprobablydroppedmoreonthatthanwemakehereinamonth.Bytheway,didyousee…?”ShecockedherheadinthedirectionofMaisy’svoice.
“DidIseewhat?”
“IthinkMaisy’sgotanotherpotentialcandidatein.”Sophietossedherheadagain,thistimeaddinginasuggestive,wigglingeyebrow.“AndIdon’tknowforcertain,butsheseemslikeshemightbe…youknow.”
Nellatriedtokeepfromgrinning.“No,Idon’t,”shesaidinnocently.“Mightbewhat?”
Sophieloweredhervoice.“Ithinkshe’s…Black.”
“Youdon’thavetowhispertheword‘Black,’?”Nellachided,eventhoughsheknewwhySophiedid:Sounds,likesmells,carriedovercubiclewalls.“LasttimeIchecked,thatwasasociallyacceptablewordtouse.Ievenuseitsometimes.”
Sophieeitherignoredherjokeordidn’tfeelcomfortablelaughingatit.Sheleanedoverandwhispered,“Thisissogreatforyou,right?AnotherBlackgirlatWagner?Youmustbesoexcited!”
Nellawithheldeyecontact,turnedoffbythegirl’sintensity.Yes,itwouldbegreattohaveanotherBlackgirlworkingatWagner,butshewashesitanttodoacelebratoryElectricSlidesequencejustyet.She’donlybelievethatthehigher-upsatWagnerhadfinallyconsideredinterviewingmorediversepeoplewhenshesawit.Overthelasttwoyears,theonlypeoplewho’dbeeninterviewedorhiredwereVerySpecificPeoplewhocamefromaVerySpecificBox.
NellalookedupfromherdesktopatSophie,whohappenedtobeoneoftheseVerySpecificPeople,andwhowasstillchatteringon.Overthecourseofjustafewminutes,Sophie’dmanagedtotalkherselfontoatrainofsocialawareness,anditwasclearshehadnointentionofgettingoffanytimesoon.“Itremindsmeofthatanonymousop-edBookCenterarticleIsentyoulastweek—theoneIsworeyouhadtohavewritten,becauseitjustsoundedsoyou—aboutbeingBlackinawhiteworkplace.Rememberthatpiece?”
“Yeah,Ido…andforthetenthtime,Idefinitelydidn’twritethatarticle,”Nellaremindedher,“eventhoughIcanobviouslyrelatetoalotofthestuffthatwasinit.”
“MaybeRichardsawitanddecidedtodosomethingaboutthelackofdiversityhere?Imean,thatwouldbesomething.Rememberhowharditwasjusttogetpeopletalkingaboutdiversityinoneplace?Thosemeetingswerepainful.”
Tocallthemmeetingsseemedgratuitous,butNellawasn’tinthemoodtogodownthatslipperyslope.Shehadmoreimportantthingstopursue.LikehowtogetridofSophie.
Nellareachedforherphone,letoutasmallgroan,andsaid,“Whoa!Isitalreadytenfifteen?Iactuallyneedtomakeaveryimportantphonecall.”
“Aw.Darn.”Sophielookedvisiblydisappointed.“Okay.”
“Sorry.ButI’llreportback!”
Nellawouldnotreportback,butshe’dlearnedthatpunctuatingtoo-longinteractionswiththispromisemadepartingmucheasier.
Sophiesmiled.“Noprob.Later,girl!”shesaid,andoffshewent,asquicklyasshe’dcome.
Nellasighedandlookedaroundaimlessly,hereyesskippingoverthestackofpapersshestillhadn’tdeliveredtoherboss.Inthegrandschemeofthings,thespeedwithwhichonecouldbringsomethingfrompointAtopointBshouldhavezeroeffectuponwhetherthatpersondeservedtobeanassistanteditor—especiallysinceshe’dworkedforVera,oneofWagner’smostexaltededitors,fortwoyearsnow.Butthingsbetweenthemlatelyhadbeen,forthelackofabetterword,weird.Theiranniversarycheck-inafewdaysearlierhadendedonaless-than-savorynote.WhenNellahadaskedforapromotion,Verahadlistedatleastadozensurprisegrievancesshe’dhadwithNella’sperformanceasherassistant,thelastbeingthemostunsettlingofall:“Iwishyou’dputhalftheeffortyouputintothoseextracurriculardiversitymeetingsintoworkingonthecorerequirements.”
Theword“extracurricular”hadhitNellahardandfastintheeye,likeapieceofshrapnel.Thecompanybasketballteam,thepaper-makingclub—thosewereextracurriculars.Herendeavorstodevelopadiversitycommitteewerenot.Butshe’dsmiledandsaidthankyoutoherboss,who’dstartedworkingatWagneryearsbeforeNellawasevenborn,andtuckedthispieceofinformationintoherbackpocketforsafekeeping.ThatwaswhereshebelievedanydreamsoflettingherBlackGirlFlagflyfreewouldhavetoremain.
ButnowthesmellofBrownButtahwashittinghernoseagain,andthistime,thereweretelltalesounds:First,Maisy’spracticedjokeaboutWagner’szanyfloorplan(“ItmakesaboutasmuchsenseasthescienceinBacktotheFuture”);then,alaugh—deep,abithuskyaroundtheedges,butstillcocoabuttersmoothatitscore.Genuine,Nellacouldtell,asbriefasitwas.
“…impossible.Iswear,onceyoufindwhereonepersonsits,you’llneverfindthemasecondtime!”Maisycackledagain,hervoicegrowinglouderassheledhercompanionclosertoheroffice.
Realizingthattheywouldhavetowalkbyherowncubetogetthere,Nellalookedup.Throughthesmallcrackinherpartition,shespottedtheswathofdarklocs,theflashofabrownhand.
TherewasanotherBlackpersononherfloor.AndgivenMaisy’sspiel,thisBlackpersonwashereforaninterview.
Whichmeantinthenextfewweeks,aBlackpersoncouldquitepossiblybesittinginthecubedirectlyacrossfromNella.Breathingthesameair.HelpingherfendoffalltheSophiesoftheWagneroffice.
Nellawantedtoputavictoriousfistintheair,1968Olympics–style.Instead,shemadeamentalnotetotextMalaikathislatestWagnerupdatetheearliestchanceshegot.
“Ihopeyourtripwasn’ttoolong,”Maisywassaying.“YoutookthetrainfromHarlem,right?”
“Actually,I’mlivinginClintonHillrightnow,”theBlackgirlresponded,“butIwasbornandraisedonOneThirty-FifthandACPforawhile.”
Nellasatupstraighter.Thegirl’swords,whichsoundedwarmerandhuskierthanthelaughthathadfalleneasilyfromhermouth,evokedasenseofHarlemcoolthatNellahadalwayswishedshepossessed.Shealsonoted—withreverenceandnotalittlebitofenvy—howconfidentthegirlsounded,especiallywhenNellarecalledherownanxiety-inducinginterviewwithVera.
Thefootstepswereonlyinchesawaynow.Nellarealizedshe’dbeabletogetagoodglimpseatthenewcomerifsheslidovertothefarrightofhercube,soshedidexactlythat,pretendingtoleafthroughthemanuscriptVerawaswaitingonwhilekeepingoneeyetrainedonthestripofhallwaythatledtoMaisy’soffice.Almostinstantly,Maisyandherprospectivedreadlockedassistantmadetheirwayintoherperiphery,andthefullpicturecameintoview.
Thegirlhadawide,symmetricalface,andtwoalmond-coloredeyesperfectlyspacedbetweenaLenaHornenoseandagenerousforehead.HerskinwasashadeortwodarkerthanNella’schestnutcomplexion,fallingsomewherebetweenhickoryandumber.Andherlocs—everyoneasthickasabubble-teastrawandlongerthanherarms—startedoutasadeepbrown,thenturnedhoney-blondeastheycontinuedpastherears.She’dgatheredabunchandpiledthemontopofherheadinabun;thelocsthathadn’tmadeithunglooselyaroundthenapeofherneck.
Andthentherewasthegirl’spantsuit:asmart-lookingensemblecomposedofasingle-buttonmarigoldjacketandamatchingpairofoversizedslacksthathitacoupleofinchesabovetheankle.Belowthat,apairofredpatentleatherhigh-heeledanklebootsthatNellawouldhavebrokenherneckjusttryingtogetinto.
ItwasallveryErykah-meets-Issa,anotherdetailNellawasfilingawayforMalaika,whensheheardMaisyaskthegirltoexplainwhat“ACP”meant.Anditwasagoodthingshehad,becauseNellahadn’tknown,either.
“Oh,sorry—that’sAdamClaytonPowellJr.Boulevard,”thegirlsaid,“butthat’skindofamouthful.”
“Oh!Ofcourse.Amouthfulindeed.Harlemissuchagreatneighborhood.Itshistoryisjustsorich.WagnerheldaneventattheSchomburgearlierthisyear—FebruaryIthinkitwas—foroneofourauthors.Itwasverywellreceived.”
Nellafoughtbackasnort.Maisyhadn’tattendedthisaforementionedevent;what’smore,NellawaswillingtobethermiddlenamethattheMuseumofNaturalHistorywasasfarnorthasMaisyhadevertraveledinManhattan.Maisywasakindenoughwoman—shemadebathroomsmalltalkaswellasthenextsenior-levelemployee—butshewasfairlylimitedinhersenseofwhat“thecity”entailed.JustthementionofWilliamsburg,despiteitsAppleStore,WholeFoods,anddevastatingselectionofdesignerboutiques,causedMaisytorecoilasthoughsomeonehadjustaskedtoseetheinsideofhervagina.SurelythisdreadlockedgirlcouldsensethatMaisyhadnotruesenseofHarlem’s“culture.”
NellawishedshecouldseethelookontheBlackgirl’sface,butthey’dalreadystartedtoenterMaisy’soffice,soshehadtosettleforachuckleinitsplace.Itwassubtle,butinthemillisecondsthatpassedbeforeMaisyshutherdoor,Nellawasabletodetectamusementattheendofthatchuckle—anexasperatedkindofamusementthatasked,withoutasking,Youdon’tspendtimewithBlackpeopleoften,doyou?
Nellacrossedherfingers.Thegirlprobablydidn’tneedit,butshewishedherluck,anyway.
2
August6,2018
Nellaclearedherthroatandranherleftthumbdowntheedgeofthemanuscript,thenacrossitsbottom.Sheknewthatshemightcutherselfdeepenoughtobleedifshemovedherfingeranyfaster,butshealsoknewthatwiththisriskcamethepossibilityofareward—anexcusetofleeandwinafewpreciousminutesofstalltime—andsuchapossibilitywastempting.
“Well?”Veraplacedbothelbowsonherdeskandcranedherheadforward,too,aticthatjustifiedherbiweeklyappointmentswithherchiropractor.“Tellmewhatyouthoughtaboutit.”
“Well…there’salottotalkabout.WheredoIbegin?”
ItwasaquestionNellahadspentanunreasonableamountoftimetryingtoanswer.Therewasnowayshecouldbeginwiththetruth:thatithadbeendifficultforhertofinishNeedlesandPinswithoutstompingacrossthekitchenfloorinhersockedfeet,openingawindow,andthrowingthepagesoutontoFourthAvenuesotheycouldbechompedintobitsbyoncomingtraffic.Thatataroundmidnight,she’dtakenabreaktojotdownalistofallofthethingsshe’dhatedaboutit,thentornthelistupbeforefeedingthepiecesofpapertoaYankeecandle.Howshe’dtakenaten-secondvideooftheburnedbitsandsentittoMalaika,whotextedback,inallcaps,GREAT.NOWGOTOBED,WEIRDO
Nellamighthavedeservedthisscoldingatinybit.Thebookwasn’taltogetherterrible.Itdidanicejobconveyingthebleaknessofthecountrywideopioidepidemic,anditcontainedafewparticularlymovingscenesrifewithmovingdialogue.Afamilyoftenfinallyconfrontedlong-buriedsecrets;ababyescapedaprecarioussituationunscathed.Thebook’sheartappearedtobeintherightplace.
Itwasjustthatoneofitscharacterswasnot:ShartriciaDaniels.
Nellawouldneverbeabletoconfirmit,butshesensedthatColinFranklin’sfirstdrafthadbeenwrittenexclusivelyaboutfrustratedwhitecharacterslivingfrustratinglywhitelivesinafrustratinglywhitesuburbantown.Afterreadingthisdraft,someone—afriendoranagentormaybeevenVeraherself—must’vesuggestedhethrowsomecolorinthere.
Now,Nellawasnofool.Sheunderstoodthatcharactersofcolorwereenvogue,aswasmaintainingvigilancewhenitcametocallingoutanythingthatlackedproperrepresentation.Nellawasn’ttheonedoingthecallingout,butshecloselymonitoredsocialmediasoshecouldsupportwhoeverdid.ShereadthinkpiecesbydayandretweetedthattheOscarswereindeedtoowhitebynight,andfollowingtheinfamousBlack-boy-in-a-monkey-hoodieincident,shetookasix-month-longbreakfromshoppingatH&M—abigdealforsomeonewholovedbuyingcheapbasicsinthesummertime.ShecouldseethecommonthreadofperceivedsubhumanitythatranbetweentheculturalfauxpasofmajorcorporationsandthecontinuouspolicekillingsofBlackpeople.
Andofcourse,shewasn’talone.ShecouldalwayscountontheInternettocryfoulonthelatesttrend.PerhapstheloudestvoiceofallwasJesseWatson,anationallyknown,outspokenblacktivistwhomNellaandMalaikaandoveramillionotherpeoplefollowedonYouTube.Themerementionofhisname,whichrestedquitecomfortablyonthemoreextremesideofthesocialactivismspectrum,oftentinteddinnertableatmospheresfasterthanCheetos-stainedfingertips,andhissuperchargedmannerofspeakingsuggestedthatthiswasexactlywhathewanted.
Sometimes,NellafeltJessewentjustatadtoofarinhisYouTubevideos,likethetimehemadeaninety-minutevideoonwhyallBlackpeopleshouldabandonCPTime.Butinotherinstances,hemadesomuchsensethatithurt,likehispostonwhy“well-meaningwhitefolks”weresometimesfarworsethanwhitefolkswhoworetheirracistheartsontheirsleeves.So,asNellaconsideredwhyshedistrustedNeedlesandPinssomuch,shealsoconsideredwhatJessehadsaidaboutwhitepeoplewhowentoutoftheirwaytopresent“diversity”:“Withheightenedawarenessofculturalsensitivitycomesgreatresponsibility.Ifwe’renotcareful,‘diversity’mightbecomeanitempeoplestartcheckingoffalistandnothingmore—ashallow,shadowythingwithbutonedimension.”
Shartriciawaslessthanone-dimensional.Shecameoffflatterthanthepagessheappearedon.Herwhitemalecreatorhadrenderedhernineteenandpregnantwithherfifthchild,withababydaddywhowaseitheramannamedLaDarnelloramannamedDeMontraine(Shartriciacouldnotconfirmwhichbecausebothmenhadfledtownassoonasthey’dheard).Shecussedandmoanedinjustaboutallofherscenes,isolatingherselffromthereaderjustasmuchassheisolatedherselffromherfamilyandnon-opioid-addictedfriends(ofwhichshehadfew).Then,therewasthekicker:Hername,“Shartricia,”washeruneducatedcrackaddictmother’sattempttohonorthecolorofthebrightgreendressshe’dbeenwearingattheclubwhenherwaterbroke.
Okay,somaybeNellahadfoundthislastdetailbothvexingandendearing.ButeverythingelseaboutShartricia’scharacterfelticky—especiallyhervoice,whichreadasacrossbetweenthatofafreedslaveandaTylerPerrycharacterdownonherluck.Still,evenwithallthesethoughtsswirlinginherhead,Nelladidn’tknowhowexactlytoexpressanyofthemtothewhitewomanwhowassittinginfrontofher,askingwhatshethought.ThewhitewomanwhojusthappenedtobeherbossandColin’seditor.
“Ithinkthisbookisvery…timely,”Nellasaid,optingforthebuzzwordthateveryoneatWagnerlikedtohear.“Timely”meantcoverageonNPRandGoodMorningAmerica.Itmeant“addingsomethingnewtotheconversation,”whichwaswhatColinFranklinalwayssoughttoachieveinhislonglistofripped-from-the-headlinesbooksthatincludedamurderoussisterwife,adeadlyschoolshooting,andasexyserialkiller.
Veranoddedeagerly,herlightbrownbangsundulatingabovegleaminggrayeyes.“Timely.You’reright.Herefusestoshyawayfromthehardestpartsoftheopioidepidemic.”ShejotteddownoneortwowordsontheyellownotepadthatsatjustbeneathherelbowsandthentappedherpenonhercheekthewayNellahadseenherdoincountlessmeetings.“Anddoyoufeellikeanythinginthenoveldidn’tparticularlylandthewayitshouldhave?”
NellaexaminedVera’sexpressioncarefully,searchingforwhatVerawantedhertosay.ThelasttimeNellahadcritiquedabookthatherbossfavored—sixmonthsearlier—Verahaddippedherheadandtoldherthatherfeedbackhadbeenspot-on.Butthen,whenitcametimeforNellatoovernightthemarked-uppagesalongtotheauthor,shehappenedtonoticehercommentsonthelastfewpageshadn’tmadeitin.Sheflippedthroughthefirstchapterandhadn’tseenanyofhercommentsonthosepages,either.
Ithadn’tbotheredNellatoomuchatthetime.She’dplannedtobringitupattheircheck-in.Butthattalkhadfailed,andnowNellawasleftwonderingwhathertruepurposeasVera’sassistantwas.IfVeradidn’ttrustheropinion,thenNellawouldneverbemorethanjustan“assistant”;ifshedidn’tbecomemorethanjustan“assistant,”she’dneverbecomeaneditor.Itwasadreamshe’dbeennursingfortenyears,eversinceshedecidedtojointhenewspaperstaffduringherjunioryearofhighschool.ShelovedslidingwordsandparagraphsaroundinagameofliteraryTetris.Theactofeditingsoothedher,andwhileshe’dbethefirsttoadmitshehadaninclinationtowardBlackwritersyearningforaspacetotellBlackstories,she’dhappilyeditjustaboutanythingthrownherway.Shewasexcitedbytheprospectofbeingabletomakealivingoffediting,andtheideaofhavingasayinwhatpeoplewerereadingandperhaps—inthefuture—whatpeoplewouldwrite?Thatwasmonumental.
NottoolongafterVeracalledthediversitymeetings“extracurricular,”dashingNella’shopesforapromotionanytimesoon,NellametupwithMalaikaattheirfavoriteMexicanspot.Enchiladasusuallysalvedherwounds,butNellaspentagoodminuteandahalfstaringatherplatebeforefinallypositingthequestionthatsheandMalaikaalwaysaskedoneanotherwhenthey’dbeenslighted:“Dowethinkit’saracething?Thisno-promotionthing?”
“Maybe.”Malaikahadsweptupthenear-emptybottleofhabanerohotsauceandshakenitalloverherplateforthethirdtime,smackingthebottomtogeteverylastdropintohersideofguac.Then,unsatisfied,she’dleanedoverandswipedabottlefromthetablenexttothem.Thewhitecouplesittingtherelookedbefuddled,butsaidnothing—theyhadn’tbeenusingit,anyway—andtheyevenofferedacheerfulyou’rewelcomewhenshethankedthemandhandeditback.
SuchagesturemoreorlesssummedupthisbrazenpersonwhomNellahadcometobefriendafewsummersearlieratakaraokebarintheVillage.ThetwohadfirstmetwhensheaskedMalaikatojumponamicatthelastminutetohelpherrapthrough“Shoop,”sinceNella’soriginalPepahadbeensickfromonetoomanyBloodyMarysatbrunch.They’dbeenbestfriendseversince,constantlycomparingnotesononlinedatingdisappointmentsandhomegrownhaircareregimens(likeNella,Malaika’scurlswerealso4C,althoughshe’dbeennaturalsincedayone,andthereforehadafro-manethatrivaledPamGrierinherheyday).
Theirmostvitalnotesofall,though,camefromcomparingBlackFemaleExperiences.Theyhadremarkablydifferentbackgrounds—NellahadbeenraisedinamostlywhitesuburbofNewHaven,whileMalaikahadgrownupinAtlantaaroundawholemessofBlackpeople.Butthey’dhadzeroproblemsfindingcommonground.Nellabelievedthishadsomethingtodowiththefactthatthey’dbothbeenraisedonBlack’90ssitcomsandsmoothjamsfromaveryyoungage.
MalaikahadalsobeenherownkindofOreoformuchofherlife,whichwaswhyshe’dtakenabiteoutofhertortaandsaid,inherbestDr.Philtwang,“MaybeVeraalsoseesyouascompetition.Maybeshefeelsthatfullyacceptingyouwillsomehowvalidatethesecretfearshehasthateverywomanundertheageofthirtyisouttogetherjob.Maybe…she’sjealous.”
Atthis,Nellahadgivenheraskepticallook.“Youobviouslyhaven’tmetthiswoman.Orme.IwearKedstowork.Keds.Noteventhefancykind.Thebasics.”
Malaikahadswattedthisaway.“Well,that’syourownfault,buthey—lemmeaskyouthis.Doyouseeanyotherwhiteassistantsgettingpromotedthathavebeenthereforlesstimethanyou?”
“No,”Nellahadadmitted,“Iguessprettymucheveryeditorhasbeenstingyaboutupwardmobility—evenforthewhiteassistants.”
“Well,thereyougo.”
“So…wedon’tthinkit’saracething?”Nellastillwasn’tconvinced.
“Hell,yeah.That’safactor,too.She’sprotectingwhat’shersforaslongasshecan…youknow,thewaysomewhitepeopleinsistononlyreproducingwithotherwhitepeoplebecausetheywanttoprecludethepopulationofmixed-racebabiesthat’sobviouslygonnarulethecountryby2045.Buthere’swhatIsaytomyselfwheneverIgorgivesmeshitatworkaboutlittlethingsthatdon’treallymatter,likehisTwitterbio.Girl—I’msayingthistoyounow,Nell,notme—youareadoublethreat.Youunderstandme?You’renotjustBlack,you’reBlackandyou’reyoung.Andifshe’ssmart—andshemustbe,sinceshe’sbeendoingthisforwhat,thirtyyears?”Malaikapaused,continuingonlyafterNellaconfirmedthiswithanod.“Ifshe’ssmart,sheknowsthatgirlslikeyou…”Shesmiledasmall,sillysmile.“Andme…arethefuture.”
NellahadappreciatedthissentimentenoughtolaughandclinkherglasswithMalaika’sasshehadmanytimesbefore.Thereinthatindistinguishablerestaurant,tuckedawaybeneaththeless-traffickedfoldsoftheLowerEastSide,thetalkhadfeltlikeawarm,fuzzySnuggie.Butnow,inthebrightlightofVera’slargeoffice,onewindowglaringoutontoCentralPark—hoursafterNellahadstruggledtoreadawhiteman’sbizarredepictionofapregnantBlackopioidaddict—shewasbeginningtofeelachill.Andthesourceofitseemedtobeherboss.
“Didanythinglandthewayitshouldn’thave?”Nellarepeated.“Well,um,thecharacterswereprettysolid.Buttherewereoneortwothatdidn’tquiteworkforme.”
“Okay.Saymore,”Verapressed,knittinghereyebrowsmoretightlytogether.
Nelladidn’twanttosaymore,butiftherewasonethingVeradidn’tlike,itwaspeoplewhowereafraidtosaymore.Especiallywomen.Itwaspartlywhyshe’dhiredNella,Veraoncetoldherataholidayparty,afterpartakinginalittletoomuchnog.ShehadfoundNella’sliterarytastes“rawandboldandunique”whenthey’dfirstmet.Whichwasprettyfunny,sinceaftermeetingVeraforthefirsttime,Nellahadbeensureshe’dblowntheinterviewentirely.
Nerves…Nellahadhadmanyofthem.They’dhoveredaroundlogistics,likepotentialMTAmishapsandnavigationalfailuresandtheworrythattheinch-longruninthecrotchofherstockingswouldn’tmakeitthroughanotherwear.Butshe’dalsoworriedthatsheandVerawouldhavezerochemistry.She’dneverreallyworkedaproperManhattanofficejob.Shedidn’tknowwhattoexpect,saveforwhatshe’dseenintelevisionshowsandmovies,andapartofherdeeplyworriedthatallofthethingsshe’dseen—severehierarchy,homogeneity,andrigidity—weretrue.Nellahadgrownaccustomedtoworkingbehindbarsandcoffeecounters,whichspoiledherwithexposuretoallkindsofpeoplewithallkindsofoccupations.Suchjobshadalsoallowedhertowearwhatevershewanted,whereasshedidn’tthinkshecouldhaveshownuptoherinterviewwithVerawearingaBlackLivesMattershirt.
So,themorningofherinterview,Nellaerredonthesideofcaution:Twenty-dollarno-frillsflatsfromPaylessthat,ifnecessary,wouldenablehertochaseafterastraytrain.Onherdeep-brownlegsshe’dwornherfavoritepairofoldblackstockingsunderneathhermostconservativebluedress;onhershoulder,atotebagshe’dsnaggedfromtheNation’sboothattheBrooklynBookFestivaltheyearbefore—justforalittletouchofpersonality.
Thankfully,theMTAgodsweregoodtoher.Hertrainarrivedexactlywhenthesignsaiditwould,andasitwhiskedheroutofBayRidgeintoManhattan,shefeltcomfortableenoughtoloseherselfinaneditorialassistantblogshe’dbeenfollowingforyears.Fortyminuteslater,shefoundherselfonthestreet,justoneblockawayfromWagner.Shewaswaitingforalighttochange,mentallypattingherselfonthebackforbeingalmostfifteenminutesearlyandjustall-aroundinterview-ready,whenshelookeddownandnearlyscreamed.Theruninthecrotchofherstockingshadtraversedthelengthofherleg,allthewaydowntoherankle.
Thathaddoneit.Anyconfidenceshe’dfeltfromthesunshineandtheperfectlytimedtraindispersed.Yougottabetwiceasgood,remember?she’dchidedherself.Shecouldn’trememberwho’dsaidittoherfirst,orifithadeverbeensaiddirectlytoheratall,butthatdidn’tstopherfromtellingherselfoverandoveragainthatherbrownskinmeantsheneededtobetwiceasgoodasthegirlwithwhiteskin,andthatthisgiantrunwoulddoherin.
Thetwiceasgoodmantradidnotgoaway—notwhenshereachedthefrontdeskandcompletelyblankedonVera’slastname;notwhenshewentforahugandVerawentforahandshakeatthedoor;andcertainlynotwhensheusedtheword“literally”threetimesintwosentences.Therefore,whenVeracalledaweeklatertosaythatshebelievedNellawouldbetheperfectadditiontoWagner’seditorialteam,she’dbeenstunned.Therehadtohavebeenanothercandidatewithwhollyintactstockingsandafirmgraspoftheword“literally.”Or,surely,awhiteIvyLeaguegradwhoseemedlikeheorshehadpotentialtodogreatthings.
ButWagnerwantedNella,andthishaddelightedhersomuchthatshe’ddoneherfinestpajama-twerkassoonasshe’dhungup.Then,she’dquitherthreefood-servicejobsinBrooklyninrapidsuccession;fewerthantwoweekslater,shehadanewboss,anewdesk,andappointmentssetupforaneyeexam,aphysicalexam,andamuch-neededdentalcleaning.Goodbye,self-medicationofmonthlongcoldswithEmergen-CandFlintstonesvitamins.Hello,healthinsurance.
Now,NellastudiedthelittlezengardenthatsatonVera’sdeskjustbelowthewindow.Herbossneverletanyoneelsetouchit,butsometimes,whenNellawashavingaparticularlyhardday,she’dsneakinandpushtherocksaroundforaminuteortwo.Thinkingofthisbroughtherpeaceofmind,asdidthememoryofherpajama-twerkcelebrationaftershegotVera’scall.ToNella,ithadn’tseemedthat“rawandboldandunique”tostanAmiriBarakaorDianaGordon,butithadapparentlyworkedonVerathen,backwhenshe’dbeennothingmorethanastrangerwitharuninherstockingsandaPublicIvyonherrésumé.Whynottryleaningintoitagain?Whynotbringoutthat“rawandbold”(andBlack)personfromherinterview?
Besides…ifshedidn’tsayanythingaboutShartricia,whoelseatWagnerwould?
“I’dlovetoknowwhichspecificcharactersyouthinkneedmorework,”Verasaid,hereyesflickingtowardthedoor,thenbackagain.“Isawsomethingshereandthere,too.”
Nellasatupstraighterinherchair.“Great!Okay.So,here’smymainissue.”Shetookabreath.“Tobecompletelyhonest,Ithink…”
Butanysteamshe’dgainedfromthestartwasdeterredwhenVera’seyesflashedtothedoorasecondtime.Theyremainedtherethethirdtime,glowingwithinterest.ThiswasenoughtoquellNella’smumbling.Sheturned,too.
Maisy’stinyfistwaspoisedmid-knockonVera’sdoorframe.“Sorry,ladies,”shesaid,eventhoughshedidn’tlooksorry.“There’ssomeoneI’dlikeyoubothtomeet.”ShesteppedallthewayintoVera’soffice,smoothingherhandsupanddownhermaroonpencilskirt.NellabrightenedasshewatchedtheBlackgirlshe’dclockedtwoweeksearlier,inallherdreadlockedglory,takeMaisy’splaceinthedoorway.“ThisisHazel-MayMcCall,mybrilliantnewassistant.”
“Myparentswereprettyambitious,”thenewgirlsaidwarmly.“Y’allcanjustcallmeHazel.No,please—y’alldon’tneedtostand!”sheadded,rushinginvaintomeetVerabeforeshecouldtakeonemorestepawayfromherwoodendesk.ShefoundNella’shandnext,pumpingitsohardthatbothgirls’pairsofdanglyearringsshookviolentlybackandforth.
Face-to-face,NellacouldseeHazelhadoneinch,maybetwo,onher.Today,herlocswerefreeofanyconstraints,sproutingspiritedlyfromherscalpandpouringdownthebackofherbaby-blueblazer.NellagrewsuddenlyawareofherownwrinkledgrayV-neckT-shirtunderneathanevenmorewrinkledgraysweater.OfherKeds,dirtyandbasic.
“WelcometoWagner!I’veheardsuchmarvelousthingsaboutyou!”VeranoddedinMaisy’sdirection.“You’reworkingforagreatonehere.”
MaisybattedahandinagestureofOh,stopit
“Yes,Iknow,”saidHazel.“Thankyou!I’msohonoredtobehereatWagner.Ialmostcan’tbelieveit’shappening.”
“Andwe’reexcitedtohaveyou.Whereareyoucomingfrom?”
Nellacringedeversoslightly,embarrassedforherboss,andworriedthatHazelwouldbescaredawaysosoon.Thatquestion.Oh,howpublishingpeoplelovedthatquestion.She’dfirstbeenaskedthisbyJosh,Wagner’ssalesdirector,attheKeurig.Nellahadn’tknownwhathe’dmeant,soshe’dmentionedherConnecticuthometown,tellinghimprettymucheverythingaboutitjustshortofitsgeographicalcoordinates.SheonlyunderstoodwhenJoshsaidtoher,abitimpatiently,“Ah.Interesting.Andwhereinpublishingdidyoulastwork?”
NellahadlookeddownatZoraNealeHurston’sface,printedonthesideofacoffeemughermotherhadgiftedher,andsaid,Nowhere.“Iwasinfoodservice,”she’dclarified,andthathadbeentheendofquestioning.
ButHazelprovidedtheappropriateprerequisite:asmallmagazineinBoston.“Ilivedtherefortwoyearsanddecidedtocomebackhereafewmonthsago.IlikeNewYorktoomuch,andIwantedtoreturntothenonprofitthatIstartedupinHarlembackintheday.”
Maisynoddedwithnoticeablepride.Nella,inthemeantime,marveledatHazel’somissionofwhatshepresumedwasanotherreasonwhyshe’dleftBoston:becauseitwassuchashitty,racistcity.
“Boston!Suchagreatcollegetown,”remarkedVera.
“Iknow,”Hazelsaid.“Butevenso,it’salotquieter.Andcold.IreallymissedNewYork’senergy.”
Shefurrowedherbrow,asthoughaparticularlyunpleasantcorporatememorywerewashingoverherinthatverymoment.Nellawatchedhercuriously,spottingasmallgoldstudaboveHazel’slefteyebrow,sotinythatitcouldonlybediscernedwithparticularfacialexpressionssuchasthisone.HadHazelreceivednastyemailsfromheroldjob’sHRdepartmentaboutherlocs?Peoplearestartingtocomplainabouttheodorcomingfromyourcube,thenotemighthavesaid.Ormaybesomethingabouteyebrowpiercingsbeingtoounprofessional.NellahadbeentoBostononlyahandfuloftimes,butshe’dreadenoughtoknowthatHazelprobablyhadn’thadaneasytime.
ShecouldalreadyseeHazeltellingherallaboutitafterwork,dishingstoriesoverginandjuice,whenVerachimedin,“Yes,itreallyisquitecold.Wethinkwegetsnowhere.Butupthereit’sadifferentanimalentirely.Maisyknowsallaboutthat.Don’tyou,Maze?”
“Ah,that’sright!”saidHazelgood-naturedly.Shedidn’tseembotheredthatheruseoftheword“cold”hadbeenmisunderstood.“Weren’tyoutellingmethatyouwerebornandraisedinBoston?”
“Fromdiaperstomydissertation,”Maisychirped.“AndmyfirstjobwasinBoston,too.It’llalwaysbemyhome”—sheplacedahandonherheart—“butit’sdefinitelynotforeverybody.Thefoodsceneisdreadful.Ver,doyourememberthatawfulawardsdinnerupinCambridge?”Andwiththeintroductionofthismemory,sheandVerawereoffforaboutthreeminutes,goingbackandforthabouteverycourse,sparingnotoneextravagantdetail.
Nellastretchedherfaceintoaslittleofasmileasshecouldgetawaywith,preparedtoexchangeaknowingglancewithHazelastheywaitedfortheconversationtocircleback.Butwhenshetriedtomeetthegirl’seye,Hazeldidn’tlookbored.ShewasactuallysmilingandtuttingandOhmygodingrightalongwithVeraandMaisy.Atonepoint,shecontributedajokeofherownandevennudgedMaisywithherelbow.
Nellafrowned,alittlebummedthatherglancehadn’tbeenreciprocated.Shewasalittlesurprised,too.Shecouldn’trememberwhenshe’dfirstventuredtotouchherboss,butitcertainlywasn’therfirstday,probablynotevenherfirstmonth.
“Anyway,whatwasIsaying?”Maisysaidfinally.“Hazel,Nellaherewillbeanamazingresourceforallofyourquestions.Youshouldtotallypickherbrain.”
“Wecallhertheauthorwhisperer,”Veraadded,eventhoughNellahadneverbeencalledthisasingledayinherlife.“Wheneveradivaisfreakingout,Nellajustlaysonthatcharmofhersandit’sallgood.”
“Aw,nah.”Nellachuckled.Fake-humblewastheMOatWagner,afterall.“Idon’tknowaboutallthat.Butyes,askmeanything.I’llbejustrightacrosstheaisle.”
Hazelflickedherlocsoverhershoulder,acheekysmilespreadingacrossherface.“Carefulwhatyousay!I’llprobablybebotheringyouallthetime.Iknowmagazines,butbooksareacompletemysterytome.”
Hadthenewgirlreallyjustadmittedthatinfrontofherboss?That’sprettyballsyofher,Nellathought,rememberinghowmuchshe’ddownplayedherowninexperienceinpublishingwhenshefirststarted.Butanexplanationforthiscametoheralmostimmediately:Entry-levelassistantsarelikedwaymorewhentheirbossesthinkthey’reblankslates.“It’llbenobotheratall,”shesaid.“Really!”
Hazel’sheadtiltedtothesidejustso,likeitwasbeinggentlytuggedbyaninvisiblestring,likeshewasjustsohappytoknowNellawasinhercornerthatshecouldn’tkeepherheadstraight.“I’msogladtohearthat.”
Maisybowedherheadingratitude.“Great!AndVera,beforewego:DoyouknowifBridgetisheretoday?IwouldlovetoswingbyherofficeandintroduceHazelbeforewegrablunch.”
“IheardStevieplayingthroughthewallearlier,so…”
Bothwomenmadefacesatoneanother.“Ah.I’lltakemychances.We’llletyougetbacktoit.Sosorry,again,forinterrupting!”
“Ohmygod,Maze,don’tevenworryaboutit!”Verawavedheroffandsatbackdowninherchair,herhandsalreadyreturningtothecoupleofscrawlednotesonColinFranklin’slatestnovel.“AndHazel—again,it’ssonicetomeetyou.We’rethrilledtohaveyouonboard.”
“Yes!Welcome!”Nellaaddedcheerily,andafterafewhalfwaves,fourbecametwoagain.
Nellasatbackdown,feelingreadierthanevertodelveintoherShartriciafeedback.MeetingHazelhadpoofedawayherapprehension,renewedhersenseofpurpose.Butwhenshestartedtospeak,shenoticedsomethingdisconcertinghadcomeoverherboss’sface.Afterafewwordlessseconds,Veraputherpendownandsaid,abitgrumpily,“JeezLouise.I’malwaysreadytotakeabreakfromworkafterItalktoMaisy.She’sthatexhausting.”
Nellashrugged.Itwasstartlingwheneverherbosstreatedherlikeaconfidante
“Now,wherewerewe?”
“ColinFranklin.NeedlesandPins.”
“Yes.Yes,soyouweresaying—”
Verawasinterruptedagain,thistimebyStevieNicks.Bridget,anassociateeditorwithanaffinityforthesinger,wasdefinitelyintheofficethatday,andhadapparentlybeeninagoodenoughmoodtoopenherofficedoorwhenMaisyknocked.NellaandVeralistenedasMaisyshoutedoutthenameofhernewassistant,andthenasHazelshouteditevenlouder.NellawasshuttingVera’sdoorwhenMaisyyelledHazel’snameathirdtime,adding,ratherhelpfully,“Likethenut!”
Verasighed.“Thankyou.Ugh.Someonereallyneedstodosomethingaboutthat,”shecomplained,eventhoughtheybothknewverywellthatthelastpersonwho’daskedBridgettoturndownhermusichadsufferedaroughcoupleofmonthswithHR,becauseBridgethappenedtobethegranddaughterofoneofWagner’sfirstauthors—whointurnhappenedtobeagolfbuddyofRichard’s.Thisexplainedwhyshe’dscoredherownofficeatsucharelativelyjuniorlevel,adecisionofRichard’sthathaduniquelypissedoffbothupper-andlower-levelemployees.
Nellaeasedbackintoherchairandsquaredhershoulders.Shewaitedanappropriateamountoftimebeforesaying,firmly,“So.NeedlesandPins.I’mgoingbecandidhere:Oneofthecharactersreallydidn’t—”
“Listen,Nella…”Verarubbedhertemplesandexhaled.“IthinkColinwillbecomingintotheofficesoon,maybenextweek.Howaboutyoujustshareyourthoughtswithbothofusthen?ThatwaywecantakehisresponsetoyourcritiqueintoaccountwhenweprepareourofferforNeedlesandPins.”
Nellawasn’tsurewhatmadeherqueasier,thefactthatshe’dhavetospeakwithColininpersonaboutherfeelingswithoutflyingthembyVerafirst,orthefactthatVeraalreadyseemedsosetonbuyingthisbook.“Um…okay.IjustwonderifmaybeyouandIshouldtalkaboutit,um,first—justmaybethe—um—weaknesses,or…”
“Yeah,yeah,we’lljusttellColininperson,”Verasaid,nowfullyclosinghereyes.“It’sjust,Ican’tfocusnowwith…withthis.”Shegesturedatthewallthroughwhichthefieryriffof“EdgeofSeventeen”wasblaring.
“Goodgod,thisplacesometimes,”Veracontinued.“Isitme,oraretheyputtingsomethingweirdinourwater?”
Verawasright.TherewassomethinginthewateratWagner.ButVerahadhadahandinthat.Sheandprettymuchallofthehigher-upsatWagnerwhoearnedlivableincomes—theywereallmessingwiththewater,makingitdifficultandsometimesimpossibleforsmallerfishlikeNellatosurvive.Lurkingbeneathmanyofthefriendlyseemingmeetingswasanenvironmentofpettinessandpowerplays;coldshouldersandclosed-doorconversations.
Themostfascinatingpartwasthattheyallthoughteveryoneelsewascrazy.Atleast,that’swhatYang,thegirlwho’dbeenassistingMaisywhenNellahadfirststartedatWagner,hadintimatedtoher.Yanghadtakenonthenobletaskofnotonlytrainingheroneditorialprocedures,butalsogivingherthescoopaboutallofhernewcoworkers—whomtowatchoutforatholidayparties,whomtoavoidintheelevator,whomtogetcoffeewith.Alltheimportantintel.
Yanghadbeenanincrediblyhelpfulguide,andasafirst-generationChineseAmerican,she’dalsobeentheonlyotherPOCNellahadevergottentoworkwithatWagner.Together,theymadecracksabouthowharditmustbeforeveryonetotellthemapartandrolledtheireyesatthehigher-upsconstantlywalkingoutsidersthroughtheirsideoftheoffice—purposely,theyhalf-joked,toshowcasethecompany’sdiversity.
Itallcametoanendsixmonthslater,whenYangquittogogetherPhD.ThreedaysafterYang’slastdayatWagner,anothershootingofyetanotherunarmedBlackman—thistime,anelderlyone—wentviral.HehadbeenpulledoverbyawhitepoliceofficerhoursbeforesunriseinruralNorthCarolina.Minuteslater,hewasdead,andhourslater,theworldwasonfire.Numerousreportssaidhe’dbeenreachingtoturnuphishearingaid.OnedayafterNellawatchedJesseWatson’slividresponsetotheshootingblowuponTwitter,RichardWagnersentoutacompany-wideemailannouncinganupcomingseriesofDiversityTownHalls.
VeryrarelydidtheeditorinchiefofWagnerBookssendemailstohisemployees;heeitherpoppedintoyourofficeunexpectedlyorsentyouanotehandwritteninimpeccablecursive.Theveryexistenceofthisemailwasthrilling,anditscontentsweresopromisingthatNellahadprintedouttheemailandthumbtackeditupinhercube.Thenewsoftheshootinghadoutragedthecountryandithadparticularlyoutragedher,too—notonlybecausethemanhadbeenhardofhearingandinhisseventies,butalsobecausehe’dborneasubtleresemblancetoagrandfathershe’dnevermet.Itwascomfortingtoknow,then,thatallWagneremployeeshadreceivedadirectivetostarttalkingtoeachotheraboutthemajorelephantintheroom.
Buttherewasjustoneproblem:Noonereallyknewwhattheelephantwas.Orwheretheelephantwas.Oriftherewasevenanelephantatall.Thedefinitionof“diversityatWagner”managedtomystifyallofNella’scolleagues,andNataliefromHRandtheBritishmoderatorshe’dbroughtinasa“neutralparty”spentthefirsthourofthefirsttownhalltryingtopinpointwhattheywerereallysupposedtobetalkingabout.“Dowemeandiverseemployeesordiversebooks?”askedAlexander,oneofWagner’smostliteraleditors.“Ordowemeandiverseauthors?”“Didn’twepublishthisbookbythatBlackwriterjustlastyear?”othersasked.Andsoon.
Theirconfusionwasunderstandableenough,andNelladidherbesttoreineveryonebackintowardthetaskathandwithherownsmall“objective”observations.Butshecouldn’tbringherselftosaythatmaybehigher-levelemployeesshouldn’tprimarilyhirepeoplewithIvyLeaguedegreesorpersonalconnections,becauseherownrésuméhadbeenboostedbyaneditorfriendofoneofherprofessorsattheUniversityofVirginia.Andthezingershereallywantedtodeliver—Yes,wejustpublished“thatBlackwriter”lastyear,butthatwriter,alongwiththelastsixBlackpeoplewe’vepublishedhereatWagner,wasnotaBlackAmerican,hewasfromanAfricancountry,andwhilethat’sdefinitelyanexampleofdiversity,it’salsoreallynot—wouldn’twork,either.ItwouldonlyunleashawholenewslewofgradationsthatNelladidn’tevenfeelcomfortablegrapplingwithonherownyet,letalonewithherwhiteemployers.
Thesecondhourofthe“meeting”wasfilledwithclumsyroleplayandevenclumsierwordassociationgames,andnaturallythingsgotworse.WhenNellaoffereduptheacronym“BIPOC”asatermsheassociatedwith“diversity,”hercoworkersooh-yeahed…andthenofferedtheirownexamplesof“diversity”:“left-handedness,”“nearsightedness,”and“dyslexia.”Onlywhensomeonevolunteeredtheword“non-millennial”didNellarealizethatareturntoherownconcernaboutthetreatmentofBlackpeoplebothinsideandoutsideoftheliteraryspherewouldbehighlyunlikely.Andjustlikethat,fasterthanittooktoutterthewords,“whataboutageism?”themoderatorwasbowingherheadandlaudingeveryone—theonehundredorsopeopleintheroom,allwhitesaveforNella—forbeingsoopen
Relievedattheprospectofwatercoolerdebriefings,hercolleagueshadhustledoutoftheconferenceroomfasterthanthey’dexitedanysexualharassmenteducationseminar.Andeverybodyhadseemedfarmoreperplexedleavingthetownhallthanthey’dbeengoingin.
Nellawas,too.Butfordifferentreasons.HercoworkerscouldpublishbooksaboutBitcoinandMiddleEasternconflictsandblackholes,butmostofthemcouldn’tunderstandwhyitwassoimportanttohaveamorediversepublishinghouse.Itdidn’tsurpriseNella,then,thatthenextnon-mandatoryDiversityTownHallhadhalfasmanyattendeesasthefirst.Thefollowing,evenfewer.Bythetimethefourthmeetingrolledaround,itsattendeeswerejustNellaandablue-eyedpublicityassistantwhosenameNellanolongerremembered,becauseshewasnolongerwiththecompany.EvenNatalieinHRhadstoppedattendingdueto“schedulingconflicts.”
“Maybeweshouldofferdonutsorsomething,togetmorepeopletocome?”theblue-eyedassistanthadmeeklysuggested,andinanuncharacteristicallypublicgestureoffrustration,Nellahadrippedupthelatestthinkpieceshe’dplannedtosharewitheverybodyandstormedoutoftheroom.
HeatstillbrushedNella’scheekswheneversherememberedthispublicdisplayofweakness.BeingtheonlyBlackgirlintheroomwasn’tsohardagigmostofthetime.She’dslowlybefriendedeveryotherindividualatWagnerwhoworkedasanassistantinanycapacity,andtheotherpeopleofcolorwhoworkedatthefrontdeskandinthemailroomknewherbyname.Butitwasn’tthesameashavinga“workwife”whoreallyunderstoodher.Shecravedtheabilitytowalkacrossthehallway,vomitoutallofherfeelingsaboutaraciallyinsensitivefictionalcharacter,andreturntoherdesk,goodasnew.
NellahadgrabbedoneofColinFranklin’stwenty-pagecontractsfromtheprinterandwasflippingthroughit,thinkingaboutjusthowmanyfeelingswerechurningaroundherinsides,whenshewalkedstraightintohernewestcubeneighbor.
“Sorry!”SheheldoutanarmtosteadyHazel,eventhoughshewastheonewhoneededsteadying.
Hazelraisedhereyebrowsineitherbemusementorjudgment—itwasn’tquiteclearwhich.Sheplacedahandonherhip.“Dang,girl,whereyourushingofftosofast?”
Yes,NellarealizedfromthetwitchthattuggedattheleftsideofHazel’smouth,curlingitupintoasmirk—itwasindeedjudgment.
“It’shardnottorunaroundherelikeabatoutofhellalotofthetime,”Nellasaid,eventhoughsuchanarcanesayinghadneverleftherlipsbefore.Shelookedatherwatchinanefforttorecoverfromit.“So,um,howwaslunchwithMaisy?Youguysweregoneforwhat—twohours?”
“Wasitreallythatlong?”Hazelasked,staringinthedirectionfromwhichshe’dcome.“Lunchwasprettygreat.Maisy’sgreat.WewenttoaTaiwanesespot.”
“Nice.LuWan?”
“Yep.OnNinth.”
“Yeah,that’safavoritearoundhere.”
“Soyummy.Anyway,Iwasjusthappyshemadethetime,”Hazelsaid,stoppingnexttoNella’scube.“NowthatI’mback,doyouthinkIcouldaskyouaboutthisoneemail?”
“Oh,sure!”NelladroppedthecontractsontopofthestackofColinFranklinbooksVerahadaskedhertowranglefromWagner’slibraryinpreparationfortheoffer.Shehadn’tbeenaskedtogetthesalesnumbersfromJoshforThree-RingBulletandTheTerroristNextDooryet,butNellawasquitepositivethatrequestwouldbecomingbytheendoftheweek.Whichmeantthatinthenexttwoweeks,WagnerwouldmostlikelybemakingadealonColin’snextbook—babymamaShartricia,fiveandahalfchildren,sixfiguresandall.
Nellashudderedatthislastverypainfulstraw.Shefelthersoul,whichoftensoundedalotlikeAngelaDavis,cryoutalittlebit—butsheputonherbestsmileanyway.Then,shewalkedovertoHazel’scubetotakealookattheemailthatfilledherscreen.SeeingthatthetextwasinredPapyrusfontwasenoughforNellatosay,withoutevenreadingit,“It’sDeeoverinproduction.Yikes.”
“Honestly…I’mnotsurewhatanyofthismeans.”
Nellacouldn’tblameher—theemailsubjectlinereadSimpson?andtheemailread,simply,WHEREISTHIS?
“Justasecond.IthinkErinleftmeanoteaboutthisbeforesheleft…”Nellaflippedthroughthemasterpacketthatshehadn’ttouchedsinceErin,Maisy’slastassistant,hadgonebacktoworkingatherfather’slawfirmintheUpperWestSidefourweeksearlier.“Theypayusshithere,”thegirlhadsaid,packingupherthirdboxofbooks.“Howyoucanaffordtoliveinthiscityonthissalary,Ihavenoclue.”
TheironyofthiscommentcomingfromagirlwithsuchaconvenientexitstrategywasnotlostuponNella.But,likealloftheotherpeopleundertheageofthirty-fivewhoeventuallyleftWagnerforsimilarreasons,Erinhadapoint.Thepaywasshit,anditwouldbeshitforthenextfiveyearsatleast,dependingonhowcloseyoucouldgettotheRichardWagnerinthattime.Ifyouwereabletosnaghisattention,youweresetfortherestofyourpublishingcareer,butifyoucouldn’t—ifyouweren’talegacyhire,likeBridget,orifyouworkedforsomeonehewasn’tparticularlykeenon—youwereprettymuchscrewed.YoucouldworkatWagneraslongasyouwanted,butyouwerestillgoingtomaketwentysomethinganhour.
NellatracedafingerdownthesecondpageofMaisy’sassistantpacket,carefultoavoidthelargegreasestaininthetoprightcorner.ShewonderedwhichofMaisy’sassistantshadleftthatmark—definitelynotYang,whoneverateanythingatherdeskexceptgreengrapesandredpears,andnotEmily,whomNellahadneverseeneatanythingatall.Heather,theonewho’djustgraduatedfromKing’sCollegeLondonandwasalwaysquicktodropa“bloody”hereanda“loo”there,hadhardlybeenatWagnerlongenoughtogethernameonhercube.NellasupposedtheperpetratorhadbeenErinherself.AllthosebagsofLay’s.Allthatnoisycrunching.
“ItsayshereinMaisy’smasterpacketthatSimpsonusuallytakesatleastaweeklongerthanhe’sgiventogethiseditsback,”Nellaread,“anditlookslikehe’sthreeweekslate.Doyouseeanythinginyourinboxfromhim?”
Hazelscrolledthroughheremails,tappingherlong,French-manicuredthumbnailonthemouseasshewentalong.“Nope,nothing.”
“Alright.Well,whatyou’regoingtodoistellDeethatMaisywillhaveachatwithSimpson.Andthenyou’regoingtowritetoSimpsonyourself.Introduceyourself,gushabouthislastbookoncumulusclouds,andtheninthelastlinementionthatyouthink—neversayanythinglikeit’sfact—thathemightbe…”Nellascannedthepacketoncemore.“Aweekorsolate.”
“He’sthreeweekslate,though.”
“Right.Butit’llbebetterifyoupretendheisn’t.Goodtotreadlightlywhenyoufirststartworkinghere;then,overtime,youcanrampitup.Oncehelikesyou.”
“Butwouldn’titmakemoresensetojust…Idon’tknow…startoutbytellingSimpsonhowlateheactuallyis?Holdhimaccountable?He’sagrownman.”
That’sdebatable,Nellathought.“Maybeitwould.Butthisisjusthowit’salwaysbeendone.”
“Alright,”saidHazel,althoughshestillsoundeddoubtful.Shecranedhernecktogetherownlookatthemasterpacket.“Andallofthatisinthere?”
ThegracioussmileNellahadplasteredonherfaceforthishow-todemonstrationwasstartingtofeellikework.Shehadn’taskedthismanyquestionswhenshetookoverforKatie,hadshe?“No,it’snotallinthere.Well,justthebitabouthiscloudseries,andaboutusingkidglovesonhim.Afewyearsback,someonegotsickoffiguringoutwhichtypesMaisy’sauthorswere,sowhoeverthatwascompiledanentirespreadsheetofquirks,whichareintheback.Here.”Nellahandedoverthepacket.
Hazelacceptedituncertainly,herperfectlyarchedeyebrowraisedataperfectlyalarmedangle.“Thislookslikeitshouldreallybelaminated.Andalphabetized.”
Nellasuckedsomeairthroughherteethonherwaybacktoherdesk.“Yeah,well.You’renotwrongaboutthat.”
“Mm-hmm.”TheysatinsilenceforamomentasHazeltookinthepages.“Hey,girl—thanksforthis.”
“Noproblem.I’mhereifanythingelsecomesup.”AsuddenemailonNella’sscreendistractedherfromsayinganythingelse.CanyouprinttheverybestreviewsforColin’slastthreebooks?Veraasked.I’vegotaphonecallwithhisagentinthirty.
“That’sreallygreatofyou,”saidHazel,whohadturnedherchairtofaceNella.“I’msogladIhaveyouhere.”
“Hey,it’snothing.”Nellatriedtoputonherbestsmileagain,butthethoughtofspendingtherestoftheafternooncompilingpraiseforColinFranklinmadeitdifficult.
“You’llletmeknowifI’mtooextrawithmyquestions—right?”
“Please,don’tworryaboutit.Anotherassistanttrainedme.It’stheCircleofLife.That’showassistantsoperate.Ongoodwill.”
Hazelflippedthroughthepacket,hummingatdifferentpointers,shakingherheadatothers.“You’vehelpedalotofMaisy’sassistants,I’mguessing.”
“AtleastfoursinceIstartedheretwoyearsago.Maybemore.”
“Wow.”HazelloweredthepacketatthesametimesheloweredhervoicesoshehadaclearviewofNella’sface.“That’salotofturnover.IsthereanythingIshouldknowaboutMaisy?OranythingaboutWagneringeneral?”
Nellaconsideredthis.Assistantsweresupposedtopassonthegossiptoanewassistant,butthegeneralconsensuswastoletherbelieve,atleastforthefirstfewweeks,thatherbosswasafairlynormalhumanbeing.Wagnerwasthehardestpublishinghousetogetinto.Everyinterviewee—Nellaincluded—underwentfourback-to-backinterviewswithvarioushigher-ups,thelastoneculminatinginahigh-intensityteawiththeeditorinchiefandfounderofWagnerBookshimself.Thelastthinganynewhirewantedtohearafterfinallyclimbingovertheseesteemedwallswasthataninsanebosshadbeenwaitingontheotherside.
Butthisfeltdifferent.WhowasNellanottotellHazelthetruth?
Shelookedupathercubiclewallandcastabitofside-eyetotheemptyspacewherethatDiversityTownHallemailhadoncehung,astoryherfatherhadtoldherabouthisveryfirstjobfloatingbacktoher.He’dwalkedintoaBurgerKingandseenabrothersweepingthefloor,andabrotherattheregister,too.Behindtheregister,therewasabrotherpreparingtheorders.
“Nowhitepeopleincharge?Lookslikeaprettygoodgigyouguyshavegoingonhere,”BillRogershadsaidtotheBlackguybehindtheregister,whoturnedouttobethebrother—theactualbrother—ofherfather’sclassmate,GeraldHubbard.
Gerald’sbrotherhadsmiledandhandedherfatherajobapplication.“Wepracticallymakeourownhours,”hesaid,“andyouknowwhat—you’vecomejustintime.There’sgoingtobeanopening.”
Fivedayslater,hefoundhimselfontheregister.Hemadeitanentiretwoshiftswithoutscrewinganythingup.Itwasn’tuntilhisthirdshiftthatawhitemaninasharpsuitandtiewalkedinandintroducedhimselfastheowner.Onitsown,thiswouldhavebeenfine—Billhadn’tforgottenthattheownerwaswhite,andhecouldhandlewhitepeopleaswellasanyBlackpersoninthosedays.Buttheownerhadendedupbeingamodern-daySimonLegree.Andasitturnedout,Gerald’sbrotherhadbeenfinishinghisverylastshiftatBurgerKingwhenhetoldBillapositionwasopeningup.
Nella’sfathercontinuedtoworkthereforthreeweeks,whichwashowlongittookhimtodecidethatifabosshadtocallhim“boy,”hemightaswellbemakingmoremoneyforit.Afewweekslaterhestartedworkingasanattendantatafancyhotelontheothersideoftown.
Yearslater,ataneighborhoodpicnic,herfatheraskedGerald’sbrotherwhyhehadn’twarnedhim.“Idon’tknow,”he’dsaid,nibblingonthegristleofaribsomebody’smamahadspentallmorningcooking.“SamethinghappenedtomewhenIapplied.”
Nellahadheardthisstoryseveraltimes,andshealwaysfeltthesamewaywhenherfatherreachedtheend.Shealwayssworethatifsheeverfoundherselfinasimilarsituation,shewouldn’tbehaveasselfishlyasGeraldHubbard’sbrotherhad.Andnow,hereshewas,finallyinapositionwhereshecouldbetransparentwithsomeoneotherthanMalaikaaboutwhatitwasliketobeaBlackpersonworkinginanall-whiteoffice.
AsthoughshesensedNellawasabouttobreak,Hazelsuckedherteeth.ShewasstillstaringatNella,exceptnowhereyeswerecool,serene.“C’mon,sis,”shesaidquietly.“Youcanberealwithme.”
ThediminutivewashedoverNellalikebalmonatightknotinherneck.Nellafeltherjointsloosenasshereleasedatinywhooshofairfromherlips.“Honestly…yourbossissogoodatwhatshedoes.Everyonewhoknowsherrespectsher,especiallysinceshe’swillingtoeditallthesciencebooksnobodyelsewantstotouch.But.”Sheloweredherwhispertolip-read-onlylevel.“She’salittlehigh-strung.Like,forreal.”
Hazeldidn’tflinch.Shejustnodded.“Ikindofhadafeeling,”shesaidafteramoment.“Andtellme:HowdotheyfeelaboutBlackpeopleintheseparts?”
Nellalookedaroundtomakesurenoonehappenedtobelingeringnearby.“I’lljustputitthisway,”shesaid,wideninghereyesdramatically.“Theydon’t‘see’colorhereatWagner.”
Hazeldidn’trespond.Foramoment,itwasunclearshe’dcaughttheplayfulnessinNella’svoice.Maybeshehadn’tevenheardheratall.
Butthenthatcoolnessinhereyesturnedup,andaknowinggrinovertookHazel’sface.“Yeah,that’sthevibeIgot.It’salwaysgoodtoknowwhatyou’reworkingwith,right?”Shesmiledalittle,alllipbutnoteeth,beforeturningbacktoherdeskandstartingtotype.
Nellaturnedherchairbacktofacehermonitorandgrinnedtoherself.Sis,indeed.
Hourslater,Nelladabbedatthelayerofcondensationthathadgatheredatthebottomofherglasswithherpinkynail,thendepositedthewaterontoheralready-saturatednapkin.“DidItellyoushelivedinBostonforafewyears?Boston.”
Malaikashookherhead.“Noshit!”sheshoutedastheopeningnotesof“Juicy”startedtoflowthroughthespeakersabovetheirheads.Tonight’sspotwas2Big,aBed-StuybarthatexclusivelyplayedsongsbyTupacandBiggieinaratherbelatedattemptto,astheirwebsitestated,BringTwoCoastsTogether.
“AndMaisyandVerajustkeptgoingonandonaboutBostonliketheyalwaysdowhenevertheygetonaroll.Buildingituplikeitwasthismagicalkindofcity,orwhatever.”
MalaikashruggedandtookasipofherrumandCoke.“Magicalforsomefolks,maybe.WhatisitJesseWatsoncallsit?‘TheWhiteMan’sMecca’?”
Nellaassented,rememberingthesegmentJessehaddoneonthecityjustafewmonthsearlier,afterattendinghisfirst—andlast—Celticsgame.
“God,I’mgonnamissthatman.WithJesseonhisweirdhiatus,howwillIbeabletotellthedifferencebetweenamicroaggressionandasheetwithholesinit?”Malaikajokedwistfully.“Bytheway,isVerarestingeasynowthathe’sgoneforever?”
Lastyear,NellahadsuggestedtheyinviteJessetocontributetoWagner’sFortyUnderFortyanthology,butVerahadtuttedatthethought.Literally,andquiteloudly,atthat.“Betweenyouandme,”shehadwhispered,“somepeopleseehimasanemotionalterrorist—andIcan’tsayIdon’tagreewiththem.”
Nellawincednowasshe’dwincedthen.“NotsurehowtunedinsheistoBlackTwitter,”shesaid,“butthatdoesn’tmatter,anyway.There’snowayJesse’sactually‘goneforever.’Helikesthespotlighttoomuch.”
“True.”
“Besides,IbethemadethatannouncementaboutgoingofflinesothatwhenhereturnswithhisbigBeyoncé-sizedcreativedrop,it’llbethatmuchbigger.Peoplelikehimdothatallthetime.”Nellastatedthislikeshedidn’tcareonewayortheother,althoughJesse’sannouncementabouttakingabreakfromsocialmedia—especiallyhisreasonofwanting“toworkonsomethings”—hadfascinatedher,too.VeramighthavesaidnotoNella’sFortyUnderFortysuggestion,butshehadn’tsaidnotoabookwrittenbyJesseandJessealone.IfNellafoundawaytocontacthim,maybeshecouldgethimtowriteanoutlinesoirresistibleRichardandVerawouldhavenochoicebuttosignhimonthespot.
ShehadmeanttoflythisideabyMalaikaearlier,maybeevenspitballwhatkindofprojectshe’dcomebackfromhiatuswith—Amemoir?Adoc?Agospelalbum?ButtheJessenewshadgottenlostintheHazelshuffle.
“Anyway,goingbacktothisnewBlackgirl,”saidMalaika,readinghermind.“WhiteMan’sMeccaornot,theimportantquestionIhaveforyouis:Doyouthinkyou’llbefriendswithher?”
“Forsure!”saidNella.“Mal,youknowhowlongI’vebeenwaitingforthismoment!AndHazelseemscool.Probablywaytoocoolforme,actually.”
“Impossible.”
“She’sfromHarlem.She’snatural—longlocs.Ombré.”
Theombrélocsinvokedanooooh,followedbyaraisingofMalaika’sglass.“Okay,maybeshe’salittlebitcoolerthanyou.Butnow,”shesaid,pullingawaywhenNellatriedtoflickherarminprotest,“atoast:tonolongerbeingtheOnlyOne.”
“I’lldrinktothat.”NellaclinkedheralmostemptybeerwithMalaika’sdrink.Thenshethrewbackthesecond-to-lastsipandputherglassdown,surveyingtheotherpeoplewhohaddecidedtograbadrinkonaWednesdayevening.Forthemostpart,pairsoftwenty-andthirtysomething-year-oldwomendottedthehighbarstools,sippingandlaughingandshakingtheirheadswithunabasheddelight.Shefeltawarmingtouchofsolidarityasshetookinthedozenorsowomenintheirbusinesscasualensembles,mouthsfullofginandjuiceandpost-workexasperations.
Nellathoughtaboutthegripesshe’dplannedtobounceoffMalaika,mostlyaboutheranxietytowardhavingtoaddresstheShartriciathing.Itjustdidn’tseemfair.Onlyafewmonthsearlier,Colinhadfinallystoppedmisspellinghernameinhisemails;weeksearlier,they’devenhadabriefbondingmomentovergrowingupinConnecticut.Thetwoofthemweren’tride-or-diesbyanymeans,butNelladidfeelasthoughthey’dmadequiteabitofprogressintheirauthor-assistantrelationship.Andnow,shehadtolookhimintheeye—ColinFranklin,anaward-winningauthorwhowasonafirst-namebasiswithReeseWitherspoon—andtellhimthatshehadissueswithhisbook?
She’dbeensavingthisColinthingforlastasshelistenedattentivelytoherfriendkvetchaboutIgorIvanov,thefitnessgurushe’dpersonallyassistedforthelasteightyears.Nelladidn’twanttohogtoomuchoftheconversation,especiallygivenhowmuchtimeshe’dspentcomplainingtoMalaikaaboutShartriciaalready.SoinsteadofpivotingtoColinwhenMalaikafinishedrecountingIgor’slatesttiradeabouthercalves,Nellaraisedherglassagain.“I’dliketoproposeanothercheers:tonotbeingconfusedwiththenewBlackgirl.Thankgodshehaslocs,”Nellajoked.
Malaikasnorted.“Oh,Icandrinktothat.”ShefinishedthelastofherrumandCoke,ploppingitdownonthetableharderthannecessary.ShehadthatrealtalklookonherfacethatNellaknewsowell,herbigbrowneyesunblinkingandopenedwiderthanusual.“Locsornolocs,though…youknowoneofyourcoworkersisgonnamixyouandthenewBlackgirlupatleastonce.Ipromiseyou.”
3
August20,2018
Nellayawnedandwrappedherarmsaroundhershoulders,afeebleattempttostopherselffromgrabbingatthecoffeebeforethemachinefinishedspurting.Thethinghadbeendyingforaboutaweekorso,whichmeantJocelyn—Wagner’sbusinessmanagerandtheonlyemployeewhoknewhowtocoaxsweetnectarfromthesnarlingkitchenKeurig—wasvisitingfamilyinGermany.
Nellaneededherback.Now.Herheadwaspoundingsomethingawful,thankstothefactthatOwenhadendedupjoiningherandMalaikaat2Bigthenightbefore.They’dleftthebaratanhourfartoolateforthreepeoplewhoknewtheyhadtogetupearlythefollowingmorning.
NellawastryingtorememberwhattimesheandOwenhadfinallyslippedintobedwhenanewsmelldisruptedthescentofhercoffeeand,subsequently,herthoughts.ShesniffedtheKeurigcuriously,unabletonamethesweetculprituntilshelookedoverhershoulder.Hazelhadbreezedintothekitchen,coffeemuginonehand,Tupperwarecontainerintheother.Shewaswearingabrightyellowscarfheavyenoughtohindertheaggressiveair-conditioningofthesubway,butlightenoughtostickinherbagwhileenduringthesweatinessoftheplatform,andapairofthosebigwhitemovie-starsunglassesthatlookedliketheonesNellahadtriedonthelasttimeshe’dgoneshopping.Withherownsmall,roundfaceandlackofamplechin,she’dlookedlikeaChihuahuaplayingdress-upintheconventioncenterglowoftheHeraldSquareH&M.ButHazel’sbrightredlipstickandoversizedsilverhoopsmanagedtotipthescalesinherfavor.
“Morning,Nell!What’sgoingon?”Hazelsethermugdownonthebigglasstablefixedinthemiddleofthekitchen.NellahadalreadylearnedthatthiswashowHazelinitiatedmostconversations,nomatterhowobvioustheanswerwas,andnomatterhowmuchitstumpedMaisy.Whichwas,Nellaobserved,everytime.
“Justwaitingonmymorningfix.”TheKeurigekedoutanotherwetsound—louderthanithadtwodaysearlier—asthoughit,too,weredesperatetocontributetotheconversation.Jocelynneededtoreturnfromhervacation,stat,beforeeveryoneatWagnerturnedononeanotherwithboxcuttersandloosestaplesoutofcaffeinedeprivation.
“Istillhaven’tfiguredthatthingout.Isitanygood?”
“Eh.You’dbebetteroffsiphoningwaterfromtheGowanusCanalandpouringitovercoffeebeansthatyou’vesteppedonwithyourdirtiestpairofshoes.Butit’sfree,so…”
“Shit,‘free’ismyfavoriteflavor.”Hazellaughedasshestuffedherlunchinthefridgeandclosedthedoor.Shereachedintoherjacketpocketandpulledoutapouchfilledwithherbs.TheflurryofmovementsentanotherwaveofsweetnesstowardNella’snosethatshehadtofightnottorecoilfrom.AlthoughsheandHazelhadbeencubematesfortwoweeks,shestillhadn’tgottenentirelyusedtohernewneighbor’shairgrease.Orperfume.Whateveritwas,Nellawassureitwasn’tBrownButtah.BrownButtahdidn’tsmellthatstrong.
“Myboyfriendworksatateasalon.Iget‘free-flavored’teaallthetime.”
“Nice.”Nellaconsideredaskingheraboutthisteasalon,buthercoffeehadfinallyfinishedbrewing,andanewauthorofVera’swassupposedtocallherinfewerthanfiveminutestotalkaboutthecopyeditingprocess.“Gottarun.”
“Okay!Seeyouin,like,threeseconds.”
“Yeah!Seeyou.”NellagrabbedhermugfromtheKeurig.Assheturnedtoleave,Hazelsaid,moreexcitedlythanNellahadheardhersayanythingbefore,“Ohmygod,wait!Iloveyourmug!”
“Thanks!Itwasagiftfrommymom.”
Hazeltookacoupleofstepstowardthetableandpickedupherownmug.PaintedonitssideinswirlsofpurpleandblueandorangewasanunmistakabledrawingofZoraNealeHurston,tiltedhatandall.
Nellawasn’tsurehowshehadn’tnoticeditbefore;itwassostunning.“Mugtwins!ExceptyourZoraisevenprettier.Thatartworkisbeautiful.”
“Thankyou!It’skindofmyprideandjoy,”Hazelsquealed,walkingovertothehotwatertower.
“Wheredidyougetit?”
“Myboyfriend,actually.Hepaintedtheart.Thenhehadafriendofhiswhoworksinceramicsdothisupformeforourfive-yearanniversary.Hecustomizedthehandlejustforme,too.Ain’titdope?”
Nellapeeredcloseratthesmall,finger-spacedgroovesinthehandle,unabletonotnoticethatHazelhadmentionedhavingaboyfriendnotonce,buttwiceoverthecourseofaveryshortinteraction.Itamusedher,thisdouble-mention,becauseitwasthekindofdetailthatmeantnothing—until,ofcourse,itwascombinedwithenoughothernothingstoturnintoasomething.
InNella’seyes,this“something”wasalackofself-reliance.ShefeltalittlebitofprideatnothavingmentionedOwen’snameevenoncetohernewcubemate.Hell,sheevenfeltjustatinybitsmug.Herboyfrienddidn’tdefineher.
Thenagain,Owenhadforgottenallthreeoftheiranniversaries.
Nellaoffereduponemorelaudatoryphraseregardingthemugand,asHazelturnedtodoctorhertea,abriefgoodbye.Sheneededeverysecondoftheremainingthreeminutestoprepareforherphonecall.
She’dstartedtomakeasubtlerunforitwhensheheardHazelsaysomethingelse.
Nellapausedmid-step,consideringheroptions.Shewasfarenoughawaytopretendthatshehadn’theardHazelspeak.Butshehad.Twowords,infact:BurningHeart.BlackKryptoniteagainsthersteeledworkaholicheart.
HerparentshadgiftedherDianaGordon’sfirstbookforherfourteenthbirthday,thesummerbeforeshestartedhighschool.Ithadcapturedherfromtheepigraph.ShelovedreadingaboutheadstrongEvie,ayoung,BlackteenagerwhorunsawayfromherconservativeparentsinasmallNewEnglandtown,andtherough-and-toughBlackPantherPartymembershefallsinlovewithalongtheway.
NellasawbitsofherselfinEvie.Herownparentshadneverbeentheturn-the-other-cheekkindoffolks—they’draisedhertospeakupwhensomethingwasn’tright,andtoneverletanyonetreatherlikeshewaslessthan.ButNellahadneverreallyneededtowieldthesetoolsasateenager.Andso,shecouldrelatetoEvie’sdesperationtoreallyexperiencelife,andherdesiretotakeabiteoutoftheunknownworldthatexistedjustbeyondhergrasp.
Nellahadn’tbeenabletoputBurningHeartdownfortheentiremonthofAugust,andeventhoughitroundedoutatawhoppingfivehundredpages,she’dreaditthreetimesinrapidsuccession.ShewroteaboutitforafreshmansummerreadingprojectinSeptember,andnearlyeightyearslater,itprovidedthebackboneforaseniorthesisthatshe’dnevermanagedtopublish.SinceBurningHearthadbeenbothwrittenandeditedbyBlackwomen,sheplaceditssocietalimpactfrontandcenter,alongwithtwootherbooksthatwereeditedandwrittenbyindividualsofthesamerace—ararefeat,Nellahadcometolearn.
Thiswasall,however,toomuchtoexplainwhenshewasinarush,soNellascurriedbackintothekitchen,letoutasmallsigh,andsaid,“Sorry—didyousaysomethingaboutBurningHeart?”
Hazellookedoverhershoulder.“Oh,Iwasjustwonderingifyou’reintoDianaGordon.IstumbledacrossanoldpieceonherbyJoanCircatellalastnight,anditmademewanttorereadBurningHeart,like,rightnow.”
“JoanCircatella?That’samazing!Ireliedprettyheavilyonherworkformythesisincollege.”Seeingwhatseemedtobecuriosityunravelacrosshercompanion’sface,Nellaadded,“?‘ForUs,byUs:TheEffectofBlackEyesonBlackIdeas.’?”
“Girl.”Hazel’seyeswidenedassheputhermugdownsoshecouldclapforemphasis.“That.Sounds.So.Dope.Lookatyou,beingallmodest.Youshouldownthatthesis.”
“Thanks!”Nellasmiled.Worriedshemightbecomingoffasjustahairpretentious,sheadded—eventhoughHazelhadn’tasked—“I’dalwaysbeenreallyintothefactthatBurningHeartwasbothwrittenandeditedbyBlackwomen,andthatinspiredmetoputthatelementintoconversationwithitssocietalimpact.AndIcomparedtwootherbooksthatwerealsowrittenbyBlackeditor-writerpairs.”
Hazelclappedagain.“That’sbrilliant!IcouldseesomethinglikethatrunninginSalonorsomeplace.Pleasetellmeyou’vedonesomethingwithit,sis.I’mbeggingyou.”
“Well—it’sbeenkindofhard,youknow…withKendraRaePhillips,andall…”Nellashrugged.
“Whatdoyoumean?Wait,ohmygod—doesshestillworkhere?!”Hazel’slocsslappedhercheeksassheglancedexcitedlyaroundthekitchen.
“No,definitelynot,”Nellasaid,loweringhervoice.“That’sthething.She’sbeenMIAforyears.”
“Oh,right.Yeah,Iimaginethatleavesanannoyingholeinyourwork.”Hazelpickeduphermugoncemore.“It’stoobadsheleft.ThisbusinessneedsmoreBlackeditors,moreBlackmentors…moreBlackeverything.”
“Iknow,and—”Nellashookherhead,feelingfrazzled.Thiswasaconversationshewanteddesperatelytohave,justnotrightnow.“God,Iamsosorry.I’mgoingtomissthisphonecall.”
Shethoughtshe’dsaiditsoftlyenough.She’dspentsomuchtimeontheso,andhadindicatedhowlittlecontrolshehadofthewholesituation.Nevertheless,therewasashiftinHazel’sdisposition.Hershoulderswereslumping,asthoughaweighthadbeentiedtoeachone.Evenherholdonhermugwasdifferent—ratherthanlettingitsitinthepalmofherhand,Hazelwaspinchingthehandlewithalmostallofherfingers,usingthelastonetotapthesidewithherlongnail.
“I’msorry!”Nellasaidagain.“It’snotapersonalthing.Thecall,Imean.It’sanauthorthing.Forwork.”
Hazelshrugged,hereyesnarrowed.“Igetit.I’llbedoingthat,too,atsomepoint.Iguess.”
“You’llbedoingitalot.Maisydoesn’tliketalkingonthephonetoanyonebutTony.”
“Herhusband?”
“Hertherapist.”
ThatgotasmileoutofHazel.“SomanythingsIneedtolearn!”
Feelingconfidentshe’dsmoothedthingsoverwellenough,Nellatriedoncemoretoleavethekitchen.Hazelfollowedafterherthistime,keepingpace.
Nellacastheraquick,awkwardsmile.“Hey,howaboutwedolunchsometimethisweek,nowthatyou’realittlebitsettled?”Shelookedaroundtoseeifanyoftheircoworkerswereamblingthroughthehalls,eventhoughmostupper-levelemployeesdidn’tfloatinuntiltenorso.“Icanfillyouinoneverything.Offtherecord,ofcourse.”
“Forsure.Iwouldlovethat.”
“Great.Let’splanfortomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’sperfect.”
They’dfinallyreachedtheirdesks.Nellamovedastackofpapersthathadbeensnowballingoverthelastcoupleofweeksinordertomakeroomforherpracticallyuntouchedcoffeeandtookalookatherdeskphone.Thereweretwomissedcalls:onefromVera,andanotherfromColinFranklin,presumablyconfirminghismeetingwithherandVeranextweek.
Shegroaned.
“What’sup?”Hazelasked.“Shit,didyoumissthatcallyouwerewaitingon?Mybad,girl.”
WhenNellalookedup,Hazelwasbyherside,hermouthformedinaperfectO.
“Um.No.No,Ididn’tmissit.I’m—Ijusthavealotofthingsgoingonrightnow.Authorstuff,youknow.”
“Aww,youpoorthing.Well,hey,justknowthis:I’mhere.TotalkaboutDiana,Zora,Maya,literallyanyLiteraryBlackQueen…Icangoonandon.ButI’malsohereforyou.Tospillthetea,complain,anything.”HazeldabbedNella’sshoulder.“Ididn’thaveanyBlackcoworkersinBoston,andIdidn’tthinkIwouldhaveonehere.So,thisis…prettyawesome.”
AwarmthNellahadn’tfeltforanyothercubeneighborsinceYangfloodedhersenses.Shesmiled,hereyeswellingupwith…werethosetears?Whatthehell?“Ifeelthesameway,Hazel,”shesaid.“Thankyou.”
“Ofcourse!”
Nellaturnedtoreachforherphone,rejuvenatedandraringtogettowork.Butsomethingstoppedher.
ItwasHazel,whomshecouldstillfeellingeringaboveher.
“So,you’regood,then?Everything’sokay?”Hazel’svoicehaddippedacoupleofoctaves,hoveringataregisterusuallyreservedforamothercomfortingherchild.Hereyesseemedvacant,voidofanythingotherthananeedyemptiness.
NellastaredupatHazel,disconcerted.Shewasstillcradlingthephoneinthecrookofherneck,butthedialtonewasdoingthatbeep-beep-beepthingitdidwhenyouleftitoffthehookfortoolong.“Yes.I’mgood.We’lltalkmoreatlunch,”shewhispered,motioningaroundattheirsurroundingswithherchin.“Wanderingears,youknow?”
Hazelnoddedandgrinned,hervacantexpressiondisappearingwiththewinkofaneye.“Oh,Iknow.”
4
August21,2018
LunchwithHazelwasatNico’s,anindependenthole-in-the-wallcaféthatservedAuBonPain–qualityfoodwithasideofPretAMangerambiance.Itwasn’taparticularlynicespot,butNellaoftenchoseitbecauseitwascheap,andthehigher-upswhoactuallydidsetfootinsidealwaystooktheirfoodtogo.Andsincehigher-upscertainlydidn’ttakeagentsorauthorstoNico’s—waitstaffwasanabsolutemustwhilewininganddiningclientele—thecaféaffordedNellawhatshewantedandneededmost:alunchspotofherown,sincehercubeattheofficewaseveryoneelse’sbattlegroundasmuchitwashers.
Hazelfinishedpayingfirstand,toNella’sdelight,choseasunbathedtablenexttoalargewindowthatlookedoutontobusy,bustlingSeventhAvenue.Nellajoinedher,settingdownhersandwichandjuiceasshestuffedherwalletintoherworn-outWagnerBookstote.
“Ithoughtit’dbenicetositinsomesunlight.Thisiscool,right?”
“Definitely.GoodtogetsomevitaminD.”
“Sotrue.”Hazelremovedtheplasticlidfromhersaladandpokedatawalnutwithherfinger.“I’msogladwe’refinallydoingthis.I’vebeenmeaningtoaskifyouwantedtogetacoffee,butshit,man.Thislearningcurveishard.IfeellikeI’vebeendrowningthelastcoupleofweeksandIhaven’tfoundanytime.”
Nellanodded.“Yeah,Irememberhowhardthefirstfewmonthswere.Butyou’vebeendoinggreat!Really,you’dknowifyouweren’t.Imeanit.”
Hazelletthecomplimentrolloffhershouldersandintothesmalltubofsaladdressingthatshewashavingtroublepeelingopen.Shepickedupherforkandstabbedatit.“So,MaisymentionedthatVerahassomeprettybigbooksintheworksrightnow,”shesaid.“Youmustbereallyexcitedaboutthat.”
NellagrimacedasthesoundofColinFranklin’svoicereadingwithadowntroddenBlackwomanaffectechoedinherears.“Yeah,youcouldsaythatVerahassomeprettybig-nameauthors.”
“SamLewis,right?EvelynKay.And…ColinFranklin?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Andwhat’shelike?”askedHazel,hereyeswidening.“Hemustbeinteresting.”
“Interestingis…agoodwaytodescribehim.”
Hazelgrinned,leaningin.“WhydoIgetthefeelingthere’smoreyou’renotsaying?”
“Well…he’snotaneasymantoworkfor.Althoughhehasmellowedoutsome.”
“Yeah,but,like—wheredidhestartoff,right?”
“Right.Exactly.Butthethingis…”NellalookedaroundNico’stoseeifsherecognizedanyonewithinearshot.“ItrynottotalkaboutVera’sauthorswithanybodyelse,really.It’sagoodruleofthumb—someeditorsseeitasairingouttheirdirtylaundry.”
“Igetthat.”
“AndIhatecomplaining…becausereally,itwassohardtogetajobatWagnerinthefirstplace.Ishouldbethankful.”
Hazelputherforkdown.“Sheesh.Whatisit?Youcantellme.Idon’treallyhaveahorseinthisrace.”
Nellaangledherneck,hereyesfullofquestions.
“Notyet,anyway.Hey,I’mnotevensureIwanttobeabookeditor,”Hazeladded.“I’mstillfeelingthiswholethingout.”
“Oh.”Still,Nellawasn’tconvinced.“Youpromiseyou’llkeepthisbetweenus?”
“C’mon.YouandIbothknowwegottasticktogetherhere.Andwhoknows,maybemyoutsideperspective’llhelp.”
Nellacouldn’targuewiththat.Andso,shetoldHazeleverythingaboutShartriciainNeedlesandPins.Herdisgust,herreservations—shedumpedeverythingshe’dbeensiftingthroughinhermindrightthereonthetablebetweenthem.
Bythetimeshefinished,HazelhadeatenherentirelunchwhileNellastillhadawholesandwichinfrontofher.“Sorry,”shesaid,peelingbacktheplasticsoshecouldtakeanotherbite.“It’sjustthateverytimeItalkaboutit,Igetevenmorefrustrated.AndIwonder,amIjustcrazy?AmIoverreacting?”
“Sheeyit.Fromwhatyou’vetoldmeaboutShartricia,itsoundslikeyou’rerighttofeelthewayyoudo.IreadoneofFranklin’snovelsforabookclubinhighschool.IllegallyYours,Ithinkitwas?TheportrayaloftheMexicanwomaninthatissoproblematic.Icanalreadyimagineyourpain.”
Nellamadeaface.“Iknow.ThankfullyIwasn’therewhenhewaswritingthatone.”
“AndwhatkindofnameisShartricia,anyway?Sweetlord.Shaniquawasn’tgoodenoughforthestereotypicalBlackgirlname?Ofallplaces,thatwaswherehereallyfelttheneedtogetcreative?”
“Girl,preach,”Nellasaid,snappingherfingers.Thiswasexactlywhatsheneededtohear.“I’mwithyouonthat.Butthat’swhyitreallysucks—becauseIcan’tcallhimoutonit.”
“Whynot?”
“Becausehe’sjustgoingtothinkI’mcallinghimaracist.Youknowhowwhitepeoplegetwhentheythinkyou’recallingthemracists.”Nellasighed,rememberinghow,shortlyaftertheboutofDiversityTownHalls,she’doverheardacoupleofWagneremployeesinthekitchenchattingabouttheideaofbeingforcedtohirenonwhitepeople.“Let’sjustgoanddoexactlythat,”Kevinindigitalmarketinghadsaidindignantly.“Exactlythat.Andthenlet’swatchwhatRicharddoeswhenwestarthiringunqualifiedpeoplehere,andthingsstartgettingscrewedup.I’msurehe’llchangehissongthen.”
Kevin’sbackhadbeentoNella,ashadbeenthebackoftheotherunidentifiablewhiteguyhe’dbeentalkingto.Buteveniftheyhadseenher,Nellasensedthatneitherwouldhavesaidanythingdifferently.Hercolleagues,strangely,hadmadeitclearveryearlyonthattheydidn’treallyseeherasayoungBlackwoman,butasayoungwomanwhojusthappenedtobeBlack—asthoughhercollegedegreehadwashedallofthemelaninaway.Intheireyes,shewastheexception.Shewas“qualified.”AnObamaofpublishing,sotospeak.
Sometimes,shesawthisasablessing.Theyneverreallybotheredaskingherforsensitivityreads,andtheyrarelyaskedherabout“Blackissues”—eitherbecausetheydidn’twanttooffendherbydoingso,orbecausetheysimplydidn’tcareenoughtoask.Butothertimes,shefounditalmostdemeaning,asthoughacceptingWagner’sjobofferhadalsomeantgivingupherBlackidentity.
“Girl,you’respeakingmytruth,”Hazelsaid,tappingherplatewithherfork.“Evenwhenyoujustsubtlyimplythatawhitepersonisracist—especiallyawhiteman—theythinkit’sthebiggestslapinthefaceever.They’dratherbecalledanythingotherthanaracist.They’rereadytofightyouonit,toothandnail.”
“It’sbasicallytheirversionofthen-word,”Nellaagreed.
“Whichishilarious,becauseBlackpeoplehavebeencalledniggersforyears,andthey’vealwaysjusthadtokeepitmoving.Alwayshadtojuststaywalkingdownthestreetwithoutcomplaining.Forcenturies,”Hazelsaid,hittingthetablewithherfist,“we’vebeencalledniggers,man.Andformaybethirtyyears,we’vebeencallingwhitepeopleracists—Imean,theworddidn’treallymeanshitinourEnglishvocabularyuntilfairlyrecently,andevennowsomepeoplestilldon’tcountitasadisqualifier.Butsuddenly,it’stheendofthefuckingworldforthesepeople.”
Nellasatstock-still,takenaback.EverythingHazelsaidrangtruewithwhatsheandMalaikabemoanedafterhearingthelatestnewsflashthatyetanotherpoliticianhadbeencaughtdoingorsayingsomethingracist,butNellahadn’texpectedHazeltogetthispassionate.She’ddonesowellkeepingupwithMaisyandVera’sBostonchatterthattimetheyfirstmet,seemedsogoodatkeepinghercool.
Thewell-dressedKoreancouplesittingatthetablebesidetheirshadn’tseentheoutburstcoming,either.Nellanoticedthey’dstoppedspeakingtooneanotherandwerecuriouslylookingoveratthembetweenbitesoffood.
Hazelseemedtoregisterthechangeatthenearbytable,too.Sheunclenchedherfingersandbreathedoutasmallsorry
“No.It’sfine.Actually,it’sreallyrefreshing,”saidNella.“So…thankyou.”
“Myparentsareprettybigintheircommunityforsocialactivism,”Hazeladdedquietly,“andmygrandparentswere,too.Mygrandfatheractuallydiedinaprotest.It’sinmyblood,Iguess.”
Nellagasped.“Oh,wow!Hazel,I’msosorry.When?”
“1961.Hewasprotestingoneofthenewbusingbills.‘Excessivepoliceforce.’?”Hazelusedairquotesfortheselastfewwords.
Nella’shandsfoundhercheeks.AnamalgamationofCivilRightsMovementfootageflashedthroughherbraininblack-and-white,completewithanangryrushofpolicebatonsandasoundtrackofsomberNegrospirituals.“Wow,”sherepeated,atalossforabetterword,eventhoughthereweremany.Shesettledonanadded“I’msorry.”
Hazelshrugged.“Thanks.ButI’mhere,ain’tI?Idon’tthinkhe’dbetoosorryaboutthat.”
Nellanoddedandchewedherfood.ThetwowomensatinthoughtfulsilencelongenoughfortheKoreancoupletogetupandbereplacedbyaslightlyolder,vaguelyEuropean-lookingpair.Meanwhile,theghostofHazel’sgrandfatherhungovertheirtable,daringNellatosaysomethingthatcarriedasmuchreverenceasthewordshisgranddaughterhadjustsaid.
Finally,sheswallowedherlastbitofsandwichandsaid,“MaybeIshouldsaysomethingaboutthisbooktoColinandVera.Hardersacrificeshavebeenmade,right?”
Hazellookedupather.Shenoddedonce,solemnly.
“Thequestionis,how,withoutjeopardizingmyrelationshipwithVera?Idon’tthinkeitherofthemwouldreallygetit.ABlackgirltellingoneofWagner’sbestsellingauthorsthathisBlackcharacteriswrittenatinybitracist?C’mon,now.Icouldgetfired.”
“Youthink?”Hazelasked,consideringit.“Well,maybe.ButVeraseemswaysmarterthanthat.”
“She’ssmart,butI’mnotsureVeraisthat…‘enlightened.’?”
“Really?”
“Shecamefrommoney,”Nellasaid.
“Sodidyou,right?”
Nellacockedherhead,wonderinghowHazelhadguessedthat.SheoftenpridedherselfonhowdifferentshewasfromherIvyLeague,upper-middle-classcolleagues—notjustinherappearance,butinthewaysshemovedabouttheworld.Still,Nellaknewshehaditprettygood,too.Herparentshadn’tbeenwealthy,butasachild,shehadn’twantedforanything.They’dlivedinanicehouse;they’dtakensemiannualvacations.She’dattendednicepublicschools,andithadalwaysbeenagiventhatshewouldattendcollege.Ithadalsobeenagiventhat,ifNellaeverreallyneededfinancialhelp,herparentswouldprovideit.
“Myparentswereprettywell-offwhentheyhadme,Iguess.Ifbeingmiddleclasscountsaswell-off.Butit’snotthesamethingascomingfromrealmoney.Generationalmoney.Atleast,Idon’tthinkso.”
“Sorry,Ididn’tmeantooffendyou…”Hazelheldupahand.“IjustfiguredsinceyouworkatWagnerandthepayisprettyshitty,youmusthavealittlebitofacushionholdingyouupsome.That’sall.”
“Notreally.IhavecollegedebtthatIhavetopaybackonmyown,”Nellasaid,unabletomaskthedefensivenessthatwascreepingintohervoiceandcausinghertocrossandrecrossherlegsunderthetable.“Andmyparentsdon’tgivememoneyforrent.Notunlessit’sanemergencyorsomething.”
“Right.I’msorry,”Hazelrepeated.“Anyway,allofthatisbesidethepoint.WhatIwasgettingatis,doyouthinkthatjustbecauseVerahasmoneyshe’sautomaticallyincapableofhavinganykindofempathyforBlackpeople?”
Nellastaredatthegirl,wonderingwhereherlunchcompanion’sBlackPantherspirithadgone.She’dmovedfromchannelingherinnerBarakatoherinnerBarack—fromconfrontationaltocompassionate—inlessthansixtyseconds.Thechangewasbefuddling,andsuddenlyNellawasn’tcertainwhichHazelshewastalkingto.“MaybeVera’snotincapable,”sheadmitted,“butIdoimaginetheprivilegeofmoneyplustheprivilegeofwhiteskinmakesitfarlesslikely.”
Hazelshrugged.“Idon’tknow.IknowI’mnew,butofallofthem,Verajustseemsso…Idon’tknow.Approachable?Atleast,sheseemswaymoredownthanMaisy.”
“Eh.Maybe.Stillfeelsliketherearesomeprettyobviousboundarieskeepingusfromhavingastraight-upconversationmostofthetime.”
“Thefactthatshe’syourboss…yeah.That’sagiven.I’djustthoughtmaybeVerawasoneofthegoodones.Idon’tknow,maybethat’scrazytosay.”
Oneofthegoodones.OneofthemostdangerousphrasestoeverexistintheEnglishlanguage,Nella’smotheralwayslikedtosay,andNellahadgrowntoagreewithher.Shecouldaccepttheideaofallies—peoplewho“gotit.”She’ddecidedOwenwasoneofthesepeopleacoupleofweeksafterthey’dmetonlineandstarteddating.Nothinginparticularhadmovedherinthisdirection.Itwasn’treallybecausehe“didn’tseerace”orthatheknewallthelyricstoAlGreen’s“LoveandHappiness,”because,respectively,hedidandhedidn’t(althoughhedidaprettygreatimitationofAlGreen’sad-libs).Butsherefusedtocallevenherboyfriend“oneofthegoodones,”becausesuchconsistency,suchinnocence,wasquitenearlyimpossiblefromonehuman.
Nellahadexpectedhernewcubeneighbor,whohailedfromoneofthecountry’sgreatestandrichestBlackmeccas,tofeelthesameway.Hadn’tHazelspentherlastfewyearsworkingwithwhitepeopleinBoston?
Butthen,sheconsideredhowwarmofawelcomeVerahadgivenHazelonherfirstday.AndhowkindVeracouldbeone-on-one—whenshewaswillingtoletherguarddown;whenshewaswillingtoletherselfwiltjustatinybit.Therewasachance,Nellarealized,thatshewasbeingabittoohardonherboss.Perhaps,forHazel’ssake,sheshouldeaseupalittle.
“You’reright,though,”sheconceded.“Vera’snoMaisy.”
ThetwoBlackgirlssatinsilenceagain,staringoutsidethewindowatthepassersbymillingaroundMidtown.Itwasaparticularlywarmday,anditwasclearthatmanytouristswhowereoutandaboutdidn’tknowwhattodowiththeninety-fivedegreesthey’dbeengiven.Nellaherselfregrettednotlookingattheforecastbeforeputtingonahigh-collaredblousethatmorning,notingthelittlebitofmoisturethatstillremainedbetweenherarmpitsfromtheirthree-blockwalkfortyminutesearlier.
Hazel,ontheotherhand,hadlookedcompletelyateaseinthesunshine.She’ddressedsmartlyinablush-pinkhaltertop,whichshe’drevealedonlyafterthey’dtakentheirfirststepsawayfromtheofficeandshefeltcomfortableremovinghermodestbutton-upsweater.
Nellafannedherselfafewtimesinanticipationofgoingbackoutintheheat.
“Weshouldprobablyheadback,”shesaidatlast,crumplinguphergarbagewithonehand.
“Probablyagoodidea.GivenallthethingsI’vealreadyscrewedupsofarforMaisy,I’mnotsureI’veearnedtherighttohavefullhour-longlunchesyet,”Hazeljoked.“Hey,onelastthing,though.”
“What?”Nellawasalreadypoisedtowalkovertothetrashcan,herbagloopedoverhershoulder.
“Mytwocents,forwhatit’sworth:WhetherVera’sdownornot,Ithinkyoushouldsaysomethingtoher.She’llthankyouforit.Andisn’titbettertogiveherachancetofixitnow,ratherthanbethatonepersonofcolorwhojustletitsliprightby,underhernose?RememberhowmuchflakthatKendallJennerPepsicommercialgotbecausenoonespokeup?”
Nelladid,ofcourse.SheandMalaikahadtext-dissectedittodeathimmediatelyafterthey’deachseenit,wonderingabouttheBlackpeoplewho’dplayedapartinmakingthecommercialhappen.Itwashighlylikelythatthereweren’tanyBlackdecision-makersatPepsi,whichexplaineditsinception.ButwhatabouttheBlackpeoplewhohadn’tbeeninthedrawingroom,buthadbeenapartofgettingthecommercialmade?ThatchanceBlackpersonwho’dmaybehelpedfindtheshootingsite,orheldacamera,orstyledsomehair?SurelysomeBlackpeoplehadtohavebeennearby;somemighthaveevenwatchedtheadbloomfromagermofanideaintoafull-fledgedcampaign.Hadsomethingfeltabitwrong,abitofftothehypotheticalBlackcameraguyashewatchedKendallJennerripoffherwigthroughthelens?Orhadhebeenpummeledsofrequentlybytheindustrythathehadn’tseenanythingwrongwithit?
NellaandMalaikacouldn’tdecidewhichwasworse:knowingandnotactingonit,ornotknowingatall.ButMalaika’sownpositionwasthatshewouldhavekeptquiet.Ifthepaywasgoodenough—anditwas—shedidn’tseethepointinblowingupherownspot.Itwasthetwenty-firstcentury,afterall.Ifwhitepeoplecouldn’tnavigatepoliticallycorrectwatersontheirown,thatwastheirownproblem.
Nellahadsentarowofside-eyeemojistoMalaikainresponsetothis,andnothingmore.Shehadn’tyetfoundherselfinsuchasituationatWagner,oneinwhichshehadtochoosebetweengoingalongwiththemachineorstickingafootinitsgears.
Notuntilnow.
HazelwascarefullystudyingNella,clearlytryingtodecipherwhethershewouldvoicetheapprehensionthatwaswrittenalloverherface.Whenshedidn’t,Hazelslowlyeasedupoutofherseat.Butbeforeshewenttodisposeofhertrash,sheleanedforwardandplacedafistonthetablebetweenthem.Shedidn’tbangonitasshehadbefore,buttheagitafromearlierhadreturnedtohertimbre.“Iknowit’sscary.Butrememberyourthesis?Justthinkaboutit.YouknowaswellasIdohowharditisforaBlackfemalewritertofindaBlackfemaleeditorinthisindustry.Andhowspecialitiswhenithappens.Howelsearewegoingtomakethathappenagain?WehavetomakeiteasierforBlackpeoplewhodecidetheywanttoworkinpublishingafterus,right?
“Right?”sherepeatedwhenNelladidn’tpartherlipssoonenough.
Nellanoddedfervently.“Yes!Yes.Right.”
“Weneedtobreakdownsomeofthesebarriersforthem,”Hazeldeclared.
Nellastood.Shefeltenergized;shefeltliberated.Shefeltreadytogotoarally—or,ready,atleast,togrowsomeBlack-bone.“You’resoright,Hazel!”
“Damnstraight!That’swhatIliketohear,sis.”HazelgaveNellaahugnolongerthanthelengthofadapbeforegrabbingherthings.“Hey,thiswassofun!Canwedothisagainsoon?”
Nellanodded,preparedtojokethatiftheygotlunchtoomanytimes,theirwhitecoworkersmightstarttoworry.ButHazelwasalreadyseveralfeetaheadofher,toofarawaytohearherjoke,sosheswalloweditwhole.
5
August28,2018
Nellaheldthecupuptothelightforthethirdtimeandturneditaround.Itdidn’tfeelquiteright,soshesetitdownandaddedapinchmoreSugarintheRawbeforeshakingintwoandahalfdropsofalmondmilk.
ShewascontemplatingwhetherthathalfdropwassuitablewhenShannonfrompublicityenteredthekitchen,anemptyPyrexcontainerinhand.SheeyedNellawiththesamewarinessNellawasusingonthecup.
“You’reworkingentirelytoohardforthistimeofthesummer,”Shannonobservedonherwaytothesink.“Youdon’thaveanauthorcominginnow,doyou?”
“Ido.”
“Rude.It’sthelastweekofAugust!Doesn’tVeranormallygotohervacationhomein—whereisit?”
“Nantucket,”Nellasaid,unflappablyfocused.“Butshedrovebacktothecitylastnight.Cuthertripshort.”
Shannonletoutalowwhistle.“Veradidthat?Wait,”shesaidsuddenly,seemingtofinallynoticethatNellahadn’toncelookedupfromhertask.“Arethoseicecubesinthere?”
“Theyareindeed.”
“Whichmeansthatdrinkisfor…?”
“Yep.It’sforColinFranklin.”
ThesoundofglassstrikingmetalfinallybrokeNella’sintenseconcentration.ShannonhadblanchedandshewaspeeringinthedirectionoftheelevatorbankasthoughColinhimselfmightsuddenlyappear.“Oh.Shoot.TodayisTuesday,”shewhispered,turningonherheelandwalkingintheotherdirection.“Icompletelyforgothewascomingin.Seriously,whocomesinthelastweekofAugust?!Ifheasks—”
“You’reinmeetingsallday.”
“You’rethebest.”
“You’rewelcome,”saidNella,enviousshecouldn’tprofferthesameexcuse.Withasigh,sheopenedtheZiplocbagColinhadaskedhertoholdontoatthebeginningoftheyearandpoureditsmysteriouscontentsontopofthecoffee.Sheneededtokeepherspiritsup,butitwashardasshewatchedtheblackpowderdissolveintotheliquid,turningeverythinganunseemlyshadeofgray.Colinwasdueanymomentnow,andshecouldalreadyfeelShartricia’spresencelurkingnearby,watching,waitingtoseeifNellawasgoingtosaveher.
ColinandVeraweregigglingatsomethingonVera’sphonewhenNellaenteredVera’sofficefiveminuteslater.ShesetthecoffeedowninfrontofColin,hand-crushedicecubesandall.
“Andshejustdragsthepaintbrushalloverthecarpet,”Verasaid,dabbingatatearinherheavilymascaraedeye.“It’sjustthecutestthing!”
“Whatapreciouspooch!”Colinputhishandstogetheronce,thenkeptthemthere.Fortoday’smeeting,hehadwornhismulti-fabricpageboycap,theonemadeupofspiralsofdenim,leather,satin,khaki,andlacefabric.Itwasthecaphealwaysworewhenhewantedtogetthewritinggears“a-turning,”whichwasapieceofinformationhe’dsharedwithNellathefirstdaythey’dmet;he’dalsoshareditwithhiscoupleofmilliononlinefollowers.Once,forkicks,shehadlookedituptobuyforOwenasagaggift.Shequicklychangedhermindwhenshediscovereditwouldcosthersevenhundreddollars.Nolaughwasworththatmuch—notonaneditorialassistant’ssalary.
Nellahadn’tseenColinwearthecapsinceshe’dmadethisdiscovery;now,shepeeredatthedesigneraccessorysuspiciously,asthoughitmightgetupoffhisbaldheadandslapherintheface.Butevenifithad,itwouldn’thavemadeadifference,becauseneitherhenorVeraseemedtoseehersitdownintheonlyemptychairleftintheroom,handsfoldedinherlap.
AfterafewmomentsNellacoughedandsaid,brightly,“Fun!What’sourboyBrenneruptonow?”
“Oh,Nella!Thankyouforthis.”Colinpickeduphiscoffeeandtookanindulgentsip.Hemunchedononeortwoofthebite-sizedicecubesbeforewinkingather.“Perfect,asusual.”
“IwasjustshowinghimBrenner’slatestvideo.They’refinallypaintingtheadditiontoourkitcheninNantucket—finally!—andBrennerofcoursesawthisasanopportunitytobeviral.”NellatriednottoflinchathowclunkythoselasttwowordssoundedasVeraexitedoutofInstagramandplacedherphoneaside.“Now.TimetotalkaboutNeedlesandPins.”
“Yes!Atlast!”Colinstoodupandwhippedoutasmall,greenspiralnotepad.“Ireallycan’twaittohearwhatyoutwothink.I’vekeptmywifeupthepastfewnightstalkingoutallthethingsthatmightbewrongwithit.”
“Aw,Colin…well,weloveit!”Veragushed,bringingafistdownontothepages.“It’stopical,it’sdirect.It’stheperfectthingtogetpeopletalkingaboutthenastyopioidepidemicthat’ssweepingacrossourcountry.”
Nellabobbedherheadupanddowninagreement,mouthsealedshut.OneofthethingsthatNellalovedaboutworkingforVerawasthateventhoughshedidn’tnecessarilytakeallofheropinions,shedidgiveNellaasmanyopportunitiesasshecouldbybringinghertoeverymeetingandtellingherwhenanagentwasandwasnotbeinganasshole.ShetreatedNellalikeshewascompetent,whichwasmorethanwhatmanyotherassistantscouldsayoftheirbosses.
ButwhatNellaappreciatedmostofall—whatshemostrespectedandinternalized—washerboss’sknackforspeakingtoauthorsabouttheirwriting.Verahadawaywithphrasing;shecouldstillmakeyouthinkthesecondhalfofyourbookdeservedaPulitzerevenaftershetoldyouthatthefirsthalfneededtobecompletelyrewritten.
“Andthecastofcharactersisjustsogreat,”Veracontinued.“Youreallyimplementedmysuggestionsonyourfirstdraftaboutbringingoutthediversityofthiscommunity,andIthinkthatwillhaveyourbookspeakingtoalotofpeople.”
Nellastiffened,butkeptherpentopaper.
“Perfect!That’sexactlywhatIwasgoingfor.”ColinjotteddownafewnotesthatNellacouldn’tmakeout.ButgivenColin’seager-to-pleasecomplex,shewaswillingtoguessitsaidsomethingalongthelinesofTheylikeit!Thankfuckinggod.
VeraandColintradedcomplimentsforanothercoupleofminutes.Whenthatportionofthemeetingwasfinished,andtheactualcriticismpartofthemeetingwassupposedtobegin,ColinunexpectedlyturnedtoNella,readjustedhiscap,andsaid,“Now,I’dreallylovetohearwhatyouthink.Veramentionedtherewereoneortwothingsyoufeltneedfixing.”
Nellafroze.Critiquingthebookafterherbosshadlavishedhimwithpraisewasn’tapartofthescript.ShelookedoveratVera,butherbosswasstone-faced,notaneyespasminsight.
ShefacedColinonceagain.“Well,Ithinkit’sagreatread.LikeVerasaid,it’ssoimportant.”
“Thanks!”
“Andthere’sjustsuchawonderfuldrivingforcepushingthisstory,”Nellacontinued.“Theconsciousnessofthevoiceofthistownisjustso…sopowerful.Anditgetslouderandlouderuntil…suddenlythetownisjustscreaming,youknow?Andbytheendofthebookyou’rejust,like,Wow,howistherestoftheworldnotseeingthis?Howisthistownhangingbyathreadandyetmeanwhile,hundredsofmilesaway,peoplearesittingallcomfy-cozyintheirownhomes,worryingaboutcoffeeandparkingspacesandplaygroundbullies?Likewearerightnow.Imean,notthebullies.Although,maybeweareworriedabouttheofficebulliesaroundhere.”
Verachuckled.
Nellaputafisttoherchest.“Andthatchapterthattakesplaceatthedinnertable?Just…wow.”
“Thanks,”Colinsaid,smiling.“Thatbitwassofuntowrite.ThekidwhogrewupnextdoortomeinConnecticuthadafamilylikethat.Hisolderbrother,mother,andfatherweredrunkoutoftheirskullsallthetime.It’snotopioids,butstill.AndIsweartogod,they’djustthrowfoodateachotherwhenevertheygottiredofhearingsomeoneelsespeak.Hotfood.Toomuchpolitics?Womp,spaghettiandmeatballs.Sickoftalkingaboutmoney?Boom,sausageinyoureye.”
“That’swild!”Vera’seyesdancedassheputherhandsupinherhairtoscrunchherbob.“Why’dyoukeepgoingoverthere?”
“BecausetheyhadMTV!”
Theroomdissolvedintoafitofcheerfullaughter,eventhoughthecauseofithadbeenahighlydysfunctionalfamilywhosefatedidnotseemparticularlypromising.“We’llhavetotellthepublicityteamthatstory,”Verasaid,lookingoveratNellapointedly.Nellanoddedonce,thenjotteddownflyingspaghetti.“Maybethatcanbepartofanintervieworsomething.Like,thebackstoryofwherethisallcamefrom.”
“Certainly.Icouldcertainlyworkonthat.”Colingazedoutthewindowforamoment,alreadyimagininghimselfbeneathaseaoflightsatMcNallyJackson,retellingthisstory.“But,c’mon,seriously—Icantakesomecriticism,Nella.I’vebeenaroundtheblockenoughtoknowthateventhebestwriterscankeeprefining,keeppushing.”
“Always!Here,Nella—I’mhandingthemetaphoricalmicrophoneovertoyounow,”Verasaid,pretendingtozipherlipsshut.
Nellawouldratherknockherselfunconsciouswithanactualmicrophonethanproceed.
“Wow,thankyou,Vera!ButI’dbehappytoletyoutakethelead—andthenI’llchimein?”ShehadhopedthattangentaboutColin’sinspirationhadletheroffthehook,justasshe’dbeenletoffthehooklastweek,whenMaisyhadbroughtHazelintoVera’sofficeandfoiledTheShartriciaConversation.ShekickedherselffornotbringingupherconcernswithVerabeforethismoment.There’dbeentimeswhenshe’dseenanopening,butastrayphonecallorsomethingelse“urgent”hadswattedtheballoutofherhandbeforeshecouldproperlypositionherselftojustdoit.ShehadeventriedaHailMaryjusttheeveningbefore,whenVerawaspackingupherthings,butthenherownphonehadstartedtoring.
ItwasasthoughthegodsweretryingtotellNellasomething.Andnow,dayslater—whenshefoundherselfbeingstareddownbytwoveryinfluentialwhitepeople—sheconvincedherselfthissomethingwas,It’stime,QueenTellitnow
Colingnawedonhisiceexpectantly,thecrunchingnoisestillaudiblethroughhisclosedlips.Abovehishead,shesawaheadlineforanimaginaryBuzzfeedarticle:“COLINFRANKLIN’SWELFAREQUEEN:WHEREWASTHESENSITIVITYREAD?”
“Alright,”Nellasaid,hervoicedeepening,“therewasthis…onething…thatIdothinkcouldusesomework.”
“Hitmewithit!”hesaidspiritedly,althoughhishunchedbackandhisfingers,whitefrombeingclampedtootightlyattheknuckles,impliedthathewasthoroughlypreparedtobehitbyasharp,bluntobjectratherthanherhonestthoughts.
“ShartriciaDaniels.”
Colinnodded,pickeduphispenagain.“Okay!Great!Let’stalkabouther.”
“Greatidea,”Verachimedin,althoughshedidn’tquitelookreadytohearwhatNellahadtosay.“Youwerementioningtometheotherdaythatsomethingaboutherdidn’tquiteworkforyou?”
“Yes,”Nellasaid.Ittookeverythingshecouldfinddeepwithinnottolosesteam,eventhoughsheknewthatatthispoint,itwasallornothing.“I’mnotsurewereallyfinishedthatconversation.Butyeah.”
Don’tlookinyourlap,saidherinnerAngelaDavis,andthenanotherDavisspokeup.Viola.Youiskind.Youissmart.Youisimportant.
NellametColin’seye.“So…Idothinkit’ssuperimportantthatshe’sinthis.Becauseit’sgoodtoshowhowpeopleofcolorhavebeenravagedbytheepidemic.”
“That’swhatmythinkingwaswhenIsuggestedheaddsomemorediversityinhisseconddraft,”Verajumpedin.“Especiallybecausethemediaoverlookstheirplightsooften.Andthemediaignoredtheirplightinthepast,especiallywithcrackinthe1990s,eventhoughallkindsofdiversepeopleareaffectedbydrugs.”ShelookedpointedlyatNella.“Right?That’swhatyoumean?”
“Yes.Exactlythat.So…itisgreatthatthereisrepresentationhereofaBlackpersongoingthroughthis.”
“It’ssogreat,Colin,”Veraadded.
Nellaregardedherbossmoresharply.Vera’sfacelookedlikeithadbeenpinchedatitsedges—particularlyathertemples,whereherskinwasslightlypurple
Colin’seyeswentovertoVera,too,althoughtheycutbacktoNellainaflash.“Iagree.IreallywantedaShartriciakindofcharactertobeinthis.Oncewegottotalkingaboutdiversifyingthisbookanditscastofcharacters,itseemedvitalthatIgobeyondmycomfortzoneabit.”
“Toshowalldiversesidesoftheexperience,”Veraclarified.
“Right!”Nellasaid,tryingtoignorehowmanytimesthed-wordhadbeendroppedinthelastfewmoments.“But,Shartricia…Ihavetosay…shefeelsabitofftome.Shedidn’tquitestrikemeasparticularly…authentic.”
“Oh.Oh.CouldyougiveColinsomespecifics?”Veracommanded.
“Yes,”Colinsaid,asthoughshe’djusttoldhimshe’daccidentallythrownhispageboycapontothetraintracks.“Please,dosaymore.”
“Well…tobehonest,itseemedlikeshewasbasedoffanideaofwhataBlackpersonsufferingduetoanopioidepidemicinOhiowouldbelike.Shefeltlikeacollectionoftropes…alloftheunflatteringones…andbythetimewegettotheendofthenovel,sheneverbecomesaredeemablecharacteratall.She’sstillstuck.”
VeraputdownherpenandcrossedherarmsasiftosayYou’reonyourownonthisone.
Colin’spenwasdown,too,andhewasfrowningandnolongerchewinghisice.Hetookhiscapoff,thenputitinhislapandcrossedhislegs.Itwasanactthatsenthispenfallingtotherug,preciselyhalfwaybetweenhischairandNella’schair.Hedidn’tmovetograbit.
Nellareachedupandgaveanervoustugononeofhercurlsasshereachedforbuzzwordsthatwerelesscriticalandmoremeaningful.“Ididn’tquiteconnectwithher.Shefeltabitflat,Ithink.One-dimensional.Likeonegeneralizedexperience—aparticularswathofexperience—thatdidn’tfeelentirelygenuinetome.Shereadmorelikeacaricaturethananactuallivingandbreathingcharacter,andIthinkalotofBlackreaderswillfindherunsatisfying.
“And,Imean,thechartreusethingfelttoomuchlikeajoke.Itfeltlikehermotherwasbeingmockedfornotknowinghowtospell,andIknowthat’snot—”
“Ireallydon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”Colininterjected.HelookedworriedlyatVera,gesturingforhismanuscript.“Isthatinthere?DidIputthatinthere?”
Verashookherhead,handingthepagestoNellainstead.“I’mnotsurewhatshe’stalkingabout,either.Nella,couldyoupleasepointoutaspecificscenewhereyouthinkColinismockingShartricia?”
Afewsecondsago,sayingtheword“unsatisfying”toColinhadfeltreally,reallysatisfying.Now,Nellawasn’tsosure.“Um…Ican’trememberexactlywhatpagethenamethingappearson.I’mnotevensurethere’ssomethingspecificallysaidtopointout.It’sjustafeeling.”
“Afeeling.”
“Yes.And‘LaDarnell’?‘DeMontraine’?Thatjustreadlikecaricaturetome,too.Anddidshereallyneedtohavesevenchildren?”Nellaadded,realizinghowunhingedshewasstartingtosound.Butshecouldn’tstop.RipofftheBand-Aid!Angelacommandedangrily.Shewasonarollanddidn’tfeellikegettingoffituntilshe’dsaideverythingsheneededtosay.
“Imean,isn’tthatexactlywhatwe’dexpectfromaBlackwomanwho’saddictedtoheroin?Youcouldn’tbealittlemorecreativewithyouroneBlackprotagonist?”
Colinwasstillpagingthroughhisbook,ahalf-crazed,feverishblazeinhiseye.
“Um,Nella,”Verasaid,cockingherheaddiplomatically,“justtoplaydevil’sadvocate—couldn’tonesaythat’sjustatadbitracistofyoutosay?”
“Idokindoffeellikeshe’scallingmearacist,”Colinagreed.“OrperhapsshejustfeelslikeI’mracist.”Hewiggledhisfingersaroundintheair,insinuatingthatthefeelingofracisttendencieswasakintovoodoo.HiseyesneverleftVeratheentiretime,asthoughitwerejustthetwoofthemintheroomnow.
AndthatwasexactlyhowNellafelt—likeshe’dslippedandsomehowgottenlostbeneaththehideouswall-to-wallcarpeting.Thiswasn’twhatshe’dwanted.Shehadn’texpectedColintomassagehercallousedfeetandapologizeforallthesinsofhisancestors,butshehadthoughthe’dbesomewhatgratefultohavehertakeonhisBlackcharacter.HowmanyotherwriterspublishedbyWagnerhadthebenefitofasensitivityreadtheydidn’thavetoseekoutontheirown?
“Colin,I’msorry,”saidNella.“That’snotwhatImeantto—”
“IchoseoneparticulardepictionofaBlackwomanhavingahardtime.Thatwasherhardtime.Notanactualperson’shardtime,”Colinsaid,eachnewwordlouderthantheonebeforeuntilNellawassure,withoutadoubt,thatpeopleoutsideVera’sofficecouldhearthechaos.ShewonderedifHazelwaslisteningtoeverythingfromherdesk,unsurewhetheritwouldbebetterorworseifshewas.“I’mthewriter.Jesus.I’mnotaracist.DoIneedtomakeherhaircurlier,too?Ormakeherskinalittlebitdarker?ShouldImakeherspeaklike…likeSidneyPoitier,insteadofaBlackgirlwhogrewupinruralOhiowithoutafather?Whosebookisthis,anyway?”
Verafinallyfoundhervoice.“Now,Colin,Iwouldn’t—”
“No,Vera.No.Justamoment.”Hepressedhismulti-fabriccapwithhisfingersandclosedhiseyes,takingthreeorfourdeepyogabreaths.Afterthefourth,hestoodupandploppedhispagesonVera’sdesk.
Then,toNellaandVera’shorror,hewalkedout.
Nellaswallowed,unabletotearhergazeawayfromthewide-opendoor.Areprimandwascoming;shewassureofit.
Shewaited.Andwaited.Whennothingcame,sheretrievedtheballpointpenColinhaddroppedonthefloorearlierandplaceditonVera’sdesk.
Veraremainedsilent.ShewasstillstaringdownatColin’spages.
Andsuddenly,it’stheendofthefuckingworldforthesepeople
“Vera,”Nellastartedafterafewmoresecondsofgut-checkingsilence.“Ididn’tmeanto—”
“Notnow,Nella,”Verahissed.Shewouldn’tlookupather.“Please.Notnow.”
PartII
KendraRae
September1983
Antonio’s
FinancialDistrict,Manhattan
“?‘Indiandescent’ornot,”Isaidwithayawn,“Mypointis,ifyousawBenKingsleywalkingdownthestreet,youwouldn’tthink,‘TheregoesanIndianman.’Youwouldthink,‘Theregoesawhiteman.’?”
“But,whatwasKingsleysupposedtosay?‘Nothanks,SirRichardAttenborough,butIdon’thavebrownenoughskintoplayoneofthegreatestleadersofthefreeworld?’Kingsleywasnothingbefore,Ipromiseyou,andtakingthatrolewasthesmartestchoicehecould’veevermade.”
RatherthaneyetheglobofmeltedcheesethathadbeenstuckinWard’sbushymustacheforthemajorityofourdebate,Iglanceddownatmydepleteddrink,disappointedthatIhadn’torderedadoublebuthappyaboutmyextraolive.Ipluckedthewetfruitupwithmyfingersandshoveditintomymouth,pretendingtoworkthroughathoughtasIchewed.
OnlywhenWardseemedconvincedhehadwondidIsay,foodstillinmymouth,“Sure.ButwhatifBillyDeeWilliams—”
“Who?”Wardinterrupted.
“StarWars.Lando.”
Theconfusionlefthisface.I’dbeenrightinthinkinghe’dseenit—maybemorethanonce.“Ah.Goon.”
“Let’ssayBillyDeeWilliamsisgoingtobeMozartinthatnewfilmthat’scomingoutnextyear.Wouldyoubeokaywiththat?Wouldthatsitwellwithyou?”
ThespeedwithwhichWard’sfacetwistedbackuponitselfwassosatisfyingthatIpausedbeforegrabbingthelastgloriousolivetotakeitin.I’dseenthatfaceatHarvardmanytimesbefore,fromprofessorstothesisgroupcolleaguestomythesisadviserhimself.Butthatdidn’tlessentheeffectofsuchincredulityuponmyego.
Itfueledme.
“Well?”Iasked.
“Now,that’sdifferent.BillyDeeWilliamsisn’t…well,it’sjustnot…thatwouldbeutterly—”
“Ridiculous,”Ifinishedforhim.“Yes.Yes,Ithoughtso,too.”
Wardloosenedhistie,anangryredblushbloomingfromhiscollarashetriedtodecidewhetherIwasbeingsarcasticornot.“Now.Ifyou’llexcuseme,I’mgoingtogocheckonmywife.”
Iglancedoverhisshoulder.Hiswife,Paula,handsdownthemostattractiveeditoratWagner,wascurrentlysurroundedbyfourdifferentmen,twoofwhomI’dneverseenbefore.Theothertwo—editorswho’dbarelyspokentomesinceI’dstartedatWagner—flankedher,touchingherbackfarmorethananyoneshouldduringapoliteconversation.“Yes.Suredoeslooklikesheneedsyourhelp.”
Mysarcasmwasloudandclearthistime.Wardhurriedoff,arecklesssenseofurgencyinfectinghisstride.Iwasturning,too,readyformoreolivesandmorealcohol,whenawarmhandburnedthroughthesilkofmycapsleeve.
“Hmm.Letmeguess—youscaredanotherspouseaway.”
Ididn’thavetolookbacktoknowitwasDianawhohadstoppedme,butIdid,anyway.Shehadalopsidedgrinonherfaceandahandonherhip.
“Guiltyascharged,”Imurmured.“Andyeah,Iknow,Iknow,Beonyourbestbehavior,It’sonlyafewhours,butdammit,Di,they’realljustso…draining.Andsodamneasytoscare.Everysingleoneofthem.”IgesturedatthefiftyorsopeoplewhoweremillingaroundthedimlightingofAntonio’sundertheguiseofcelebratingmyandDiana’saccomplishment:ourfirstweekwithanumberoneNewYorkTimesbestseller.
DianatousledthewavybangsofwhatIcalled,onlyinprivatesoasnottoembarrassher,her“DonnaSummerwig.”Scanningtheroom,too,shesaid,“Youmayberightaboutthat,girl.Butcanwejusttakeinthisviewforaminute?Imean,damn!Ifhavingallthesewhitepeoplehereinthisroomdoesn’tmeanwe’vemadeit,Idon’tknowwhatdoes.”
IletDianalinkherarminmineandtriedtoseewhatshewasseeing:theexpensivecenterpiecesoverflowingwithwhiteroses;theplatesofexpensive,plumpscallopsbeingdistributedbywaiterswhoresembledshavingcreammodels.Asmoothjazzquartetinonecornerthathadstartedplaying“I’mEveryWoman”themomentwe’dfirstwalkedin.Anenormousfishtankfilledwithsapphire-coloredwaterandjewel-coloredcreaturesafewfeetaway.
Ididn’treallycareaboutthefishtank;Icouldtakeorleavethefancyseafood.IfI’dhadmyway—andIneverwould—Iwould’vepickedadifferentvenueforthis.Adifferentneighborhood,really.AnywherebuttheFinancialDistrict,afrigid,bloodlessneighborhoodthatheldoneofthecountry’sbiggestslavemarkets,onceuponatime.
WhetherIthoughtthepartydécorwastackyornot,though,Dianawasright.Wewerethewomenoftheevening—thewomenoftheyear,peoplewerestartingtosay,eventhoughBurningHearthadbarelybeenoutforaweek.We,twoBlackunknowns,hadmanagedtoturnwhatmanypredictedwouldbeaminorblipintoabookthathadtheentirecountrybuzzing.Thebuzzhadgottensoloudthatwewerebookedsolidwithinterviewsforthenextthreemonths.Abigweeklymagazinehadevenmentionedtheywere“stronglyconsidering”puttingthetwoofusontheircover.
Wehadabestselleronourhands,andnobody—notevensomerandomhusbandwhosawnoproblemswithBenKingsleywinninganOscarforplayinganIndianman—couldtakethatawayfromme.
Still.
“Yes,everythinghereisincredible.But…I…”Ishrugged,tryingtofindawaytopushthewordsout.“Istillhaven’tforgottenhowsomanyofthesewhitefolksdoubtedmeaboutBurningHeart.”
IturnedtoDiana.Themovementbrokeourarm-chainlink,butwhatIwasabouttosayneededtobesaid.“WhyelsedoyouthinkRichardletmeedityourbookinsteadofhim?Andgaveussolittlemoneytoworkwith?Andthatmeaslytwo-weekauthortourpublicitygaveus…everysingleoneofthosemoveswerecalculated,Di.Theydidallthatincaseitturnedouttobeaflop.That’swhyIhadtofighthimeverystepoftheway.”
IwishedIcouldtakebacktheword“flop”immediately.SomethingstrangeplayedoutinDiana’seyesasshestudiedme,herlipstightlypressedtogether.OnlythendidInoticethatherburnt-orangelipstickwassmudged.Imotionedforhertofixit,preparedtoaskherifsheandElroyhadsnuckalittleone-on-onetimeinthecoatcloset,butDianaspokeagain.“Hey—allofthatisinthepastnow.Whatmattersisthebookgotmade,andwe’rehere
“Besides,”sheadded,pullingacompactmirrorfromaclutchaswhiteasherwhiteasymmetricalminidress,“youknowhowitgoes.Adozennosbeforeyougetoneyes,andthatyesistheonlyonethatmatters.Everyoneelsecantaketheirnosandshovethemuptheirperfectlyperfumedassholes.”
Thatmademesmile.VeryrarelydidDianatalkaboutshovinganythinganywhere.Whenallthegirlsinmiddleschoolstartedcallingher“High-YellowDi”—notreallybecauseofherskin,butbecauseofhergoodgrades,herperfectdiction,andherloveofILoveLucyreruns—itwasme,notDiana,who’dtoldthemtogofuckthemselves.Forthemostpart,everyonehadlistened;granted,IwasprettysuremypunchingGeoffreyHarrisonoutinthefourthgradeduringafieldtriptotheMontclairArtMuseumhadsomethingtodowiththat.
Ieyedmyfriend,whowashavingahardtimestandinginoneplaceformorethanafewmoments.Clearly,she’dhelpedherselftomorethanacoupleofglassesofwine,whichexplainedthemessylipstick,the“perfumedassholes,”andthefactthatshewasagainlinkingherarminmine—thistime,moreforcefully.“Ican’tbelieveI’mtheonetellingyouthis,”shesaid,“butKendraRaePhillips,youneedtochillthehelloutandtakeadeepfuckingbreath.”
“YouknowhowIhatebreathing.”
“Ido.Buthumorme.C’mon,now.Innnn…”
Ipouted,butdidasIwastold.
“Now,out.See?Don’tthatfeelgood?See!”Shepattedmeonthebackwithoutwaitingformyresponse.“Hey,”shesaid,sniffingtheair,hernaturallyturned-upnosetwitchinglikethatofapuppyontheprowl.“Yousmellthat?”
Ifrowned.“No.WhatamIsupposedtobesmelling?”
Dianabeamed.“Money,honey.Notjustwhitefolks’money,neither.YouwannaknowwhatIdidwiththefirstcheckIgotfromWagner?”
“I’mguessingtheanswerisn’t‘depositeditinthebank.’?”
“Youguessedright.No,Ijustputitdownonthekitchentableandstaredatitforagoodlongwhile.Fortyminutes,maybeanhour.Ikidyounot.AndwhenElroygothomefromworkandtriedtopickupthecheckandseeit,wouldyoubelievewhatIdid?Ibarkedathim,honey.I’veneverdonethatinmylife.”
Itwasalljusttoomuch.Webothhowled.Imean,reallyhowled.Andthatwasallittooktobringusbacktobackintheday.Wewerehighschoolersagain,gettingreadytogoroller-skatingattheEightSkateindowntownNewarkwiththerestofthegirls.WeweredrinkingredjuiceandwhateverliquorImanicouldsneakfromherparents’stash.SingingDrumskeeppoundingarhythmtothebrainwhileeitherOlaorIpressedDiana’shair—herrealhair—andIwasusuallytheonedoingthepressing,becauseunlikeOla,IknewtoquitgroovingwhenIhadsomeoneelse’sheadandahotpieceofmetalinmyhand.Half-knowingthatsoonmorethanjustouroutfitswouldhavetochange.
Wewouldbesplittingup—DianaandImaniwouldbeofftoHoward;OlatoOaxaca,whereshewouldmeetamanandstartafamilyandanonprofit,allinthespanofoneyear.AndI’dbeofftoHarvard,whereI…whatexactlywouldIdothere?Pickupamanhere,drophimoffthere.I’dmissNewJersey;try—andfail—toloveBoston.I’dbepulleddeeperintobooks.
AndI’dbepushedfurtherawayfromwhitepeople.
Thisrecollection,althoughnotanewonebyanymeans,wassoberingenoughtochaseawayanyjoyaChakaKhan–playingjazzquartetcouldbringme.Atthesametime,Idetectedawhitecouplenearbythatseemednoticeablyconcernedbyourlaughingfit.WhenImettheman’seye,theyhastilyfeignedinterestinoneofthemanyliteraryawardsthatRichardhadrequestedbetemporarilyaffixedtoawallforthisswankyaffair.
Ididn’tletthemoffthehook,though.Igaveeachofthemadisdainfulup-down,myeyesremainingtransfixeduponthestringofdiamondsaroundthewoman’sfineporcelainneck.Fivesecondslater,theywanderedovertothefarsideoftheroomforair.
“Oh,forGod’ssake.Girl.”Diana’swordshadnosemblanceofsoftnessthistime,andwhenshefinishedrollinghereyes,Iknewshewasgoingtosaywhatshe’dbeentryingnottosayforquitesometime.You’rebeyondsaving.Or,maybe,You’rebringingmedown
Instead,shepointedatmydrinkandorderedmetogetanother.“Then,onceyou’vefinishedit,meetRichardandmeoverbythefishtankinfive.”
Hearingmyboss’snamekilledmybuzzforaninstant.“Ah,isthatit?Richardsentyoutosummonme?Ialreadysaidhellowhenwegothere,andI’llsaygoodbyeandthankyouwhenit’stimetogohome.Idon’tthinkIshouldhaveto—”
Dianashookherhead.“No,stupid.There’saguyfromtheTimesherewho’sdoingawrite-uponthisandhewantstotakeaphotoofthethreeofus.Seriously,girl—whydoyouhateRichardsomuch?It’sgettingkindofold,youknow.”
Myeyescaughtherlipstick,newlyreapplied.“Where’sElroy?”Iaskedpointedly.“Ishehereyet?”
ButDianapretendednottohear.“So,he’sayuppiewhowasbornwithasilverspooninhismouth.Okay,fine.So,hetooksomeconvincing.Butheisnotrepresentativeofeverysinglewhitemanyou’veevermet.Imean,comeon.HaveyoueverseenanotherwhitemandoallofthisforacoupleofBlackwomennobodyhaseverheardof?
“Plus,rememberwhatI’vealwayssaid,”Dianaadded,tryingunsuccessfullytowhisperinmyear.“Weusethemuntilwedon’tneedtousethemnolonger.Plainandsimple.”
Plainandsimple.Ofcourseshe’dsaythat.Howmanywhitemen,really,hadDianabeenforcedtostomachinhereverydaylife?She’dgottenherbachelor’satHoward,herPhDatHoward,andshehadstayedtheretoteach.Thewhitegatekeepershadn’tbeenshovedinherfacenearlyasmuchasthey’dbeenshovedinmine.AtahistoricallyBlackcollege,Dianahadbeengrantedtheblessedgiftoftunnelvision.She’dbeenblessedwiththeabilitytoforgetwhitepeopleexisted,ifonlyforalittlewhile.
Ihadbeenblessedwithbeingsmotheredbythem.
Diananeverunderstoodthat,though,andtherewasnowayIcouldevertellherthis.Notpoint-blank.Becauseitwouldmeantellinghershe’dbeenrightwhenweweresittingonmystoopin’68,holdingallofouracceptancelettersinourhands.Thatattendinganyplacethatwasn’tHowardorHamptonwasamistake.ThatIhadn’tbeenasstrongasI’dthoughtIwouldbe.
No,Dianawouldneverstoptryingtoconvincemetolayoffontryingtosabotagethisnight.SoIputonahappyfaceandbackedawaytowardthebar.“I’llhavetwomoredrinks,”Isaid,“andI’llmeetyouguysinten.”
“Withasmile?”
Iheldupmyemptyglass.“Withabigfuckingsmile.”
6
August29,2018
ItwasnosurpriseNella’sdayendedonabadnote.Afterall,itstartedoffonone.
Tobefair,thatwasNella’sfault.AnybodywithhalfthewilltobeemployedknewthatsteppingonthetoesandfingersofoneofWagner’sbestsellingauthors,thenshowinguptoworkforty-fiveminuteslatethefollowingday,wasdownrightreckless.
Nevertheless—outoffear,mostly—Nellaspenttoomuchofthemorningtryingtoconvinceherselftogetoutofbed,andevenmoreofthemorningallowingOwentoconvinceherthatno,herdecisiontobeupfrontwithVeraandColinhadnotbeenabadone.
Infact,hefoundthewholesituationhilarious.
“Theimageofhimdabbinghiseyeswiththatsoggy,expensive-asshat…it’sjust…it’sjusttoogood,”hesaid,laughing.
Nellafinallyslidoutofbedandstartedriflingthroughherdrawersforsomethingtowear.“Butyoushouldhaveseentheirfaces,baby.”
“Ididn’tneedto.I’veseenwhiteguiltenoughtoknowwhatitlookslike.”
Nellacouldn’thelpherself.“Inthebathroommirror,youmean?”
“AfterwewatchedTwelveYearsaSlave,Imean,”saidOwen,withoutmissingabeat.“Itonlylastedafewseconds,though,andthenitwentdownthedrainwiththehandsoap.”
Nellajumpedupanddowninordertogetherfreshlylotionedlegintoherfavoritepairofjeans.“Thatwasfast!RemindmetomakeyouwatchtheentireRootsminiseriesnextFebruary,”sheteased,nearlyteeteringheadfirstintoherdresser.
Owenhadgroanedandrolledoveronhisside,eventhoughtheybothknewhehadnoqualmsaboutwatchingRoots—orreadingit,forthatmatter,ifthatpropositionhadalsobeenonthetable.Hewasmorethanhappytobeinundatedwith“BlackThangs,”asNellacalledthem,eitherthroughtheBlackliteratureandfilmcanons,orstraightfromNellaherselfassherecappedherday-to-dayfeelings—whichwasthecaseonthemorningaftertheColinIncident.Owenwasalwaysreadytodiscussthelatesthot-buttonissuecirculatingonTwitter:blackface,underrepresentation,policeshootingsofunarmedBlackmenandwomen.Butitwasbecausehewasnevertooeager—hedidn’tfeeltheneedtocallallofthethingsracistallofthetime,likeafewofthewhitemenshe’ddatedandknownbeforehim—thatmadeNellatrusthimthemost.Hehadnothingtoprove;hewasperfectlycontentthathisworldview,establishedthirtyyearsearlierbyalesbiancoupleinDenverandgluedinplacebyadailyviewingofDemocracyNow!,hadsethimontherightcourse.
SuchbedrockhadalsoenabledOwentoblazeapathofhisown—onethatallowedhimtobehisownbossatastartupcompanycalledApp-terschoolLearning.Nellaknewlittleaboutthisstartup,besidesthatithadtodowithmentorshipandconnectingunderprivilegedteens.ShealsoknewthatitpermittedOwentoleavetheirBayRidgeapartmentwheneverhefeltlikeitandworkfromhomewhenhedidn’t—aluxuryshewishedshehadmoreoftenthannot.
“Butseriously,Nell,”Owensaid,stilllyingonhisside,hisvoicemuffledbythebedding.“You’regoingtobefine.It’sallgoingtobefine.Thiswillallblowoverin,like,fivedays.”
“That’seasyforyoutosay.”Nellapaused,herstickofdeodorantpoisedmid-application,andwaitedforOwentoflipoverandlookbackather.Shehadn’tintendedforherwordstocomeoutasloadedastheydid,buttheyhad,andnowitwastoolatetodenywhatwasweighingthemdown:thefactthatOwenwasawhitecismalewhowouldneverhavemanyoftheconversationsshedid,unlesstheyendeduphavingchildrenoneday.Whatshe’dreallybeentryingtosay,simply,wasthathewouldneverbeabletounderstandthebizarreworldofpublishingthewayshedid.ThegangofcharactersatWagnerwasincrediblypeculiar,butonthewhole,theiractionsandsubtlemicroaggressionsseemedharmlesstoanoutsider.Shucks,I’veseenworsebehaviorinotherofficeenvironments,Owenwouldmoreorlesssay,thenciteadisgruntledemployeeofhisownwho’dpeedinseveralDisneycharacterthermosesandlefttheminanoldboss’sofficeovernight.
Nella’scolleaguesatWagnerweren’tsociopaths.Theyallknewwhereonewasandwasnotsupposedtopee.Butthatdidn’tmakebeingaroundthemanylessstressful.Onceyouwereinclosequarterswiththemeachday—onceyou’dspentmorethanayearmakingcatatonicsmalltalkaroundsputteringKeurigsandmottledbathroomsinksandPrinterRow,grinningandbearingitwhileyoulearnedabouttheirnewsummerhomesandtheirlatestEuropeanvacationsandwonderedwhyyouwerestillmakingfewerthantwentydollarsanhour;onceyougotusedtothefactthatalmosteverytimeyoucameintocontactwithanunknownBlackpersoninyourplaceofwork,thispersonwasmostlikelygoingtoaskyoutosignforapackage,oroffertofixyourcomputer—itstartedtograteonyou.Somuchsothat,atleastonceamonth,yougotupfromyourdesk,saunteredovertotheladies’room,shutyourselfinastall,andaskedyourself,WhyamIstillhere?
Atlast,aftertwentyminutesofdraggingherfeet,Nellafinallyfinishedgettingready.Owenkissedherlightlyfromhissideofthebedandtoldhereverythingwasgoingtobefine.Buttheeffectofhiswordslastedaslongasthesensationfromhislips,andasNellagotontheManhattan-boundRtrain,shehadafeelingitwasgoingtobeabreakdown-in-the-bathroom-stallkindofday.
Thefeelingintensifiednearlyanhourlater,asshetookadeepbreathandwaitedfortherevolvingdoorstospillheroutintothelobby,waveringonlywhenshewavedaquickhellotoIndia,thecheery,mocha-skinnedreceptionistwho’dsatatthefrontdeskfromsixtoeleveneveryweekdaymorningeversinceNellahadfirststartedatWagner.“Lovingthatscarftoday,India,”shesaidasbrightlyasshecouldmanage,pullingoutherWagneridentificationcard.
Indiareachedupandtouchedthesilkyblueandgoldscarf,asiftoremindherselfwhichoneshe’dwornthatday.“Thanks,girl!”shesaid,hersmilegenuine,eventhoughNellaalmostalwayssaidthesamethingaboutherscarvesorearringsornewesthairstyle.Nella’scompliments,ofcourse,werealwaysgroundedintruth;today,thefabric,astrikingcollageofblueandgoldgeometricshapes,wasarrangedalmosttoostunninglyforanofficeinMidtown,wrappedceremoniouslyandtiedupintwoequal-sizedbowsthatsatonthetopofIndia’shead.ButNellaalsomadesurethatherone-linerstookexactlytherightamountoftimetogetherfromthelobbytotheelevatorbankwithouthavingtoslowherstep.Itwaspartofhermorningroutine,thesamewayshefixedgritsinthemorning,ormadeherwaydowntwo-thirdsofthetrainplatformsothatshewouldn’thavetowalkfaronceshegotoffatherstopinManhattan.
“Itisagreatscarf,isn’tit?”
Nellaturnedaroundtohearwho’dagreedwithher.ItwasHazel,ofcourse,whowassuddenlyrightbehindher,astackofmanuscriptpagesinherrighthand.Theinauguralnavy-blueWagnertotebagshe’dbeengivenonherfirstdaydangledfromherwrist,swingingprecariouslybackandforth.
“What’sgoingon,ladies?Bytheway,India,”saidHazel,reachingintohertoteforwhatNellapresumedwasherIDbutwasactuallyabrownpaperbag,“IwenttothatAfricanfabricstoreinQueensIwastellingyouaboutlastweek.And…look!”
IndiareachedacrossherdesktoacceptHazel’soffering,avulnerable,almostgreedyvigorinhermovements.Nellahadn’tseenthewomanbetraythismuchemotioninthetwoyearsshe’dknownher.
“It’sbeautiful,Hazel!”Indiamarveled,wavingaroundalongsatinscarfthecoloroftheinsideofajuicypinkgrapefruit.
“Whoa.That’sgorgeous,”Nellaagreed.Shewasegregiouslylateforwork,butHazeldidn’tseemconcernedaboutthetime.Besides,Nellafeltlikeshehadsomesortofunspokenstakeinthisexchange.Herfeetremainedplantedasotheremployeespiledin,clamoringforthenextelevatorlikepassengersrushingforlifeboatsontheTitanic
“Isn’tthepinkgreat?Isawitandnaturallythoughtofyou,India.IknowyoumentionedthatthepinksandtheorangesselloutsoquicklyatthestoreyougotointheBronx.”
“It’sforme?”Indiafingeredthefabric.Herbigalmondeyeswereheavywithnear-spilledtears.
“Ofcoursethatscarfisforyou!”SheloweredhervoiceslylyasshegaveIndiaasinglepatonthearm.“Happybirthday,girlfriend.”
“Oh!”Nellasaidawkwardly.“I’msorry.Ididn’trealize…happybirthday,India!”
ButIndia’seyeswerestillonHazel.“Really?”shestammered.“Ican’t…I’msorry,it’sjust…just,nooneherehaseverdoneanythinglikethisformebefore.AndI’vebeenhereforalmosttenyears…”India’stearswerefallingnow;thewomanseemedtohaveforgottenwhereshewas.SheputthescarfdownandsteppedawayfromherdesksoshecouldcomearoundandfoldHazelintoatighthug.Afewfeetaway,alost-lookingvisitorwho’dcomeclosetoaskingIndiaforadmissionupstairsfeignedsuddeninterestinsomethingthathadgottenstuckonhershoe.
“Hazel,thankyou!But…howdidyouknow?”
“Ihavemyways.Andthereareplentyofotherhairgoodieswherethiscamefrom,too.YouknowIgotthehookup.”Hazelwinked.“Don’tyouworktoohardtoday,okay?Remembertotreatyo’self.Bye,girl!”
AndshewasoffbeforeIndiacouldfinishmouthinganotheremphaticthankyou.Nellascurriedtokeepup,cuttingoffatall,unamusedmanwhomostlikelyworkedatthesoftwarecompanyonthefloorbelowWagner’s.“Thatreallyisagorgeousscarf,”NellarepeatedassheandHazelsqueezedintoacrowdedelevatorthatcouldn’tpossiblyfitthemboth.Itdid,butitdidn’tfitthesoftwarecompanyman,andhehadnoqualmsaboutexpressinghisfrustrationasthedoorsshutinfrontofhischerry-redface.
“Isn’titgreat?NormallyI’dgetsomethinglikethatfromCurlCentral.”
“CurlCentral?”
“Yeah.It’sthisdopehaircaféinBed-Stuy,”Hazelsaidinalowvoice,asuddenswellofcocoabutternippingatNella’snose.“ABlackhaircafé.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah.SoIwasgonnafindsomethingforIndiaatCurlCentral.ButthenMannytoldmehe’dforgottenhemadeplansforustomeetsomefriendsforahappyhourinQueens,soitjustmademoresensetogototheAfricanfabricstore.”
“Manny?”
“Sorry.Emmanuel.Manny.Myboyfriend.”
“Oh,right.Manny.”
“Doyouhaveaboyfriend?”
“Ido,”Nellareplied.“He’s…he’sprettygreat.”
“Aw,lookatyou—smilingallbig.”
Nellanoddedandshrugged,waitingforHazeltoaskherboyfriend’sname,orhowshe’dmethim,andthenwondering—whenshedidn’task—ifsheshouldsayanythingmoreaboutOwen.
Instead,sheloweredhervoiceandsaid,“Youknow,I’vealwayswantedtowearscarvesliketheonesIndiawears.It’sjust,I’mshitatYouTubetutorials.Mostofthem.”NellahadspentcountlesshourstryingtolearnhowtoFrench-braidherownhair,turningthespeeddownonthevideoandthenrewindingitback,becauseshealwaysseemedtomissacrucialpart.Theprocessmadeherarmsachebadlyenoughforhertogiveupuntilherhairgrewlongerandshecouldtryagain.“Ican’tevendoflattwists.Andmybraidsusuallycomeoutlookingprettyrough.”
Asshefinishedspeakingthedoorsopened,andthemajorityofridersgotoffonthefourthfloor.Freetomoveherheadaroundwithoutgettingamouthfulofsomeoneelse’shair,NellalookedoveratHazel,secondsawayfromaskingherifshehadanyYouTubetutorialsuggestionsofherown.ButthegirlwasstaringatNellalikeshe’djustproclaimedshe’dneverseenTheColorPurple.
“So…youcan’ttiescarves,ordoflattwists?”Hazelwasvisiblytakenaback.
“I…”Nellareachedforthestrapofherbaginsteadofreachingforoneofhercurls.Hazelhadn’tasked,HowhaveyoumadeitthisfarwithoutknowinghowtostyleBlackhair?Butshedidn’tneedto.Nellaaskedherselfthisoften.
Usually,heranswerwasherparents.Theyweretheoneswho’draisedherinapredominantlywhiteConnecticutneighborhoodandsenthertopredominantlywhitepublicschools.TokeepNellagrounded,theyestablishedaBlackforcefieldofsortsaroundher,encouraginghertobeBlackandproud.TheygavehertheirownBlackhistoryassignmentsallyearround;theyboughtherBlackdollsandrefusedtobuyherwhiteones.Butliketheworld’sbest-builtforcefields,therewerecracks,andtheadorationoffine,straighthairslippedrightonthrough.Whatcouldherparentsdo?Nellasawiteverywhereshewent:atschool,atsleepovers.OnherBlackBarbies.Itwaseveninherownhome.Hermotherhadbeenrelaxingherhairsincethemid-nineties,eversinceshebecameadeanatasmallprivateuniversityinFairfield,whichcouldhavebeenwhywhennine-year-oldNellasaidshewantedtostartdoingit,too,neitherparentbattedaneye.Theyprobablysawherwishasinevitable.Ariteofpassage,even.
HermotherstartedtakingNellaalongonhertripstothehairsaloninNewHavenshortlyaftershestartedsixthgrade.Togethertheywouldsit,theirscalpsplasteredwithcreamycrack,theirhandsholdingyear-oldissuesofEssenceandTerryMcMillannovels.TheycontinuedthisritualtogethereverysixweeksuntilNellapassedherdrivingtest,and,thankstohereditorpositiononherhighschoolnewspaper,startedtocultivatesomethingofabusysociallife.ThesecondhandSubaruLegacyherunclegaveherforhersixteenthbirthdaygrantedhertheabilitytocomeandgoasshepleased.
Anditwasagoodthingshehadsomewheretogo,becauselifeassheknewitathomewasdeteriorating.Witheachpassingmonth,herparentsseemedtocarelessandlessaboutpretendingtoenjoybeingmarriedtooneanother.Dinnersthathadoncebeendottedbyoneortwoheatedback-and-forthswerebesmearedwithall-outspitefulvolleys.Nella,anonlychild,wouldplayreferee,butwithlittlesuccess.HardasNellatried,shecouldn’tpreventherparentsfromdivorcing,astheyfinallywouldtheweekaftershereceivedherhighschooldiploma.Butshecouldkeepupthefacadethatdespiteallofit,shewasGood,andifyoulookedatherseniorphoto—allwhiteteethandmakeupandshinyblackstraighthairthatcurledupjustalittlebitathershoulders—youbelievedit.Thatgirlwasgoingtoanexceptionaluniversitymilesawayfromhome,whereshe’dmakesomeBlackfriendsandfallinlovewithaGoodBlackManandgetanexceptionaldegreeinEnglishliterature.IfshelikedUVAenough,she’dstayandgetaseconddegree,getateachingjobatsomeuniversity,marrythatBlackman,traveltoallthecontinentswithhim,andwhentheywerefinallyready,they’dhaveacoupleofkids.
Nellagotthatfirstdegree.Buttheotherthingsthathadbeenplannedforthatgirlinthephotoneverpannedoutforher.ShewenttoacoupleofBlacksororitypartiesherfreshmanyearandtheyjusthadn’tbeenNella’sthing.Shewasn’twillingtojumpthroughalloftheburninghoopsthatwouldgetherpicked,didn’tfeellikeinvestingallofthattime(nottomentionmoney)inacquiringanew,notentirelyorganicsisterhood.
Shouldshehavetriedharderincollege?Sometimes,whenNellacaredtolookbackonthosedays—usuallywhenMalaikareflecteduponhertimeatEmory,butespeciallynow,asHazellookedatherwithbewildermentatherinabilitytodoflattwists—sheventuredtoblamethepersonwhomshefeltwasevenmoreresponsiblethanherparents:herself.SheshouldhavekeptupwiththeBlackStudentAlliancemeetingsandventuredoutofhercomfortzonemoreoften.SheshouldhavemadeherfirstcloseBlackfriendsooner.Then,shewouldhavelearnedaboutthewondersofnaturalhairfarearlierbeforethemainstreamworldembracedit.MaybeNellawouldhavestartedherownliteraryorganizationforyoungBlackwomeninNewHaven,orspentmoretimemarchingthroughthestreetsratherthanwadingherwaythroughBlackTwitterforsomethingtoshare.
Thelistofhypotheticals,longerthaneachofNella’sbrownarmsandlegsallputtogether,wentontoincludenotjusthair,butloveinterests.Ifshe’dhadBlackfriendsasachild,maybeshe’dhavegoneonmorethanjustonedatewithMarlon,aBlackUVAclassmatewho’daskedheroutinbaggageclaimaftertheymetonaplaneoneholidayseason.Maybeshe’dfeellessself-consciousaboutholdingOwen’shandonvarioussubwayplatforms,becausethen,atleastshe’dknow—evenifthatBlackteenageracrossthewaywhowasgivingherside-eyedidn’t—thatshe’dbeencourtedandbeddedbyamanwiththesameancestrallineageasherownatleastonce.
Itwasn’tuntilshestartedanewlifeinNewYorkCity—aftersomanyBlackpeoplehadbeenwrongfullykilledbythepolice;afterwrappingherselfupinthewritingsofHueyNewtonandMalcolmXandFrantzFanonforhoursonend;afterseeinghowextensiveaBrooklynTarget’snaturalBlackhair-careaislecouldbe—thatshedecidedtochopallherrelaxedhairoffandseewhathappened.Turnedout,shelikedwhatwasunderneath.Whatshedidn’tlikewashowlongittookhertolearnthisaboutherself.
NellasearchedforawaytotellHazelallofthisbeforetheygottothethirteenthfloor.“Iknow,it’sweird.Hair’sneverbeensomethingI’vebeengoodat.It’s—”
“It’ssomethingyougetbetteratasyourhairgetslonger,”Hazeladvisedwithahalfsmile.“AndIcanshowyousometricks.Iresistedbraidsforawhile.Scarves,too.ButonceIstartedlockingmyhair,theyjustmadesense.Especiallywhenitgetssohot…”
WhateverjudgmentNellathoughtshe’dseeninHazelwasgone,andthosepainfulmemoriesofburningherscalpforbeautywaftedoutoftheshaft.Sherelaxedasafewmorepeopleexitedtheelevator.“Howlonghaveyoubeenlockingyourhairfor?”
“God,itmustbelike…eightyearsnow.BestdecisionI’veevermade.”
“Really?”
“Hell,yeah.Verylow-maintenance.”
“Ibet.Yeah,sometimesI’mjusttootiredtotwistmyhairupeverynight,youknow?Butthis4Chair…youcan’tjustgotosleeponitallloosewithoutexpectingthenextmorningtobeastruggle.”
“Oh,Irememberthatstruggle.Trust,”saidHazel.“I’mtype4Bmostly,butmykitchenis4C.”
Nellasmiled.WhatathrillitwastobehavingthisconversationinbroaddaylightinaMidtownbuilding.Onlyonewomanremainedwiththemintheelevator,stillsqueezedintothefarbackcornereventhoughtherewasnoneedforthatanymore.AWagnertotebaghungonhershoulder,too,althoughhermodelwasfrom2012.Shewasonthedigitalmarketingteam—Elena,Nellabelievedhernamewas,althoughshemight’vebeenconfusingherwithanotherbrown-hairedwomaninmarketing.
Nellawatchedmaybe-Elenathumbthroughherphone,seeminglydeepinconcentration.Therewerenoheadphonesinherears,soshe’dprobablyheardtheirentireconversation,Nellarealized.Shecloselyeyedmaybe-Elena’splain,lightbrownbobandwonderedhowmuchBlackhairtalkshehadeverbeenexposedto.WassheGoogling“twisting”and“4B”and“kitchen”?Orwasshealtogetherunmoved?Didsheknowthisconversationhadnothingtogiveher,andwasthereforetooapathetictoengage?
Theelevatordoorsopenedonthethirteenthfloor.Maybe-Elenatookaleft,stilllostinherphone.Butinsteadoffollowingher,Hazelpointedright.“Okayifwestopbythekitchenfirst?Iwannathrowmylunchinthefridge.”
“Oh.Um…”Lord,shewassolate.Butbeingforty-fiveminuteslateratherthanforty-fourcouldn’tmakethatbigofadifference,couldit?
No,itcouldn’t.Nelladecidedtofollow.
“Anyway,nexttimeyoufindyourselfinClintonHill,letmeknow,”saidHazel,hergaitalittletooleisurelyforNella’sliking.“YouliveinBrooklyn,too,right?”
“Yep.BayRidge.”
“BayRidge,huh?Mustbeweirdtoliveoutthere,no?It’spretty…”Therestofhersentencewentlimpasaseniorproductioneditorclickedbywithastackofpagesinherarms,seeminglyreadytogivesomebody—acarelesseditorialassistant,perhaps—apropertalking-to.
“Prettywhite,right?”Nellafinishedonceitwasjustthetwoofthemagain.“Kinda,yeah—it’snotmyfavorite.Butit’sprettymuchallwecanaffordrightnow.”
“Ooh.‘We’?”Hazelraisedhereyebrowsastheyenteredthekitchen.“Letmesee…justjudgingfromyourtone,Igatherthatthisisa…specialroommate?”
“Ha!Well,yeah.Iguessyoucouldcallhimthat.He’smy—”
“Aw,youlivewithyourboo,don’tyou?Cute!So,I’mguessingBayRidgewashisidea,then?’Cause,like,thereareplentyofotherplacesinBrooklynthataren’tcrazyexpensive.Orcrazywhite.Andthere’sQueens…”
“He’sprettyobsessedwithBayRidge,”Nellasaid.“HehasthisweirdnostalgicloveforSaturdayNightFever,eventhoughitcameoutwaybeforehewasborn.”
Hazel,who’dbeenpokingaroundtherefrigerator,stuckherheadoutfrombehindthedoorlongenoughtosay,“Ah,sohemustbeItalian,”thendisappearedagain.
“Awhoppingtwenty-fivepercent,”Nellasaidslyly,“althoughthat’snotreally—”
“Heknowswheretwenty-fivepercentofhimcomesfrom?Luckyhim,”Hazelremarkedonceshe’dfinallyfoundahomeforhersalad.Theystartedwalkingtowardtheirdesks.“Whiteboyfriendsarealwayssuchatrip.”
Nellaperkedup.WasHazelspeakingfromfirsthandexperience,orjustassuming?“Ifyoudon’tmindmeasking,”shestarted,“isMannyw—?”
“Ah!Thereyouare,Nella.Finally.”
VerawasstandingaboveNella’sdeskwithamanicgleaminhereye,cheeksflushed,handsplantedfirmlyonherhips.Hertersesmilesuggestedthatshewastryingnottoloseit,andhadbeentryingforquitesometime.“Hi,Hazel.”
Hazelslippedintoherdeskchairandmurmuredasofthello.
“I’msorryI’mlate,”Nellasaid,searchingforanexcusethatshecouldn’tfind.
“Yes.Nexttime,pleasesendmeanemail,atext,asmokesignal…something.JustsoIknow.Okay?Thanks.Imean,themorninghasbeeninsane.”
Nellawasspeechless.Yes,shecouldhavesentheranemail.Butshehadbeenlatetotheofficeahandfuloftimesinthetwoyearsshe’dworkedatWagner—bothreasonablyandunreasonably—andnoneofthesepriorinfractionshadeverwarrantedsuchashowyconfrontation.Sure,Nellahadrealizedshewasgoingtobeabouttwentyminuteslatewhenshegotonthetrain,andwhenshegotoffthetrain,andwhenshestoppedinthelobbytochatwithHazelandIndia.She’dagainnoticeditintheelevator,somewherebetweenthesecondandthirdfloor.ButVerausuallyspenttheearlypartofthemorninginsideofherofficewithherdoorclosed,takingadvantageofthattimetoaccomplishthethingsshenevercouldonceeveryonebegantofloatinandoutofherofficeforallsortsofreasons—toaskforeditorialadviceoropinionsonanewcoverdesign;tointroducenewhires;toshoottheshit.
Thatmorning,however—forColin-relatedreasons,Nellasuspected—Vera’sdoorwaswideopen.Andasfarasshewasconcerned,theopinionsshehadairedoutduringtheShartriciaconversationwerestillverymuchaliveanddancingintheairbetweenthemlikelittlehell-bentdemons.
Perhapssensingthedemons,too,Hazel—inthatsamerespectfulwhispershe’dusedforherhello—volunteeredacomplaintaboutNewYorkCity’smuddledsubwaysystem.“Wewerejusttalkingabouthowwebothhadproblemsthismorning—someonethrewthemselvesonthetracks,Ithink.Mytrainwasstuckundergroundfortwentyminutes,easily.”
NellastoleaquickglanceatMaisy’sdarkenedoffice.TheonlypersonwhowouldcallHazeloutforbeingsolatewasn’tevenintheofficeyet,butHazelhadhelpedNellaoutanyway.Shemadeanotetothankherlaterandadded,“Minetooktwenty-five.Inthetunnel.”
“Inthetunnel,”Verarepeated.
“Y-yes.Inthetunnel.”Nella’stemperatureroseafewdegrees,aby-productofeitherthelieshe’djusttoldorVera’sIdon’tbelieveyoustare.Shesuddenlyrememberedthathersweaterwasstillon,sosheslippeditoffanddroppedherstuffontopofherchair.
Verabitherlipbeforebreakingthesilence.“Allgood.”Allwasnotgood,butshemovedontobrisklyaskNellaifshe’dprintouttwocopiesofNeedlesandPins.Thenshedisappearedintoherofficeandclosedthedoor.
NellalookedoveratHazel’sdesk.Hazellookedbackather.
“Oof.Whatwasthatabout?”
So,shehadn’theard.Fine.NellacastaglanceatVera’scloseddoortomakesureitwascompletelyshut.ThensherolledovertoHazel’sdesk.
“Colinflipped,”shewhispered.“Hewentbatshit.”
“What?Why?”
“IwasrealwithhimaboutShartricia.Idecidedtobehonest,likewetalkedaboutatNico’s.HesaidIcalledhimaracist.JustlikeIthoughthewould.”
“Well,didyou?”
“OffuckingcourseIdidn’tcallhimaracist,”Nellasaid,offendedHazelcouldthinkshe’dmakesuchaheinousmistake.“ButhegottheimpressionthatIdid,andIcan’tundothat.Itwasn’tmyfinestmoment,butIapologizedwhenhefinallycamebackfromthebathroom.”
ColinhadreturnedtoVera’sofficeabouttwentyminuteslater,hiscaprestored,hisjawsquared,andhiseyesmorethanalittlebitred.I’msorrythatyouthoughtIwascallingyouaracist,Nellahadconceded,tryingherbesttomovehermouthwithoutvomiting.Thewordshadfeltflatonhertongue,likeshewasapologizingtoamanforpullingoutherpeppersprayonhimafterhe’dfollowedtoocloselybehindheronanemptystreet.Butshe’dsaidit.Becauseattheendoftheday,shewassorry—justforslightlydifferentreasons.
“HewasgonefromVera’sofficeforawhile,right?”Hazelasked.“Like,twentyminutes?Suchalongtime.”
“Iguessthatmakestwoofuswhowerecounting,”Nellamurmured.“God,I’msomortified.”
Hazelshruggedhershoulders.“Ifeltthechillfrommychairthemomentheopenedherofficedoor.I’msosorry,girl.FromwhatIheard—”
“Wait.”Nellapaused.“Soyoudidhearwhathappened?”
Hazelshookherhead.“Bitsandpieces,butnotallofit.Iwasinmyownworld,handlingsomestuffforMaisy.Butthemoreimportantthinghere—judgingbywhatIdidhappentohear—isyoudideverythingright.Don’tletanybodytellyouotherwise.”
BeforeNellacouldbaskinthesewordsamomenttoolong,Vera’sdoorswungopenagain.“Nella,areyouloggedon?”
“I—”
“Isentyousomethingthatneededtobeaddressedimmediatelyhalfanhourago,andresentitagainjustnow.Couldyoupleasetakecareofthat?Now?Thanks.”
Nellawheeledbackovertoherowndeskasquicklyasshecould,buthershoelacebetrayedheratexactlythesamemoment,insertingitselfintooneofthewheelsandcausingittostick.Thechairwasmovingatapainfulcrawl,andVerawaswatching,oneeyebrowarched.Butshedidn’tsayanything.Shesimplyexhaledandsaunteredbackintoheroffice,slammingherdoorlouderthanshedidbefore.
Therestofthedaypassedexactlythisway:excruciatingly,soakedwithsubtextthatneithereditornorassistanthadtheresolvetoacknowledge.The“urgentmatter”VerahadaskedNellatohandlewasaskingthemanagingeditoriftherewasstilltimetoincludeanauthor’smiddleinitialinthejacket’sflapcopybeforethebookwenttoprint.Themanagingeditor’sofficewasamereten-secondwalkawayfromVera’sdesk.
This,Nellacouldhandle.Butforwhateverreason,despiteherbestefforts,everyothersmallthingshedidwenthorriblywronginsomefashion:Sheforgottocctheagentonanemailtoanauthor;she’daccidentallycutofftheimportantpartofascanneddocumentforVera.
Nothingshedidwasright.Or,atleast,itdidn’tfeelright.Wasitallinherhead—Vera’sfrustrations,thesetensions,theseColinFranklindemons?Occasionally,shepausedherapologizingtowonderifshewassimplyprojectingherownshame.ButthenVerawouldconcludeanexchangewithallgood,hereyesevenfrostierthanhertone,andNellathoughttoherselfthatyes,somethinghaddefinitelyshiftedbetweenthem.
Meanwhile,inversely,Nella’srelationshipwithHazelwasbeginningtoflourish,asthoughtheyweretwosoldiersinthetrenches.HazelworkedtokeepNellaafloatbydistractingherwithnon-Wagnerrelatedthings.WhenNellarespondedtooneofVera’scomplaintswith“DidIdothat?!I’msorry,”HazelswiftlyemailedNellaaSteveUrkelGIF.Afterlunch,shebroughtNellaatriple-fudgewalnutcookiefromthebakeryacrossthestreet,whichhappenedtobeNella’sfavorite.Andafewhourslater,aroundthreep.m.,shesentNellaalinktoCurlCentral,the“dopehaircafé”she’dtoldheraboutintheelevator.
CurlCentral’shomepageclaimedthestoredoubledas“anexhaustivemeccaforallBlackhairmatters”—anditwasn’tlying.CurlCentralreallydidcoveritall.Notonlycouldyoubuyscarvesthere,youcouldtakeworkshopsthattaughtyouhowtowraptheminthemostintricateofstyles.Therewasevenahairtherapist—“MissIeshaB.”—who,ifyouwentbetweenthehoursoffiveandsevenonThursdayevenings,wouldsitdownwithyouforhalfanhouranddiscusswhatwasailingyourlocs.Forthosewhoweren’tfortunateenoughtoliveinNewYorkCity,orpreferredamoresolitaryhairapyexperience,MissIeshaB.hadwrittenashortbookthatwasavailableonlinefor$9.99.
Whoeverownedthisstorehadtakengreatcaretoprovidesmellandtexturedescriptionsofalltheirhairproducts,andhadfoundBlackmodelswitheverykindofcurlpatterntoshowcasetheeffectivenessofeach.ItallfascinatedNella,howmuchtimeandefforthadclearlybeenputintothiswebsite,soshenavigatedtoCurlCentral’sAboutUspage,curious.ThecaféhadbeenfoundedandownedbyJuanitaMorejón,anattractive,curvywomanwhopossessed3Ccurls,aclearfondnessforcroptops,andanabundanceofloveforthetimeshespentgrowingupintheDominicanRepublicwithherbabybrother,Manny.
Nellapaused.Manny?Asin…Hazel’sboyfriend?
ShereadJuanita’sbiothroughtotheend,thenreaditagain.Shefeltuncertain,butshecouldn’tputherfingeronwhy.Itwasn’tbecauseHazelhadn’ttoldherCurlCentralwasherboyfriend’ssister’sshop,althoughforsomeonewhoseemedsoopentosharingeverythingaboutherpersonallife,itwasstrangethatHazelhadchosentokeepthatparttoherself.
Onlyaftershe’dclickedawayfromCurlCentral’swebsitecouldsheidentifythesourceofthefeeling:ItwasthenewknowledgethatHazel’sboyfriendwasn’twhite.HewasDominican.DominicanDominican.Asin,he’dbeenbornintheDRandhadlivedtherefortenyearsbeforeimmigratingtoNewYork.
Nellaponderedthisnewpieceofinformationabouthernewcoworker.EventhoughHazeldrippedHarlemlikeSpikedrippedBrooklyn,somethingaboutherhadledNellatopresumeshe’dendedupwithawhiteguylikeOwen,too.PerhapsitwasthemerefactthatHazelhadlivedandworkedinBostonforalengthyamountoftime,whichtoNellameantthatshe’dattendedwhite-brightpartiessimilartoonessheherselfhadattendedbackinhighschoolandcollege.Andnow,hereHazelwasatWagner,surroundedbywhitepeopleonceagain.
Thenagain…justbecauseHazelwascapableofnavigatingwhitesocialspheresallthetimedidn’tmeanshewantedto.Nellacouldappreciatethat.
“I’mleaving,Nella.”
Whenshelookedup,Verawasstandingabovehercubicle,alldressedupandreadytogohome.Thepinchedexpressionshe’dbeenwearingearlierhadrelaxedabit,thankfully,butshestilldidn’tlookaltogetherforgiving.Itwaslate,aftersevenp.m.,andNella’swilltoworkhadwalkedoutthedoorwithHazelaboutanhourearlier;now,shewaselbow-deepinalisticletitled“TenCelebsYouDidn’tKnowWereAfro-Dominican.”
Nellaclickedoutofitwithonehand,usingtheothertowaveatherboss.“Isittimetogoalready?Wow!Haveagreatnight!”
Veracalledoutahalf-heartedyou,too,andstrodetowardtheelevatorswithoutanotherword.
Nellasighedforperhapsthethirtiethtimethatday—exceptthistime,itwasasighofrealrelief.Finally,shecouldleaveandgomeetMalaikaforadrink.Finally,shecouldventabouttheShartriciaexplosionwithher,andfinally,shecouldrelievethetensionshe’dbeenswimminginforalmostninehours.Shestoodupandstartedtocollectherthings,tossingpagesshedidn’tneedthefollowingdayandstackingtheonesshewould.
Thatwaswhenshesawthesmall,whiteenvelopesittinginthefarcornerofherdesk.Hernamewaswrittenneatlyacrossitsfront,glaringupatherinallcaps.
Nelladidn’tmoveatfirst.Shejuststareddownatit,confused,assomethingfunnytuggedatherearlobes.Howlonghaditbeensittingthere?Anhour?Theentireday?
WasitaletterfromVeraapologizingfortoday?
Shebroughttheenvelopeuptoherfacetoassessitmoreclosely.Yes,thatwasNella’sname,alright—writteninpurplepen.
Sherolledhershoulderstwice,anervousticshedidn’tknowshehad.Herbagslitheredoffherarmontothefloor,butshedidn’tmovetopickitup.Instead,shesquintedatthemysteriousthinginherhandsoncemore.Shewasn’tsureshecouldfacewhatwasontheinsideoftheenvelope.Shefeltevenlesssureshecouldgoonnotknowing.
Tohellwithit.
Nellaranherpinkyundertheseal,anglingherfingertoavoidanypapercuts.Insidewasanindexcardnobiggerthantwo-by-threeinches,withthreedamningwordstypedupin,confusingly,ComicSansfont.
Shecountedtothree,thenumbershardtohearbeneaththesoundofherheartbeat.Thensheinhaledandcastaglanceoverthetopsofthecubiclestoseewhohadn’tgonehomeyet.Shewasn’tsurewhatsheexpectedtosee—someonerunningawayinapointywhitehood,orasadistictrespassingtweenwhoactuallythoughtComicSanswascool?—butshedidseeDonald,Richard’sassistant.Donald,whowastooshytosayhellounlessheneededsomething;Donald,whowasbobbinghisheadtomusiconlyhecouldhear,apairofoversizedBoseheadphonesconnectinghisround,close-shavenheadtoaDiscmanthatrestedbyhisleftelbow.Donald,whostillusedaDiscman.
TherewasnowayDonald,whoseemailswerealwaysineight-pointTimesNewRoman,wouldeverfuckwithComicSans—nottointimidate,notevenironically.NooneatWagnerwould.Itdidn’taddup.
Nellasankbackdownintoherchair,asuddenchillthreadingitselfdownherthroatandintoherstomach,likeshe’dswallowedanunhealthyamountofhelium.Again,sheexaminedthepieceofpaperthatwasinherlefthand;thentheenvelopeinherright.Shewassolostinthoughtastohowshecouldhavemisseditsdeliverythatshedidn’tnoticeitwasnowalmosteightp.m.,andthattherushingairhadshifteddownfromitsusualloudhumtothegentle,power-savingwhiroftheafterhours.
LeaveWagner.Now.
Sheturnedthenotecardover,justincaseshe’dmissedsomething.Butthatwasallitsaid,soshereadthewordsasecondtime.
Andthen,athird.
Thefourthtimeshereadthem,ashort,deepguffawletloosefromherbelly.Shecouldn’thelpit.Itwasn’toneofthoseconfidentOliviaPopelaughs.Bynomeanswasshethinking,Ha,I’mbetterthanyou,yousmall-mindedanonymousraciststranger,you—becausethisisn’tgoingtogettome;I’mgoingtorisefromtheashesandwriteathinkpieceaboutthismomentandyouwillruethedayyouevertriedtofuckwithme.
No.Thelaughwasmoreofasimple,resignedchortle.AHa!Finally.I’vealwaysknownthismomentwouldcome.ShethoughtofColinFranklinwithhiscrumpledcap;oftheelderlyBlackmanshotinNorthCarolinaforreachingforhishearingaid.OfJesseWatson’swordsaboutbeingseenasanequaltowhitecolleagues:“Youmaythinkthey’reokaywithyou,andthey’llmakeyouthinkthattheyare.Buttheyreallyaren’t.Theyneverwillbe.Yourpresenceonlymakesthemfeartheirownabsence.”
They.Yes,therehadalwaysbeenatheysinceshe’dstartedworkingatWagner,hadn’tthere?
Nellaexhaledassheslidthenotebackintotheenvelope,intentonthrowingtheentireparcelintoherrecyclingbinandforgettingshe’deverreadit.Butsomethingstoppedher—thecatharticdesiretoshareitsexistencewithsomeoneelse,andtheinherentneedtosurvive.She’dseenallthemovies,watchedallthevideosaboutbullyingandracisminhealthclass.WhatNellahadinherclammyfingers,sheknew,wasevidence.
Shani
July10,2018
Joe’sBarbershop
Harlem,NewYork
“Name.”
Icoughedintomyfist,mythroatsuddenlydryalthoughthenightwashumidasever.“Shani.ShaniEdmonds.”
“ShaniEdmonds.Okay.Hi,Shani.”
Theguymanningthedoortookabreakfromhisphonesohecouldlookmeupanddown.Ididn’tminditsomuch.I’ddonethesametohimwhenI’dstumbleduptotheentranceofJoe’sBarbershopafewsecondsearlier,studyingasmuchofhimastheshadowsbeneaththebuilding’sawningwouldallow.Igotadecentlook,andI’llsaythis:I’dneverbeentoHarlem,buthelookedexactlyasI’dalwaysimaginedBlackguysinHarlemwouldlook:Tall,dark,andcute.ThekindofBlackguythatremindedmeofoneofthemanydebonair,coiffedmenwhospeckledmygrandfather’scollectionofarmyphotos.Oldschool,1940s,withskinthecolorofwetsandandakindsmilethatsuggestedhe’dmuchsoonercallawoman“brownsugah”than“bitch.”
Hedidn’tcallmeeitherofthesethings,buthewassmilingatwhatmusthavebeenaperplexedlookonmyface.“Youdon’tgottabenervous,”hesaid,stickinghisphoneinhisbackpocket.“Weain’tnothingbutfamilyhere.Thesecondyoucomeinside…well,you’llsee.”
“?‘Family’?”Abouttenyardsaway,onthecornerof127thandFrederickDouglass,acarrevveditsengineinvain.I’dspenttheforty-five-minutecabrideoverheresearchingtheInternetforinformationabout“LynnJohnson”and“theResistance,”andlikeeveryothertime,Icameupshort.YethereIwasinthemiddleofthenightinastrangenewcityatabarbershopthatwassupposedtobeclosed.
Ishiftedtomyotherfootandreshoulderedmytotebag,tryingtopostureconfidenceIdidn’tfeel.“That’scoolandall,althoughI’mnotsurewhatkindoffamilymeetsatthreeo’clockinthemorning.”
Thatgotalaughoutofhim.“You’llseeexactlywhatkindinalittlebit.Comeonin,Shani,”hesaid,offeringafistformetodap.“Will.”
Ismiled,eagertoenterandgetintowhatIhopedwasair-conditioning.ButbeforeIcouldsetfootinside,avoiceshoutedatmetoholdup.“Will!”afemalevoiceshouted.“HowmanytimeshaveItoldyou,cuz:Askthecodequestionfirst,beforeyouletanybodyinside?”
Willgroanedandturnedtowhispersomethinginaudibleintotheblacknessbehindhim.Icranedmyneck,desperatetoseewhohewastalkingto,butthelightswerecompletelyoffinJoe’s.
“Shit,”thevoicesaid,afteramoment.“She’sseenyourface,too.Knowsyourname.IfshewereanOBGthisentireoperationwouldbeshutdown.TheResistancewouldbemade.”
Hesuckedastreamofairbetweenhisperfectteeth.“?‘Made?’‘Codequestions?’Thisalljustfeelsso—”
“HowmanytimesdoIhavetotellyouIdon’tcarewhatitfeelsliketoyou?I’minchargeofmakingsurewe’renotfound,asshole.Sojustaskherthecodequestionsowecangetthisshitmoving.”
ThatputawrenchinWill’samusement.Whenhefinallyregardedmeagain,thesoftnessinhiseyeshadgivenwaytoirritation.“AnasteroidisspiralingtowardEarth,threateningtodestroyallBlackfolkexceptforone,”hesaidflatly.“ThisluckymotherfuckeriseitherStaceyDashorBenCarson.Whodoyouchoosetosave?”
Shit.Thatwasthecodequestion?Ishookmyheadandyankedatmysweat-soakedbrastrap.“Howmuchtimeyougot?”
“C’mon,justthink.What’syourgutsaying?”
“Mygut’ssayingyoucan’taskmethatquestionwhenit’sthree—”Icheckedmywatch,annoyed.Ihadn’tsnuckoutofmyaunt’splaceinQueensinthemiddleofthenightjusttoplaysecretclubhousewithastranger;Ididn’tcarehowcutehewas.“Threeteninthemorning.I’mhot.Isthatyou,Lynn?”Icalledintothespacebehindhim.“I’mhere,justlikeweplanned.IleftBoston.Whyareyoumakingmedoallthis?”
Thevoicedidn’treply.JustWill.“Iwouldn’tdoallthat.Probablybetterifyoujustanswerthequestion.”
“Therearetoomanylogisticsformetothinkabout,though.Ican’tjust—”
“Yousee?!”Willcried,hisvoicethickwithvindicationashespunaroundtoappealtothepersonbehindhim.Butwhenthevoicedidn’tspeak,heshrugged,readjustedhissockcap,andgrumbledtome,“It’smandatory.”
Sighing,Itriedtoweighwhowasworse.Itwashardtoparseoutananswerwiththatrustycarenginestillsputteringonandoninthebackground,butafteramoment,Iwasabletogathermythoughts.
“Ben,”Ifinallysaid.“They’rebothawful—andhe’ssaidsomeprettyidioticthings—butatleasthecansavesomebody’slife.Iguess.”
“Fair.”Willchuckled,onceagainchilledout.Heturned.“Okay?”
Therewasapause.
“Yeah,”thevoicesaid.“Okay.”
Myfeetstartedtomoveforwardbeforemyhearthadtimetogobackintofluttermode.“Nolightsuntilwe’reupstairs,”Iheardthewomansay,thistimelouder,morerelaxed.“Butfornow,youshouldbegoodwiththis.”
Aflashlightflickeredonafewfeetaheadofme.“Lynn?”Icalledagain,blinkingatthebeamoflight.
“Wetalkupstairs.Justc’mon.Followme.”
IshiveredanddidasIwastold,evenasIrealizedsomeone—Will,probably—hadputhishandsonmyshoulderstoguideme.Everythingwasdark,pitch-blackdark,soIlethimpullmeforward,strainingmyeyestodetectchainshangingfromtheceiling,orsuspiciousswathsofdriedmeatliningthebaseboards—anythingthatwouldconfirmthatIwasfoolishtobethere.
ButIdidn’tneedtoseetoknowthat.Itwasmorethanjustfoolish.Itwascrazy
Howdidthatsayinggo?NobodylooksformissinglittleBlackgirls?
“C’mon,Shani,”Willwhispered,hiswordsinterruptingmyworries,thewarmthofhisbreathinmyearremindingmethatIwasarminarmwithanattractivemaninastrange,coldbarbershopatthreeo’clockinthemorning.Akind-lippedHarlemitewhosmelledheavilyofDialsoapandListerine.
Ilethimleadmeslowlybehindtheshadowthatwaslightingourway.“Bytheway,”headded,histonesuggestingheoftentookdelightinsayingwhathewasabouttosay,“thecorrectanswertomyquestionwasyoudon’tsaveeitherofthem.Usethisasteroidasachancetostartover.Butprettymuchnooneevergetsthatright,soyou’regood.”
7
August30,2018
Nellaopenedhereyes,glancedoveratthealarmclock,andmoaned.Itwasonlyfivea.m.;hereyeshadclosedaroundone.
SheturnedtofaceOwen,noticedhowraptwithsleephewas,andpromptlyreturnedtoherotherside,envious.Buttheflipjustmadeherstomachfeelworse.Sodidrememberinghowmanydrinksshe’dhadthenightbefore…andthereasonshe’ddrunksomuchinthefirstplace.
Thewords“LeaveWagner”workedtheirwayupanddownNella’sbrain,stretchingwiderandwiderandechoinglouderandlouderuntilhersubconsciousstartedplayingthembacktoherindifferentgenres:country,rap,polka,andthen—perhapsthecruelestofall—bigband.Itgotsobadthatataboutthreeminutesafterfive,shegotoutofbedsoshecouldgetherselfas“together”asshepossiblycould.
She’dbeenhearingthistortuoussongeversinceshe’dleftWagnerfewerthantwelvehoursearlier.ThroughoutherentiretrainridebetweenWagnerandMcKinley’s,she’dbeenconvincedeveryonewaslookingather.Wasshebeingwatched?Followed?Wasthatmanwhowasstandingbythedoorslookingatherbecausehewantedtoknockherdownandtakeherwallet,orbecausehedidn’tliketheideaofBlackpeopleworkingatWagner?HadhisownsonbeendeniedinternshipsatWagneryearafteryear,andhe’ddecidedtotakeitoutontheonepersonhethoughtnobodywouldmiss?
Eachnewstrangermadethenoteweighheavieruponhershoulder,tothepointthatbythetimeshe’dbeencardedbytheMcKinley’sbouncer,wavedhellotoafamiliarregular,andheadedstraighttowardthebar,shehadalreadyunearthedtheenvelopefromherbag.AndassoonasshereachedMalaika,shedroppeditontothetablelikeastickofdynamiteshecouldholdnolonger.
“What’sthis?”Malaikaasked,pickinguptheenvelopeandholdingituptothedimbarlighting,asthoughthatwouldmakeadifference.
NellasignaledforRafaeltomakehertheusual.“Didn’tyoureadanyofmytexts?JesusChrist.”
“What?Oh,I’msorry.IthoughtyouunderstoodthatmyhandisgenerallytoofarupIgor’sassformetoconcernmyselfwiththeworriesofmyownpeople,”Malaikasaid,eyebrowsraisedinmockamusement.“Whatisthis?Aweddinginvitationorsomething?”Shegaspedsuddenly,clutchingherheart.“Isthisyourweddinginvitation?”
NellaknittedherowneyebrowsasshepeeredoveratthebourboncocktailMalaikawasontheedgeoffinishing.“Mal,howmanyofthosehaveyouhad?”
“Thismayormaynotbemythird.Igorletmegokindofearlytodaybecausehewantedmetoswingbythedrycleanersbeforetheyclosed.SoIfigured,whythehellnot?”
“Ohkay.”Foramoment,Nellawondered—andnotforthefirsttime,either—ifperhapssheandMalaikashouldconsiderhangingoutatanicecreamshopinsteadofabareveryonceinawhile.Themomentpassedfairlyquickly,asitalwaysdid.“Justopenit.Please.”
Malaikapickedupherdrinkandthrewthelastofitbacklongandslow,likeawomanabouttodosomethingextremelydangerous.Shesetitdown,swipedatthemoistureaboveherlipthatherpreviousacthadleft,andgottoworkontheenvelope.
Andstrangely,itwaswork.Thetopflaphadmanagedtore-glueitselfshut,andtoNella’sexasperation,ittookMalaikamuchlongertoopenthanitshouldhave.ButMalaika’sreactiontowhatwasinsidewassatisfyingenoughtomakeupforthedelay:Shethrewtheenvelopeonthegroundasquicklyasshewouldhavethrownausedtampon.
“Whatthehell,”shesaidonce,andthenagain,assheretrievedthenotecardfromthefloor.“Wheredidthiscomefrom?”
“Ihavenofuckingclue.”Nellathankedanapprehensive-lookingRafaelforherAperolspritz.ItwasclearthathewantedtostickaroundandhearwhathadgarneredsuchavisceralreactionfromMalaika,butanothercouplehadjuststartedtoplacetheirjacketsonthebarstoolsafewseatsdown.HegaveNellaamodestbow,hissandyhairfallinginhisface,andranovertogreetthemsunnily.
“Itjust…itjustshoweduponmydesktoday.Atthevery,veryendoftheday.”
“Andyouhavenocluewhocouldhaveleftit?”
“Nope.”
“Andnocluewhensomeonecouldhavedroppeditoff?”
“Mydeskisalwayscoveredwithpapers,so…no.Itcouldhavebeenanytimeoftheday.”Nellatookagood,longsipofherdrink,theshockofbitternesssoberingherthoughtsabit.
“Hmmm.”Malaikabitherlip.“Coulditbeadisgruntledauthor?”
Thethoughthadflashedthroughhermindonherwayover,butithaddissipatedalmostasquicklyasithadcome.TherewasnowaythatColin’sdisdainforherfeedbackonhisBlackcharacterhadoutweighedhisdesiretoreceivehisnextscheduledpaymentforNeedlesandPins.Themanmighthavebeenfragile,withadelicatesenseofself-worth,buthewasn’tstupid.“Funnyyousaythat.Acertaindisgruntledauthordidcrossmymindonthewayoverhere…butthere’snoway.”
“Who?!”
“Colin.Heflippedoutonmeyesterday,”Nellaexplained.“ItoldhimmythoughtsaboutShar.Butthat’sastoryformynextdrink.”
Malaikafurrowedherbrowinconcern.“Shit.Really?”
“Yeah.Butthere’snowayhewouldeventhinkaboutdoingthattome.He’stooobviousaculprit,especiallysincehehasahistorywithharassment.”
“Harassment?”Malaikascoffed.“Doyouhearyourselfrightnow?”
“Ithappenedyearsago,andRichardapparentlyputColinthroughtheringerwhenthetabloidsgotaholdofit.Colin’sbeenonhisbestbehavioreversince.Kindof.”
Malaikasighed.“Okay.Maybenothim.ButwhataboutVera?”
Nellaalmostspilledherdrinkonherself.“Youcan’tthink—?”
“Well,youhaven’ttoldmeanythingyet,butI’dimagineVerawasprettymadabouttheColinthing.”
“Yeah,but…itwouldbesoobviousifshedidsomethinglikethat.Vera’snotthatstupid,orpetty.”
MalaikadeliveredherfavoriteAreyoubeingforreallook.“I’vewatchedLifetimeMovieNetwork.Iknowhowpower-hungrywhitewomenoperate.Theydowhateverittakestoclawtheirwaytothetop,allsneakyandshit.Andoncethey’reatthetop,youbettheirassesthey’regonnadoanythingtheycantokeeptheirplacethere.Stealababy,cutupsomebody’sdog.Sneakythings.”
“Youmeansomeofthem.Notallofthem.Also,”Nellaadded,evenasanimageofadistraughtVerastandingaboveherwithaboxcutterandsomepackingtapeflashedthroughhermind,“ifVerareallywantedtofireme,shewouldhavejustfiredmealready.She’sbeenatWagnerlongenoughtohavetheclout.”
Malaikasnorted.“YouknowandIknowthatit’snotthatsimple.”ShepickeduptheenvelopeagainandrereadthenotealoudthewayshewouldhavereadaDr.Seussbook.“?‘LeaveWagner.Now.’Ifthisisn’tahatecrime,Idon’tknowwhatis.”
“Itwouldhavebeenahatecrimeifithadsaid,‘LeaveWagnernow,nigger.’?”
“Oh…butit’sthere.”
Nellareachedforthepaper.“Itis?”
“No,it’snotthere,literally.Butit’sthere.Look,girl,”shecontinuedwhenNellarolledhereyes.“YouareBlack.Thefactthatyou’reBlackcolorseverysinglethinganyoneeversaystoyou—punintended,”sheadded,beforeNellacould.“Whethertheyadmititornot.”
“Iknowwhatyoumean.Andyou’resortofright.But—”
“Andwiththatanonymousarticlethatwaspublishedlastmonth—theoneabouttheBlackgirlworkinginawhitespace—didn’tyousaythatyourBFFSophieaccusedyouofwritingit?”Malaikagasped,clutchingherchest.“Whatiftheythinkyouwroteitandthey’retryingtogetyouout?”
“Isaidthey’reprettynuts.Ididn’tsaytheyweretheliteraryKGB.”
“Imean…maybenot,butrememberwhenVeratoldyoutochilloutonalltheI’mBlackandI’mProudruckusyouwerestarting?”
“Yeah.Butthatwasdifferent.AndIplanonstartingthatruckusbackupagain,bytheway,”Nellaadded,eventhoughthethoughtoftryingtoresuscitateWagner’sDiversityTownHallssoundedjustasappealingasstickingherhairintothenearestburningteacandle.“It’sjust…I’veneverhadsomethinglikethishappenbefore,youknow?IknowI’mdefinitelygonnasoundlikeoneofthosecrazypeopleindenialwhenIsaythis—”
“Yes,thatisyourusualstyle.”
“—butduringmytimeatWagner,I’veneverhadanyonebepointedlyracisttowardme.Atleast,nothingbeyond,like,microaggressions.Trustme,you’dknowbynow.”
Nellahadn’tbeenjustbullshittingtomakeherselffeelbetter.Ithadbeenthetruth.AskherhowmuchitpainedhertobetheonlyBlackpersonintheroom,andtheanswervarieddependingontheday.Itpainedhertohavetoblacksplainculturalmomentstopeoplewhodidn’tunderstandthem,liketheseriousnessofKanye’smentalbreakdownorthesignificanceofseeingBlackwomenwearingprotectivescarvesinGirlsTrip.Andno,NellahadnotreadeveryNotableBlackBookwithgusto(she’dstartedTheBluestEyeatleastfivedifferenttimesandhadnevergottenpastthefirstchapter),soshecouldnotspeaktohowthisorthatupcomingBlackwritercomparedwithToniMorrisoninherprime.
ButNellawouldbelyingifshedidn’tadmitthatdeepdown,asmallpieceofherwasproudofhowutterlydifferent,dareshesayradical,herworldviewpointfeltfromthehomogenousthroesofWagnerBooks.No,fromallpublishing.Shemayhavebeenunsuccessfulatgettinghercolleaguestohirepeopleoutsideoftheirusualdemographics,butshehadatleastgottenherfootinthedoor.She’dmadepeoplethinkaboutrace,eveniftheydidn’trealizetheywerethinkingaboutit,bysimplybeingpresentatmeetings,orbeingfriendlyinthekitchen.
And,evendeeperdown—thousandsoffeetpastthislastthought,swimmingaroundinthedepthsofaplaceonemightcall“pride”—wasNella’ssuspicionthatmanyofhercoworkersatWagner,Veraincluded,lookeduponherwithasortofreverence.Withawe.Imaginehowmuchhardershemust’vehadtofighttogethere,sheimaginedthemsayingtooneanotherbehindcloseddoorswhentheyconsideredtheIvyLeaguenamesandpublishinginternshipsthatweremissingfromherrésumé.Shedidn’tcomefromalonglineofpeopleinthebookbusiness.She’dhadamuchhardertimeelbowingherwayintothefraythanmost;thiswentwithoutsaying.
“Evenifitistruethatnobodyhasevercommittedanypointedlyracistactagainstyouthere,ever,”saidMalaika,cuttingintoNella’sthoughts,“let’stalkfacts.Factone:You’reBlack.Facttwo:You’reBlack.Factthree:HowmanywhitepeopledoyouthinkhavegottenanotelikethisatWagner?Orever?Thesearefacts,myfriend.Straight-upfacts.”
Nellaremainedsilent.ShebothlovedandhatedwheneverMalaikagotreallytipsyandreallyrealwithher,whichusuallyhappenedaroundninep.m.andalmostalwayshappenedaftertwodrinksandnofood.
“Oh-ho-ho-ho,butwait,”Malaikasquealed,nearlychokingonanicecube.“Factfour:You’renolongertheonlyone!IforgotaboutthatotherBlackgirl.What’shernameagain?”
“Right.Hazel.”NellaherselfstillsometimesforgotthatWagnerwasn’tallwhiteanymore,perhapsbecausesheandHazelfeltlikeextensionsofoneanother,twosidesofthesamecoin.“IshouldhavecheckedherdeskbeforeIlefttoseeifshegotone,too.”Shesearchedforamemoryofwhathercoworkerhadlookedlikewhenshelefttheoffice,tryingtosifttheday’seventsfromalltheothersthathadcomebeforeit,butallshecouldseewerethemanyshadesofagitatedVera:Veratappingherblacksensibleshoe;Verahoveringatherdesk;Verafrowning—alwaysfrowning.HazelhadtohaveslippedoutwithoutNellanoticing.
“Maybe…”Malaika’seyeswidened.Shewasnotsosecretlylovingthis,Nellaknew.
“Maybewhat?”
“Maybe…itwasHazelwholeftit.”
“What?That’scrazy.ShesentmeaFamilyMattersGIFtoday.Whywouldyouthinkthat?”
Malaikaconsideredthis.“Nah,”shefinallysaid,“you’reright.Homegirlwouldn’thavebeenthatsubtleaboutwantingyoutogetgone.Plus,youdidallthehardwork.YoubrokeinallthosewhitepeopleatWagner.You’vebeenpreparingthemnottosaydumbshitinmeetingsfortwowholeyears.Shewouldnever…”
Nellaswattedawaythethought.“Shecouldnever.”
ButthenotionofHazelplantingtheletterdugitsclawsintoNella’sneck,sinkingdeeperasshefinishedherfirstdrinkandevendeeperasshefinishedhersecond.Onherthird,whenMalaikaaskedNellaifshe’dFacebookedhernewcoworker,she’dpracticallyflunghercellphoneoutofherpurse,ecstaticatthethoughtofrevisitingthistopiconcemore.Thefruitfultopicthey’dswitchedtopreviously—whetherornotBoyzntheHoodcouldbeturnedintoastagemusical—hadbeensqueezeddry.
“HernameisHazelMcCall,”Nellasaid,typinghernameintothewhitesearchbar.
“Ican’tbelievewehaven’tdonethisyet.Howhavewenotdonethisyet?”
“Idon’tknow.Iwaslookingatherboyfriend’ssister’shaircaféwebsiteearliertoday,butInevergotaroundtoherbecauseVerawasworkingmelikeadog.”
“Haircafé?”
“I’llshowittoyoulater,butweshoulddefinitelycheckitout.”Nellapulledthescreendown,frustrated.“Whoa,whoknewthereweresomanyHazelMcCalls!”
“Really?Ifindthatsurprising.Tablingthis‘haircafé’thingfortheverynearfuture,bytheway.”
“Youknowwhat?”Nellasuckeddowntherestofherdrink,thentappedthescreenafewtimes.“Herfullnameissomethinghyphenated.SomethinglikeHazel-Anne,orHazel-Sue…Hazel-May!That’swhatitwas.”ShetypeditinasMalaikagrumbledsomethingabouthowcountryHazel’snamesounded.
OnlyonepersonintheBrooklynareapoppedupthattime.Nellarecognizedhercolleagueimmediately,eventhoughherprofilephotoshowedherdeckedoutinanelegantjade-greengown,wearingafacemodel’samountofmakeup.
“Thatdress!”Malaikacried.“And,thatman!Hello.Whoisthisfella?”
Nellahadhardlyglancedatthesexymanintheforest-greentuxedobeforethephonewastakenawayfromher,butsheknewMalaikawasoglingManny.Nellaunderstoodwhy.Normally,shethoughtthatatuxinanycolorbesidesblackornavybluewastacky,butthisgreenonecomplementedhisterra-cottacomplexionsostrikinglythatNellacouldn’tdenyhowsmartofafashionchoiceithadbeen.Hislong,dark,wavyhairframedhisfaceperfectly,andhissmilewasevenmoredazzlingthanHazel’s.
Howgood—no,howboldtheybothlookedtogether,thisyoung,beautifulcoupledonningnontraditionalhues.NellawonderedwhatitwouldtaketogetOwenintoatuxthatsharp.Probablyalot.Probablytoomuch.
“That’sManny.Herboyfriend.He’sDominican,”Nellaadded,asthoughshe’dactuallymethim,asthoughMalaikahadasked.Malaikaoohedinreply,likeshe’djustbeengrantedasecrettotheuniverse.
NellacontinuedtotakealookaroundHazel’sFacebook,scanningherlatestposts,peekingthroughphotosthatshe’drecentlybeentaggedin.PostedjustthreedaysearlierwasaphotoofHazelsurroundedbyfourBlackgirls.Theywereallwearingthesamepurpleshirt,withalogothatwasjusttoosmallforNellatomakeout.EachlookedtobemaybesixteenorseventeenandhadtheirarmsaroundHazel,whostooddeadcenter,smilingsohardthatherpupilsweren’tvisible.
Nellaignoredthecomments—sheoftengotpulledintothemostmundaneofcommenttrails—andscrolleddowntothenextphoto.ThisonewasofHazelstaringstraightatthecamera,holdingalargesigninherhandsthatsaidRESPECTBLACKWOMEN
ThelastoneshelookedatwasofHazelbathedinsoftpinklightingonastage,amicrophoneinherhand,herlocspiledhighonherhead.NellavaguelyrememberedHazeltellinghershehadgonetoDCforaBlackwomen’spoetryretreatnotlongago.
“MentorsyoungBlackwomen…goesonpoetryretreats…makessignswithall-capsletters…definitelysuspicious,”Malaikajoked.“Hey,waitasecond.”Sheheldupahand.“Yousaidherboyfriend’snameisManny?”
“Yeah.”NellawasstilllookingatthepictureofHazel,comparingtheall-capslettersinhersignwiththeall-capslettersonthemysteriousenvelopeshe’dreceived.“Why?”
Malaikareachedforherphoneagain,nearlyfallingoffherchair.“Youaresofreakin’familiar,”shesaid,rappingonManny’sfacewithherthumb.
“Heis?Rafael,whenyouhaveasecond,couldyouplease—”Nellagesturedtotheiremptywaterglasses.Malaika’snear-tumbleremindedherthatsuchdrinkingrequiredhydration,especiallyonaweeknight.
“Igotyoutwo.”
“You’remyfirst,mylast,myeverything,blessyou,”Malaikacalledafterhim,notlookingupfromthephoto.“IknowI’veseenthisguybefore,somewhere.Doyouknowwhathedoes?”
“Ithinkhe’sanartistorsomething?HepaintedthisbeautifulphotoofZoraNealeHurstonandputitonamugforHazelfortheiranniversary.”
Malaikabangedthetablewithherpalm.“Iknewit!IsawhiminMelaninMonthlylastyear,Ithink,ononeofthose‘artiststowatchoutfor’lists.He’s,like,theAndyWarholofourgeneration.WarholmeetsBasquiat.Theirwords,notmine,Ipromise.”MalaikaunlockedherphoneandwentintoInstagram.Withinfivesecondsshe’dpulledupthemosaicoftinysquareimagesthatmadeupManny’spage.Art+BK,itread—asparseandcooldescription,Nellanoted,foraprofilethathadnearlyonehundredthousandfollowersandmorethanthreethousandpostings.
Shescrolledthroughthemainpage.Evenasthumbnails,NellacouldseethatnearlyeverypieceofartworkMannyhadpostedhadbeenrenderedinanunderstated,refreshingstylesimilartothatoftheZoraNealeHurstonartworkshe’dseen,placednotonlyonmugsbutonT-shirtsandtotebagsandpinsandmagnets.
Therewasn’tasinglepiecethatNellacouldn’tseeherselfbuyingeitherforherselforasagiftforsomeoneelse—eachitemwasthatspecial.Hazelmighthavebeenplayingupthefactthatshehadaboyfriend,Nellaobserved,zoominginonanincredibleimpressionisticpaintingofapurpleAltheaGibson,butshehaddefinitelybeenplayingdownhowimpressivesaidboyfriendactuallywas.
Whatelsewasshehiding?
Nellascrolledthroughtwoorthreemorerowsofposts,hopingtofindmoredetailsaboutHazel,thenslidthephonebacktoherfriendwhenshedidn’t.“Mannyseemsprettycool.”
Malaikaleftthephonewhereitwas.“Well?”
“Well,what?”
“DoyoustillthinkHazelleftthatnote?”
Nellasighed.Shedidn’tknowwhattosay.Shejustknewwhatshefelt:thatitwasunfairtopointfingersattheonlyBlackgirlsheworkedwith.Thewords“badkarma”enteredherbrain,followedby“crabsinabarrel,”saidnotbyAngelaDavisbut—thistime—byhermother.Itwasasayingthatherfatherdespised,buthermotheralwayshelditclose,thewordsascalmingasameditationchantandaspracticalasahousekey.Typically,Nellasidedwithherfather,erringsomewherebetweennonconfrontationalandcarefree.
Butiftherewasonethingshewasstartingtocomprehend,itwasthatthesetraitswereofnousetoherintherealworld.
Nellakepthermovementsascatlikeaspossibleonceshefinallycrawledoutofbed,foundsomepants,andthrewonthefirstcleansweatershecouldfind.Shemarchedintothebathroomtofinishtherest,thebrightlightbulbsabovethemirrorshockinghernervesintofullwakefulness.
Onanyotherday,whatshesawinthemirrorwouldhavealarmedher:Herhairwasallovertheplace,andnotinthecute,I’mtoobusyworkingonmycareertocareway.She’dbeensodesperatetopassoutthenightbeforethatshehadn’tbraidedhercurlsorevenputonasleepscarf.Butshewastednotimeeyeingherhair’sshrinkageasshepulleditallbackintoasmallscrunchie,thenbrushedherteethandwashedherface.Nordidshebotherbrewingacoffeeorpreparingsomegrits.Shesimplyputonhershoes,packedhertotebag,andsteppedoutintothestickysummermorning.
SomethingwaspullinghertowardhercubicleatWagner.Whatthatsomethingwas,shedidn’texactlyknow.Shejustknewithadcausedhertopracticallyrunoverthesmall,confusedwomanwhowastakingtoolongtofishherMetroCardoutofherwallet.AndwhenthetimecameforhertowalkthroughWagner’slobbyaroundaquartertoseven,fartooearlyofanarrivalforeventhemostdiligenteditors,itcausedhertotripandnearlyfallonherface.
Evergraceful,Nellafellonherhandsinstead.“Shit!”shespat,inhalingarancidwhiffoftherattywelcomerugbeforepushingherbodyup.Howhumiliating.ButhowluckyshewasthatnootherWagneremployeeshadseenherfallorheardherswearsoloudly.
Unless…
Nellaspunaroundquickly.Shecheckedforanyconspicuousstrangers,oneswithandwithoutwhitesheets.NotasoulwasinsightbutIndiaatthereceptiondesk.
Shecontinuedontowardtheelevators,fumblingbreathlesslyforherworkID,readytoexplainwhyshewasheresoearly.Butasshedrewcloser,India’sheaddidn’ttiltupthewayitnormallydid.
“India.Hey.How’sitgoing?Didyouenjoytherestofyourbirthdayyesterday?”
India’seyesdartedupfromhermagazine.Sheappearedstartledbytheintrusion.Maybeevenalittleconfusedbyit.“Oh.Hi,Nella,”shesaid,withatouchoflistlessness.“What’dyousay?”
“I…Ijustaskedifyouhadagoodbirthday.”
“Oh.Yeah,Idid.Thanks.”
Shelookedbackdownathermagazine.
Nellafeltherthroattighten.That’sit?shewonderedasshesteppedintotheelevatorandpressedthirteen.Themetaldoorsshutinfrontofheratanexcruciatinglyslowpace,grantingheronelastlonglookatthewomanwhohadgivenhersuchanicyreception.
FloorscameandwentbeneathherassheturnedIndia’sgreetingoverandoverinhermind.Somethinghadchanged;thelookshe’dgivenNellahadmatchedtheoneshegavemostofNella’swhitecolleagues.
HazelhadspentmoretimetalkingtoIndiaoverthecourseofthreeweeksthanNellahadinthelasttwoyears.WasitpossibleHazel’skindnesshadcausedIndiatogroupNellainwitheveryoneelse?HadIndiaandHazelevenconcoctedthisnotethingtogetherinordertopullsomekindofweirdprank?Indiadidhavesomanyconnectionswithinthebuilding.Sheknewwhereallthehiddenentranceswere…andprobablyhadaccesstounlimitedenvelopesandpurplepens.
Butwhy?
Nellabreathedout,thenin.No.No.Shehadtobeoverthinkingit.Afterall,hernervesfromthatscarynotewerestillwarpingherperceptionoftheworld.Indiawasfine.Youcameintotheofficebeforeeverybodyelse,andshejusthadn’texpectedtohavetodohersong-and-dancegreetingsoearly.Howwouldyoufeelifyouhadtosmileatonethousandpeopleaday?
ThislogiconlygotNellathroughafewfloors.Shewasmullingitalloverintoapulp,andbythetimethedoorsopenedonthirteen,thewordsOhhi,NellahadtackedthemselvesontothewordsLeaveWagner,anditwasallplayinginonenastyloopinhermind,awarningofshedidn’tknowwhat.
Nellascrutinizedeveryemptydeskasshepassedonthewaytoherown.Shewasgladtobefreefromtheconfinesoftheelevator,butshecouldn’tsayshewashappytobebackintheoffice.Thiswaswhatshe’dthoughtshewanted—toreturntothesceneofthecrime;toexplorethepremisesundisturbed.ButeverythingaboutWagnerfeltdifferentnow.Thebrighthospital-wardlightingfeltmoreclinicalthanever.AndtheACdidn’tfeellikeitwasonatall.
ShedroppedherthingsonherchairandbooteduphercomputerbeforecreepingovertoHazel’scubicle,startledbywhatshesaw.Nellahadnevernoticedhowclearororganizedherneighbor’sdeskwas.Everythinghaditsplace:Totheleftofthekeyboardweretwopiles;onelabeledToDo,theotherlabeledCheckwithMaisy.Hazel’sofficesupplieswerelinedalongthebackwall,jarsofrubberbandsandthumbtacksononeside,boxesofstaplesandpaperclipsontheother.Andinthefarcornersatamasonjarfilledwithhighlighters,pencils,andpens.
Blackpens.Onered.Twoblue.Andzeropurple.
Placatedforthetimebeing,Nellareturnedtohercubicle,satdown,andclosedhereyes.Insteadofdarkness,shesawinteractionsfromthedaybefore.People.Everyoneshe’dcomeintocontactwithhadbeenfine:theproductionteam,thepublicists,theotherassistants.AndHazel—HazelhadbeenchummierthaneverbeforewithNella.SendingherGIFsandalinktoacoolBlackhairmeccainBrooklyn.TryingtodistractherfromVera’snitpicking.
Cometothinkofit,theonlypersonintheofficewho’dhadanykindofproblemwithNellahadbeenVera.God,howsternshe’dbeen.Howunfair.JustbecauseNellahadspokenhertruthaboutShartricia,andwasabsurdlylatetoworkthatonetime…thosethingsdidn’tmakeherabadassistant.Sheknewwhatabadassistantlookedlike.Trust.Allanyoneneededtodowaslookaroundtheofficewhentheothereditorswentouttolunch.Theotherassistantswereeasilydistracted.Dispassionate.Neglectful.
Neglectful.
Nella’seyespoppedwiderthantheyhadhoursearlierinbed.She’dforgottensomething.Notahintastowherethenotemighthavecomefrom,butataskforVera:tweaktheonlinecopysothatitspoketoayoungeraudience.Perhapsthatwastherealreasonwhyshehadfeltpulledtoworksoearly.Itwouldn’tbethefirsttimehersubconsciouswasmoreonitthanshewas.
Newlyhumbled,NellarappedherfingersimpatientlyonherdeskwhileshelookedfortheoriginalWordfileonhercomputerandhitPrint.Theprinterontheothersideofthewallspatoutthepageimmediately.Nellaglancedovertowardthesoundofthemachine,caughtbysurprise.Usually,firstthinginthemorning,themachinetookclosetoninetysecondstowarmupfromsleepmode.
Shegrabbedthepageandtrudgedbacktoherdesk.Itwasonlyaftershe’dgottentoherchair,poisedtositdown,thatsherealizedshehadtwopagesinherhand,notone.Sheplacedherpageonherchair,thenheadedbacktotheprintertoleavetheothersheetforitsrightfulowner.
Itwascommoncourtesytodothis.Nellapreferredthismethodtotryingtofigureoutwhoseitwasbyeitherreadingthepage’scontentsorbydoingwhatBridgetalwaysdid,whichwascircletheofficeandwavethepagehighintheairlikeapairofstraypanties.
Andyet,aloneintheemptyoffice,Nellabrokeetiquetteandtookanunabashedlookatwhatshe’daccidentallygrabbed.Whatshesawmadeherstopinhertracks,justassheturnedthecorner.
Itwasalist.Aspreadsheet,really.Itlookedofficial,likeithadbeendrawnupusingthesoftwareWagnereditorsusedtoorganizethebookstheywereworkingon—exceptthetitlesintheleftcolumnweren’tbooktitlesatall.
AaliyahH.
AyannaP.
CamilleP.
EboneeJ.
JadaA.
JazminS.
KiaraT.
NiaW.
Names.Andacrossfromthenames,inthemiddlecolumn,weredates.Andacrossfromthemiddlecolumn,onthefarright,wasalistofcities.Well,mostlyonecity:NewYork,NewYork,NewYork,allthewaydown.OnlyCamilleP.fromMissouladaredtobreakthepattern.
Nellascannedthelistonceagain.Missoulabedamned;thesenameshadtobelongtoBlackwomen.
Bizarre
Andthen,suddenlyhopefulassheslippeditbackontotheprinter:Coulditbealistofcandidatestohire?ShestooduponhertiptoesandconfirmedthatRichard’slightwasindeedoninhisoffice.
“Whatyoudoin’,Nella?”
Nellastartedatthesoundofhername.She’dexpectedtohavetheofficetoherselfforatleastanotherhalfanhourorso.“Hello?Who’sthere?”
Thesoundoflaughterechoedfromherdesk.“Whoyouthink?”thevoiceasked.“It’sjustme!”
Nellaknewthisvoice.ShemadeherwayovertohercubicletofindC.J.standingnexttoheremptychair,hisfacestretchedbyaself-satisfiedsmirk,hisarmscrossedoverthefrontofhistoo-small,navy-blueWagnerMailshort-sleevedbutton-up.Notlongaftershehadstarted,maybeduringherthirdorfourthweek,he’dtoldherinhisthick,butteryaccenthowhe’doncemadethemistakeofputtingitinadryerfortoolong.Ithadshrunkdowntoathirdofitsoriginalsize,“justfiveminutesshortofacroptop,”he’dsaid,laughing.Whenshe’daskedhimwhyhehadn’tjustgottenanotherone,hetoldherthatitwouldcosthimmorethanfiftybuckstoreplace.
Afterthat,theywerebuds.
“Youfuckingterrifiedme,Ceej.”Nellapunchedhisshoulder,eventhoughshewassohappytoseehimthatshethoughtshemightcry.Ifshewassureaboutanything,itwasthatC.J.wasn’ttheperpetrator.“I’msogladit’syou.”
C.J.raisedhiseyebrows.Apparently,henoticedthatshewasclosetotears,too.“Ishouldgetsurgerymoreoften.It’sbeen,like,what—sixweeks?AndyouforgotIexistedalready?”HisheartylaughreverberatedthroughtheemptyhallsandthroughNella’score,too,fillingupherinsideslikeacupofgumboonaJanuaryday.
“Ididn’tforgetaboutyou,”Nellasaid.Shefeltlikegivinghimahugjusttoproveherpoint.Instead,sheloweredherselfbackdownatherdesk.Shedidn’twanthimtogetthewrongidea.Eventhoughhe’dapologizedforthatawkwardDMhe’ddrunkenlysentheronInstagramafewmonthsback,andtheyseemedtohavegottenpastit,NelladeemeditbettertokeeptheirrelationshipataplacethathoveredsomewherearoundG-ratedbutmeaningful.
“How’stheknee?”sheaskedhim.
“Oh,youknow.Doin’whatitshouldbe.Hurtslikehell,butI’mhere.”
“Youdidn’twanttotakeabitmoretimeoff?”
“Can’t,”C.J.said.“Weonlygetsomuchtime,youfeelme?”
Nellanodded,althoughtheybothknewthathis“we”didn’tinvolveher,becauseheandtherestofthemailstaffweregivenlesspaidtimeoffthaneveryoneelse.Theirsituationsoutsideoftheofficewerevastlydifferent,too.C.J.livedwithhissisterandhissister’skidinOceanHillandhelpedsupportthemboth,partlywithhisWagnerpaychecksandpartlywithpaychecksfromhisweekendjob.Shecouldn’trememberspecificallywhichnightclubhewasabouncerat,butshevaguelyrememberedthatitwasnowherenearwherehelived—inHell’sKitchen,ormaybeevensomewhereupinColumbiaterritory.Anditmadesense.OnMondaymornings,ifshelookedlongenough,shemightseehimtakingabreakinbetweendistributingpackages,leaningagainsthismailcratetocatchsomerest.
Nellawasn’tsurehowhemanagedallofitattheageoftwenty-two:thecommute;thetwojobs;supportingfamilythatwashisfamilybutwasn’treallyhisresponsibility,notaccordingtoherownprivilegedrules,anyway.Butsomehow,hedid.Usuallywithasmile.
Nellaeyedhiskneeskeptically.“Youcouldhaveatleastcomeinabitlater,youknow,”shesaidquietly.
“Ha!Sherrytextedmeandtoldmetheguywhowashereinmyplacewasdoingarealshitjob.I’vebeenfindingmailpostmarkedfrommorethanaweekagothatain’tbeendeliveredyet.Nogood.It’slike,howyougonnascrewupthisjob?YouknowwhatI’msaying?It’ssoeasy,mygod.”
Nellathoughtaboutthescrawnyoldmailmanwho’dcomeupfromthesoftwarecompanybelowthemtotakeC.J.’sspot.Shechuckledassherememberedhowhe’daccidentallyrunMaisyoverwithhiscartduringthefirstweekofhistemporaryresidencyatWagner,ofhowNella—ofallofhercolleagues—wastheonepersonwhosemailnevergotfudged.“ItriedtohelphimoutasbestasIcouldwhenhefirsttookover,butpoorguy…hejustcouldn’tgetittogether.Ithinkhewasoverwhelmedbyhowmanypackageswegetuphere.”
“YouknowwhatIthink?”C.J.flexedhisleftbicepandkissedit.“Ithinkhejustain’tme.That’sallitis.”
Nellalaughed.“Ithinkyou’reprobablyright.”
“Sohowhavethingsbeenaroundhereotherwise?Haveyoutakenovertheworldyet?Boughtthelatestbestseller?”
“Hell,no.But…um…somethingstrangehappenedyesterday.Igotthisreallyweirdnote.”
“Aweirdnote?”
“Yep.”
“Whofrom?”
“That’swhat’sreallystrangeaboutit.Idon’tknow.Itwasanonymous.Butitwasinthisenvelopewithmynameonit,andthenotesaid‘LeaveWagner.Now.’?”
“Thehell?You’refuckingwithme.”
“IwishIwas,becauseI’mprettyfreakedout.That’swhyI’mheresoearly.”
“Why?Soyoucanfightwhoeverleftitforyoubyyourself?”C.J.joked,butthelightairofhumorhe’dbeenreachingforhadn’tquitereachedhiseyes.Helookedstraight-upconcerned,remindingherwhyshehadshownupsoearly:tosearchforcluesthatshemighthavemissedthenightbefore.Tofindasmokinggun—thatdamnpurplepen—onHazel’sdesk.
ButwhileshetrustedC.J.,shewasn’treadytotellhimthatpartyet,soshejustshrugged.“Idon’tknowwhatIthoughtI’ddo,Ceej.Idon’tknow.”
C.J.nodded.“Haveyouthoughtlongandhardaboutwhetherornotsomeonehere’stryingtomesswithyou?”
“Ihave.Butwhywouldtheystartnow,aftertwoyears?ThetimetodothatwouldhavebeenwhenIfirststarted,ifwethinkit’ssomewhitesupremacistkindofthing.OrwhenIwastryingtodoallthatdiversitystuffwaybackwhen.”
“It’smostlyyouguysintheofficethistimeofthesummer,though,right?Assistants?So,ifitwassomeonewhoworkedhere,thatmeans…”
C.J.trailedoff,buthewasstillgivingherthatscary,worriedlook.Shewasbeginningtowishshehadn’tsaidanythingaboutit—nottohim.Notbeforeshe’dovercomeherhangover;notbeforeshe’ddrummedupalikelynarrativethatshefeltcomfortablewith.
“Idon’tknowwhyyou’resocoolaboutthis,”hesaidfinally.“Thisisn’tsomethingyoucanjustignoreandthenit’lljust…goaway.Haveyoutoldanyonehereaboutit?”
“Notyet.Igotitlastnight,afteralmosteveryonehadleft.”
“Almost?”
“Donaldwasstillhere,butasfarasIknow,that’sit.”
“Ah,Walk-Man,”C.J.said.NellacouldpracticallyseethegearsturninginhiseyesasheconsideredRichard’sassistantexactlythewayshehadtwelvehoursearlier.“Andthisnotecamethroughthemail?”
“No,”saidNella,shakingherhead.“Someonedroppeditonmydeskatsomepoint.”
“Anyonecouldhavedonethat.Damn.MaybeyoushouldtalktoNatalieaboutit.She’srealchill.”
“Eh.IfIgetanotherone,Iwill.ButIthinkI’mjustgoingtoignoreitfornow.Toomuchgoingon.”Nellapaused.ShethoughtaboutmentioningtheColinthing,butC.J.’sfurrowedbrowtoldherthatprobablywasn’tagoodidea.
“Justlemmeknowifyouneedanything,aight?Ihaven’tbrokenupanyMidtownofficescrimmagesyet,butIwouldn’tmindbeingherewhenthestaplersstartflying.”
Nellachuckledashebackedawayslowlyfromhercube,throwingafewpunchesintotheairabovehishead.“Thanks,Ceej.”
“Anytime.Goodseeingyou,Nella.”
“You,too.Actually,wait!Iforgotonemorething.”WhenC.J.reappeared,NellapointedatHazel’semptychair.“Maybeevenbiggernews:ABlackgirlstartedworkinghereafewweeksago!”
C.J.’seyeslitupwithrecognition.“Oh,yeah!Youknow,Ijustmether.Sheseemsprettycool.”
“Youjustmether?Asin…today?”
“Yeah,she’sfloatingaroundheresomewhere.Iranintoherinthecopyroom.”Henoddedathercube.“Funnythatyoutwohappentobetogether,ain’tit?It’slikewealwayshaveawayoffindingoneanother.Nomatterwhereweare.”
NellalookedoveratHazel’sstationagain,speechless.Shehadtobenddowntoseeit,butsureenough,therewasHazel’stotebag,stowedneatlyunderherdesklikeluggageonaplane.Itwaseasytomissunlessyouwerecheckingforit.Whatwasn’teasytomiss,notusually,wasthatsweetsmellHazelalwayscarriedaroundwithher—althoughnowthatNellathoughtaboutit,shecouldn’trememberthelasttimeshehadsmelledit.Probablybecauseshe’dgottensousedtoit.“Ididn’trealizeshewasherealready.”
“Andtheysaywedon’tworkhard.Shoot,lookatyouandher,bothhereatthecrackofdawn.”
Itwasacompliment,butNellawastoobusymourningthealonetimeshe’dbeenhopingtohaveatherdesktoappreciateit.“Iwonderwhyshe’sheresoearly.”
“Shesaidsomethingaboutwantingtogetajumponamanuscriptshehastoread?Oredit?Ican’trememberwhich.”
“Hm.I’mnotsurewhatshe’dhavetogeta‘jumpon’editing.Shejuststartedworkinghere,like,acoupleweeksago.”AndI’mnoteveneditingyet,sheadded,justtoherself.
Nellahadtriedtokeephertoneasneutralaspossible,butthedeepshrugofC.J.’sshoulderssuggestedshe’dbeenunsuccessful.“Noideahowitworkshere.Ijustkeepthepackagesmoving.Iwillsay,though,thatitseemslikeshe’sashardworkingasyou.”
“Well,weknowhowitgoes:Wegottaworktwiceashardtogetwhatwewant.”Nellarecitedthemantra,butrealizedtheseconditlefthermouththatitwasaggressivelytruerforC.J.thanitwasforNella.Nella,whosemotherhadpaidoffhalfherstudentloans;Nella,whohadnoniecesornephewstohelpwithmathhomeworkwhenshegothomefromalongdayofwork.
C.J.simplynoddedandstartedtowalkaway,thistimewithabitmorepurpose.Hisvoicedriftedaroundthecorner.“Hey—youknow,Hazelgotherearoundsixorsomething.Shemightbeworkingthreetimesashard.Betterwatchout.”
Nellasatup.Shewasn’tsureifhe’dreallysaidthosewords,orifshe’djustimaginedthem.“Huh?Watchoutforwhat?”
ButC.J.’slonglegshadalreadytakenhimaroundthecorneranddownthehall,leavingherpainfullyalonewithherthoughts.
Wherewasshe?
Nellastoleaglanceacrosstheaisleoncemore,thistimelettinghereyesrestontheplacecardaffixedtotheoutsideofHazel’scube.Hazel’sname,etchedinanunassumingfourteen-pointArialfont,directlyfacedherownnameinafaintoppositionofsorts.Nellastaredatthebold-facedlettersforagoodlongwhile,longenoughfortheletterstobecomeonethick,indiscernibleblackblock.Thensheclosedhereyesagain,drewinalong,raggedbreath,andsigheditout.Shefeltevenmoretroubledthanshehadwhenshe’dlefttheofficethenightbefore.Shedidn’tlikethewaybetterwatchoutwasstillringinginherears—notunlikeOhhi,Nella;toomuchlikeLeaveWagner,now—andshereallydidn’tlikehowbigofadealC.J.hadmadeaboutthatnote.Maybehe’dbeenright.
Andhadn’thebeenright,too,aboutHazel?Shebelongedexactlywhereshe’dbeenplaced,ofcourse:rightoutsideofMaisy’soffice,whichhappenedtobeinNella’scorneroftheoffice.But,still—itwasfunny.FunnythatoutofalltheeditorswhowouldfinallyhireaBlackassistant,thateditorhadbeenMaisy,ratherthanadifferentupper-levelemployeewhoworkedontheoppositesideoftheoffice,wherethingscouldcertainlyusesomespicingup.Itwasasthoughsomesortofprovidence,intheshapeofafive-foot-oneHRemployeenamedNatalie,hadpluckedHazelupanddroppedherthere,rightintoNella’s—
“Hi,Nell!Greatmindsthinkalike,huh?”
Theywerewordsthatnoearly-arrivingemployeedesperateforprivacywantedtohearanotheremployeesay—especiallywhenthatotheremployeesoundedaschipperasHazeldid.“Oh—hey,Hazel.Workwascallingyournamefirstthingthismorning,too,huh?”
“Yeah,myeyespoppedopenatfivea.m.andIjustcouldn’tsleep.Youknow.”
Nelladidknow;granted,herreasonsforwakingupearlywerelikelymuchdifferentthanHazel’s.So,too,hadbeenhermorningroutine.WhileNellahadswipedatasurprisecrustofdroolonherchinduringhercommute,realizingshehadn’tlookedcloselyenoughatherselfinamirror,Hazel—fresh-facedandanimated—hadfoundtimetoputonmascara,eyeliner,andcoral-tintedlipgloss.
“So,”shesaid,shiftingthehugestackofpapersinherhandsfromoneshouldertotheother,“whatareyoudoingheresoearly?”
“Icouldn’tsleep,either.IhadsomuchtodoherethatIcouldn’tfinishlastnightsoI…IfiguredI’djustpopin.”
ThewordsinherlietumbledoutofherlikeamassofdisgruntledpassengersexitingoutofasluggishLtrainatrushhour.
“Crazyhowthathappenedtobothofus!”saidHazel,inchingabitclosertoNella’scubicle.“Maybeit’ssomethingintheair.”
“Maybe.Alow-pressuresystem,orsomething.”Nellawiggledherfingers.
“Yeah.Speakingofpressure…”Hazellaughednervously.“CanIaskyouadumbquestion?God,Idon’tknowwhenI’mgoingtoeverstopaskingyoudumbquestions…”
“Aw,no.It’sokay,”Nellasaid,softeningateenybit.“What’sup?”
“IhavethismanuscriptthatIneedtotakealookatandgive,like…‘editorialcomments’on.I’mprettysureIknowwhatthoseareandhowtodothem—hell,theywerepartoftheinterviewprocess!Asyouknow.ButI’mabitworriedI’mgonnascrewitup.”
Nellarelaxed.“It’snotadumbquestion!IcanemailyouasampleofwhatIsendVerawhensheasksmetoreadsomething.Although,itmightbemorehelpfulforyoutolookatthatassistantguideforMaisy,sinceI’mprettysurehereditorialstyleisradicallydifferentfromVera’s.”
“Actually,whateveryousendmemightjustdoit.TheletterisforVera,notMaisy.”
Nella’svoicecaughtinherthroat.“Vera?”
“Verasentmeabookthatshe’dlikemetoread.Shewantedtogetmyopiniononit.”
Nellafroze.Shestillwasn’tfullycomprehendingwhatHazelwastryingtotellher.Afteramoment,shesaid,“Pleasetellmeit’snottheColinFranklin.”
“Oh,no,no,no,thankGod.”Hazellaughed.“No,it’sanotherone.TheLie.You’vereadit,right?”
Nellafurrowedherbrow.“No.What’sthat?”sheasked,tryinginvaintorecallsomethingwiththattitlethathadgracedherinboxinthelastfewdays.
“Oh,sorry—Ithoughtyou’dstarteditalready.LeslieHoward’snewbook.She’soneofVera’sauthors,isn’tshe?”
“Sheis,yeah.Verajust…hasn’tsentittomeyet.”
“Weird.Maybesheseeshowoverwhelmedyou’vebeen,withalltheColinstuff…”
“Whendidshesendit?”Nellainterrupted,abandofsweatbeginningtogatheratherhairline.Shescratcheditaway.
Hazellookedconcerned.“Lastnight.IranintoherattheendofthedayyesterdayandIrememberedhowyoutoldmeit’sgoodformetoaskothereditorswhatthey’rereading,gettoknowtheirtastes,thatkindofthing.Ididthat.Thensheofferedtosendmeabookthatshegotinyesterdayafternoon.Ithoughtthatmeantshe’dsendittoday,butshesentittomeatelevenp.m.lastnight.Issheoneofthoseeditorswhoworkstwenty-foursevenandonvacations,too?Ifso,Ifeelbadforherkids.”
NellaignoredthepartofHazel’ssoliloquythatworriedaboutVera’skids,whowerenonexistent,andzeroedinonthefirstpartinstead.“Yesterdayafternoon”couldmeananything,andifVerahadbeenshutinmeetingsallday,whichwasn’tatypicalforher,Nellacouldseethisslipbeingutterlyinsignificant.Butshe’dseenVeramultipletimes,hadspentatleastoneaccumulativehourwithherbythetimeshe’dlefttheofficefortheday.
“Nella?”HazelclickedNella’scubiclewallwithherpinkynail.“Youokay?”
“Hm?Yeah.Ijustthinksheforgottosendthattome.”NellalookedawayfromHazelandmovedhermousetowakehercomputer.Onceherscreenlitupagain,shefoundthestrengthtofaceHazeloncemoreandcaughtherstaringoff,afaraway,indiscerniblelookinhereyes.Afterasecondortwo,shesnappedhereyesbackonNella.
“Sorry.Iwasjustthinking…shesendsyoueverythingherauthorswrite?”
“Yep.”
“Well…myfirstthought…andIcouldbewrong,butIcan’thelpbutthinkthatshe’sstillholdingagrudgeagainstyouforthatColinthing.”
“Thethoughtcrossedmymind,but—”
“Andit’smaybenotevenaconsciousgrudge.Right?Thatwouldexplainwhyshedidn’tforwardthebooktoyou.She’sstillfeelingawayandshedoesn’tevenrealize—”
“Ihaven’tcheckedmyemailsinceIlefttheofficeyesterday.Ibetit’sinthereandIjusthaven’tseenit.”
Anotherlie.Inreality,Nellacheckedheremailcompulsively.ShehadlookedatheremailonherwayhomefromMcKinley’s,aroundmidnight—justtoseeifthepersonwho’dleftherthenotehadalsocontactedherbyemail,too.
“Gotit.Inthatcase,I’msureit’sinthere!Iwouldn’tworryaboutit.”
“Me?Oh—I’mnotworried.”
Nellahadn’tintendedforherownvoicetohavesuchanedgetoit,especiallywhenHazelhadbeensohopefulandreassuring.Shedidn’tfeelmuchlikeapologizing,though.Notnow,andnotwhenforty-fiveminutespassedwithouthercubeneighborspeakinganotherword.
Bythen,theairhadclickedonandotherWagneremployeeswerefinallystartingtotrickleinbyonesandtwos,swishingcupsofcoffeeandgrumblingabouttraindelaysandaskingifyou’dseenthelatestreviewonthisorthatbook.Officedoorsthathadbeenclosedforsixteenhourswerecreakingopen;deskphoneswerewhiningforattention;thebasslineof“StandBack,”Bridget’sfavoritemorningsong,couldbeheardnearandfar.TheentirefloorseemedmorechargedandfarlessscarythanithadfeltwhenNellafirstarrived.
Veraambledinatherusualtime,herlightblueraincoatspeckledwithraindrops,hoodstillpulledtightlyoverherhair.“Oh,great,you’reherebeforeme!”sheexclaimed,lookingatNellawithsuchastonishmentthatshewonderedifshe’doverlookedanothersmearofdroolonherface.
ButNelladidn’tletthebackhandedgreetinggettoher.“Goodmorning,Ver.Isitrainingoutnow?Itlookedlikeitmightafewhoursago.”
“It’sbeenrainingthelasthourorso,Ithink.Prettynastyout.”
“Yikes.Thatstinks.Oh,bytheway—Gretchencalledthismorning,aroundeight.”
Verapausedatherdoor.“Mygoodness.Soearly!Whatcouldbethatimportantthatanagenthastocallthatearly?”
“Shewascallingtoaskaboutthesigningpaymentfor—”
“Forcryingoutloud,wejustboughtthatbooklastweek.Doesn’tshehaveanythingelsetoworryabout?LikewhyMickey’sbookisn’tsellingwithpeopleintheforty-to-fiftybracket?”Withadismissiveflourishofherhand,sheturnedthedoorknobtoheroffice.“Theseagents!Iswear.Iknowyoumeantwell,butyouknowyoudon’thavetoanswerthephonethatearly.Nexttime,justignoreit,okay?”
“Yougotit,”Nellacalled,eventhoughherbosswasnowinherofficeandthereforeoutofearshot.Shechuckledinspiteofherself.Now,thiswastheVerashehadgrowntoknowandlove.Perhapstheirrelationshiphadn’tbeenruined,andVerawastryingtokeepNellafreeforsomeotherbigproject.
Pleasedandsomewhatrelieved,Nellastrolledovertothekitchenandmadeherselfhersecondcoffeeoftheday.AsshelistenedtotheKeurigburbleandgroan,shethoughtaboutthevariouswaysshemightcasuallyaskVeraaboutthenewLeslieHoward.Shecouldleadwithitwhentheyfirstsatdownfortheirusualfifteen-minutemorningmeeting,casually,likeitwassomethingsheworriedshe’dforgetifshedidn’t.OrshecoulddropsomejargonandaskVeraiftherewasanythingshewasreadingthatNellashould“movetothefrontofherpile.”
She’ddecidedonthesecondapproachasshemadeherwaybackfromthekitchen,setonmakingapitstopatVera’sdoorwaytoaskifitwasagoodtimetodotheirmorningcatch-upchat.ButasshewalkedbyKimberly’soffice,thenMaisy’s,somethinggaveherpause.ThissomethingwasHazel,whohadpoppedupfromherowndesk,notepadinhand,determinationinherraisedshoulders.
ShewasmakingabeelinestraightforVera’soffice.
Butbeforesheofficiallysetfootinside,HazelpausedandlookeddirectlyatNella,whoexpectedsomekindofWhatcanIdo?Shecalledmein!shrug.Somekindofapology.
Therewasnothingofthesort.Justacold,hardlook.Andwiththat,HazelswoopedintoVera’soffice,hernotepadheldhighlikeasuccessfullycaughtweddingbouquet.“Vera!Girl.ThisLeslieHowardbookisso.Freaking.Good.Ican’twaitforyoutoreadit.”
Meanwhile,Nella’sheadhunglowerthanadefeatedbridesmaidassheshuffledthefewremainingfeetbacktoherdesk.“You’resureI’mnotinterruptingyourwork?”sheheardHazelsay,herwordsthickwithcarefulself-effacement.“I’djustlovetochatwithyouforafewminutesorso.”
Nellafellintoherseat,dejected.SheheardVera’scheerfulcomeoninloudandclear.Sheheardhereager,energetictone—atonethatherbosshadn’tusedwithherinshedidn’tknowhowlong.
Andthen—finally—sheheardthesoundofadoorclosing.
Shani
August14,2018
Rise&GrindCafé
Midtown,Manhattan
Ididn’trecognizeheratfirst.Usually,ondayslikethatone—dayswhenIwonderedhowthehellI’dgonefromworkingatoneofthemostrespectedmagazinesinmediatosweepingstrawpapersoffacaféfloorinMidtown—thesoundofthefrontdoormeantnothingtome.Thedoorscrapedopen,thedoorscrapedclosed;afewminuteslater,thiswouldhappenagain.Theoutcomewasalwaysthesame:asmile;anod.DoyouhaveWiFi?What’syourbathroompassword?Doyouguystakecards?
Thedayhadstartedofflikethat.Carelessly,I’dglancedatheronce—herstrikinghair;herhigh-collaredtunic;herflashygoldhoops—andpresumedshewasyetanotherNewYorkmillennialdoingfarbetteratlifethanIwas,andlookedbackdown.
WhatcanIsay?Sheblendedinsowell.AndIwasprettysureshewouldhavecontinuedto,haditnotbeenforhervoice—alittlehuskyandalittletooflirtywithChristopher,mytwenty-two-year-oldboss.Ididn’trecognizethehair,butIrecognizedthewaysheflippeditsofarbackthatshealmostbrokeherneck.Irecognizedthewayshegiggledandpretendednottoknowthedifferencebetweenalatteandacoldbrew,eventhoughI’dheardherspeaksospiritedlyaboutherknowledgeofcoffeewithallthehigher-upsatCooper’smagazine.
Ipracticallydroppedmybroom.Yes,thisgirllookedmorelikeawomanoftheworldthanshedidthelasttimeI’dseenherinBoston—moreZaranowthanherJ.Jillstylethen.
Butitwasher,alright.
Myfirstinstinctwastowalkuptoherandbeatherwithmybroom.AnybodywhodidwhatshediddeservedtobebludgeonedbyagirlwithabroominaMidtowncafé.
ButIdidn’t.EvenafterwhathappenedinBoston,Istillhadsomeprideleft.Ialsohadnewknowledge:Shewasfrustratinglyclever,withartfultiming.IfIdidn’twanttobebestedinthisnewcity,IknewI’dhavetothinkthreestepsahead.InBoston,mybiggestmistakewasbeingthreestepsbehind
WhatwasitLynnhadsaidtomeontheRedLine?Isawyoutwolastnight,youknow.Somethinglikethat.Ofcourse,I’dignoredher.Atfirst.Butshejustwouldn’tletup.“Iknowyoudon’tknowwhoIam.ButIjustwanttotellyouthatyou’refucked.”
I’dglancedoveratherjustalittlebit—theamountofglancingyouneedtodoinordertoconfirmthatsomeoneisinfacttalkingtoyou,becauseshewasn’t“Lynn”tomeyet;shewasjustaweirdstrangerinterruptingmymorningcommute.AndwhenIsawthatitwasthisBlackladywhosortoflookedlikemyauntKrystal—ifAuntKrystalhadbeenbraveenoughtorockaseptumpiercing,thatis—Iaskedhertorepeatwhateveritwasshe’djustsaidinsteadoftellinghertoleavemethefuckalone.
“IsaidIsawyoutwolastnight.AtPepper’s.”
“HowdoyouknowIwasatPepper’s?”
“AndfromwhatIoverheard,”she’dsaid,ignoringme,“well…itdoesn’tlookgoodforyou.”
Atthat,I’dfoldedoverthecorneroftheNewYorkerstoryI’dbeenreadingandsaidthefirstthingthatcametomymind.“Sorry,”Isaid,afterI’dthoughtI’dgatheredenoughcontextcluestomakeafairassumption,“butIdon’tunderstand.Areyoutwodating,orsomething?Becausethat’snotwhatthatwaslastnight.Wewerejustgettingdrinks,hangingout.Weworktogether.”
Lynnhadstaredatmeforamoment.Thenshe’dlaughed,along,loudlaughthatdrewthelooksofhalfofthecommuterssittingnearby.I’dtakenthattimetoactuallygiveheraonce-over,assessingtheblackheadwrapshewaswearingonherheadandthesunglassesthatcoveredupanyhintofanexpression.
Now?I’dsayIwassearchingforsomesortofconfirmationthatshewascrazy,yetharmless.Butatthetime,Iwasalsosearchingforsomekindofsignthatshewasawomanscorned.
“Whoareyou?”Iaskedatlast.“Whatdoyouwantfromme?”
“Iwantyoutocomejoinus.”
“?‘Us’?”Ilookedatthejaundicedoldmanwhowaspeelingahard-boiledeggintheseatdirectlybehindher.“Isheinyourcrew,too?OrdoyouhavesomemoredesirableimaginaryfriendshereonthetrainwhoIdon’tknowabout?”
Shehadn’tfoundthisfunny.She’djustshakenherhead.“Youfuckedup,girl.Yousaidtoomuch.”
Thatwaswhenshestartedrummagingaroundhersmallbrownleatherpurse.Itwasthiswholebigproduction—oratleast,itmusthaveappearedassuch,becauseatwentysomethingwhiteguynearbywhohappenedtobeholdingthesameissueoftheNewYorkerIheldwasgivingushisattention.Istartedtosmileathiminsolidarity,butbeforemylipscouldcompletethemotion,themysteriousgirlclearedherthroat,evidentlydispleased.AndwhenIlookedbackather,shewasfrowningatthewhiteman—atleast,that’swhatitseemedlikeshewasdoingbeneathhersunglasses.
IfeltthepieceofpapertuckitselfintomyhandbeforeIheardhersay,“Takethis.”
“I’mflattered,”Isaid,myfacegrowinghot,“butI’mnotinto—”
“Shani,”shehadsaid,firmly.Thesoundofmynameinastranger’smouthloosenedmygriponboththepieceofpaperandthemagazine,whichfellontothedirtyflooroftheT.“Youneedtogetoveryourself.I’mnottryingtofuckyou,forfuck’ssake.I’mjusttryingtohelp.”
Thetraincametoaslowstop.“IhavetogobacktoHarlemtonight.Buttextmeatthisnumberafteryouleavework.You’llwanttoaftertoday.Trustme.”
She’dslippedoffbeforeIcouldgethernamefromher,leavingmenochoicebuttostoopdown,feelaroundthepairofSperrybootsI’dboughtupondiscoveringhowunforgivingBostonwintersreallywere,andretrievethestainedcard.
LynnJohnsonresists,itread.GoogletoldmeevenlesswhenIsearchedforheronmyworkcomputer.Iintendedtolettheincidentgo.
Butitdidn’ttakelongforshittohitthefan,justlikeLynnhadpromised.Thearticlewascirculated.Mybosswentinonmeinfrontofeverybody.Iwasfired…infrontofeverybody.AndthatwasitformeandCooper’sandthatstoryI’dworkedsohardtocomplete.
ItextedLynnonmywayhomefromtheoffice,finallyreadytolisten.TherewasnopointindenyingsheknewsomethingIdidn’t,andIateeverycrumbshefedmefromherhomeinNewYork:thelists,thecharts,allcompiledbyLynnandtherestoftheResistanceoverthelastfiveyears—andthepromisethatshe’dtellmemoreonceIgotthere.AbusticketthatcamewithaninterviewatasubparcaféinManhattanwhereIwouldbe…sweepingfloors.
Ieaseduponthehandleofmybroom.Ithadgrownnearlyashotasmypalmsfrommytight,anxiousgrip.IfyouevercrosspathswithanOBGoutinthewild,blendin,Lynnhadtoldme.You’lldoalotbetterknowingwhereshe’satifshedoesn’tknowwhereyou’reat.
Hadsheseenme?DidsheknowIworkedhere?
Iquicklywentbacktosweepingafarcorneroftheroom,listeningasshetriedtoconvinceChristopherthatMaroon5hadindeedgottenbetterwithtime.Figures.BackinBoston,she’dbeenwillingtodieonahillforJohnMayer.
Thememoryofthissentmeovertheedge.IpulledmyphoneoutofmybackpocketandsnappedaphotoasnonchalantlyasIcould.Whenitcameoutblurry,Isnappedanotherone—thenanother,justincase.Tauntingthebull,youcouldsay,butIdidn’tcare.
Thethirdphotoseemedtodoit.Thankstotheangleatwhichshehadsuddenlyflirtatiouslytiltedherhead—she’dalwaysbeengoodatangles,I’llgiveherthat—thelate-afternoonsunlightcreepinginfromthedirtyfrontwindowsofRise&GrindclarifiedherdeepbrownskinandhighcheekbonessowellthatLynncoulddefinitelycomparethephotowiththeoneinherownfiles.
Quickly,Istashedawaythephoneandwentbacktomysweeping.Butitwasnouse.Mybroad,scatteredstrokesacrosstheredtiledfloorweredoingmoreharmthangoodasIwaited,anxiousforthereply.
Itcameminuteslater,afterI’dmovedintothebathroomtochecksoaplevels.
Yep.It’sher.It’sEva.
8
August30,2018
Nellacouldn’tgetHazel’scold,icylookoutofherbrain.
Itwasn’tnormalforhertofeelsopossessivewhenitcametoherboss.She’dneverneededtobe.NoneoftheotherassistantshadanyreasontocurryfavorwithVera.“Youtwoseemwell-suitedforoneanother,”Sophiehadtoldheronce,aftershowingupunannouncedandreadingoneoftheiremailexchangesoverNella’sshoulder.“You’rebothperfectionists.”
HowsomeonewhoknewNellasolittlecouldreadhersowellwasbeyondher.ButSophie’dhadapoint:Formostoftheirtimetogether,sheandVerahadworkedmorelikeateamthananyoftheothereditor-assistantpairingsatWagner.
ThentheColinthinghappened.
Nellaflinched.Wasthatwhatthatlistofassistantsontheprinterwasabout?WasthelistofnewhiresforVera?
Shesatwiththisnewpossibility,listeningforanytidbitsofconversationshecouldgetthroughVera’scloseddoor.Shemighthavesatlikethisfortherestofthemorning,butthensheabruptlystood,refocused.ItwasobviouswhatNellaneededtodo:talktoRichard.Sure,maybeshewassleep-deprived,andmaybeshehadnowayofknowingiftheyreallywerepotentialhiringcandidates—butsometimebetweenseeingthosenamesandbeingshutoutofVera’soffice,afeelingofdeepuneasinesshadplanteditselfinhergut.Afeelingthatherbosswasgoingtokickheroutandwelcomesomeoneelsein.AnewandimprovedBlacksomeone,sonobodycouldgivethemshitforgettingridofher.
NellawasaboutasreadytogiveuppublishingasshewastogiveuphealthinsuranceandpaidvacationsandSummerFridays.Shewasn’tgoingoutthateasily.Plus,howwouldsheexplaintoEightBarwhyshesuddenlywantedtoquarterlimesanddrypintglassesagain?
Hermindwasset.ShestartedtowardRichard’scorneroffice,eventhoughshe’dneverdonesounannounced.Ever.Infact,ithadbeentwoyearssinceshe’dhadanykindofone-on-onetimewithRichard,andthattimecouldhardlybecalledspontaneous.Onceanewhiresignedallofthepaperwork,sufferedthroughorientation,andshadowedanotherassistant,eachwas“required”tositdownandhaveteawithRichardWagnerbeforetheirfirstofficialday.
HardlyanythingatWagnerwasseriouslyrequired.Technically,youcouldwearashirtwiththewords“I’mRootingforEverybodyBlack”onitifyouwantedto,becausetherewasnothingaboutadresscodeinthecontract.Wagnerhelditselftoasilentlyagreedupon“professional”standard,andwhentheoccasionalfoolishinternbrokethisrule,employeesshowedthemwhattimeitwaswiththeraiseofaneyebroworachilly,witheringstare.
AttendingRichard’steawasn’tinyourcontract,either.But,asNellahadbeenfortunateenoughtolearnfromherpredecessor,Katie,youweren’tdoingyourcareeranyfavorsifyoudeclinedtheinvitation.
RichardWagnerwassomethingofanenigmatoanyonewhoknewhim.Hehadsomuchmoneythatitdidn’tshow.Hewasthemost“publishing”whereitcounted;hewasontopofallthehottrends,oratleasttheonesthat“mattered.”Hethrewpartiessoexclusivethatassistantswouldfindreasonstosnoopthroughtheirbosses’officesinthehopesoffindinganinvitationthathadbeencarelesslyleftonadesk.
ButwhatsetRichardmostapartfrommanyothereditorswasthathewasalmostalwaysintheoffice.HeveryrarelyobservedSummerFridays,andthelastweekofAugustwasasimportanttohimasthefirstweekoffall.
SomesupposedthiswasbecausehewasthefirstoftheWagnerstoventureintobooksratherthanpolitics.Legendhaditthatwhenhedecidedincollegethathedidn’twanttobeasenator,hisparentspretendedhedidn’texistforfiveyears.Afewyearslater,whenhedecidedhewantedtoopenhisownpublishinghouse,afewnotableliteraryheadsagreedtohelphim—andbythetimeWagnerfirstopeneditsdoorsin1972,theentireindustrywasscramblingtowelcomehim.Hisparentswere,too.
Morethanfourdecadeslater,RichardwasthePublishingMantoPlease.Aconversationwithhimforevermarkedyouinhiseyes,andone-on-oneconversationswithhimwerefewandfarbetween.So,itdidn’tjustmakesensetohaveteawithhim—itwasabsolutelyimperative.
“Ifyoureallywanttobeaneditor,”KatiehadtoldNella,“youhavetobestrategicaboutit.”
BeingstrategicwaswhathadledNellatoWagnerinthefirstplace.Itwasnocoincidencethatshe’dappliedtothepublishinghousethathadpublishedherfavoritebook.Shewantedtotraipsethehallsthetwowomenshe’dstudieddiligentlyincollegehadtraipsed.ShewantedtositatthedeskwhereKendraRaePhillipsandDianaGordonhadsatwhentheytalkedoveredits.
Themorbidsideofher,though,wasparticularlycuriousaboutwhathadhappenedtoKendraRae.She’ddisappearedfromthespotlighttheyearafterBurningHeartsetthecountryonfire,followingsomekindofmediaspectacle,andhadn’tbeenheardfromsince.Nellahadhadahardtimeverifyingthedetailsofherdisappearance,althoughBlackTwitterhadconcoctedsomeprettybelievabletheories.Exceptnoneofthemheldwater.AndthatleftNellawondering:AsDianaGordonreleasedbookafterbook,yearafteryear,whathadhappenedtotheBlackwomanwhohadbeenhereditor?TheBlackwomanwho,accordingtoDiana’sacknowledgments,hadhad“aninvaluablehandincraftingEvieintowhosheis?”
Naturally,thisquestionnaggedatherbrainagainassheandOwenrodeaMidtown-boundRtraintogetheronherwaytomeetRichardforhernew-hireteatwoyearsago.OwenhadofferedtotaketherideuptotheWagnerofficewithher,blesshissweetheart,sincehe’dfiguredhecouldrunerrandsinthecitywhileshesippedandsuppedwithoneofthemostinfluentialmeninthepublishingindustry(accordingtoGQ).
“So,Iknowwewentoverthis,but…whydon’tyouwanttoaskRichardifheknowswhatKendraRaeisuptothesedays?”OwenaskedNella,theirkneesbumpingoneanotherastheirtrainstoppedatPrince,then8thStreet.“Hemightevenstillbeintouchwithher,andthenhecouldputyouguysintouch.”
Nellashookherhead.“Thatwouldjustbepoormanners.Ican’tgointhere,gunsblazing,askinghimifheknowswhathappenedtoKendraRaePhillips.Thenhe’dthinkthatI’msomekindofamateurstalker.”
“Butaren’tyou?”heasked.“IthoughtyouwantedtobethenextKendraRae.That’swhyyouonlywantedWagner.”
Shebristled;hesawit.Theyrodewithoutsayinganythingforamoment,untilhespokeupagain.“CanIaskanotherquestionnow?”
“DoIhaveachoice?”Nellaasked,tryingtosoundlikeshewaskidding.
“No.WhyareyoumeetingsomeoldwhitepublishingdudetodrinkteainhisemptyofficeonaSunday?”
Nellashrugged.“It’sjust…whatyoudo.”
Owengaveheralook.
“Baby,youjusthavetounderstand…it’stradition.”
Thewordshadbeenforeigntohertonguethen,ameremantrashe’dalreadymanagedtopickupfromthreehoursorsoofshadowingKatie.TheywereespeciallyforeigntoOwen,whoclearlydidn’tfindthisresponseparticularlysatisfying.Butinsteadofpullingatapromisingloosethread,hesaid,“So,areyouexcitedtoseetheplacewhereBurningHeartwascreated?”
Nellacould’vekissedhimforchangingthesubject.“Hell,yeah.ToknowI’mgoingtobebreathingthesameair,it’sinsane.”
“Maybethey’llevenhaveaprinternamedafterthetwoofthem.Oraconferenceroom.”
“MaybeevenRichard’sofficeitself.Now,that’dbeprettysick.”
Owenshifteduneasily.
“Nowwhat’sthematter?”
“Ijust—theideaofyoubeinginthisman’sofficealone,whoyoudon’treallyknowanythingabout.I’msorry,Nell,Idon’ttrustit.MaybeallthatThisisjustthewaytheindustryistalkwouldhaveworkedtenyearsago,”headded,holdingupafingerbeforeNellacouldinterrupthim,“butintoday’sworld,I’dbeThatDumbFoolwhohastotellpeoplewhyIletyougotothisthingwiththisoldguywithoutaskinganyofthehardquestions.AndI’mnotlivingtherestofmylifelikethat.”
Nellasmiled.The“ThatDumbFool”labelcamefromwatchingfartoomanytruecrimeTVshows.The“dumbfool”inquestionwasusuallytheintervieweewhosaidthingslikeNo,Ineverquestionedwhyhehadthreedifferentdriver’slicenses.
Nellahadwatchedtoomuchtelevisiontogetsnuffedoutinsuchaneasyway,soshegrabbedOwen’shandandtoldhimitwasallgoingtobefine.
Buttwentyminuteslater,whenitcametimeforhimtoletgoofherhandsoshecouldreachforthefrontdooroftheofficebuilding,hesqueezeditonce—alittleharderthanhenormallydidwhenhewasmerelytryingtobecute.
“Yousureaboutthis,Nell?”
“Owen.”Shepulledherhandawayfromhisasgingerlyasshecould,placingitonhischeek.Hehadn’tshavedinnearlyfourdays,sohisreddish-brownstubblescratchedatthemeatofherpalminthatbristlywaythatshealwaysliked.“He’sprettyold.I’mnotsayingthatprettyoldmenaren’tcapableofterriblethings,butIamsayingthatIhavesomepeppersprayinmypurse.AndyouknowIwasraisedbythestreets.”Shebeatherchestinmockemphasis.
“YouwereraisedinthesuburbsofConnecticut,”Owensaiddrily.
“ByafatherfromChicagowhodidnotfuckaround.”
“Ithoughthewasfromasuburb,too.”
“Plus,remember,I’vegot—”
“Ablackbelt,”finishedOwen,full-outgrinningnow.“Yeah,yeah,yeah.Youalwayssaythat,butI’llbelieveitwhenIseeit.”
“See,Ialreadytoldyou—itgotlostduringthedivorce.”Nellakissedhimonthelips,preventinganymorewordsofprotest.“I’lltextyouinanhour.”
Hepulledhertowardhimwhenshemovedaway.“IfIdon’thearfromyouaftersixty-oneminutes,I’mbreakingdownthisdoorandfindingyoumyself.”
“There’snoneedtobreakanythingdown.”Shelethimholdherforamomentbeforereachingforthedooragain.“See?Thisdooropens.It’sthedoorsinside,pastsecurity,thatyou’dhaveto—”
“NellaRogers?”
Nellaturnedherhead.StandingbehindOwenwasRichardWagnerhimself:atall,lankymanwithashockofwhitehair,wearingabeigejacketandnavy-blue-and-kelly-greenstripedpants.Itwasanensemblethatwouldn’tmakesenseforalmostanyoneelse,buthistortoiseshellglassesandkhaki-coloredleatherbriefcasegavetheimpressionthathewasasmartmaninmediawhosemanyaccomplishmentsrenderedanyconflictingopinionofhimirrelevant.
BothOwenandNellamovedoutofhiswayinstinctively.“That’sme!”Nellasaid.“Mr.Wagner?”
“Please,callmeRichard.Iinsist.”HestrodeuptothemandshookNella’shand.Thenhewalkedtothefrontdoorandwentthroughit.“I’llseeyouinafewmoments,I’mpresuming?”hecalledoverhisshoulder.Hedidn’twaitforananswer.
NellahadspunaroundtolookatOwen,expectingtoseethatfamiliarlookhealwaysworewhenhehadsomethingtosayandknewbetterthantosayit,buthewasalreadybackinghiswaydownthesidewalk.Shefeltatwingeofdisappointment—shewantedtoaskOwenifsheshouldgethimapairofRichard’sstripedpantsinhissize—butshewavedandturnedtoenterhernewplaceofemployment,headheldhigh.
“So,”Richardsaid,oncethey’dgottenpastintroductorynicetiesandshe’dacceptedhisoffertocollapseintoaleatherchairthatmadethesettingfeelmoreliketherapythanbookpublishing,“Isupposeyou’rewonderinghowIknewwhoyouwere.”
Heblinkedexactlytwicebeforestaringather,rigidly,ashewaitedforananswer.Shehadn’tbeenwondering—thatwastheleastofherwondersassherodetheelevatoruptothethirteenthfloor,herheartthrumminginherears.Butshemanagedtosay,withasmallsmile,“Well,IhavebeentoldIlooklikeaNella.”
Richardthrewhisheadbackandchuckled.Itfelthollow,butitstillshooktheroom—afairlyimpressivefeat,giventhesizeofhisoffice.FarbiggerthanVera’s,Nellanoticed,theofficeateupadecentchunkofoneofthefloor’scorners,anditstwolargewindows—oneoneachwall—providedmorelightthanherandOwen’ssmallstudioapartmenthadeverseenatonetime.Likethetherapistpatientchairshewassittingon,itsdécorwasexactlywhatshehadexpectedfromaneditorinchief,completewithabigwoodendeskthatlookedlikeithadbeenmadebyanactualcarpenterandnotpurchasedatIKEA,andagrandbookshelfsosubstantialthatshecouldprobablyfree-climbherwayupwithlittledifficulty.
“So,tellme,Nella,”Richardsaid,“whatmadeyoudecidetogetintopublishing?”
Nellaconsideredtherehearsedspeechshe’dgivenVeraafewdaysearlieraboutherloveofreadingandwritingandhowbookscouldmakethebiggestdifferenceinayoungperson’sworld.GowiththatspeechYouknowthatonesowell
“Honestly…I’mkindofobsessedwithKendraRaePhillipsandBurningHeart.”
Herquickwordsslippedoutunexpectedly.SurprisewashedacrossRichard’sface,followedbyamusement.Hetookasipofteabeforestaringwordlesslyatheroncemore.
Nellacowered,immediatelyhatingherselffordoingso.Hiseyeswerejusttoodamnbright,thatpiercing,artificialkindofbrightthatbelongedinsciencefictionmovies,andshelongedforsomesortofdistraction.
“You’veheardofher?”hefinallyasked.
Nellanoddedexcitedly.“BurningHeartmademefallinlovewithreading.”
“Mmm.Well,Iactuallyturneddowntheopportunitytoeditthatbook,”Richardconfessed.“IlovedtheearlydraftIread—Iknewitwasgoingtobehuge!—butthemomentIheardKendraRaehadtheslightestbitofinterestinworkingonitherself,Isteppedout.IknewKendraRaewouldbethebettereditorforDiana.”
“Really?Wow.IalwaysthoughtKendraRaediscoveredher.”Nellaassessedtheskinonhisforeheadandinbetweenhiseyebrows.She’dpeggedhimasfiftysomething,butBurningHearthadbeenpublishedin1983,puttinghimintohismid-seventiesatleast.“That’sprettycoolofyou,steppingaside.”
“Yes.IknewKendraRaereallywassomethingthen.”
Herestedhisgazeonasmallrubberplantthatwasonthecornerofhisdesk,animpressionofsomekindofmemorysplashedacrosshisface.Hercupofteawasburningherfingers,butnowthathiseyeshadfoundsomethingelsetooccupythem,shefeltboldenoughtosay,“Youmustreallymissher.”
Richard’sheadsnappedup.Heclearedhisthroat.Confusionlookedstrangeonsomeoneofhisstature,butNellawascertainthatyes,itwasinthelookhewasgivingher.“Yes.Imean,she’snot—she’sstill—”
“Ididn’tmean—sorry,I—”Nellaclosedhermouth,openingitonlywhensheknewitwasuselesstryingtoconvincehimshehadn’tmeanttoimplythatshebelievedKendraRaePhillipswasdead.“Justthefactthatshe’sbeenkeepingtoherselfforsolong…”
Richardliftedhisteatohislipsandblewasmallpuffofairacrossthetop.“Maybeforthebest.Thespotlight,youknow.Somepeoplecan’thandleit,andshe…itwasclearshewasstartingtosnap.EvenDiana,herlongtimefriend,vouchedforthat.”
Nelladidn’tknowwhatelsetodobutagree,althoughwhatRichardmeantby“snap,”shewasn’tentirelysure.SherememberedreadingsomethingaboutDianasayingKendraRaehadhadsomekindof“break,”buthadn’tbeenabletoverifyit.
“Now,enoughofthat.We’reheretotalkaboutyou.Tellmeaboutyou.”
Nellasmiled.“I’mnotsurethere’stoomuchtosay,”shesaid.“I’mfromConnecticut,andIlivedthereforabouteighteenyears,until…”
Shepeteredoff,fullyawarethatRichardhadgrimacedwhenshe’dsaid“Connecticut.”Thestateoftenevokedstrongreactionsfrompeople,buthisweird,just-bit-down-on-a-lemon-seedlookseemedabittoodramatic—evenforamaninnavy-blue-and-kelly-greenstripedpants.“Iseverythingokay?”Nellaasked.
Richardsprangup.“Yes.Yes.I’m—I’msosorry,”hesaid,reachingintohispocketandpullingouthiscellphone,“butmyphonestartedringingamomentago.Iwastryingtoignoreit,butIthinkIshouldreallytakethis.Willyouexcusemeforamoment?”
“Oh!Ofcourse.”Nellaputdownhercupandstartedtostand.“I’lljustwaitoutin—”
“Oh,no,no.Please,youstay.I’llbebackinaminute,nomorethanthree.Sosorry.”
Shewavedhimoff.“It’snoproblematall.Takeasmuchtimeasyouneed.”Richardbowedbeforeduckingoutofhisoffice.Amomentlater,aclearandflustered“Hi,yes”floatedfromdownthehall,buttheremainderofhiswordswereswallowedbythedistancehe’dputbetweenthem.
Nellaexhaled.Shewasrelievedandgladtobealoneforafewmoments;itmeantshecouldfinallytakeagoodlookaround.She’dbeenabletoprocessthefurniture,butthewallshadtoomanyitemspepperedacrossthem—afewdozen,atleast—forhertosneakmorethanjustaflyoverglance.
Butnow,Richardwasgone.Andshewasfeelingemboldened.Notemboldenedenoughnottocastaglancetowardthedoor,butemboldenedenoughtosidestepthecoffeetableandwalkafewpacesovertotheleftwall.Shelethereyefallonaframedpieceofpaperthat,judgingbyitstypewrittentext,wasasoldasshewas.Maybeolder.Acloserassessmenttoldhershewasright.Theletter,onlytwoparagraphslong,wasdatedNovember1,1979,andwasaddressedTomyeditor,myfriend,andmybrother,withoutwhomIwouldbenothing.
Nellaskippedovertherestofit—withasalutationlikethat,whatelsedidsheneedtosee?—andreadthesignature.ItbelongedtoaNobelPeacePrizewinnerwhoseobituarysherecalledreadingonlyafewmonthsago.Alright,Richard,shethought,impressed.Soyoureallyareabigdeal.Noted.
Notquitesatisfiedthatshe’dnoticedeverythingworthnoticing,shemovedontothenextwallinfrontofwhichRichard’sdesksat.Thefewtimesshe’ddaredlethereyesstrayhadsuggestedthatthiswashisownpersonalWallofFame.Indeed,itwas.Facesfilledeverysingleframe,someinblack-and-white,othersincolor.Someweresilly—ayoungwomaninaneveninggownputtingbunnyearsbehindayoungmaninatux;foursmart-lookingmeninpolossmilinginthemiddleofalush,greenforest.
Itwasallunnerving,really,allthesebody-lesspairsofeyesstaringdownather,andNellawasreadytowalkaway,returntoherteaandhercomfortabletherapist’sofficechair,whenthecloudsshiftedoutsideandsomethingflashedinthecornerofhereye.Justonce.Shelookeduptoseewhatthemid-afternoonsunlighthadcaughtandnoticedaphotoframedinbronze,nolargerthanapostcard.
Nellamovedclosersoshecouldmakeoutthethreepeopleinthephoto.Onewasayounger,lessgauntversionofRichard.Eachofhishandswasrestingontheshouldersoftwobrown-skinnedwomen,andhewassmilingsohardthathiseyeswereclosed—althoughjudgingfromthebacchanalruddinessofhischeeks,itwasclearhewouldn’thavebeenlookingatthephotographereveniftheyhadbeenopen.
ThesmilingwomaninthebrightwhitedressonRichard’sleftwasclearlyDianaGordon.Nellapaused,unsurprisedattheresemblancebetweentheDianaGordonshe’dseeninaninterviewafewmonthsago,andtheDianaGordoninthisphoto.OldDianaandyoungDianabothhadpermanentlysmoothskinanddazzlinggrins.
Then,hereyesshiftedtotheotherBlackwoman,whowasleaning—justalittlebit—towardtheright.Somethingwasflittingacrossherface,too,butitwasn’tasmile.Andifanyonewantedtobelievethewomanwassmiling,Nellawasconfidenttheexpressioncouldbeattributedtohermartini,whichsheheldhighinherrighthand—notquiteinproposalofatoast,butofadeclaration.I’mstillhere,sheseemedtobesaying,andthewayshelookedhead-onatthecamera,unbotheredathowapartsheseemedfromhertwocompanions,confirmedthis.
“Iseeyou’vefoundyourhero,”avoicebehindhersaid.
Nellawhirledaround.Richardhadreenteredhisoffice,butinsteadofreturningtohisdesk,hewasstandingbythechairshe’dbeensittingin,theshoulderstrapofheroverturnedtotebagtrappedbeneathhisleftpolishedshoe.Itmadehernervous,thewayhewaswatchingher.
“Happensallthetime,”heexplained,gesturingtowardthephotowall.“Somanyphotos,somanyfaces.WheneverIhavecompany,Inevertireofseeingwhichonepiqueswhoseinterest.Everyonehasdifferent…tastes.”
“Sorry,Icouldn’thelpit.I’vejustneverseenthisphotobefore,thisoneofKendraRae.AndyouandDiana.”NellacreptbackovertoherchairasRichardreturnedtohis.
“Thatpictureisprobablyworththousands.KendraRaehardlytookphotosbefore…”Heshrugged.“AsIsaid,thatwomanwasn’ttoobigonbeingthecenterofattention.I’mgladIwasabletogetthissnapshot,atleast.ThatwastakenatAntonio’sthenightwecelebratedBurningHeart’sdebutatnumberoneontheNewYorkTimesbestsellerlist.Mygosh,thosepartiesbackthenwerethebest.
“Now…”Hecrossedhislegspointedlyattheankle.“WhatwasIsayingbeforeIwassorude?Oh,yes!Thatwe’reheretotalkaboutyou.You’refromConnecticut,yousaid?”
Desperatetodosomethingwithherhands,Nellareachedforyetanothercubeofsugar—herthird,sherealized,hopinghedidn’t—andsaid,“Yes.I’mfromSpringville.It’sasmalltown,aboutafifteen-minutedrivefrom—”
“NewHaven.Yes,I’mfamiliarwithSpringville.IgotmystartatYaleUniversityPresswhileIwasfinishingupmysenioryearatYale.Greatplace.Sorichinculture.Goodfood,goodtheater.Andtheart,ah…”
“Mmm.Yale’sgalleriesareincredible.”
Richardperkedupatthis.“TheCenterforBritishArt?”
Nellabobbedherhead.“I’vespentalotoftimethere.FirstwhenIwasinhighschool,butIliketogobackwheneverI’mtherefortheholidays.”
“Oh?”Richardleanedforwardinhischair,hiseyespracticallybogglingoutofhiseternallyyouthfulface.Nellamatchedhisbodylanguagewithhers.Itmighthavesoundedpeculiar,butitwasinseeminglymundanemomentslikethose—whenshetoldawhitemansomethingsobasicaboutherselfthatmadehiseyesboggleoutofhishead—thatshefeltclosesttoalltheBlackpeoplewhowereBlacklongbeforeshewas:alloftheenslavedBlackmenandwomenwhoimpressedwhitepeoplewiththeirreadingabilities;alloftheBlackmenandwomenwhobecamedoctorsandlawyersandotherthingspeoplesaidtheycouldn’t.GarrettMorgan,MarianAnderson,DiahannCarroll.BarackObama.Herparents.Anyonewhohadimpressedawhitepersonsimplybyexisting.Which,giventhenumberoftimesBlackpeoplehadbeenlynchedandrapedandbeatendownoverthelastfourhundredyears,shouldhavebeeneveryBlackperson.
“ItmusthavebeenverynicetohaveallofthatNewHavencultureatyourdisposal,”Richardwassaying,takinganothersip.
“Oh,very.”
“Ithoughtyoungpeopledidn’tdoartgalleriesthesedays.NotwiththeInternetandInstagramandwhatnot.”
“I’mabitofanoldsoul,Iguessyoucouldsay.”Feelingemboldenedbyhisapproval,eventhoughshereallyneedn’thave,NellacrossedherlegsandtookherfirstsipofherEarlGrey.Atthatpoint,ofcourse,itwascold—shealwaysmanagedtomissthenarrowdrinkabilitywindowoftea—butshecommentedonhowmuchshelikeditanyway.
“Nottoosweet?”heasked,raisinganeyebrow.
“Iwenttocollegeinthelandofsweettea,Richard.Thisain’tnothin’,”shequipped,usingthesameexaggeratedsassytonethatshe’dusedwithOwenwhenshejokedthatshe’dbeenraisedbythestreets.ApassingglimpseofthebronzeframebehindRichard’sheadmadeNellasecond-guessthedaringmoveshe’djustpulled.Pullingitoutinaprofessionalsettingriskedmisunderstanding:OnemightthinkshewaseitheraBlackgirlwhoactuallydidrollherneckincorporatesettingsanddidn’tknowbetter,oraBlackgirlwhowasmakingfunofotherBlackgirlswhodid—andNellawasn’tsurewhichwasworse.WhatwouldKendraRaehavethoughtaboutNella’sperformance?
Shehadnowayofknowing.ButwhatshedidknowwasthatRichardwasdrinkingitdownwiththecountenanceofachildwhowasfinallyabouttohavethateerienoisehe’sbeenhearinginthebasementexplainedtohim.Nellahaddeliveredtheperfectneckroll,apparently,andthepreciseamountofsass.Shefelttheaireasebetweenthem,feltthetensionfallfromhershoulders.
Andso,shetookanothersip,sethercupdown,andventuredtoadmit,smoothashoney,howbadlyshewantedtobecomeWagner’snextgreatBlackeditor.
Nellacoulduseacupofwarmteanow,butshesettledforadeep,centeringbreathassherosefromherdesk,tryingtosummontheconfidenceshe’dhadthelasttimesheandRichardhadsatdowntotalk.Whatshewasabouttodocouldverywellblowupinherface.Shewasn’tevensureRichardknewanythingabouttheColinincidentatall.Nellahaddouble-checkedColin’sTwittertomakesurehehadn’ttweetedaboutittohisfivehundredthousandfollowers,andVerahadalwaysrejectedtheideaofreportingherbusinesstoanybody—especiallyaman.Chanceswere,Richardknewnothing,andifRichardknewnothing,sheriskedblowingupherownspotfornoreason
ButshecontinuedtowardRichard’sofficeanyway.Themostpracticalthingforhertodowasexplaineverythingandapologizeforthemisunderstanding.She’dtakecontrolofthenarrative,fallonhersword.She’ddoitsobeautifully,soselflessly,andhe’dadmirethewayshedidit,justashe’dadmiredhersassyneckrollintheirfirstmeeting.He’dbeconvincedthatNellawasstillthatplucky,matureemployeehe’dmettwoyearsago.He’dseeshehadupstandingmoralcharacteranddecidehedidn’twanttoswapherupstandingmoralcharacterforsomeoneelse’s.
NellaapproachedDonald’sdeskwithherheadheldhighandhermouthopen,readytoaskifRichardwasfree.ButsheabruptlycloseditwhenshesawthatDonaldwasn’tthere.HisDiscmanwas,buthewasn’t.
Nellapeeredacrossthehallway.Richard’slightwason,andthedoortohisofficewaswideopen.Shecouldhearhimspeaking,buthisvoicewassolowthatitsoundedlikehemighthavebeentalkingtohimself.
SheglancedatDonald’schairagain,asthoughhemighthavesuddenlymaterializedinthelasttwoseconds.Buthewasstillnowheretobeseen.SoshemovedclosertoRichard’soffice,preparedtoknockonhisopendoorandaskforafewminutesofhistime.Butsomethingcausedhertoclosehermouthandswallowherwordswhole.
Itwashistone,hushedandstern.
“—middleoftheday.Ican’tsaymorerightnow.Itoldyouemailwasbetter.”
Silence.
“Yes,Iknow.But—”
Richardsighed.Whenhespokeagain,hisvoicewasbiting.
“Look,youdon’tgettosuddenlygrowaconscience.Rememberwhoseideathiswas?”
Anevenlongersilence.
“Fine.Butjustremember,youputtheballinmotion.YouchosetodealwithKennythewayyoudid,andnowyou—”
Somethingaboutthewayhe’dspatoutthewords“dealwith”turnedNella’sbloodcold.ButthensherememberedKennyBridges.Ofcourse.She’dheardthroughthegrapevinethatthisparticularauthorhadbeengivinghiswholepublicityteamtrouble.Hisagenthadn’tbeenkeepinghimincheck,whichexplainedRichard’suncharacteristicallyangrytone.TherealizationthawedNella’sthoughtsasshewaitedimpatientlyforRichardtofinishhiscall.Ifsomeoneweretowalkbyheratthisverymoment,itwouldlookprettydamnincriminating.
“Fine,”sheheardhimsay.“Butdousbothafavorandstoppretendingyoudon’tneedalittleassistance,alright?Okay.Loveyou,too.Bye.”
Therewastheclickofaphone,followedbythesoftmutteringoftheword“Dammit.”ButNellawasfixatedontheL-Word.HadshemisheardRichardbefore?No.DealwithKenny,he’dsaid,clearasday.She’dbeensosurehewastalkingtoKenny’sagent.
Sowheredid“love”comefrom?EveryoneknewRichard’swifemanagedachainofcandlestoresthatstretchedfromSoHototheHamptons.Richard’swifedealtwithfragrances,notfussyauthors.Itdidn’tmakesense.
Unlessthathadn’tbeenRichard’swifeonthephone.AndheandKennyBridges’sagentwere…
Nellagasped,coveringhermouth.She’dclearlyoverheardsomethingshewasn’tsupposedto,andthissomethinghadpropelledRichardintoafoulmood.Nowwasdefinitelynotthetimetobargeinandstarttalkingabouthowshe’dfuckedupwithoneofWagner’smostimportantauthors—especiallyifhewasstillinthedarkaboutallofit.
ThesoundofcomputerchairwheelsrollingagainstwoodshookNellaoutofherparalysis.“Hello?Issomeonethere?”Richardcalled,hisvoicesosingsongythathemusthaveseentheshadowNellawasunconsciouslycastingacrosshisdoorway.“Donald?Areyouback?”
Nelladidn’tstickaroundlongenoughtoseeifheinquiredfurther.Shespedoff,roundingthecornersoquicklythatshenearlysteppedrightoutofherKeds
9
Forthenextfewdays,NellawalkedaroundWagnerwithherheaddownandhermouthclosed.Hereyes,however,remainedopen.Shekepthersightsuponeverysinglewritingutensilhercolleaguesutilized.Andwhenanyonestoppedbyherdesk—anyone—Nellajotteddownthetimeoftheinteractionandwhatwassaid.
Hazelwasn’texemptfromsuchsurveillance.Nellatooknoteofalloftheirinteractions,benignastheywere,andshetooknoteofHazel’sinteractionswithVera,too—startingrightaftershe’daccidentallysnoopedonRichardoutsideofhisoffice.Whenshe’dreturnedtoherdeskthatday,she’dbeenshockedtoseetheywerestilltalkingaboutTheLie.BythetimeVera’sdoorhadfinallyreopened(approx.68min.afterHazelfirstwentin),Nellahadfinishedthemassivebagofpretzelsshekeptinheremergencysnackdrawer.Theyweresupposedtobethatmonth’sSprintSnack—thesnackthatgotherthroughthelasthoursofthedayforatleastfourweeks—buttheoccasionalgigglethatflutteredbeneathVera’scloseddoor,coupledwiththepanicthatshemightbefired,drovehertoobliterateeverysingletwist.
NellahadbeenpoisedtoemptythebagintohermouthforthatlastbitofsaltwhenVera’sdoorfinallyheavedopenandacheerfulHazelgallivantedoutfrombehindit.
“Thankyou,Vera!”shesaid,manuscriptpagesaskewinherhands.“Thatwassuchawonderfulconversation.”
“Oh,thankyou!Andthankyouagainfortakingalooksoquickly,Haze.I’dlovetohearwhatyouthinkwhenyoufinish—ifyouhavethetime,ofcourse.”
Vera’sdoorwasslightlyajar,butthewayherheadpeekedaroundtheedgeofit,andthewayshewaslookingatHazel—fondly,giddily—hadremindedNellaofthewayabride-to-bemightlookathermaidofhonorinadepartmentstoredressingroom.Nellahadneverreceivedsuchalookfromherbossbefore.
“Right.JustletmeknowiflunchworksbetterforyoutomorroworFriday.Orcoffee,”Hazeladded,walkingbackwardtowardherdesksoasnottoruinthepreciousmomentthey’dbeenhaving.“Iknowwe’llhaveevenmorestufftocoverthen,eventhoughwejustspent…god,whattimeisitnow,anyway?”
IthadtakenNellaamomenttorealizethisquestionhadbeendirectedather.Hazelwaspeeringoveratherwarmly,asthoughallthreeofthemhadbeenchattinglikeoldfriendsinVera’soffice.VerawasstaringintentlyatNella,too,thesilverRolexwatchonherrightarmglintingasshebracedherselfagainstthedoorframe,butthatgiddinessfrombeforehadhardened.
Nellalookedoverattheclockinthelower-rightcornerofherscreen.“Thetimeistentwenty-seven,”shesaidstiffly.
Thatwasallithadtakenforthemtoscatter.Hazelshookherheadandwhistledinamazementasshehustledbacktoherseattocheckherphonemessages;VerastuckherheadoutsideofherofficejustfarenoughtoaskNella,inamorerecognizabletone,tokindlyaskeveryonetoleaveheraloneforthetimebeing.Anauthorhadjustdeliveredamanuscriptthatrequiredallofherfacultiestoedit,she’dtoldNella,andherdoorwouldbeclosedfortherestofthemorning.
Itwasafairrequest.Nellawouldhavedonethesamething—especiallygivenhowmanytimesWagneremployeessawopendoorsasgreenlights,andhowmanytimessheherselfhadwishedforabarriertoprotecthercube.Amoresolidbarrier,likeabigglassfloor-to-ceilingwallthatshecouldcontrolwithherkeyboard.Then,atleast,shewouldn’thavetofeignaphonecallorpretendtohavetogotothebathroomtoescapeawkward,drawn-outconversationsshedidn’twanttohave.Itwouldbethesecond-bestthingtohavinganassistant.Maybeevenbetter.
So,althoughNellawantedsomeofherowntimewithherboss,shewaspatientasshewaitedforVera’sofficedoortoopenoncemore,allthewhiletakinghermessagesandprintingoutemailssheworriedherbossmightmissinherinbox.
ButVera’sdoorneveropened.Notthatmorningandnotthatafternoon,afterlunch.Shehadn’temergedaminutebeforefourthirty,andwhenshedid,shewaswearingherraincoatandhadherquiltedbagslungoverhershoulder.
“Oy,whataday.Nella,I’mofftoanappointment.Thanksfortoday!Seeyoutomorrow.”
Inbetweenbitesofleftoverhoneydewshe’dfoundinthekitchen,Nellahadnochoicebuttosay,inwhatwassurelythemostpathetictoneshe’devermustered,“Goodluck.”
Thathadbeenbadenough.ButwhenHazel,whomNellahadhardlyspokentoallday,proclaimed,“God,Veraissoawesome,”Nellahadpickeduptheremainingplateofstalefruitanddroppeditinthetrash.Shesaidnothingasshelonginglyranahandalongthebottomofheremptyemergencysnackdrawer.
Awhooshofairbrushedherear.Hazelwassuddenlyatherside,holdingabagofBuglesouttoher.Anoffering,maybe.
Nella’sstomachprotestedasshegesturedNo,thankyou.Theglassbarriershe’dbeenimaginingmaterializedinherheadagain—thistimewithHazelfixedontheotherside.
“Okay,tellme:DidVerasendyouTheLieyet?”
Hazeldidn’taskasthoughshewastryingtotauntNella.Thereseemedtobegenuineconcerninthewayshecrunchedonhercornchips,wide-eyed.ButthequestionstungsomuchthatshealmostliedandsaidthatVerahadsentthemanuscript.
Nellatookadeepbreath.No,shedecided,Hazelwasn’ttheproblemhere.VerahadtobetryingtopitthemagainstoneanothertokeepNellaonhertoes.
“Verahasn’tsentittomeyet,”sheadmitted.“Wouldyoumindmaybe…?”
“Forsure!”Hazelhurriedbacktoherstation.“I’msureitjust,like,slippedhermind.Shehasalotgoingon.”
NellalistenedtoHazel’sfingersrapherkeyboard,feelingmorethanalittleinfantilized.Verahadneversharedmanuscriptswithanyotherassistantsbefore;infact,she’dbeenoneofthemoreprivateeditorsatWagner.Sherarelydiscussedbooksshewasthinkingaboutgoingaftersoearlyonintheprocess—notuntilshe’dhadenoughtimetodecidehowshefeltaboutthem.
ItwasoddtoNella,then,thatshe’dsenttheLeslieHowardpagestoashinynewemployee.Itdidn’tseemright.NotunlessVerahadbeenpurposelytryingtoostracizeNella.NotunlessshewasstillpissedabouttheColinthing.
“Justsentit!”HazelwheeledherchairaroundsothatshewasdirectlyfacingNella.
“Thanks.”Nellacheckedtheclockonhercomputertoseehowmuchtimeshehadbeforeshecouldmakeanexitofherown.“Gotit.”
WhenshelookedoveratHazelafewmomentslater,shestillhadherchairturnedtowardNellaandwaswaiting,patiently.
“Hey.Thoughtyoumightwanttohearthis.”
“What?”
“WhileIwasinthere,VeramentionedNeedlesandPinstome.”
Nellacringed.
“YouknowIhaven’treadawordofit,”Hazelcontinued,“butItriedtobackyouupontheShartriciathingasmuchasIcould.”
“Oh.Youdid?Thanks.”Nellaturnedherchairjustabit,soshewasn’tcompletelyclosedoffbyhercubiclewall.“AndwhatdidVerasay?”
“Well,shethankedmeforweighingin.Thensheemailedmethedraft.”
“Really?”
“Yep.Forasecondopinion,Iguess.”
“Hm.”Ononehand,itwasirritatingthatVerahadn’ttrustedNella’sjudgment.Butontheotherhand,didn’titalsomeanthatVeradidcare,atinybit,aboutwhatNellahadsaid?MaybeVerahadrereadthebookandwassecond-guessingit.“Nice.Doesn’tMaisycarethatyou’redoingallthisotherstuffforanothereditor,though?Irememberhergettingsuperpossessiveofherlastassistant.”
Hazelshrugged.“Maisyhasbeenbusywithpersonalthings,Ithink.I’mnotreallysurewhat.Butshe’sbeencheckedoutandhasprettymuchleftmetomyowndevices.IthinkRichardaskedVeratogivemesomethingstodosoIwouldn’tgetbored.I’mstillnewhere,soIguesstheydon’tthinkIcankeepmyselfoccupied.”
“Ah.”Nellarealizedforthefirsttimehowquietithadbeenintheirareaforthelastfewdays.Maisyhadexplodedintotheofficeearlier,buthadmysteriouslydepartednomorethanfifteenminuteslater,abundleofmorebagsthanusualstuffedunderherarms,herlipspursedevenmoretightlythanusual.“IguessIdidn’tnotice.”
“Yeah.SinceIhavemoretime,Ifigureditwouldn’thurttoreadColin’sshittynovel.Andreally,”Hazelsaid,loweringhervoice,“havingtwonegativeShartriciareviewsfromtwoBlackgirlscoulddowonders.Notthatyouropinionisn’tlegit,ofcourse,becauseittotallyis,but…themorereads,thebetter.Right?”
Nellanodded,hermake-believeglasswallslidingawayasquicklyasshe’dputitup.“Totally.”
She’dbeenhappytogoalongwiththisnarrativefortherestoftheafternoonuntilsheprintedTheLie,gatheredallofherthings,andmadeherwaytothetrain,readytoleaveManhattanafterwhatfeltlikedays.Thefreshlyprintedfive-hundred-pagemanuscriptpulledhardatherleftshoulderasshewentdownintothedepthsofthesubway,butshedidn’tmind.Itfeltlikeapurposefulweight,likeafullbagofgroceriesboughtforanewlycleaned-outfridge.Thistotebagheldsustenance.ShewouldgobbleuptheLeslieHowardtextimmediatelyandwowVerawithfeedbackshehadn’tevenaskedfor.Simpleasthat.
Except,itwasn’t.BecauseasNellastoodonthetrainplatform,resolvedandreadytobeginthenextdayonafreshfoot,shereachedintoherbagtopulloutthemanuscript—andinsteadpulledoutanenvelopeshedidn’trememberputtingthere.
Anenvelopewithhernameonit.Hername,againwritteninallcaps.Hername,againwritteninpurplepen.
Howdidthatsayinggo?There’salwayssomething.Shewasn’tsureifitwasasayingasmuchasitwasafactoflife,likegravityorindigestion.Thephrasewasoneherfatherhadoftensaid,especiallyoverthelastfewmonths,sincehe’dfinallyboughtahouseinChicagoafterrentingaplacenotfarfromhergrandmother’sseniorcarecenterfornearlyfouryears.Justtheweekbefore,Nella’sfatherhaddescribedtoheringreatdetailhowhe’djustfinallygottentheholeintherooffixedwhenherealizedthatthepipeconnectedtothewashingmachinehaddecidedtoairoutitsgrievances,too.“That’sthethingwhenyoubuyahouse,”he’dsighedintothephone,moretohimselfthantoher.“There’salwayssomething.”
ThesewordsdriftedbacktoNellanowasshestaredattheshinynewwhiteenvelope,herheartracing.Itcouldn’tpossiblyhavebeentheenvelopeshe’dalreadyreceivedafewdaysearlier,read,andlostsleepover;shehadtuckedthatfirstoneawayinhercloset.
No,thissecondnotewasindeedasecondone—sheknewthatmuch.Whatshedidn’tknowwashowithadgottenthere,inherbag,whileshestoodonasubwayplatformthatwasbeginningtogetalittletoocrowded.Shelookedoverherleftshoulderandthenherright,eventhoughshe’dbeenwedgedbetweenthesametwopeopleforthelastfifteenminutes—amanwhoreekedofrawmeatandanoldernannywhoseemedreadytofightherbrattycharge.
Nellasighedand,holdingtheenvelopeclosetoherchestforprivacythatwasimpossibletofindonacrowdedsubwayplatformduringrushhour,peeledbacktheflap.
LEAVE.THELONGERYOUSTAY,THEHARDERIT’LLBE.WANTPROOF?CALL518-772-2234.NOTEXTS.CALL.
Ahandsuddenlygracedherlowerback,causinghertoalmostdroptheenvelopeonthetracks.Shetwistedaroundtoseewhowastouchingher,thewordsIdon’talreadyforminghelplesslyonhertongue.Buttherewasn’tafamiliarfacefromWagnerinsight—justtheenergeticyoungchildwho’dbeenthesourceofthenearbynanny’sanxiety.
“No,no,no!BadChloe!”thewomanshouted,herwordswrappedinanindiscernibleEasternEuropeanaccent.Sheplacedaheavyarmaroundthegirl’sshouldersandreeledherin.“Littlegirl—stopthat.You’remakingeverysinglepersonaroundheremiserable.Includingme.”
Nellausuallyhatedtohearadultsspeaktochildrensoharshly.Herparentshadsometimesyelledatherwhenshewasakid,butthey’dbeenrespectfulwhentheydidit.Asshestoodthereonthatcrowdedplatform,though—elbow-to-elbowwithanantsyrugratandSmellyMeatMan—shewasinclinedtoagreewiththisEasternEuropeanwoman.No,no,no,no,no
Diana
November1983
Essex,Vermont
“Whatdowethink—yes?No?”
IhelduptheauburnwigandwaggedithighabovemyheadthewayI’dwaggedaroundapotentiallyundercookedbreakfastsausageearlieratthehotel.Twohoursago,he’dlaughedagreeablybeforetakinganotherbiteofhiseggs.Butnow,hedidn’tcrack.Thisdidn’tsurpriseme.I’dcountedhowmanytimeshisreflectionhadpacedbackandforthbehindmeinthebathroommirror(twenty),andhowmanytimeshe’dcheckedhiswatch(farmorethanthat).I’devenofferedtowetsomepapertowelsinthesinksohecouldwipeupthebeadsofsweatthatweregatheringunderneathhischin.Butbeingwhohewas—ElroyK.Simpson,thick-neckedandthirty-four;amanwhoneverlosthiscoolinfrontofanybody,notevenwhenherealizedhishairlinewasbeginningtorecede—hepolitelynudgedmyhandaway.
“Di.Hon…”Hestrokedthedark,softbeardthathe’dstartedgrowingbackwhenwefirstwentawaytoschool.“Don’tyouthinkit’sabouttimewestartedtomakeourwaydowntown?It’salreadyhalfpastten,andIthoughtyousaidtheywantedusthereateleven.”
IsighedasIcarefullypulledatacurlytendril.ThelasttimeI’dwornthisparticularwig—inVancouver,Ithink—ithadleftmyscalpitchyfordaysafterward.I’dscratcheditduringdinnerandonthesubwayandinthemiddleofthenight,theviolentswayingofthebedcausingElroytocursemynewantiquefurniture.I’dscratchedduringauthorinterviewsandwatchedastheamountofcouchspacearoundmeseemedtogrow.
IvowedI’dneverwearitagain.Nowhereitwas,acontenderinmybeautypreparations.Thehardthingswedoforeasyhair,Momalwaysusedtosay.
“Makeup’sdone,”IcalledtoElroy.“Clothesaredone.Justneedthehair.Fiveminutes.”
“Youdon’tneedthehair.C’mon,now.We’regoingtobelate.”
“Itellyouthiseverytime,El—whenthepeoplerunningthesethingstellustogetthereateleven,theyreallymeantwelve.Theysayelevenbecausetheyknowwe’regoingtobelate.Traffic,gas…youknow.Allthosethings.”
Elroyloweredhimselfontotheclosedtoiletseatlidandshookhishead.“Ifthat’sthecase,baby,weshouldhaveleftthisplacehalfanhourago.Atleast.Orhailedacab.”
Iwavedhimoff.“Eh.Youandyourperpetualearliness.”
“It’snotbeingearly,”saidEldefensively.“It’sjustthatwedon’tknowhowlongit’sgoingtotaketogettotheplayhouse.Andwedon’tknowhowlongit’sgoingtotakeformetogetacabaroundhere,”headded,asofterwayofremindingmethatwewereincompletelyunfamiliarwaters.Vermont.
“Silly.Thepointis,we’llgettherewhenwegetthere.”Irepinnedasectionofhairbehindmyeartotakecareofafewstrays.ThenIstretchedthemouthofthewigopenandplaceditonmyscalp.“Afterall,”Icontinued,watchingnewhairswallowtheold,“it’snotlikethey’regoingtostarttheQandAwithoutme.NowayKennywouldletthathappen.Shewasalwaystheheadstrongoneoutofthetwoofus,youremember.”
Elroygrunted.Inamannerofindirectprotest,heundidyetanotheroneofthebuttonsonthemaroonsilkshirtI’dboughthimlastweekwhenwewereatthemall.“Shoot,Di,”hesaid.“Youknowwhoyou’restartingtosoundlike?”
Istoppedmywigadjustinglongenoughtomeethiseyeandgrinned.“Who?”Iasked,wrappingmyvoiceupinasmuchgoldglitterandcashmereasIcould.“DianaRoss?”
Elroylaughedthathoney-coatedlaughthathadmademefallinlovewithhimbackinNewark,backwhenhe’dfollowedme,Kenny,andManiaroundschooltryingtosinganddancelikeaTemptation;andagainalmosttenyearslater,whenwewerehomefortheholidaysandfreshlygraduatedfromourrespectiveuniversities.Butevenastheusualfourcrinklesbracketedhiseyes,Icouldseesomethingsharperthanmereplayfulnesslaybeneath.Reproach,maybe.
Ididn’tlikeit.Notevenashestoodupfromthetoiletseat,cameover,andkissedmeonthecheek,contortinghisbodysohecouldgetaroundthetallbackofthewoodenchairI’ddraggedintothebathroomfromthebedroom.
“No,”hesaid,twirlingoneofmynewlocksofhairwithhisfinger.“NotDiana.”
“Who’smoredivathanDiana?”
“Yourmom,”hesaid.“AndallthosefancyJackandJillladiessheusedtobringaroundthehouse.Theoneswealwaysmadefunofbackintheday,withthelongwhitegloves.”
Elroymustnothaveseenmewince,becausehecontinuedon.“Whatwasthatonelady’sname?Theonewhohadadifferentpasteloutfitforeverydayoftheweek?BeverlyCarter?”
“Uh-huh.No—RebekahCarter,”Isaid,movingthebrushandthetoothpasteoutofthewaysoIcouldreachforthecurlingiron.“WifeofHerbertCartertheFourth.”
ItwasElroy’sturntowince,bracinghimselfwithmychair.“Right.Rebekahwitha‘k’Carter.Alwayssouppity.”
“?‘It’sRe-beh-kah.NotRe-beh-kuh,’?”Irecalled,bustingintoafitofgigglessoconvulsivethatIalmostburnedmyforehead.“RememberthattimeyoucalledherRebek-can’ttoherface?”
“Iwassuchaterriblekid,”Elroyadmitted.“I’msurprisedyourmomstillletmecomebyfordinnerallthosetimes.”
“Shedidn’t.Well—notreally.RememberthosenightsItoldyouthatyoucouldn’tcomeoverbecauseIwasstudyingSwahiliatSidney’shouse?”
“Yeah.”
“DoyouremembereverhearingmespeakonewordofSwahili?”
Elroylaughed.“Makessense.Wecouldn’thavelittleoleElfromaroundthewaymessingupaGordondinner.”
“TrackingbrownmudupanddownallofMom’swhitecarpets.”
“Updatingeverybodyonthelatestbadnews.Gettingtosecondbaseonthefrontporch…withallthelightsoff.”Elroywiggledhiseyebrows.
“Don’tforgetfeedingBubblestotheraccoons.AndthattimewealmostfedJonathantothem,too.”
“Hey,hey,thatwasallyou,”hesaid,smiling.“JonathanandIwerealwayscool.HewastheonlyGordonwhocouldstandtohavemearound.Yourdad?Maybealittlebit.Butyourma,though…lordhavemercy,thedaggersthatwomanshotmewheneverIcamearound,allbecausemydadwasadoorman.”
IeyedElroyagain.Somethinghadshiftedbeneathhisready-to-goexterior.Anunsettlingmemorymixedwitharushofrepulsion.Justlikethat,ourreminiscingwasover.Hishandswerestillonthebackofmychair,buthiseyeswereshut,andIcouldtellhewasdriftingsomewhereelseentirely.Italmostalwayshappenedthisway:aswiftshiftfromperfectlyokaytopainfullywrong.
Ireturnedtomyreflection,feelinglessconfidentaboutwhatIsawthanIhadmomentsbefore.Forthefirsttime,myblueeyeshadowlookedgarish;mylinerlikeachildhadtakenacrayontomyeyelids.Myskinwastoopale,muchclosertothecolorofdrysand,muchclosertotheappearanceofasickperson.
Thiswaswhowasgettinguponstageinfrontofthreehundredpeople?Mystomachlurched.IwasgoingtolooksowashedoutbeneaththosebrightlightscomparedtoKenny,whowouldbeallbeautifulandbrownandHarvard-polished.
Ipinchedmycheeksonce,willingsomecolortocomethrough,untilIrememberedthatwassomethingthatreallyonlyworkedforwhitewomen.ThenIputmyheadinmyhandsanddidtheonethingyou’renotsupposedtodobeforeapublicappearance:Istartedtocry.
Elroyplacedhishandsonmyshoulders,andIknewhewasback.“Ijust…thissatinshirt,yourbeinglatetoyourownevent—itallfeelskindofover-the-top,youknow?Ijustdon’twantyoutobecomeoneofthose…”
Iblinkedathim.Heblinkedback.
“TheRebekahCartercomparisonmighthavebeenanexaggeration,”hecontinuedcarefully,“butyouknowwhatImean.Youknowhowmuchofaself-importantdevilshecouldbe.”
Hehadapoint.A“well-to-do”Blackwomanwithcaféaulaitskinandaheelforeveryoccasion,Rebekahhadbeenafixtureinmyhousenearlyeverysummermorningfrom1959until1967.Supposedly,shewaslonely;supposedly,herhusband’slineofworksenthimalloverthecountry.AllIknewwasthatwheneverIwokeupandwentdownstairstohavebreakfast,shewasalmostalwayschattingwithmymotheratourclaw-footedkitchentableaboutpoliticsormusicorthelatestJackandJillgossip.Sometimes,she’dcommentonmyshapeorhowdehydratedIlooked,asthoughIweresupposedtorolloutofbedlookinglikeIwasreadytogofindahusband.Butusually—mercifully—sheignoredme,tootiedupwithprofferingthisorthatBlackpersontofulfillwhateverlatestneedmymotherhad:anewgrass-cutter,anewhairstylist,anewdentist.
Momalwaysreferredtoherasalifesaver.Atdinner—whenRebekahwasn’tpresent,ofcourse,andwhenMomwasinaloosermood—Dadcalledheralife-sucker.
IreachedupandsqueezedoneofElroy’sfingersbeforegoingbacktocurlingagain.“Well,Iknowthatasofatleastfifteenyearsago,Rebekahneverfinishedreadingabookinherlife.”
Elroystoopeddownandkissedmeagain,thistimeontopofmyhead.Thefeelingleftmuchtobedesired—Icouldbarelyfeelthelightpeckthroughmywig.“Ialsoknowthatyou’refar,farprettierthansheeverwas.Andfarmorebrilliant.Andmoreopen-minded:Nowayshe’dletamanputhishandsinher—”
“See,now,”Iquipped,pointingathimwiththecurlingrodashemock-ranoutofthebathroom,“youshouldhavestoppedat‘brilliant.’?”
“Open-mindednessissexy,too!”Elroycalledoverhisshoulder.
Isnorted.“Hey,whereyougoing?You’renotleavingwithoutme,areyou?Onemoreminute.Ipromise.”
“Calmdown,woman,”heshoutedfromthebedroom.“I’mnotgoingnowhere.Thelightingjustgotunbearableinthere,that’sall.Feltkindofclaustrophobic.”
“Sixtyseconds,”Isang,turninganotherpieceofhairwiththecurleroverandoveragaininmyrighthandthewayI’dseenmymotherdoeverymorningfornearlyeighteenyears.Exceptithadbeenherownfinehairshe’dbeenburning,notsynthetic.IwasalwayscarefultomakethatdistinctionwhenIlookedinthemirror:thateventhoughIwashidingmyownhair,atleastitwouldbehealthyforthatonedayIdecidedtoletitoutintheopen.Itwouldn’tstarttofalloutthewayMom’sdidinherlastfewyears—although,Isuppose,thesicknesshadhadahandinthat.
“Doyouthinkthisthingistacky,El?”Iasked,reachingforthehairbrush.“Thisredhair?”
“Ithinkthat’satrapthatI’veknownyoutoolongtofallinto.”
“ButwhatdoyouthinkVermontpeoplearegoingtothinkaboutit?”
“Iwouldn’tthinktoomuchaboutthat,Di,”Elroycalled.“Thosewhitepeoplecan’tevenimaginethatit’snotyours.Andthat’snotwhatthey’retheretosee,anyway.They’retheretoseethebrilliantDianaGordonandthebrilliantKendraRaePhillipstalkabouttheirbrilliant—no,thefirstofwhatsurelywillbemanybrilliant,bestselling—”
Hisvoicecutoutabruptly.
“El?”Iglancedoveratthebathroomdoor,craningmynecktogetalookathim.“Whatisit?”
Hedidn’treply.
“Iknowit’sbeenmorethansixtyseconds,”Isaid,unpluggingthecurlingiron,“butIjust…Idon’tknow.”Itriedtosmileatmyreflectioninthemirror,butitturnedintomoreofagrimace.“I’mjustnotfeelingthislook.”
Iwaited.I’dgivenElroyanopeningtogoonanotheroneofhisspeechesaboutnaturalbrowngirlbeautyandhowallmakeupwasreallymadeforwhitepeople,sohedidn’tknowwhyIbotheredsomuch.ButtheonlythingIheardwastheoccasionaldrip-dropofthefaultytoilettank.
“Baby?Iseverythingokay?”Igrabbedmylipstick,mycompactmirror.“Fine,youwin.Wecangetgoingnow,”Isaid,startingforthedoor.
Iwasbeginningtothinkthatmaybehe’dlefttoseeaboutataxi,sincehehadalwaysbeenthepracticalone.ButthenIsawthathewasstillverymuchintheroom,hunchedoverthefootofhisbed.
“Whatareyoulookingat?”Iaskedhim.
Elroycrumpledupwhateveritwasthathadhadhisattentionoverthelastfewmomentsandhelditbehindhisback.Thatworriedlookhadreturned.“I’mnotgoingtosayit’snothing,becausebynowyoucanobviouslyseethatisn’tthecase.But,still…Di…”Heexhaled.“Itreallyisnothing.Well,notreally.Butitwillbe.Inafewdays.”
Ieyedhimsuspiciously.“Thatlookslikeanewspaper,”Iobserved.
Elroyhesitated,seemingtoconsiderwhetheritwasworthlyingornot.“Itisthat,”hesaidawkwardly.
“Letmeseeit.”
“I…”
“Wedon’thavetimeforthis,”Isaid.
Hehandeditover,facedown—thefrustratingequivalentofachildchuckingatennisballatmyheadafterI’daskedhimnicelytohanditover—butIdidn’tsayanythingasIflippeditrightsideup.NordidIsayanythingasmyeyesmettheblack-and-whiteprintedfaceofthewomanwithwhomI’dbeenrocketedintothenationalspotlightoverthelastthreeweeks.Thewomanwhohadbeenmybestfriendfortwentyyears,sincewe’dfirstmetinMs.Abraham’sseventh-gradescienceclass.
Iswallowed,tookabreath.“BestsellingBurningHeartEditor:‘IfYouWhite,YouAin’tRightwithMe,’?”Irecitedclearly,likeIwasreadingabirthdaycard.IpausedforamomentbeforelookingbackupatElroy.“JesusChrist.WhatdidKennydo?”
Elroytuggedathisbeardagain.HehadaboutasmuchofananswerasIdid.“Idon’tknow,”hesaid,“butyou’llprobablywanttowaituntilafterthiseventisovertofindout.”
“ButwhatiftheyaskmequestionsaboutitduringtheQandA?”
Elroyshrugged.“I’mnotsurepeopleupherereadtheNewYorkTimes,baby.Ionlyreaditbecauseofyou.”Thenhesnappedbackintoaction,seizingthepairofblackheelsI’dleftbythefloor-lengthmirrorthathungbythefrontdoorofourhotelroomandhandingthemtome.“IfIwereyou,Iwouldplaydumbfornow,”hesaid.“PleadtheFifth.It’sthebestthingyoucandoforyourself,andforKenny.Thenmaybeyoucantalksomesenseintoher.Let’stakeheroutafterthisisalloverinafewhours.”
Igrimacedashetookthepaperbackfromme,placingitatthefootofthebed.“Notideal,Iknow.Butthisain’tgood,Di.That’sallyouneedtoknowfornow.Kennydonesteppedinit.Nowyoujustgottamakesureshedidn’ttrackitalloveryourlivingroom.”
Ishookmyhead,woozyfromthethoughtofhavingtoplaypretendforafewhourseventhoughIknewElroyhadapoint.Ineededtopackthisworryawayandsliponmyshoes.
Justthen,thephonerang.
“Don’tanswerit,”Elroysaid.
Westaredateachotherduringthesecondringandthethird.Onthefourth,Ilungedforit,pushingElroy’shandaside.“ItcouldbeDick,”Iinsisted,ignoringthewaymyhusbandwiltedatthesoundofthisname.Iputthereceiveruptomyear,andwaited.
Andwaited.
“Di,”thevoiceontheotherendfinallywhispered.“Weneedtodosomething.Now.”
10
September14,2018
“So,IprintedoutthefiveemailrepliesfromSamLewisaboutthefiveproposedcoveroptionsforCrystalSoul.ThisoneontopisthelastnoteIhavefromSam,datedfromTuesday.”Nellasiftedthroughthepagesinherlap,tracingherfingeracrossthebodyoftheemail.Theex–rockmusicianhadsenthermorethanfiveemails,oneofwhichcontainednothingexceptanexpletiveforitssubjectline.Butforthepurposesofthisconversation,theseotherrepliesdidn’texist.“Hetoldmeonthephonethismorningthathedidn’tlikethislayoutasmuchashelikedthesecondone,buthedidlikeitmorethanthefourthone.”
“?‘Five’?Wow.Okay.Enough.”VerahadaskedNellatoprinteverythingoutinhi-resonglossypaperandbringitintoheroffice,butthathadn’tstoppedherfromopeningeachoftheattachmentsNellahademailedherandscrollingthroughthemslowly.
Nellastaredatthefiveprintedcovers,silentlybemoaninghowmuchinkhadbeenwastednotwithjustthistask,butwitheverysingletaskshe’deverbeenaskedtocompleteatWagner.Ninetimesoutoften,thepiecesofpaperwouldendupinthegarbage.Howmuchmoneyhadshehadahandinthrowingawayoverthelasttwoyears?Enoughtopaybackhercollegeloans?Enoughtobuygrown-ladyshoes?“AndI’mnotsureifyouremember,butthelasttimewespoketoLeonardI’mprettysurehesaid,‘I’mnotdoinganynewcoverdesignsforCrystalSoul.’So.Dowethinkhe’sbeingserious?”
“Yes.ThemancorneredmeintheelevatorlastweekandI’mstilltraumatizedfromit.”
Thementalimagewasjusttoogood:five-foot-threeLeonardinhistrademarkred-and-bluecheckeredshirtwithagolfpencilbehindhisear;five-foot-eightVerainallblack,gloweringdownathim.Nellahadtoswallowachuckle.“Thatsoundsterrible.I’msorry.”
“Itwas.Youdidn’tforwardhimSam’semails,didyou?Pleasetellmeyou—”
“Definitelynot.Nope.No.Irewordedeverysinglething.”
“Great.”Verasighed,massaginghertemple.“You’resogoodatthat.Thanks.Butanyway,bottomlineis,we’regoingtohavetoworktogetSamtopickfromoneoftheoneshehasalready.Thatoroutsource,whichwecan’taffordtodo.Notenoughmoneyinthebudgetforthat.”
“Right.That’swhatIfigured.Here’swhatIthink—andletmeknowifthissoundscrazy,andIhopeyoudon’tmindmemakingthissuggestion—butIthinkweshouldreallytrytopushthesecondcoverLeonarddrewup.”
Verasaidnothing,butthelookinhereyedidn’tsaystoptalking,soNellaahemedbeforecontinuingon.
“BecauseitfitsmorewiththecoversfromSam’slasttwobooks,andSam’sresponsetothatoneseemedalotmilder.”It’sgotarealsmelltoit,he’dsaidoverthephone,althoughwhatkind,hehadn’tspecified.Nevertheless,Nellahadtakenthisassomethingofapositiveappraisal.“Doesthatsoundgood?”
“What?”Veraasked.Hercomputerhaddingedandshe’dturnedtoseewhathadcausedit.
“Pushingforthesecondcover?Theonewiththestars.MaybeLeonardcanchangethefontsizeorsomethingsothatit’stechnicallya‘new’version,andwecansendthattoSam?Isthatokay?”
“Yes!Wait.No.”Veraheldoutahand,hereyesstillfixedonherscreen.“Canyoujusthandittome,please?”
Nellaleanedforwardandhandedherthetoppage.Sheswallowedandsaid,withaslittlemeeknessaspossible,“Ifyouwant,I’dbehappytorunovertoLeonard’sdeskandtellhimthatweshouldmaybetakesomeofwhatwasonthefifthcoverandsortofmelditintothesecondoneinstead.BecauseRichardwasabigfanoffive,right?”
Verastaredatherscreenforanotherthirtyseconds,asthoughNellahadn’tjustofferedtostickherneckintothecageofanunderfedlion.Nellaseizeduponthisdistraction,surveyingherboss’sofficewithouthernoticing.ShepeekedatVera’scollectionofpensandpencilsforthemillionthtimethatweek—nocolorsbutblack.TheclearplasticboxofstationerysittingnexttothezengardenwasanewadditiontoVera’sdesk,butthosewereexpensiveandfancy,definitelynotwhatNellahadreceived.Briefly,sheimaginedtheperpetratorstandinginthePapyrusstore,shroudedinblack,deliberatingoverwhichblankcardwouldbestconveytheirracistlittlemessage.
IthadbeenawhilesinceNellahadreallyfeltlikelaughing,butshehadtoholdinagaspwhenVeraturnedtoregistertheimageNellahadhandedherandsaid,“No,sorry—notthis.Canyouhandmetheprintoutoftheveryfirstcover,please?Ican’trememberwhatitlookslike.”
“Oh,sure.Here.”ShehandedVerathefirstcover.
“No—thanks,butIwanttoseetheveryfirstcoverLeonardproposed,sidebysidewiththesefive.”
“Absolutely,”Nellasaid,althoughshedidn’tknowwhat“veryfirstcover”Verawasreferringto.SherememberedLeonardmakingfivecovers,notsix.Shehastenedtostand,pickingapartherbrainforamemorysheknewdidn’texist.“Ofcourse.Icantrytoprintthatforyourightnow.IhaveaquickmeetingdownstairswithproductionIhavetorunto,butIcan—”
“That’salright,justleaveitformethisafternoon,please,whenyougetaminute.”NellaexhaledasVerafoldedherhandsmatter-of-factly.“Whatthemanreallyneedsisanultimatum.Leonardhasbeenoverworkedasitisthesedays,andSamshouldunderstandbynowthatwe’vegotsomeprettyqualifiedfolkshere.”
Nellahadnodded.She’dknownallofthis—oratleast,asmallpartofherknew—butputtingherfootdownwithSamhadn’tultimatelyfeltlikeherdecisiontomake.WhatifithadbackfiredinthesamewaytheColinFranklinmeetinghad?Afterall,theairwasstillthickwithremnantsoftheColinIncident,givenVera’stoneandfickleeyecontact.
NellawatchedVerareturntoherscreenandstartedtoleave.Butbeforeshecrossedthedoorway,shepivotedandsaid,offhandedly,“TherewasonemorethingIwantedtomention.”
“Yes?”saidVeraintohercomputer.
I’vebeengettingthesenotesfromsomestrangertellingmetoleavework.They’vebeenfreakingmeout.
Butshecouldn’tdoit.“IjustfinishedreadingTheLie.”
Vera’schairsoundedlikeitwasgoingtofallapartfromhowquicklyshespunaround.Theradiancecomingoffhersmilewasmesmerizing.“That’sgreat!And?Whatdoyouthink?Youlovedit,right?”
“Well…ImissedmysubwaystopforrealwhileIwasreadingit,soifthat’sanyindicator…”Nellatrailedoff,hereyeswidefrommockawe.TheLiewasfine,nothingshedeemedworthfiguringoutcompsfor,butVeradidn’tneedtoknowshefeltthatway.“Wantmetosendyoumyreport?”
Veranodded.“Please!That’dbegreat.I’mreallythinkingofmakinganofferonit.Ican’tbelieveIforgottosendittoyou—Hazelsharedit,Iassume?”
Thereitwas:anapology.Kindof.“Shedid.It’snothing.Really.”
“Goodness,I’msoembarrassed.”Verapaused,clutchingatherneck.“Hey…sinceyouwereabletogettothatonesoquickly,anychanceyou’dbeabletoreadanotheronebytomorrow?I’llsendittoyourightnow,promise.SteeledHeart.It’sreally,reallygood.It’sPrideandPrejudicemeetsI,Robot.”
Nellanoddedandsaidthatofcourseshecould,evenassherememberedthatsheandOwenhadplanstomeethismoms,whowerevisitingfromDenver,attheHighLinethatveryevening.Sheturnedtoleave,prayingthebookwasshort,whenVeracalledout,“Nella?Onemorequickthing.”
“Yes?”
“IknowIhaven’treallybeenpresentlately.AndIknowyoumustbethinkingit’sinregardstothe…Colinsituation.”Hervoicewaslowandmeasured.
Nellaclickedherpenopenandclosedawkwardly,staringatVerafromthedoorway.
“Andmaybeitisaboutthat,alittle.I’mnotsure.Thingshavejustgottenreallycrazy…I’mjustfeelinglikeI’mbusierthanI’veeverbeen…anyway,thisismyowninadequatewayofsayingthatIapologizeifImadeyouuncomfortableatall.Inanyway.Iaskedyouforyouropinion,andI’mgladyougaveit.”
Nellasmiled.“It’sallgood.I’msorry,too,thatitallhappenedthewayitdid.”
“Great.”Veraletoutadeepbreath.“I’msogladwecouldcleartheair.I’vebeentalkingtoColinalmosteveryday,gettingasenseofhowhe’sfeelingaboutthings,andIwillsaythatIthinkhefeelsprettybadaboutthewayeverythinghappened,too.”
“Hedoes?”
“Hedoes.ButIdothink…”Verasqueezedonesetoffingerswiththeother.“Idothinkthatit’snotabadideatoapologizetohimagain.Justasmallapology.Andthen,tabularasa.”
Nellastoppedclickingherpen.
“Whatdoyouthinkaboutthatidea?”
IthinkIalreadyapologizedtohimbeforehelefttheoffice,fourtimes.“Ihavetosay…Imayneedtothinkonit,”Nellasaid,realizinghowhollowhervoicesounded.“Respectfully,thatis.I’dkindofthoughtwe’dmovedpastitbynow.”
“Well,respectfully,Nella,I’dhavetosaythatyourapologywasalittle…”Verawobbledherheadfromsidetoside.“?‘I’msorryyouthoughtIcalledyouaracist’isalittlebitlikesaying‘I’msorryyouthoughtIranoveryourpuppywithmySUV.’It’s…abitempty.YouknowwhatImean?”
Doyouknowwhatyoumean?“I’lldosomeseriousthinkingaboutit,”Nellarepeated.
Verasaidthatsheunderstood,althoughsomethinginherlastwordturneddownabit.
Nellalookedaway.Sherealizedshewascrossingherarms,sosheuncrossedthem.“Icangivehimacall,Iguess.”
“Actually,itmaybebettertodoitviaemail?He’sinCalifornianow,doingfilmstuffforhislastbook.Buthey,sendmeanemailofitfirst,justsoIcanlookitover?”
AnapologyoveremailwasexactlywhatNelladidn’twanttodo.Shepreferredtodoitverbally,partlybecauseshewasn’tsurehowtowordit,andsheimaginedhearingColin’stoneonthephonemighthelp.Butshealsofeltthatitwassomethinghermotherwouldhavefoundawaytoresist.Neverletyourbosshaveanythinginwriting,shealwayssaid.
AnimageofColinprintingoutheremailandputtingituponhisrefrigeratorforallhisgueststosee,allwhilewearingthemulti-fabriccap,flashedthroughNella’smind.Butshecouldwearpokerfaces,too.“Gotit.Willdo,”shesaidbrightly.
Sheheldthisbrightnessinherfaceallthewaytothebathroom.Itwasonlywhenshe’dlatchedthestalldoorthatsheletherselfbreak.
Nellahadtoworkhardtoconvinceherselfshewasaloneintheofficelaterthatevening.Itwasalmostninep.m.,andshehadn’tseenacoworkerpassbyherdesksinceseven…
Butwhatwasthatwhistlingsoundshe’dheardattheendofthehall?
Shepausedhermusicandpeeredaround.Therewasnowhistling.Nosounds.Theywereallinherdizzy,dizzyhead.Butthosenotesthathadappearedinherbagandonherdeskhadn’tbeenallinherhead.TheywereasrealasthetwohundredpagesofSteeledHeartthatshestillhadlefttoread.Andifthepersonwho’dsenttheseveryrealnoteswasindeedacoworker,theyknewbynowthey’dhavetobeextrasneakyiftheywantedtosliphernotenumberthree.
Still,aweekhadpassedsinceshe’dgottenanythingelse.
NellacollapsedintoherseatandwentbacktofindingaGIFtosendtoOwen.ShewantedonethatsaidI’mstillintheofficebutI’msorryandIloveyouandpleasesayhitoyourparentsforme,butthebestshecoulddowasaclipfromamessydatingshowshe’dropedhimintowatchingafewtimes.ShepressedSendandhopedit’dgetalaugh.ThenshewentbacktothebookVerahadaskedhertoread,scowlingathowmanypagesshestillhadleft:hundredninety-nine.
Thereadwasslowgoing.Theauthorhadtriedandfailedtoblendnineteenth-centuryidealswithmodern-daytechspeak.ButNellapreferredpushingthroughtheclunkyrobotdialogueoverwritingtheColinapology.Bothtasksneededtobefinishedbeforeshelefttheoffice,butthelatterwassoutterlydemoralizingthatshecouldn’tbeartostartit.Andwhenevershedidfinallyfinisheverything,she’dhavetoridethetrainhomeknowingthatshe’dmissedhangingoutwithOwenandhisparents,andwhatwouldshehavetoshowforit?Commentsonashittybook,andanapologytoashittywriter?
ThemoreNellathoughtaboutit,theangrieritmadeher.Itmadehersoangrythatafterafewfrustratingminutesofnotabsorbinganythingshewasreading,shewenttoYouTubeandsearched“JesseWatson+apologizeforwhat.”Sincetheofficewasempty—evenDonaldhadgonehomealready—shedidn’tbotherputtingherheadphonesin.Shesatbackinherchair,putherfeetuponhercluttereddesk,andturnedthevolumeallthewayup.
“Tellme,please,whatongod’sgreenearthdoyouwantfromus?‘I’msorrymyskin’ssoblack,myhair’ssothick’?‘I’msorryyou’vebeenkillingmypeopleforgenerations—gen-er-a-tions,people—andtheBlackpeopleyouhaven’tkilled,you’veleftfinanciallydebilitated,withoutanywealthtopassalongtotheirchildren’?‘I’msorryyoubroughtmyancestorsoveronthoseshipsandforcedmetolivewithyourpeople’?”
Nellawatchedittwice,relishinginthewayJesse’sindignanceradiatedoffhercubiclewalls.Thenshecreatedanewfileandstartedtotype.
DearJesseWatson,I’msureyougetmanynoteslikethese,everysingleday,andI’msurethatrightnowyou’dratherdoanythingthanreadanunsolicitedemailfromsomeonewhowantssomethingfromyou.Butbeforeyoudeletethis,Iwanttoassureyou:Idon’twantanythingfromyou.Iwantsomethingforyou.ForalloftheyoungBlackreadersouttherewhodon’tfeellikethebookindustryseesthem.Ithinkthere’sabookinsideyouthatcould
Alightbrushskitteredacrossherleg.Sheyelpedandthrashed,noticingamomenttoolatethatitwasjustPam,thesweetChileanwomanwhocleanedthebuildingafterhours,tryingtoemptyhertrash.
“Oh,Pam,”Nellacried,clutchingthewoman’sarm.“Iamso,so,sosorry!”
Pampolitelyremovedherhand.“It’sokay,honey,”shesaid,reachingagainforNella’strashcan.“Thisplacegivesmethecreeps,too.”
11
September26,2018
ThemainWagnerconferenceroomwasabuzzwithwatercoolerchitchatasdozensofemployeesstockedupatthebreakfastbar,thenfiledintotheirrightfulseats—editorsandotherupper-levelemployeesatthebigstonetable;everyoneelseinthefourrowsofchairsthatfacedthebigstonetable.
NellaandtheotherWagnerassistantswerepostedupin“AssistantsAlley,”closeenoughtotakenotesonthefirstmarketingmeetingoftheseason,butfarenoughtozoneoutundetected.Theyweren’tquiteinthenosebleeds.Thatwasthelastrow,whichwastaken—almostoutofprotest—bythee-booksteam,anunderappreciateddepartmentthatwasnevertakenasseriouslyasitshouldhavebeen,andLeonard,thegrumpycoverdesigner.Nevertheless,HazelhadexpresseddisapprovaloftheAssistantsAlleyseatsSophiehadsavedforherandNellawhenthey’darrivedafewminutesearlier.Thereareseatsopenupfront,sheseemedreadytosay.ButthenSophiehadsuddenlyandveryloudlypraisedHazel’supdo,leavingHazelnochoicebuttoacceptherthird-rowseatwithasmile.
Nellawashappyshe’dbeensparedfromexplainingthatnoassistanthadeversatsoclosetothestonetable.Thatitjustwasn’tdone.Butthatdidn’tstopherfromwondering,asshetookabiteoutofherbagel,whyitneveractuallywas
“So.”Hazeltookabiteouthercinnamonraisinmini-bagel,movingforwardsoshecouldengageNella,Sophie,andGina,aknow-it-allassistantpublicist,atthesametime.“Y’allarecomingtomyYoung,Black’n’Liteventtonight,right?”
AmuscletightenedinNella’sneck.Thisquestionfeltlikeithadbeendirectedatherandheralone.Shepretendedtobeinterestedintestingthefunctionalityofherballpointpen.
Itwasn’tthatNelladidn’twanttogo,becauseshe’dconsidereditonmorethanoneoccasionsincereceivingtheFacebookeventinviteacoupleofdaysearlier.She’dlookedupYoung,Black’n’Lit,thenonprofitpoetryorganizationthatHazelherselfhadfoundedforBlackhighschoolstudentsinHarlem,andrealizeditwasexactlythekindofthingthatsheandMalaikaalwaystalkedaboutdoingmoreof—beingengagedinthecommunitiesinwhichtheylived,partakinginBlackextracurriculars.
Shediscoveredthatplentyofotherpeoplefeltthesameway,too,onceshe’dlookedaroundsomemore.YBLhadapproximatelyfifteenthousandInstagramfollowersandtwenty-twothousandFacebookfans.Since2012,ourmissionhasbeentoamplifythevoicesofteenswhohavethewords,butdon’thavethemicrophone,themainhomepageread.WeaimtopromotethenextgenerationofMayas,Lauryns,andLucilles.
TheirnetwentfarbeyondNewYork—itextendedtoChicagoandLA,too,whereeducatorshadstartedYBLchaptersintheirowncommunities.Mostimpressiveofall,though,wasYBL’sTwitterpage,whichhadnearlythirtythousandfollowersandabreadthoftweets,sometimesfiveinaday—interviewswithBlackwritersfromalloverthecountryandfromalldecades;postsdedicatedtothebirthdaysofBlackpoets,manyofwhomNellahadneverheardof.ItwasrifewithsomuchrichBlackcontentthatNellacouldhavecozieduponherfull-sizedbedandsettledintoitforanhour.Twohours,even.
Butshedidn’thavethetimethesedays.EversincetheirconversationaboutTheLie,VerahadbeeninundatingNellawithmanuscripts,dayafterday.ShewasthinkingaboutwhichonesheshouldstartfirstwhenSophiesaid,“Wait!Yourreadingthing’stonight?Itotallyforgot.Whereisit,again?”
“It’satCurlCentral.InBed-Stuy.”
Ginafrowned.Nellapracticallyheardthecornersofhermouthturndown.A“what’shotandwhat’snot”crystalballofsorts,theredheadfellintothesmallbutreveredcategoryofhardcorepublicityemployeeswhoheardthenameofaplacelocatedinthecity,thenjoyfullytoldyouifshedeemeditliteraryenoughtoholdanauthorevent—whetheryouwantedtoknowornot.ItwasagiftthatNelladidnotwishfor,butitdidimpressher.
“CurlCentral.Hm.”Gina’smouthscrunchedupintotheleftsideofherface.Aftertoomuchthought,sheconcluded,“We’veneverheldanythingtherebefore.”
Hazellaughed.“Ididn’tthinkyouhad,”shesaidgood-naturedly,butNellacouldsenseaglimmerofamusementinhereye—thesameoneshe’dhadwhenMaisyhadwhitesplainedHarlemtoher.“It’satahaircafé.Myboyfriend’ssister’s.It’sherfirsttimehostingaliterarysalon.She’sgotthespaceforit,sowefigured,whynot?”
“?‘Haircafé,’?”Ginarepeated,takingasipofhercoffeeasshecomputedoncemore.“That’sdifferent.”
“I’mdown,definitely,”saidSophie,practicallybubblingoverwithglee.SophiehadbeencomingovertoHazel’sdeskatleasttwiceadaytochat,andNellaimaginedshewaspsychedattheideaofhangingwithHazeloutsideofworkforachange.
“Great.”Hazelnodded.Sheshiftedherfocus;thistime,hereyesreallywereonNella.
“I’llcome,too,iftheotherthingIhavegoingoncancels,”Ginasaid,abitresignedly.“It’llbenicetoscopeitout,seeifwe’dwanttohostsomethingthereinthefuture.”
“Sweet!Nella?”
WhenNellalookedup,Hazel’seyeswerepracticallypleadingwithher.Please,girl,don’tleavemewiththesewhitechicksataBlackhairsalon.“Howaboutyou?”
“Um…”Nellaranahandacrossthebackofherneck.Shehadplansdirectlyafterworkthatevening,andnotjustthekindofplanssheinventedwhenshepreferredtogohomeandstreamrerunsofADifferentWorldRealplans.Shewassupposedtobemeetingayoung,establishedagentshe’dbeenchasingformonths;afterthat,sheandOwenhadplanstosplitabluntandgoseeTheBlob,oneoftheirfavoritebad-but-goodsci-fimovies,downtown.They’dpurchasedticketsforthemovietwomonthsearlier,nearlyayearinNewYorkCitytime,andshewasstillinthedoghouseaftermissingqualityfamilytimewithhisparents.Sheowedhim.
“C’mon,it’llbefun!You’vebeenmeaningtocomebyCurlCentral,right?Youshouldcome.YoucanbringOwen,too.”
SomethingaboutthatsuggestionfeltabitoddtoNella,butsheshruggeditoff.“Imightbeabletomakeit.Ihavedrinkswithanagentscheduledfortonight,butthathopefullywon’tgofortoolong.”
“Drinkswithanagent?”Sophiepracticallyshrieked.“Awesome!”
“Whichagent?”Hazelasked.
“LenaJordan.”
“I’vebeenthinkingabouthowIneedtomeetwithagents,butIjustdon’tknowhowtofindthetimeinbetweeneverythingelse,”Sophiecomplained.“Youknow?”
EventhoughKimberlyhadyettoreturntotheofficepost-surgery,Nellagaveherasympatheticnod.ShewasrelievedbyhowmuchtheirconversationhadveeredconsiderablyawayfromHazel’spoetryreading.
“Isthisyourfirstagentmeeting?”Ginaasked,herinterestintheconversationrenewed.
“Yep.Onlytookmeabouttwoyearstogetsomeonetotakemeseriouslyenough.”
“That’sthenormforyouguysineditorial,isn’tit?Really,Idon’tknowhowyouallmanagetohangonforsolong,”saidGina.“IfIhadn’tgottenpromotedtoassistantpublicistlastyear,Iwouldhavetotallygonetoadifferentpublishinghouse.”
EveryoneexceptHazelnodded,eventhougheveryoneexceptHazelknewthattheonlyreasonGinahadbeenpromotedsoquicklywasbecausesomeoneatthetophaddied.
“Ican’tbelievehowlongittakestomoveuptheladder,”Hazelsaid,polishingoffthelastofherbagel.Shepausedsoshecouldfinishchewing.“Butreally…it’ssortofcasebycase,right?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Nellaasked.MaybeHazelhadknownthatGina’spreviousbosshaddiedpeacefullyatherWagnerdesk.Itwas,afterall,stillthetalkoftheoffice.
“Like,itsortofdependsontheassistant?Richardwastellingmethatexceptionsaresometimesmade.Sometimes.It’snotlikeIhavemyhopesuporanything,”shequicklyadded.
Sophie’seyeswidened.“Hetoldyouthat?When?”
NellasearchedtheroomforRichardandfoundhim,easily,attheheadofthemeetingtable.Withhissweepingeye,hishigh-collaredsatinpersimmonshirt,andfainttraceofasmile,helookedmorelikeMacbetheyeingpotentialsuspectsratherthanasupportiveeditorinchief.“Didhesaythattoyouduringyourwelcometea?”Nellaasked,equallythrownbythis.
“No,no.Actually,I’vebeenmeaningtotellyouguys…”Hazelleanedforwardinherseat;again,sheseemedtobeaddressingonlyNella.“IinvitedRichardtoaneventwehadacoupleofweeksagofordonorswho’vesupportedYBL,justtoseeifhe’dbeinterestedindonatingsomemoney.Andhebit!He’llbecomingtomyeventtonight,too.”
“That’sgreat!”Sophieexclaimed,tuggingatherbraid.“WereallyneedmoreyoungBlackpeopleinthisindustry.WewereliterallyjusttalkingabouthowweirditisthatittooksolongtogetanotherBlackassistanthereatWagner.Right,Gina?”
Ginagrewveryinterestedinhercuticles.“Yeah,IthinkIrememberthatconversation.”
“Like,Hazelissosmart.Andyouare,too,Nella,”Sophieadded.Sheshookherhead.“Itjust…itsuckshowwhiteitishere.”Forperhapsthetenthtime,shecitedtheop-edthathadruninBookCenterafewmonthsago.Thistimesheevensaidtheauthor’sfullname—anewtouch,Nellanoticed.“Blackpeoplejustreallyneedtobegiventhechance.Period.Justbecausewedon’tseetheminthesespacesdoesn’tmeantheycan’tthrivehere.Right?”
Ginaseemedtounderstandwhy“they”hadbeensuchanimproperwordforSophietouse,becausesheshrankdeeperintoherseat.HazeleyedSophie,lookingbemused.
AmyDavidson,theheadofthemarketingteam,savedthemall.“Onemoreminute,everyone,andthenwe’llgetstarted,”shecalledout.Athirdoftheroom,includingGinaandSophie,scatteredtotopofftheircoffeesandgrabjustoneortwomorebagels.
“It’sreallyawesomethatyourunanorganizationforyoungBlackfemalewriters,”saidNella,lookingoveratHazel.“IwouldhavetotallylovedtobeapartofsomethinglikethatwhenIwasinhighschool.”
“Thanks!Afewgirlsfrommyoldhighschoolarereadingtonight,soI’mextrahyped.Halfofthefoodanddrinkproceedsaregoingtothegroup’smembers,bytheway.”
“Sweet.”
“Thegirlsarereallydope,too,”Hazeladded,gazingintothedistance.“Andthey’reso,sotalented.”
“Ibet.”Nellatookanotherbiteoutofherbagelsoshedidn’thavetosayanythingelse.Ittastedalittlelikeonionandalittlelikeaflavorshehadn’taskedfor.“AndRichardisreallycomingtonight?”
Hazelbobbedherheadandlookedtothefrontoftheroom,whereRichardwassitting.“Youknow,Ithoughthewasprettyintenseatfirst.Butheactuallycanbereally,reallychill.IthinkIbrokehiminwithallofmyteaknowledge.Manny’sobsessionreallycameinhandyforonce,”shejoked.
“Richardisdefinitelyacharacter,”Nellaagreed.Shelookedatthefronttable,too,butthetall,baldingmanwho’dbeenoccupyingtheseatinfrontofherhadreturnedfromthecoffeestation,obstructingherview.Shesighed,atouchofgrumpinesscreepingintoherspine.Shehadn’tintendedongoingtoHazel’sreading.Shecouldn’tbailonOwenagain.ButnowthatNellaknewRichardwouldbethere,andthatexceptionsmightbemadeforpromotions,shecouldn’tignoreit.
NellamadeamentalnotetoemailLenaJordanaboutmovingtheirdrinksuptofivethirtyinsteadofsixthirty.Itwasn’tideal—ithadtakenhermonthstopindownthismeeting—butithadtobedone.Besides,howawfulwoulditlookifoneofWagner’sonlyBlackemployeeswasn’tsupportinganother’sendeavors?
Amyswiftlyclappedherhandstogeteverybody’sattention.Bythetimeherpalmsmetathirdtime,ahushfitforawakedriftedthroughouttheroomoftwodozenpeople.
“Nowthateveryone’ssettled,”Amysaid,slippingoffhercrimson-tintedglasses,“Ithinkweshouldgetstarted.”Sheflippedherpurplish-grayhairoverhershoulders,thengrabbedthewire-framedreadingglassesthatwerealwaysnotfarfromthecrookofherleftelbow.
LegendhaditthatAmy’stintedlenses,whichshedonnedeverywhereexceptmeetingsthatrequiredhertositattheheadofthetable,hadbeenprescribedbyanopticianwhenshewasinhertwenties.ButNellawasalmostpositivethattheywereabitofapowerplay.Hell,everypersonwho’dbeenatWagnerforaslongasAmyhad—thirty-twoyears,inhercase—hadsomesortofquirkthatwouldhavebeeninexcusableforsomeonenewtothebusiness.Orforanypersonofcolor.Andwhencomparedwithotherquirks,Amy’swasn’tthestrangest.Talkingtoherwithoutseeinghereyeswasn’tasbadastalkingtoAlexanderwhilehewasalsotalkingtosomeoneinhisBluetoothearpiece,ortalkingtoOliver,aveteraneditorwhopepperedeveryconversationwithquotesfromauthorshe’dworkedwith.
“Lotsofgreatplanstotalkaboutintoday’smarketingmeeting,”Amycontinued,shufflingherpapersinfrontofher.“We’regoingtostartwithVera’stwofalltitles:onefromKittyKruegler;theotherfromColinFranklin.Anypreferenceonwhichofyourauthorswestartwith,Ver?”
“Yes,actually.I’vegotone,”NellaheardRichardsay.“Let’sstartwithColin.”
“Mightaswellstartwiththecashcow,right?”Josh,evertheseconder,agreed.He’dmanagedtogettothemeetingroomearly,andwasseparatedfromRichardonlybyAlexander—anotablefeat.
Everyonelaughedandnoddedtheirheadseagerly.Nellajotteddownthissmalljoke—notthecashcowcomment,butthelevelofconfidencewithwhicheveryoneatWagnerstillbeheldColinFranklin.SheknewitwouldpleasehimthenexttimesheandVerasatdowntogivehimasalesupdate,especiallysincenumbersfromhislastfewbookshadbeenfairlymediocre—andhadbeensince2009,actually,whichwaswhentheleadactressinthefilmadaptationofNotMyPriesthadsuedColinforharassmentinthemonthsfollowingitspremiere.
WhowouldagreetoplayShartriciaifhisnewbookwereadaptedintoamovie?Noonefamous,sheassumed.Morelikelyanunknown,lookingforherbigbreak.Andmaybethiswouldbeitforher.Maybethemoviewouldblowup,leadtobetterroles,andshe’dbecomeanachieverof“firsts”thatonewouldhavethoughtanotherBlackactresshadalreadyachieved.She’dgofromactingtotalk-showhosting,becomethenextBlackEllen—Blellen?—andthen,afterafewyears,she’dgoontostartherownBlackwomen–runfilmcompany.Billionsofdollars;millionsoffollowers;EGOTstatus;ahouseholdnameacrosstheworld.Andonceitwasallsaidanddone,perhapsnobodywouldremembertheShartriciarolethathadmadeitallpossible.
Maybe.
Butprobablynot.Blackpeoplewouldn’tforget.NotpeoplelikeNella;notanyoneelsewhospentmorethanafewmomentsthinkingortalkingaboutBlackrepresentationinthemedia.
Sheshookherhead,againconsideringtheapologythatVerahadaskedhertomake,againwonderingwhatthemediawouldthinkaboutColin’snewbookwhenitdropped…andhowhelplessshefeltaboutallofit.MaybesheshouldhavetriedhardertogetthroughtohimduringthatmeetinginVera’soffice.
“What’smostimpressiveofallaboutthisbook,though,”Verawassaying,“isthatColinhasbeenparticularlyproactiveinhisquesttogetdeepinsidethemindsofhischaracters.AndIthinkwhathehashereisgoingtoringsotruewithreadersinthesedamagedcommunities,too.Becausethosearethefolkswhomthesebooksaretrulyfor.ThepeopleoutinruralOhio,andalltheotherruralareasintheUnitedStates.”
“Butdotheyevenread?”SophiewhisperedintoGina’sear,abittooloudly.Ginacoveredhersilentlaughterwithahand.
AmycutintoVera’sspiel.“Ithinkthatallsoundsfabulous,Vera.IreadthisbookandIhavetosaythatitreallyissomethingelse.It’satruedeparture,ifyoudon’tmindmesaying,fromwhatColinhasworkedoninthepast.Thefamilyscenesallreallyhitme.Sohard,sodeeply.”
Amypaused,then,whichmeantthewomanhadclosedhereyesthewaysheoftendidinthemiddleofspeaking,toemphasizeherpoint.Nellafeltherowneyelidsgrowheavy,whichwasn’tanunusualresponsetoAmy’syogavoice.“AfterIfinishedthemanuscriptIcalledmyyoungersonupatYale,andtoldhimIlovedhimformakingthechoicesthathemade.Andforthechoiceshedidn’tmake.”
ThebaldingmansittinginfrontofNellanoddedhisheadinagreement.
“Idohavejustonequestion,though.”
Anotherpause.NellawonderedifAmywasabouttoaskeveryonetodropintodownward-facingdog.
“Idowonderaboutaudience,andhowwe’regoingtogetthisbookintothehandsofpeopleinthoseravagedcommunities.”
SophiereachedoverandsqueezedGina’sthigh,victorious.
“I’msorry,butI’mgoingtohavetobethatheartlessoldwitchandaskeveryonehereatthistable,asmuchasitpainsme—dothesepeoplethatColiniswritingaboutbuybooks?Oraretheymorefocusedonsimplybuyingmoreopioids?”
Nellaflinched.Hearingthephrase“thesepeople”inreferencetoamostlywhitegroupofpeoplewasstrangelysatisfying.ShewonderedifHazelfeltthesameway,butshewasseatedtoofartothelefttoshowupinNella’speriphery.
“Ithinkthat’safairquestiontoask,”Joshsaid.“AndIalsowonder—andI’llhappilybethewarlocktoyourwitch,Amy”—afewoverlygenerouschuckles—“dowethinkthepublichashadenoughofthisstoryline?Theopioidepidemichascomeand…well,ithasn’tgone,exactly,butfrankly,itdoesn’tfeellikethenewscyclecaresasmuchaboutitasitoncedid.Thismeansthatwe’llreallyneedtothinkhardabouthowwemarketthisone.”
Opioidsstillsexy?Nellajotted.She’dtranslateitintosomethinglesscheekywhenshetypeditupforVeralater.
“Iagree,itwillbeabittricky,”Verasaid,addingabitofbasstohervoice.“Andnodoubtaboutit,Colinisawareofthat,too.Buthe’splanningtodoalotofQandAsontheprocessofwritingthisbook,whichmediaplatformswillreallyappreciate.Andhe’sreallywillingtogoafteryoungadultaudiences.MaybespeakatsomehighschoolsoutinmiddleAmerica.”
AfewseatsdownfromVera,Maisy—aconspicuousshadeofbronze—clearedherthroat.Sincereturningtoworkafewdaysearlier,she’dtoldeveryonethatshe’d“simplyneededanextra-longvacation,”althoughNellahadnotforgottenthebriefcameoMaisyhadmade,hustlinginandthenoutoftheofficewithallofthosebags.“I’djustliketochimeinhere,too,ifImay,”saidMaisy.
Therightpeoplesittingatthetablenoddedthatyes,itwasokay.
“Ireadsomeofthis—”ShereadjustedherpositionsoshecouldmakeeyecontactwithVera.“LikeAmy,Iwastouched,andItoldmysonthatIlovehim,andtoalwaysmakegooddecisions—althoughhe’sstillfiguringouthowtosay‘mommy,’sowe’llrevisithischoicesinsixteenyears,Iguess.”Afewmoreoverlygenerouschuckles;NellagaveMaisyhalfatitter.“AndIthinkonethingthat’sreallyspecialaboutNeedlesandPins—andstopme,Ver,ifyouwereabouttotouchuponthis—isthatitshowsvariousdemographicsthathavebeenhitbytheopioidcrisis.Notjustwhitepeople,butBlackpeople,too.”
“Yes,”Verasaid,“Iwasgoingtospeakonthat.Thankyou.”
Nellastiffened.ItwasonethingtotalkaboutShartriciainVera’soffice,buttohavetositthroughitwithtwodozenofhercoworkerswasanotherthingentirely.ShedidnotwanttolistentoMaisyandVerawaxpoeticabouthowgoodofajobColinhaddonepresentingdiversecharacters.Shedidnotwanttowatcheveryonerespondenthusiastically.Forafleetingmoment,sheconsideredgoingtothebathroom,eventhoughitwouldbeterriblyconspicuousforhertodoso.
Then,sheremembered:Shehadanallynow.Ifanyothercoworkershappenedtocastaglanceinherdirectiontoseeifshe’dexhibitedanyopiniononwhatwasbeingsaid,itmeanttheywouldalsobelookingatHazel,too.Howhadsheforgottenshewasn’ttheonlyBlackgirlintheroom?
Nellainhaled.Theburdenwasn’tgone,sherealized.Notbyanymeans.Butatleastitcouldbesharedandlaughedaboutlater.Maybeshe’deveninviteHazeltodrinkswithMalaikathenexttimetheywentout,andtheycouldhashitallouttogether.
Shefeltthetensionleaveherlowerbackagain,risingthroughhershouldersandevaporatinguptotheceiling.
Butitwasamistaketoletherguarddown.Becauseitleftherunpreparedforwhathappenednext.
First,VerasaidHazel’sname.AndthenRicharddid,too,venturingtoturnhisattentiontowardAssistantsAlley.
“Wouldyoumindsharingsomewords,Hazel?”
Nellafroze.She’dneverseenRichardaskanyentry-levelemployeetospeakatoneofthesemeetingsbefore.
“Sure.IaskedVeraifIcouldtakealookatNeedlesandPins.I’vebeenabigColinFranklinreaderforawhile,andIwascurious.”Hazel’svoice,anaudiblejoltofyouthandardor,wasperfectlyloudandclearandcrisp.Everyoneintheroomhadturnedtogetagoodlookather,asthoughitwerecommonplaceforanassistanttopickupthemicatamarketingmeeting.
Didn’tHazelsayVerahadaskedhertotakealook?thoughtNella,asOliverleanedovertowhispersomethinginAlexander’searatthebigtable.AlexandernoddedhisheadinthedirectionofMaisy.
“AndI’llsaythis,ifImay,”Hazelcontinued.“IthinktheBlackprotagonistandherfamilywillreallyresonatewithaudiencesofcolor,particularlythosewhoarestrugglingwithaddiction.Myparentscameofageduringthecrackepidemicinthecityinthe1980s,anditbroughtbackmemoriesofstoriesthey’vetoldme—andhowlittleanybodywhiteseemedtocare.”
Somepeoplenodded.Amyhummedanotebefitforachurchchoir.
“I’llbehonest.ThereareafewthingsaboutShartriciathatsomepeoplemightcallattentionto…”
IfNellahadanydoubtsthatHazelhadcastaverydirectglanceinherdirection,thepointedgazeofthebaldingproductioneditorwhowassittinginfrontofherconfirmedit.Shecouldfeeleveryoneelsestaringather,too.
“Butoverall,ColindidareallygoodjobofbringingithomeinawaythatIthinkwillconnectwithallreaders.It’llbefuntoseehowitallcomestogether.”
“Thanks,Hazel,forthat,”saidVera.Shewasbeamingsohardthatyou’dhavethoughtherpuppyhadstooduponitshindlegsandstartedcomposingthenextgreatAmericannovel.Meanwhile,thePEstillhadn’ttakenhiseyesoffNella.Hiseyeswerenarrowedinhard,indisputabledistrust.
Nellafake-coughedintoherelbow.
“Mypleasure!Thankyouforlettingmetakeapeek.Andforgivingmetheopportunitytospeaktoday.”Hazelbowedherhead.
Amybowedherheadinreply.“Yes,thanks,Hazel,foryourthoughts.We’lldefinitelykeepinmindtheraciallydiverseangle,too.Greatstuff,no?”sheaskedtheroom.Itwasarhetoricalquestion,butafewpeopleverballyagreedanyway,notwantingtobemistakenfornonbelievers.Richardclappedhishandsacoupleoftimes.
“Great!”Verasaid.“Okay,next:Kruegler.WhenwefirstmetKitty,shewasano-namedebutauthorwithnopartner,andnokids,withseventy-fivethousanddollarsofcollegedebt.ButwhenTranslucentShadowshit,allofthatchanged…”
Nellareachedaforefingeruptoherfaceandpressedonherleftnostrilandcountedtoten.Thecornersofhereyeswerebeginningtoburn,andnowthatthePEwasfinallyfacingforwardagain,allshecoulddowasfocusonthebackofhisshiny,barehead.Thetearswereabouttofall,sheknew,andeventhoughnoonewouldprobablynotice—everyonewasinfatuatedwithKittyKruegler,acollegedropoutwho’dgoneontobeaprofessoratPrinceton—cryingwasnotanoption.Showinganyfeelingwasn’tanoption.Sheknewwhathercolleagueswouldsay.Whathermotherwouldsay.Damnit,Nell,you’reatwenty-six-year-oldeditorialassistantworkingatoneofthebestpublishinghousesinthecountry.You’vegotnothingtocryabout.
WhatNellacouldn’thavepossiblyexplainedtohermotherwasthatthetearsthatthreatenedtoflowdownhercheeksweren’ttearsofsadness.Theywerehot,heavytearsofangerandembarrassment.Shelockedherjaw,tryingtokeepfromlookingoveratHazel.Shewasdyingtoseewhatthegirlwaswearingonherface,butwasscaredthatifshemovedherheadevenaninch,she’dneedtoscrambletotheexit—or,worse,springfromherchair,grabHazelbytheshoulders,andgiveherashakeinfrontofalloftheircolleagues.
Nellasatstock-stilllikethisforthenextforty-fiveminutes,focusingonlyonherbreathingandthesoundsoftheeditors’voices.BythetimeAmylaunchedintoherusualclosingremarksaboutthemarketandthesocialclimateforbooksandhowimportanttheworkeverysinglepersoninthatroomwasdoing,theheathadleftNella’sfaceandherjawhadrelaxed.ShehadsomanyquestionsforHazel,butsheknewthatherbestoptionwastokeepcalmandquiet.Wagnerwasnotagoodplaceforthisconversation—itwouldbebettertowaituntiltheywereatCurlCentral.
Resignedfornow,Nellacasuallyturnedherheadtotheleft,feelingthetightnessthathadformedonherleftsideunfurl.Whensheturnedback,shewassurprisedtoseeHazelstaringrightather,browsscrunchedandeyescloudedover,likeshewasthinkingsomethingthrough.
BringOwen.ComingfromHazel,thishadsoundedmorelikeacommandthanasuggestion.Butno.Thatwasn’twhythosewordshadrubbedNellathewrongway.WhathadconfusedherinthatmomentwasthesoundofOwen’snamecomingfromHazel’smouth.Nellahadn’tevermentionedittoHazel.Noteveninpassing.Shewascertainofthat.AndOwenwasnowhereonherFacebook—hedidn’tbelieveinsocialmedia,blesshisfree-spiritedheart,andsherespectfullykepthimoffherpage.Shedidn’tuseFacebooklikethatanymore,anyway.
NellaheldHazel’sstare,radiatingasmuchblatantcondemnationasshecould.Hazelwithstoodallofitwithanairofneutrality.Then,sheslowlyturnedherheadbacktowardthefrontoftheroom,thebeginningsofaslow,smallsmilecreepingacrossherface.
KendraRae
September26,2018
Catskill,NewYork
You’vegottohelpme.IfeellikeI’mgoinginsane.
Itookalong,deepbreath,thenraisedmyglassandtookanevenlonger,deepersipofmywine.Icouldn’tkeeprunningawayfromthisvoicemail.I’ddoneeverythingIcouldtotakemymindoffit.Iwentoutonthetrailforanhour;Ipickedupsomegroceriesandacaseofpinotnoir,too.I’devendonealittlewriting,justtogivemesomethingtodowhileIdrank.
ButIcouldn’tfindanypeace.Notonce.Ijustkepthearingthisgirl’ssqueakyvoiceinsteadofmyown.
IsighedandhitPlay,herfranticrantfillingupmykitchenfortheumpteenthtime.
“Look,Idon’tknowwhoyouare,orwhyyoukeepcontactingme.And,actually,Idon’tevenknowwhyI’mcallingyou.You…stupid,creeper-stalkerweirdo.”
Therewasthatlight,snottysnortnoise—theonethattoldmeshe’dbeencrying.
“God,I’mamess.Mylifeisamess.Owen’sbeenmadatme.VerathinksI’manunreliableassistant,andI’mdefinitelygonnalosemyjob…althoughtruthfully,Idon’tevenknowifIwantit.”
Thecallerpausedagain.Iwipedatthedropofpinotnoirthathadslidoffthegreenbottleontothetable,smearingitacrossthecherrywood.Ilickedmyfingerandwipedatitagain,countingdownthefoursecondsthatIknewwouldpassbeforeshesaid,“No.That’snottrue.I—Idowantit.Iwanttobeaneditor.HowmanyyoungBlackfemaleeditorsarethere?None.”Thegirlsighed.“Youkeeptellingmetoleave,butIcan’t.Ican’tletHazel…”Anothersnort,thisonemoreself-deprecatingthanthelast.“Fuck,I’mnotsurewhyI’mtellingyou…whoeveryouare…anyofthis.”
Idon’tknowwhyyouare,either,I’dthoughtonmyfirstlisten,prettypeeved,becauseyou’retheunhingedwackadoowhocontactedme.TheonlypersonIevercontactedwasTrace.Shewasmylifeline,theveinconnectingmetomymoney,myfamily,thelifeIhadbefore.Everyoneelse,itwasbettertoavoid—myex-colleagues,thefewfriendsIhadleftoverfromHarvard
I’devenleftDianabehind,althoughthatpartwaseasierthanitshould’vebeen.Honestly,Ithoughtshe’datleastofferahollowapologytoTraceforleavingmeoutonthevinetowitherallthoseyearsago.FormakingmefeellikeIwasnolongerwelcome.Fortryingtochangeme.
Shoot,don’tgetmewrong—IknowthetimingofwhatIsaidwasn’tperfect.Butitdidn’tgivehertherighttotrytodowhatshedid.
Ilistenedasthegirlrambledonalittlewhilelonger,waiting.Andthenitcame:thereasonwhyIhadn’tbeenabletothinkstraightallday.
Wagner.
Hearingitforthefourthtimedidn’tmakeitanyeasier.Itallcamesurgingback:thedecadesIspentrunningawayfromhisname;thethreatsonmylife;theBlackparentswhowrotetellingmeI’dnolongerbeseenasarolemodelintheirhouseholds.YearshadpassedsinceI’dchangedmyhair,foundanewjob,andsettledintoasmalltowninupstateNewYorkwherefolksdidn’tparticularlyfeellikebotheringtheirnewBlackneighbor…alltogetawayfromthatname.ButthenIgotthatvoicemailfromthatLynngirlsayingsomethingaboutWagnerandtheworkher“team”wasdoing.AndnowhereWagnerwasagain,invadingmylife.
Whatwerethechancesthesetwomessagesweren’tconnected?Thatthisgirlwasn’toneofLynn’speople,sentbyLynntoforcemyhand?
Idownedtherestofmyglass,refilledit,thenhitPlayagain,thenagain,untilIpiecedtogetherahazypicture:ThisanonymouscallerworkedforVeraParini,amousywaifofawhitewomanwho’dbeenjustahumbleWagnereditorialassistantwhenI’dmether.AndnowLynn—oroneofherpeople—hadgiventhispoorgirlmynumber.Probablyhopingthatshe’dgetmetocomebacktothecity.
Sighing,IletmyeyesrestuponthebluesandgoldsoftheJacobLawrenceprintmyfatherhadsentmejustweeksbeforehepassed.Hisfuneralhadfallenonabeautifulday,oneconsiderablywarmforMarch,andhadbeensofullthatmymotherhadtoturnpeopleaway.Atleast,that’swhatTracehadtoldme.
Ididn’tgo.
“Butit’sDad,”Tracehadimploredtheweekbeforehewasputtorest.ThroughthephoneI’dfeltherpullingonmyarmthewayshedidwhenwewerechildrenandshewantedmyattention.“Youcanhideyourface.Wearawig.Anything.Justdon’tmakemedothisalone,Kenny.”
I’dsuckedmyteeth.“They’vebeenwatchingeveryoneathomejusttoseeifIcomeback.They’llfigureitout.”
Toanyoneelse—almostanyoneelse—Iwouldhavesoundedlikealunatic.ButTracewasmyownfleshandblood,mybestfriend.Shehadtounderstand.ShesawmeinthosefinaldaysbeforeIleft.Shesawthechange,too.TherewasnootherlogicalreasonforallofthoseyearsshespenthelpingmeremainoutofsightfromRichard,fromDiana,fromallofit.
IfeellikeI’mgoinginsane…Mylifeisamess…
MyphonehadgoneblackbutIkeptstaringatitanywayasmyinsideschangedtheirtune.Suddenly,Iwishedshehadn’tblockedhernumber.Iwantedthegirltocallback,tellmemore.Herpanicwasn’tthatevergreentwentysomethingself-centerednessofalifenotgoingaccordingtoplan,Irealized.Clearly,whateverthisgirlwasexperiencingrandowntothebone.
Ileanedbackinmychair,painfullyawareofthebattlebetweenfearandcompassionthatwaschippingawayatmysenses.ThatIevenfeltthetug-of-warsurprisedme;forsolong,I’dletmydesiretoremainhiddendictatewhereIlived,whereIshopped,whomIspoketo.WhenLynncontactedmeaboutallofherbigtheoriesaboutWagner,andherevenbiggerask,I’dtoldherinnouncertaintermsthatIwasn’tinterestedinreturningtothecity.It’dbecrazytoriskitallnow.I’vefinallyfoundpeace.
ButhadI,really?Seventywasn’tfaroff,andhereIwas,livingallbymyself.Ihadonlyafewfriends—acquaintances—andIwastwoweekslatesendingnotestomyclient.Today’sexcuse?I’dgottentoowine-drunkonaweekdayallbymyself.
AsmuchasIwantedtoignoreit,mycracksweren’tjustshowing—theyweredominating.Whateverfragmentsofmethatwereleftwerepokinghopelesslyoutofthislostgirl’ssoliloquy.
ImovedmywineglasssoIcouldslidemylaptopoverandlogintoTrace’sFacebookaccount,whichsheletmeusewheneverIwasfeelingparticularlylonely.Ididn’tknowthenameofthecaller,butIdidknowwhomsheworkedfor,andwhomshemightworkwith:someonenamedOwen,andHazel.ButwhenItypedtheirnamesintothesearchbar,bothyieldedfartoomanyresultsformetocombthrough.
Ipinchedthebridgeofmynose.Aftersomedeliberation,IpulledupGoogleandsearched“Hazel”and“WagnerBooks”together,expectinganotheravalancheofresults.ButhalfwaydownthepagewasalinktoaFacebookeventhostedbyayoungwomannamedHazel-MayMcCall.Thatverysameevening,Hazel-MayMcCall’sorganizationwouldbeholdingareadingataBlackhairsaloninBrooklyn.
Amongtheconfirmedattendees:RichardWagner.
Andthecosponsorofthisevent?WagnerBooks.
Thisinformationsatstrangelyinmystomach,threateningtocomebackupwiththewineI’dhadforlunch.Desperately,IclickedHazel’sphoto.Herdreadlockswerehermostprominentfeature;nextinlinewashowsociallyinvolvedshewas.Buthertimelinesaidshe’dbeenatWagnerforbarelytwomonths.
EitherRichardhadexperiencedamassivechangeofheart,or,morelikely,hehadAnAngle.Whyelsewouldhegivesomuchmoneyandpubliclypostthathecouldn’twait“tosupporttheimportanceofincreasingdiversityinpublishing”?ThiswasthesamemanwhohadinvitedmeoverfordinnermyfirstweekatWagnersohisfancywhitewifecouldtellme,“womantowoman,”thatI’dnevermakeitinpublishingifIdidn’ttamemyhairandtalklikeIwasfromNorthampton,notNewark.ThesamemanwhotoldmeacoupleofyearslaterthatBurningHeartseemed“tooniche”tofindarealaudience,butthatDianawasprettyenough,andIwassmartenough,andifBlackpeoplecouldbeinternationalpopstars,thenwewouldcertainlygetsometraction.
Thesamemanwho’dangledhiswayintoourspotlightthemomentitbecameabestseller.
Iconsideredthisyoungwoman’sdreadlocks,herhandonherhip.WasRichardsleepingwithher?Itwasashamefulthought,butnotafar-fetchedone.Shedidn’thavethatsoft,easyglowhe’dalwaysgravitatedtoward,though.Hazelwasemittingsomethingelseentirely.
Hecouldn’tpossibly.Shewouldn’tpossibly.Sheseemedtoostrongforhim.Too…solid
ButsohadDiana.
Allofasudden,mylegswenttoworkontheirown,sweepingmeintomylivingroomandleavingmeatthemahoganybookshelfI’dpurchasedfromatagsaleshortlyaftermovingtoCatskill.Iwasrunningafingeracrosstheworn-outspinesofbooksI’dcollectedoverthelastfiftyyearswhenIfinallyrealizedwhatI’dcomeherefor.
RalphEllisonandToniMorrisonwhisperedatmetopickthemup,givethemanotherspin,butIresistedthetemptationanddroppedtomykneesforabetterviewofthebottomrow.TherewasGordonParks’smemoir,abiographyofBillieHoliday,andacollectionofotherbooksaboutBlackcreatives.I’dneverunderstoodpeoplewhoalphabetizedtheirlibraries;Ionlybelievedinarrangingminebythemes—andeventhatcouldbetricky.So,Ireadeveryspine,scanningtheoldissuesofJETandEbonyuntilIfoundaspinetoosmalltoread.
There.
Ireachedforthethinsliceofpagesprudently,waryofkeepingitsfiftysomething-year-oldspineintact.Thiswasit:theoldtheaterprogramfromtheperformancesofAmiriBaraka’sTheSlaveandTheToiletthatmyparentshadtakenmetoseewhenIwasfourteenyearsold.Ihelditinmyhandsforafewmoments,recallinghowmanytimesmyfatherremindedmeduringthatridetoSt.Mark’sPlayhousethatBarakawasfromNewark,too.ThenIopenedtheprogram,stuckmyhandintheflap,andunearthedthephotoproofIhadn’tlookedatinyears.
Therewewere,Dianaandme,posingforamagazinecoverthatneverwas.Iwasinblackandsheinrose,andwebothhadshoulderpadssosharpyoucould’vecutyourfingeronthem.Thephotographerhadsuggestedweputourfistsintheair,whichweboththoughtwastoocorny,sowe’dagreedtostandback-to-backwithourarmscrossedandoureyebrowsraised—becauseforwhateverreason,thathadseemedlikethemorenaturalposeatthetime.Atthebottomofthepage,writtenacrossourbrownankles,werethewords“ANewErainPublishing?”
Thepunctuationofthetitleaggravatedmenowasmuchasitdidthen.Whypresentitasaquestion?I’daskedtheeditorinchief.Thefactthatweweregoingtobeonthecoverofaprestigiousmagazinehadmadeitso.Tome,atleast.
ButthenIopenedmymouth.Then,theypulledthecover.Andwhathadbecomeofthisso-callednewera?
Iplacedtheproofandtheprogramonthecouchandreturnedtothekitchen.Justtenminutesago,I’dwantedtoreachinsidemyphoneandtellthisstrangerthatbeinganeditorwasn’tworthit—thatifshewasn’tcareful,shemightturnintosomeonelikeme.Orworse.
Atthesametime,I’dwantedtosmashthephoneagainstthewall.
Ididn’t.Instead,IfocusedontheJacobLawrenceprintagain,onthesturdyBlackarmsthatwouldpushacartoflibrarybooksforaneternity,maybelonger.AndIcalledLynn.
PartIII
12
September26,2018
Malaikaheldatuftofsynthetic4Bhairthathadbeendyedpowderblueuptoherhairline.“Youknowshe’stryingtofuckwithyou,right?”sheasked,leaningtowardoneofthemirrorsthatbookmarkedtheaisleofhairdyeproducts.“That’sallitis.She’stryingtofuckwithyou.”
Nellareachedforyetanotherhairproduct,heldituptothelight,andsquinted.They’dwalkedthroughthefrontdoorofCurlCentralalmosttenminutesago,buthereyesstillhadn’tadjustedenoughtoitslowlightingtoreadthejarlabelsfromareasonabledistance.“?‘GoodVibes,’thisoneiscalled.Supposedly,massagingthisproductinyourscalptwotimesadaywillmakeyoufeel‘goodvibes,goodfun,andhaveanall-aroundgoodtime.Perfectforthebeach,thebar,orforjustbingeingNetflixinyourlivingroom.’?”
Malaikasnorted.“Howaboutfortheoffice?Becauseitsoundslikeyourplaceneedssomegoodvibes.Thosecoworkersofyoursmightneedsome,too.”
NellaimaginedherselfhandingSophieajarofGoodVibeshairgrease,picturedhersmoothingitinbetweenhertwoFrenchbraidsintheladies’room.Ifsuchacarefreeresponsehadfeltreadilyavailabletoher,shemighthavelaughed.Butshedidn’t.Atouchofembarrassmentfromthemarketingmeetingearlierthatday—andhersubsequentbreakdown—brushedhercheeks.Shehadn’ttoldMalaikashe’dactuallycalledtheanonymouspersonearlierthatday,andshedidn’tplanondoingsoanytimesoon.Malaikawouldjudgeherifsheknew,andrightfullyso.
“Howarethings,bytheway?Youhaven’tgottenanyothernotessincethatsecondonewiththephonenumber,correct?”Malaikaasked,noticingherfriendhadsuddenlygonequiet.
“Uh,nope.NomorenotessinceSeptemberseventh.”
“That’sgood.Butdamn,aftertoday…they’vegottabecomingfromHazel.Right?”
Nelladidnothingbutshrughershoulders,agesturethatMalaikaeithercouldn’tseeoroutrightignored.
“Sheknowsthere’sonlyspaceforoneBlackgirl,andshewantstobeit.Ithinkshewantsyouout,girl,”Malaikacontinued,pickingupagreentuftofhairnext.“She’splayingyou.Howelsewouldshehavesnuckthosenotestoyousosmoothly,withoutyounoticing?Andthewayshethrewyouunderthebustoday,infrontofeverybody?”
“Idon’tknow.ButIplantotalktoheraboutittonight.DidItellyoushebroughtOwenup,too?Byname.EventhoughI’msureI’venevermentionedhisnametoher.Notever.”
Malaika’seyeswentwide.“Never?Yousure?”
“Definitely.ImentionedIhadaboyfriend,butthat’sit.Andyouknowhowhewouldn’ttouchsocialmediawithaten-footpole.Hehatesitsomuchhehasinternsdothatpartofthejobatwork.”
“Right.Sowhenyousayyouwantto‘talk’toHazel,doyoumean…?”Malaika’soutlinemimedremovingherearringsonebyone.
“No,”saidNella,giggling.“Imean,actuallytalk.Innocentuntilprovenguilty.”Thewords,acridonNella’stongue,cameoutsoundingalotmoreself-righteousthanshemeantthemto.
“Butyoucan’t—”
“Iwonderwhatkindofchemicalsgointo‘goodvibes,’?”Nellaintoned,changingthesubject.“Panthenol,glycerol,fructose…”
Malaikamadeapftsoundasshesullenlywentbacktofingerpickingthefaketuftofgreenhair.
NellaputtheGoodVibesgreasebackandleanedclosertotheshelf.Shewasintentonholdingittogethertonight.Shecouldn’tjustrunintoaclosetatCurlCentralandleaveanothercrazymessageonsomestranger’smachine.
“Thislineofhairproductsiscrazy.Howisthisathing?There’sonecalled‘ChillPill,’‘Turnt’n’Free,’‘StrutUrStuff’—”
“What’sin‘StrutUrStuff’?”
“Probablyallofthethingsthatarein‘GoodVibes.’Andsomethingspicy?Idon’tknow.”
“Garbageforyourscalp,”Malaikasaiddismissively.Sheplacedthetuftofgreenhairbackontheracknexttothemirror,dejected.“Iwanttodoitsobad.”
“Dowhat?”
“Putcolorinmyhair.Somethingplant-based,obviously.I’mjustreallycravingachange,youknow?”
“Ido,”Nellasaid,recallingthathotsummerdayshe’dwalkedbyabarbershopinBushwickanddecidedtofinallycutallofherrelaxedhairoff.“Whydon’tyoujustgoforit?Yourhairwouldlookbombwithsomeblueorgreen,especiallywhenyoupullitintothosecornrowslikeyoudosometimes.”
“EvenifIhadtheballstodoit,IknowI’dhearaboutitfromIgorfor,like,amonth.Youknowhowheisaboutthesekindsofthings.”
Nellanodded.Igorhadhadaparticularlyhardtimeadjustingtothetinyemerald-greennosepiercingMalaikahadwhimsicallyhaddonetheprevioussummer.He’dthrownafit,tellingMalaikainnosubtletermsthat“herchoiceinnosejewelrymightcomeoffacertainwaytopotentialclients.”Malaikahadgripedandgroanedaboutit,butshe’dreceivedthemessageandtakenoutthepiercinganyway.Thepaywastoogood,andhavingherownplaceinFortGreenewasevenbetter.
“Okay,nohairdye.Butdidyouwanttogetanythingelsefromthisaisle?Likehairgreaseorsomething?”
“Girl,youknowIdon’tbelieveinbuyinghairgrease.It’slikebuyingbarbecuesauce.”
“You’vestartedmakingyourownbarbecuesauce,too?”
“Pinterestisaninvaluableresource.”
Nellalaughed—areallaughthistime—andplayfullysmackedMalaika’sarm.“Let’sgo,Mal.IwanttotakeapeekatIeshaB.’sbookbeforethisthingstarts.”
“MissIeshaB.!Oh,yes,please.”MalaikahustledaheadofNella,theneonpinkswooshesofherAirJordanstheonlyvisiblepartofhershadow.Nellafollowedgiddilybehindher.They’dspentanunhealthyamountoftimepokingfunatMissIeshaB.,wonderingwhetherornotsheatesteakorbelievedintheIlluminati,orifshe’dbepresentatthereadingthatevening.ItwasthislastreasonthathadgottenMalaikatoattendthereading,sinceNella’spleaforMalaikato“doitfortheculture”hadn’tquitemovedtheneedle.Notonaweeknight,atleast.
“Dowehavetimebeforethispoetrythingstarts?”Malaikaasked.“Iwanttoseeifthebooksareactuallyworththetenbucksshe’scharging.”
Nellanodded.She’dclockedboththebookshelfandthebathroomassoonastheyentered,ahabitsheperformedwheneversheenteredsomeone’shome,andsheledthewaytothebackofthestore,deftlysidesteppingtwootheryoungBlackwomenwhowerecloselyeyeingaselectionofbrightspraysthatdoubledasperfumesandmoisturizers.Onehadamouthfullofbraces;theotherhadateeny-weenyfrothatremindedNellaofherownshortlyaftershe’ddoneTheBigChop.
“Thisone’ssupposedtomakeyoulessanxious,”saidthegirlwithallthemetalinhermouth,whoseblackcabbiehatandboxbraidswereaclearhomagetoJanetcircaPoeticJustice.“Maybethis’llhelpmewiththeSAT?”
“Nahhh,”herfriendreplied.“GowiththeSerenitySprayinstead.Mysisterswearsbyit.AndyouknowshegotintoFordhamLaw.”
Nellaheldbackaknowingchuckleattheideaofaspraythatpromisedserenityinaworlddoomedbyhorrificschoolshootingsandsenselesschurchbombingsandirreversibleglobalwarming.ButassheandMalaikaturnedacorner,heramusementattheirearnestexchangedeepenedtoenvyasshethoughtofallthoseyouthfulyearsofhairshe’dlostoutonthankstochemicalrelaxers.Howbigherfrowouldbenowifshehadn’thatedherrootssomuchthen.
Shecouldn’tdwelltoohardonthis,though,becauseMalaikasuddenlystoppedandletoutoneloud,ear-piercingshriek.
“Sweetlord.It’sevenbetterthanIimagineditwouldbe!”
NellamovedforwardtoseewhatMalaikawasfreakingoutabout.Thesquealhadbeenwellearned.Standingtallinfrontofthem,showeredinabrightbeamofwhitelight,wasalaminated,life-sizedcardboardcutoutofMissIeshaB.herself.Atopeachsideofherheadweretwohoney-coloredbunsthatwerethesizeofCinnabonrolls.Herlipswerefreckledwithrose-goldglitterlipstick,andshehadoneglovedhandonherhipwhiletheotherheldablow-dryerwithitsnosepointedup,Blaxploitation-style.IfnotfortheKente-cloth-patternedsmockthatwastightlytiedaroundherwaist,orthespeechbubblecomingoutofhermouththatsaid“I’MHAIRTOHELP,”NellawouldhaveassumedthiswomanwasnotMissIeshaB.atall,butaheroinefromagraphicnovel.
“Whatinthe…”Nellasaid,tryingtokeephergigglescontained.
Malaikastartedtocacklewithrecklessabandon.“Shit,dowethinktheysellthisapronhere?I’dratherspendfortybucksonthatinsteadofthebook.”
Nella’sshoulderswereshaking.“Shhh.Oneofthemmighthearus.”
“?‘I’mhairtohelp.’Whatelsedoyouthinktheycameupwith?‘I’llbehairforyou’?‘IeshaB.here,yourfriendlyneighborhoodpsycho-hair-apist’?”
“Mal!”
“I’msorry.Thisisjusttoofunny.I’msorry,”sherepeated,hervoicestillatfullvolume.Sheturnedaroundsoshecouldpositionherselfforaselfie.“Igottasendthistomycousin.She’sstudyingcosmetology.”
Embarrassed,butnotquiteenoughtoshushherfriendagain,NellapickedupacopyofBlackHairapy:TenWaystoKeyintothePowerofYourLocs,skimmingitspagesforthekernelsoftruththatthecopyontheCurlCentralwebsitehadpromisedMissIeshaB.woulddeliver.Thewritingwasn’tbad,butjudgingbythefont—threetimestoobiginheropinion—itwasprettyobviousthatthebookhadbeenmadeinsomeone’sbasement.Sheturneditaroundtostudyitsspine.ItwasaWagner-inspiredhabitthatdroveOwenjustalittlebitbonkerseverytimeshedidit,especiallywhentheywereinsomeoneelse’shome,andshefeltatouchofreliefthathehadn’tarrivedatCurlCentraljustyet.
Nellaputthebookdown,readytohopintothephotowithMalaikaandMissIeshaB.,whenavoicetrilled,“Remember,allproceedsgototheschool!”
Theyturnedaroundquickly,busted.ItwasJuanitaMorejónintheflesh,lookingjustasshehadinthephotoNellahadseenofheronline,high-waistedskirtandcroptopandall—exceptthistime,herensemblewasdecoratedwithblack-and-whitehorizontalstripes.“Andallpurchasescomewithahalf-priceddrink!”
“Yes,I’veheard,”Nellasaid,smilingbrightlyandholdingoutahand.“That’sawesome.Juanita,right?Nella.IworkwithHazelatWagnerBooks.”
“Oh!You’reNella.It’ssonicetomeetyou!I’veheardsomuchaboutyou,”Juanitasaid.BeforeNellacouldprepareherself,Juanitawaspullingherintoanunexpectedlytightembracethatshedidn’tthinkshe’dearned.Thehugwassoftandsmelledalotlikecocoabutter,andthefamiliarityofthescentputNellaalittlemoreatease.“Hazelisn’thereyet.IthinkshewastakingtheYoung,Black’n’Litgirlsoutfordinnerbeforetheyreadtonight.Isn’tthatsweet?”
Shehesitatedfartoolong,promptingNellatocontributeareluctant“cool.”
“Butwearebothsogladyoucouldmakeit.Shementionedthattonightyouhadanimportantmeetingwithanagent?”Toaccentuatethislastword,Juanitaheldupherlong,pointyfakefingernails,whichglitteredandtwitchedinfullspirit-fingermode.
“Weendeduprescheduling.TurnedoutthepersonIwassupposedtomeetwithcouldn’tdoanyothertimetoday,andIdidn’twanttomissthis.”
Malaikacoughedbesideher—notbecauseshewasuncomfortablewithnothavingbeenformallyintroducedtoJuanita,butbecauseshe’dbeenparticularlyvocalaboutNella’ssacrifice.
Forabunchofhighschoolgirlsyou’venevermet?Malaikahadasked.
Fortheculture!Nellahadrepeated.
“ThisismyfriendMalaika.Shedidn’twanttomissthis,either.She’sahugefanofpoetry.”
Twooutofthreeofthesestatementswereuntruths,butinthedimmedlighting,NellaknewJuanitacouldn’tseethetreacherouslookMalaikawasthrowingherway.“Welcome,welcome,welcome!Sogladyoucouldcome,too,”Juanitasaid,pushingbackoneofherlongcurlytendrilswithherrazorofapinkynail.Forwhateverreason,Malaikadidnotreceiveabone-crushinghug;itwasbetterthiswayforthebothofthem,Nellaknew.“Please—ifyouhaveanyquestionsaboutanyofourproducts,letmeknow.Ifthisisyourfirsttimehere,though,IhighlyrecommendschedulinganappointmentwithMissIeshaB.beforedoinganythingelse.She’llhappilytellyouwhichproductsyoumighttryinordertogetthroughyourhairupsanddowns.”
ShestoppedspeakingforamomentandpeeredcloseratNella’shair.“And,justsoyouknow,wehaveplentyofdeep-conditioningmoisturizersandspraysthatwillzipyourrootsrightup,too.”
Nella’shandflewuptoherscalp,whichdid,nowthatshethoughtaboutit,feelabitdry.
“Sogreattomeetyouboth!Onelastthing:IfyouInstagramanything—please,ifyoucan,remembertotagCurlCentral.Butbesuretotrytoleaveanydrinksoutofthephoto,”sheaddedhastily,“sincewedon’thavealiquorlicenseyet.Youfeelme?Great!Seeyouladiessoon.”Juanitaclappedherhandsonce,thenmadeherwayovertothehighschoolgirlswhowerestilldebatingontheSerenitySpray.
Nellafeltherrootsagain,thenlookedovertoseewhichfaceMalaikawaswearing.Itwashardtotell,sinceshewasn’tquiteinMissIeshaB.’sspotlight.ButbeforeNellacouldask,Malaikasnortedonceandsaid,“ShelookslikeaRealHousewife.”
Nellasnorted,too.“Shedoesn’thavealiquorlicense,andshe’sservingalcoholinaplacewherehighschoolstudentswillbereading?Nojudgment,but…judgment.”
“Judgment,”Malaikasaid.“ButI’malsojustalittlebithereforit.”
Notaltogetheratypically,Owenshoweduptwominutesbeforethereadingwassupposedtostart,afternearlyeveryseathadbeenfilled.Nellawavedathim,firstcasuallyandthen,whenthismethoddidnotwork,spasmodically,untilhenoticedthethreecenterseatsthatsheandMalaikahadsecuredinthebackrow.
“LeaveittooneoftheonlywhitepeopleatthiseventtoshowuponCPTime,”MalaikaobservedasOwenmadehiswayovertothem.
“Didn’tJessetellustogiveup‘CPTime’?”
“Ohgod,yeah.‘Timeisyetanotherconstructthatwascreatedandupheldbypeoplewhodon’tlookanythinglikeme.Someconstructsarevalid.Otherconstructsareconstructedjusttopreventotherconstructsfrombeingconstructed.’Whew,hewasdefinitely…”Malaikatookahitfromanimaginaryblunt.
Nellalaughed,continuingwhereMalaikaleftoffinherbestoldBlackmanimpression.“?‘Therefore,mybrothasandmysistas,weneedtostopandthinkeverytimeweusethephrase“ColoredPeopleTime.”Eachtimeweuseit,we’remerelyreinforcingthestereotypethatthereisjustonekindof“time,”andthatthereisaproblemwithBlackpeoplenotadheringtothisparticularkindoftime.IshowupwhenIshowup.It’smyprerogative.Imakemyownconstructs.’?”
“Man,fuckthat.TalkingaboutCPTimeisasnaturaltoBlackfolkasworshippingAngelaBassett.There’snodenyingit.Maybethat’swhyhe’stakingabreakfromsocialmedianow—becausehefinallyacceptedthatallofthatisaconstruct,too.”
Itwasafairpoint,butNellawasmoreinterestedinOwen’sprogressthancontinuingtheriff.IthadtakenhimfartoolongtogetpastaBlackbookishcouplewhoweredeepinthethroesofaheateddebate;now,theonlythinginhiswaywasagroupoffoureclecticallydressedBlackwomen.Asheclimbedoverthempolitely,offeringapologiesgalore,eachoneofthemlookedupathimwithcuriosity,tryingtofigureoutwherethisyoungwhiteman—red-facedandbrown-hairedandoneofnowtwowhitepeopleinCurlCentralthatevening—wasaimingtosit.WhenhestoppedbyNellaandMalaika,thewomansittingonthefarendoftherowsaidsomethinginavoicetoolowforNellatohear.Anotherwomanrespondedspiritedly,usingherhandstohelpillustratewhateverpointshewastryingtomake,andtheyallnoddedinconsensuswithraisedeyebrows.
Nellatriednottowonderwhattheircourthaddecidedasshestooduphalfwaytoplantakissonherboyfriend’scheek.“Youmadeit!”
“Sorry.IhadtogointotheofficebecausesomethingwasupwiththeInternet.AndbythetimeIgottothetheater,therewasalonglineattheticketbooth,andIjustmissedthefirsttrain.”NellagotafaintwhiffofperspirationmixedwithalittlebitofireasOwenremovedhismessengerbagandstuffeditunderhisfoldingchair.“What’sup,Mal?”
“Oh,theusual.Drinkin’wine.’Bouttoget‘cultured.’?”
“AnyluckgettingourBlobticketsswitched?”Nellaaskedhim.
“Nope.Theothershowingisfull,andevenifitweren’t,theguyattheboothsaidtheirreturnpolicydoesn’tincludeswappingmovieshowtimesasanoption.”
Nellagroaned.“Damn,babe.I’msorry.We’lldefinitelycatchthenextone.Andit’llbeonme.”
“It’sfine.Ijustbetterhearsomereallygoodpoetrytonight.Like,forcoloredgirls–level,”Owensaid,alittlelessgrumbly.“Mysoulbettergrowwingsandflyawaybythetimethisthingisover.Then,I’llforgiveyou.Maybe.”
“IappreciatethatyoureferencedNtozakeShange,”saidNellaplayfully,“andnotMayaAngelou.Ntozake’skindofadeepcut.”
“Itshowshehasdepth,”Malaikaagreed.“Let’skeepyourboyfriend,shallwe?”
“Ithinkweshould.”NellasmiledandsqueezedOwen’sthigh.
Owenrolledhiseyes,althoughtheirbanterhadvisiblyloosenedhimupsome.Heprobablywouldneveradmitit,butNellaknewhesecretlyreveledintheattentionsheandMalaikagavehim.Afterall,OwenhadcomealongwayfrombeingreferredtobyMalaikaasjust“Nella’sLatestWhiteBoy”formuchoftheirfirstyeartogether,andnotalwaysbehindhisback.AcrossbetweenthesisterNellahadneverhad,andthemotherthatshedid,MalaikahadbeenfairlyskepticalaboutOwen’sintentionsfromtheget-go.She’dhadenoughofherownexperienceswithwhitedudestobelievethatOwenwouldinevitablyunleashthedouchebagentitlementthatshepresumedmoreorlesseverywhitemanhadwithinhim.
Nellaunderstoodthis.Hercollegeroommateshaddraggedhertosomanywhitefratpartiesthat,whenshe’dfirstmetOwenonline,it’dbeenimpossiblenottobeskepticalofhimherself.BeingoneoftheonlyBlackgirlsatthesepartiesoftenmeantbeingnoticedimmediately—andifshewasalone,whichwasfairlyoften,itmeantbeingeagerlyapproached.Sheknewwhatthesebrossawastheywalkedover:along-leggedBlackgirlwearingatightcroptopandeventighterhigh-waistedjeans.Along-leggedBlackgirlonherown,drinking.Aneasytarget.Nellawouldendurethebros’chitchataboutwhatyearshewas,andhowshe’dgottenintothefrathouse(herroommate,Liv,usually;shepracticallylivedinthestudentcenter).Buttothebros’surprise,andoftendisappointment,Nellawouldaskrealquestionsback—notjustwhereareyoufrombutwhatareyourfavoritebooksandwhat’syourfavoritewaytogettothequad—andsuddenlyabrowhothoughtthey’deventuallyendupinabathroom,thezipperofherhigh-waistedjeansbetweenhisteeth,wasinsteadhavingacleanheart-to-heartaboutoneofhisfavoriteliterarycharacters.Hewouldfinditbaffling,buthe’dplayalong,sometimesopeningupmorethanhe’dprobablyeveropenedupatafratparty…
…UntilherealizedthatNella’szipperhadnointentionofcomingdown.Thatwasusuallyaboutthetimethebro’slightswentout,hiscuprandry,andheranoff.Ahorseinsearchofeasierpastures.
WhenNellawasafreshmanandsophomore,thisflipoftheswitchhaddisappointedher.Inthosedays,shestillheldontotheideathatshemightmeetsomeoneincollege—maybeinthedininghall,whenaguyaskedherforthechairshewasn’tusing,oronthegrounds,whenshewasdeepinthought,contemplatingthatA-minus.Maybeevenatafratparty,eighteen-year-oldNellasupposed,becausethiswaswhathappenedtogirlsinmoviesandtelevisionshows.
Thenshegraduated,movedtothecity,andgrewup.Shedownloadedafewdatingappsonherphoneanddidn’ttrysohardatbars.Manymenstillflippedthatswitchwhentheymether—notjustwhitemen—andeventuallyshefoundonewhodidn’t.FromtheirfirstexchangesonOkCupidtobeersatTheJeffrey,itwascleartoNellathatOwenhadnothingtoshiftto.Blessedly,hehadjustonegear—“thoroughlyinterested”—andoncehe’dstuckaroundlongenoughtoprovethattheirrelationshipwasanythingbutjustanitchhewasscratching,Nella’sfeelingsforhimcrystallized.
Malaika’sreinshadloosened,too.Shedidn’tstopcallinghimNella’sLatestWhiteBoy,butshedidtreathimasaworthwhilesuitor,evenstartedtojokeabouthisblindspotsasawhitecismaninfrontofhim.Inreturn,Owenseemed—somewhatparadoxically—atease.Ifpeopleweremakingfunofhim,hepreferredtobeletinonit,whichwaswhyNellafeltcomfortablerepeatingMalaika’sCPTimejokedirectlytohim.
“Guessyou’rerubbingoffonme,”hequippedback,laughing.“Hey,howwaswork?Andhowdiditgowiththeliteraryagent?Isshegoingtostartsendingyoulotsofcool‘commercial-but-still-literaryshit’?Herwordsforthegenre,notmine,”OwenaddedinresponsetoMalaika’sraisedeyebrow.
Nellaavoidedeyecontactwithherfriend,knowingthelookonMalaika’sfacewaslessaboutOwen’sgenremash-upandmoreaboutthetruth.“Workwasfine,”shelied.“AndI’lltellyouallaboutitonourwayhome.”
“That’sgreat.”Owenunzippedhisblackbomberjacketandtookagoodlookaroundthespace,examiningfirstthecrowdoffortyorsoguests,thentherowoffourhair-washingsinksbrimmingwithiceandcansofRedStripeandPBR.“Innovative.DoyouthinkIhavetimetograbadrink?”
Theirthreesetsofeyestraveledtogethertothefrontoftheroom,wherethelineofchairsthathadbeenreservedforHazelandthereaderssatunoccupied.AnotherappraisalofthewhitepeoplesittingintheaudiencesuggestedthatRichardhadn’tarrivedyet,either.
“You’vegotplentyoftime,”Nellasighed.
Owendidn’tlookconvinced.“That’snotHazel?”heasked,bobbinghisheadinthedirectionofJuanita.Shewasleaningoverapatronafewrowsdown,laughingandstillpokingbackhairwithvariousglitteryfingernails.Thepinkliquidinherclearplasticcupsloshedaroundinherotherfreehandeveryfewmoments,threateningtospilloverontoheroutfit,butshedidnotseembotheredbythis.NordidsheseembotheredbythefactthatHazelstillhadn’tarrivedyet
“No.That’sthewomanwhoownsCurlCentral.”
“Ah.”Owenstoodup.“Okay,then.I’mgoingtogetsomethingtodrink.Youladiesdoingokay?”
“AnotherRedStripe?Please?”Nellasqueezedhisthighagain,thistimeabitpleadingly.IfOwenfelthernailsdigabittoodeeplyintohisleg,hedidn’tnotice,becausehesaid,“Gotit.Mal?”
“I’mgood,butthanks.”
OwenclimbedoverNellaandthenthefourwomenagain,whowerefarlessforgivingthantheywerethefirsttimearound.Everyonewasbeginningtogetantsy.Thepeoplesittinginfrontofthemhadlongsincerunoutofthingstotalkaboutwiththeirneighbors,andtheyhadgottentothepointatwhichtheyweretiredoftrying.Itwasaquarterafterseven,andJuanitahadyettomakeanannouncementacknowledgingwhateveryoneelseseemedtoknow:thattheywererunningbehind.
“Doesheknowanythingaboutallthestuffthat’sbeengoingonatwork?”Malaikaasked.
“Well…Ihaven’texactlytoldhim.”
“Youhaven’ttoldhimaboutthenotes?OrhowHazelhasunderminedyouineverypossibleway?Howshetookthatfrontdeskladywiththescarvesawayfromyou?Howshe’seventakenVera—althoughwedidn’treallywanther?”
“Nope.”
“Butwhynot?”
“TheHazelstuff,I’mnotsurehe’dunderstand.Thenotesstuff…Iknowhe’llflipandtellmetodosomethingIdon’twanttodo.”He’dalsochastisemeforcallingthephonenumber,Nellathought,andsowouldyou.
“Whichiswhat,exactly?”
“ReportittoHR.”
“Andthatdoesn’tseemlikeagoodideatoyouatthispoint?”
“Itoldyoualready.IfeellikeI’mstillkindofonthinicewiththehigher-ups.Ishouldprobablyfigurethisoneoutonmyown.”
Malaikacrossedonelegovertheotherandbouncedherfoot—aclearsignofimpatience.“Youwannaknowsomething?”
“Ialreadyknowit.I’mbeingirresponsible.”
“Wrong.Well,yes.ButIwasgoingtosaythatyoustillcouldhavemetthatagentforadrink.Seewhattimeitis?”
“Please.Don’t,”Nellagrumbled.ShewasabouttocheckthetimeonhercellphonewhenthefrontdoorofCurlCentralswungopen.InclickedHazel,lookinglikealiterarydeityinablackturtleneck,apairofgold-rimmedglasses,andtight-fittingvioletcorduroyoveralls.Theyoungreadersfollowedcloselybehindher,allflushedfacesandguiltysmilesastheyquicklyhurriedintothefouremptyseatsinthefrontrow.
Justlikethat,thetensionintheroommeltedintoashowerofapplause.Someonecalledout,“Thereyouare,Hazel-May!”Anotherpersonhooted,“Yasss,yougo,girl!”
Nellawasslowtoputherhandstogether.
“He’snothere,”shesaid,havingtostrainabittobeheardabovethecheers.
“Who’snothere?”
“RichardWagner.”
Malaikastaredatherblankly.Notoneforclappingorforwaiting,she’dstoppedafterafewsecondsandhadgonebacktorestingherfreearmacrosshertorso.
“Myboss-boss.TherealreasonwhyIcamehere,insteadofmeetingupwiththatagent.”
Malaikashrugged.“IthoughtyourmainmissionwastoconfrontthenewBlackgirl.You’renotgoingtobackoutofthatnow,areyou?”
“No.AndIcanhavetwomissions,”Nellasnapped,soundingabitlikeachildasOwenpassedinfrontofheronceagaintogettohisseat.HelookedatherquizzicallyashehandedheraRedStripe,butsaidnothing.
“Y’all,Iamsosorry!”SomeonehadhandedHazelaheadsetandnowshewaswalking,TEDTalk–style,acrossthefrontoftheroom.“Iwasjustgrabbingsomefoodwiththeseamazinggirlsandwegotheldupbythebuses.MTA,mypeople,amirite?”
Thecrowdmurmuredcollectivelyinagreement.
“Alright,beforeIgetstarted,I’djustliketotelly’allalittlesomething.Isthatokay?DoanyofyoumindifItelly’allalittlesomethingfirst?”
“Tellit,sis,”awoman—probablythesamewomanwho’dtoldHazeltoGo,girl!—criedout.
“WewereoveratPeachesbeforewegothere.Y’allknowPeaches,right?”Acheerfromafewoftheaudiencemembers.“Andwehadadamngoodmeal,letmetellyou.Friedgreentomatoes,catfish,younameit…allthefixins.Iswear,whensomeoneasksmewhichhasbettercuisine—HarlemorBed-Stuy—Ihavetobetraymygrandmama,Godresthersoul,andsayBed-Stuydoesitbetter.”
AfewmorecheersandaNoshedidn’t.Nella’sstomachgurgled.ThecubesofcheeseJuanitahadsetoutfortheeventwerenohushpuppies,butshewasbeginningtoregretnotpoppingafewpiecesintoanapkinthewaythatMalaikahadupontheirarrival.She’dresistedbecauseshedidn’twanttohavebadbreathwhenshespoketoRichard.Butnow,withRichardnowhereinsight,shefeltlikeshecouldeatanentirefistfulofpepperjackandcheddarcheeses,toothpicksandall.
“Ibethe’snotcoming,”Nellagrumbled,leaningoversoshecouldwhisperinMalaika’sear.
MalaikaputherhandsupasiftosayWhatcanyoudo?
“—Peaches,withagentlemanIstartedworkingfornearlytwomonthsago,”Hazelcontinued.“RichardWagner:Doanyofyouknowhim?Maybeyoudon’t,specifically.Butyoudoknowhisbooks,andyouknowhisauthors,I’msure.YouknowBlueSkyandyouknowGoing,Gone.YouknowLeavingJimmyCrow.AndIknowyouallknowDianaGordon’sBurningHeart,too.”
SomeonesittingbehindNellaletoutawhoop.Hearingthis,Hazelheldupthedrinkthatsomeonehadhandedtoheratsomepointduringhersoliloquy.Asmatteringofothersliftedtheirowncupsinsolidarity.
“BurningHeartwasashininglightinavalleyofdarkness.OrshouldIsay,whiteness,”Hazelcontinued,andafewpeoplenoddedtheirheads.“Ittookonsomeverydifficulttopics,andweareallthebetterforitnow.So,whenIfinallyfoundmyselfatWagner,Itookachanceandaskedhimhowhe’dfeelabouthelpingsponsorourgirls.Asmallpieceoftriviathatsomeofyoumayknow:Ms.Gordonandhereditor,KendraRaePhillips,werebothteenagerswhentheydiscoveredtheirpassionforthewrittenword.It’ssuchanimpressionabletime,youfeelme?
“Anyway,itfeltbig,whatIwasaskingofRichard.Buttomysurprise,notonlywasheenthusiasticaboutit,hedonatedtenthousanddollars.”
Theaudiencehollered.“SweetBabyJesus,”abald-headedwomansittinginfrontofNellasaid,tonobodyinparticular.MalaikatriedtocatchNella’seye,butNelladidn’tlatchon.
“Iamalsothrilledtosaythatforeverydollarwemaketonightonhairproductsales,Richardplanstomatchit!And—”Anotherroundofapplausebefellthecrowd.Hazelwaitedforittopeterout,smilingandclosinghereyescontentedly,seasonedpolitician–style.Oncethenoisefinallyceased,shecontinuedon.
“Iknow,it’sgreat.Moneyisgreat.Butthere’sonemorething.Somethingevenmorelasting,andmorevaluable.RichardWagnerhasalsopledgedtorethinkthewayeditorsathiscompanyhirenewcandidates.He’sgoingtodothisbyfocusingonnewcriteria.Byusingamoreholisticapproach.Andhe’llbedoingafullanalysisofeverybookWagnerhasboughtinthelasttenyearstoseehowitcompareswiththedemographicsofourcountry.
“Y’all—forthosewhoaren’tawareofjusthowmuchthepublishingindustryhasstruggledtoaddressitsdiversityproblem,thisishuge.Huge.Wagnerhasbeenpredominantlywhiteforsometime,and,well…weallknowwe’vebeenwaitingforournextBurningHeartforfartoolong.
“AndsinceWagnerisatthefrontofthecurve,itwillnodoubtimpactthewayotherpublishinghousesthinkaboutpublishing,too!Mypeople—thisisJust.The.Beginning.”
“Wow.”TheliltofsurpriseinOwen’svoicewasbarelyaudibleoverthethunderousovationthathadseizedtheaudience.HegrabbedNella’skneeashesaid,“That’saprettybigdeal,isn’tit?”
Nellanodded,evenasherbloodturnedcold.Forthesecondtimethatday,shefelthereyesstarttoburnaspeopleclappedtheirhandshighabovetheirheads.Thosewithplasticcupssmackedtheirthighswildly,cheeringHazelon.EvenMalaikawassmilingandsnappingherfingersthewayshedidwhenevershelistenedtoTheRead
Nellawassupposedtobeecstatic,too.No,notjustecstatic—sheshouldhavegivenHazelastandingovation,completewithfoot-stompingandhip-shakingandoneofthosetwo-fingeredmouth-whistlesthatshedidn’tknowhowtodobutalwayswishedshedid.Orshecouldhavereallymadeastatementbystrollinguptothefrontoftheroom,grabbingthemicfromHazel,andspillingallthesweettea.Shecouldtelleveryoneallabouthowshe’dtriedandfailedtostartadiversitycommitteeatWagner,abouthowtheonetimehercoworkerswereparticularlyattentivetowardthenotionofdiversitywasduringBlackHistoryMonth,whenthey’daskedhertoblackifyWagner’sTwitterandInstagramaccountsduringthemonthofFebruary.Shecouldtellthemallaboutthesmallgroupofpeoplewhoweremakingbigdecisionsaboutwhichbookswereandweren’tworthpublishing,andhowthis,inturn,affectedwhichkindsofbooksthepublicwouldseeonbookshelvesforyearstocome.Shecouldtellthemallaboutwhichtitleshadn’tmadeitthroughthefrontgate,simplybecausethatsmallgroupofdecision-makerscouldnotforeseeacertaindemographicbuyingit.
ShecouldtellthemaboutShartricia.
Afewtimes—mostlywhenNellafirststartedworkingatWagner—she’dtriedtoadvocateforbookswrittenbyBlackwritersaboutBlackpeople.Kindly,she’dbeenoverruled.WhitevoicesofdissentcamenotjustfromVera,butalsofromothereditors,aswellasAmy.Theirreasonswerevaguelyspecificenoughtoquietherqualms—atleast,theywereuntilthenexttimeshemetupwithMalaikatorehashthelatest.Overdrinks,she’ddeliverherbestimitationofthesewhitevoices—which,forsomereason,oftenmeantputtingonaposhBritishaccent,eventhoughnoneofhercoworkerswereBritish.Fromafinancialstandpoint,thisbookjustdoesn’tseemworththegamble.Ijustdidn’tconnectwiththecharacters.Thewritingjustwasn’tstrongenough.
Nellafoundthislastexcuseparticularlyamusing,sinceitwasaphrasethatcouldbeandoftenwassaidbyliterallyanyonewhoreadanything,ever,atWagner.Asifallwritingweren’tsubjective;asifanyonewhoreadanearlydraftofanybookcouldbe100percentsurethatitwouldbecomeabestseller.Thewayhercolleagueswould“runnumbers”hadsurprisedher—howtheycomparedbookstheywerethinkingofbuyingwithbooksthathadalreadybeenpublished,asthoughcultureweresomethingstaticandpredictable,asthoughonesetofpastnumberscoulddictateanyfuturesuccess.
ButNellahadkepthermouthshut.Slowlybutsurely,inthehopesofmakingtherideabitsmoother—inthehopesofgettingapromotion—she’dacceptedeveryexcuse.She’dpickedherbattles,ifshedaredpickany,wisely.Afterall,thatwaswhatshehadbeentaught:tostandstillforsolongthatwhenyoustartedtorun,they’dbesodumbfoundedthattheywouldn’tevenfollow.Well,thatwaswhatNellahadbeendoing.Standingstill.
AndnowherewasHazel,milesahead.
Inthatmoment,itdidn’tmatterthathernewcoworkerhadsingle-handedlydiscoveredhowtoturnthestatusquoupsidedowninjustacoupleofmonths.NordiditmatterthatHazelhadfoundawaytoopenthedoorforotherpeopleofcoloratWagner.AllNellacouldthinkwasthatshefeltredundant.
Utterlyandpainfullyredundant.
ItwasimpossibletogetHazelaloneafterthereading.Nellatriedtwice.
Thefirsttime,Hazelhadwavedasilenthellotoherbeforecontinuingherconversationwithawomanwhoappearedtobeoneofthestudents’parents.Nellaletherbe.
Thesecondtime,aboutfifteenminuteslater,shesawHazelheadtowardthebathroominthebackcorneroftheshop.SheexcusedherselffromMalaikaandOwenandclaimedshehadtogototheladies’aswell.Shethoughtshe’dwaitinlineforHazelandthenpounce.Butatugonherarmwhenshewasamerefivestepsawayfromthebathroomdeterredherfromthismission,andshesuddenlyfoundherselfinaconversationwithJuanitaandayounglight-skinnedBlackmanshe’dseenputtingoutthefoldingchairsbeforetheeventstarted.Hehadacaseofstraight-upbabyface,cappedwithahigh-topfadeandroundedoutbywhatappearedtobeagrillonhisbottomsetofteeth.
“Hey,girl!Ithoughtmaybeyou’dbeabletoofferAndresomepointers,”JuanitasaidtothespaceaboveNella’shead.Shewasclearlydrunk,maybeevenabitcokedout,andthepinkliquidthathadbeeninherhandearlierwasreplacedbyaMillerHighLife.“Andre,thisisStella.SheworkswithHazel-MayatWagner.Nicole,thisisAndre—he’soneofmybestsweepershere.He’safreshmanatBrooklynCollegeandhe’stryingtogethisnovelpublished.”
“Sophomore,”Andresaid,atthesametimeNellasaid,“Nella.”Theybothstaredateachotherblankly,unsureofwhattheotherhadjustsaid,butnotinanyparticularneedofclarification.
“Perfect!Sohowaboutyoutwochat.Talk!Converse!Parlez!Ihaveafeelingthiswillbeveryproductive.”Juanitapattedthemeachonthebackandwanderedoff.
NellahadlikedAndre’scalmvibe—heremindedherofherbabycousinalittlebit—andsoshegavehimfifteenminutes.Itwaslongenoughforhimtotellherthesynopsisofhisbook—“sortoflikeDotheRightThing,butit’sasequel,andit’slike,whatwouldhappenifMookiekilledSalafterRadioRaheemwaskilledbythecops,insteadofhelpinghim,andifittookplaceinBaltimore”—andlongenoughforhertotellhimwhatshetoldanywriterwhopitchedhisorhernoveltoher,whichwastogetanagentfirst,beforehepaidsomerandoontheInterneteighthundreddollarstodesigna“dope-ass”cover.
Nellawishedhimluckandstartedtowalkaway,stillunsureifthatglintinhismouthwasagrillorjustafewgoldenteeth.Butthenheaskedherifshe’dtakealookathiswriting.Whenshesaidyesandgavehimherworkemail,hegrinned.ShewentbackovertoMalaikaandOwenfeelingvindicated,andmuchcalmerthanshehadfifteenminutesearlier.
“Cool,”Malaikasaidflatly,whenNellatoldheraboutMookie’sRevengeand,moreimportantly,Andre’sgrill.“Buthaveyoutalkedtohomegirlyet?It’sgettinglateandIwanttostartthinkingabouthowI’mgoingtogethome.”
NellareachedoverforOwen’sarmtocheckhiswatch.Itwasgettingclosetotenandthetrainswereallreroutedthankstolate-nightconstruction.Witheverypassingminute,theirwayhomewasbecominglessofatripandmoreofanodyssey.“IneedtotalktoHazel.Justgivemetenminutes,okay?Owen,isthatokayforyou?”
Owenranahandacrosshisjaw.“Aw,Nell.I’msotired…andyouknowIhavetowakeupearlytomorrowmorning…”
“Tenminutes,”promisedNella.“IfI’maminutelonger,I’llpayforthecar.Alright?”
Malaikaraisedhereyebrows.
“Forallofus,”Nellaclarified.
“Fine,”saidMalaika.“Butonlyten.Ihaveanearlymorningtomorrow,too,withIgor.”Malaikascannedthecrowd,whichdidn’ttaketoomuchtimesinceithadthinnedouttoaboutone-thirdofitsoriginalsize.Manyhadstartedtotrickleoutroughlyhalfanhourearlier,oncethey’dwalkeduptoHazeltogiveherahugandwishherwell.“Snake’soverthere.”
Nellaturned.HazelandJuanitawerestandingbythewindowsthatfacedoutontothestreet,gigglingintotightlywoundfistsaboutsomething.“Thanks.I’llbeback.”
“Letmeknowifyouneedanything,girl,”Malaikasaid,pretendingtotakeoffherearringsagain.“What?”sheasked,whenOwenmadeaface.
“Whyisshea‘snake’?Doyouhaveaproblemwithherorsomething,Nell?”
“I’lltellyouallaboutitinthecar,”Nellasaid,anechoofherself.Again,thiswasaparttruth.ShewouldtellOwenabouthowHazelhadscrewedheroverwithShartricia,butnotabouttheletters.
HewasstilleyeingNellaclosely,likehecouldsensethatshewaslying.Becauseofcoursehecould.Theydidlivetogether,afterall.“Ifeellikethere’ssomethingelseI’mmissinghere,”Owensaid,slowly.
PoorOwen:amanwhomNellaloved,butwhowouldalmostalwaysbeonehalfstepbehind.“She’sjustbeenalittleshadylately,babe,”shesaidassoothinglyasshecould.“Ijustwanttotalktoheraboutacoupleofthingsatworkandthenwe’llgo.”
Shestartedtowalkaway,butOwenspokeagain.“Shady?Thatseemshardtobelieve.Sheseemspretty…”Hetrailedoff,hiseyesfixedonHazelandJuanita.
ThatstoppedNellainhertracks.Shedidn’tliketheirritationthattingedeverysinglepartofherbeing,andsheespeciallydidn’tlikethewayOwenwaslookingatthetwoBlackwomenbythewindow.Itwasherownfault.She’dcreatedthisanxiety—nottonight,butweeksago,whenshe’dfirstmetHazelandfeltenviousofHazel’sclothesandHazel’ssenseofself-confidence.
AndthentherewereHazel’slocs.Aboutayearintodating,asNellaandOwenstoodinlineforhotdogsatConeyIsland,hehadaskedherifshe’deverconsideredlockingherhair.You’dlookprettysexywiththem,he’dreasoned.
Ithadn’tbeenoutoftheblue:Standinginfrontofthemhadbeenaslightlyolderwomaninatightbody-condresswithlong,thicklocsthatwentallthewaydowntoherbutt.
Nellahadbeenimpressedbyherhair,too.BeforeOwenhadcommentedonit,she’devenconsideredaskingthewomanifshedidthemallherself.Butthiscomment—somewhatmitigatedbyOwen’slovinghandonthesmallofherwaist—hadmadeherfeelself-consciousaboutherownhair,herownsexiness.She’dbeenfreefromrelaxersforonlysolongatthatpoint,andherhair,alltwoinchesofit,wasstilldecidingonacurlpattern.ThelastthingNellaneededwasthepossibilityofherboyfriendimaginingherwithlonghair—whetheritwasBlacknaturalhairhewasimaginingornot.
“?‘Sheseemspretty’what?”askedNella.“Howwouldyouknow?”
“Wechattedforabit.Whenyouwereoff…Idon’tknowwhatyouweredoing…shementionedmaybejoiningforcesbetweenYBLandApp-terschoolLearningonafutureproject,andIthought—”
“?‘Joiningforces,’?”Nellaparrotedagain,incredulous.
“Shejustseemsreallychill.AndsheseemsreallyoptimisticaboutbeingatWagner,too—”
“Unlikeme,right?BecauseIcomplainaboutmyjoballthetime.Right?”
Shecrossedherarms.Shehatedthewayshesounded—short,curt,oneofthoseobsessivegirlfriendsOwen’sfriendsalwayscomplainedabout—butshedidn’tappreciatethewayherboyfriendwastalkingaboutHazelrightnow.
Owentorehiseyesawayfromherjustalittletooquickly.“I’mjustsayingsheseemsnice.That’sall.Nevermind.Go.”
Thatbrokethespell.“I’msorry,O,”shesaid,steppingtowardhimsoshecouldgrabhishand.“Ishouldn’thave…I…”
“It’sallgood.Justgo,”herepeated,butthistimethecommandwasmuchgentler.Helookeddownathiswatch.“Thecountdownbegins.”
Nellanodded.She’dhavetobekindertohimlateron.Then,sheturnedandmadeabeelinetowhereshe’dseenHazelandJuanitastandingamomentbefore.ExceptnowitwasjustHazel,herarmsrestinglooselyathersides.ShestaredstraightatNellaasshecamecloser,astatueoftranquility,asthoughshe’dexpectedthisverythingtohappenattheexactmomentitdid.
“Nella!Youmadeit.”
Hazelalwaysseemedsocalmandcomposed,butitstillstunnedNellahowexcruciatinglyevenhervoicewas.Shetriedtothinkoftherightthingtosay,suddenlyfeelingstupidfornothavingplanneditonherwayover.Nothingcametoher
“I’mgladatleastoneofmycolleaguescouldbeheretonight,”Hazelcontinued.“Damn.GinaandSophiehadbothsentmesorrycan’tmakeitafteralltexts,like,theminutetheylefttheofficethisafternoon.Prettywhack,right?IthinktheyweretooscaredtocomeouttoBed-Stuyafterdark.”
Nellahadforgottenaboutthem.They’dseemedsoexcitedtocomeearlier.Thethreeofthemhadevenexchangedphonenumbers,somethingshe’dneverconsidereddoingwithGinaorSophiebefore.
“Whatdidyouthinkofthereading?”Hazelasked.Forthefirsttime,Nellanoticedshehadswitchedouthereyebrowstudpiercingforatinyhoop.“Andthespace?Prettygreat,right?”
Nellatookahalfstepforwardandwhispered,beforeshecouldlosehernerve,“Whatthefuckisyourdeal?”
“Sorry?”
“Whatthefuckisyourdeal?WithRichard,andthosenotes,andwithColin’sbook…”Nellawasshakingnow;shecouldn’thelpit.Itupsetherthatherembarrassmenthadtakenprecedentoverallofherotheremotions,tenfold,andshewantedtostartthisinteractionalloveragain.Shewassupposedtogothrougheveryoneofhergrievancescalmly,onebyone.Shewasnotsupposedtosay“fuck.”ItwasjustthatsheandHazelweren’tinthekitchenorattheircubicles,andtheexpletivehadflowedoutofhermouthsoeasily,sofluidly.
“What?I’msorry,girl,butyouneedtobreakitdownformeabitmore.”ThegleaminHazel’seyewastooknowing,toodeliciouslypleased,tosuggestthatanyexplanationwasnecessary.
ButNellacontinuedon.“AndallthatstuffaboutRichard.Isthattrue?IshereallygoingtotrymakingWagnermorediverse?”
“Yes!We’vealreadystartedtalkingaboutwayswecanrecruitforpeopleofcolor.”
There.Herpresumptionshadbeenright.Thatlistshe’dfoundontheprinterhadbeenalistofBlackyoungwomenRichardwasthinkingofhiring.
Hazelsquintedather.“What?Ididn’thearyou.”
Nellahadn’trealizedshe’dspokenherthoughtsaloud.“Isaid,”sherepeated,“Idon’tgetit.”
“Don’tgetwhat?”AtraceofagrinhoveredjustbeneaththesurfaceofHazel’snonplusseddemeanor.“Let’sslowdownhere.Youmustbereferringtothemarketingmeetingthingtoday.”
“Ilookedlikeanidiot,”Nellasaid.“Whatmadeyouchangeyourtunesosoon?”
Hazellaughed.“Thatwasn’taboutyouatall.IfinallyfinishedNeedlesandPinsthismorning,andguesswhat?Ididn’thateit.Here,let’ssitandtalkforaminute.Isthatcool?Yougotaminute?”
Shegesturedtowardthefoldingchairsthathadbeensetupforthereading.Andrehadstartedtoputawayafewofthem,buthadbeenthrownoffhistaskbytheonlyYoung,Black’n’LitGirlwho’dstuckaroundafterthemainevent.Thetwoofthemsharedsipsofsomethingpinkthatwasalmostcertainlynotlemonadeinthecorner,movingclosertooneanotherbytheminute.AgainstNella’sbetterjudgment,shesatdowninthechairacrossfromHazel.
Theonlyotherpersonstillinearshotwasthewomanwho’dsaidsomethingaboutJesusduringHazel’sspeech.Sheglancedoverhershoulderforjustasecondtoseewhohadjoinedherintheseatingarea,thenwentbacktolookingatherphone.Ontherightsideofhercloselyshavedhead,Nellawasabletomakeoutamedium-sizedpinkscar.Itwastheshapeofasmallcrescent,asthoughsomeonehadtakentheirgel-manicuredfingernailanddugitdeepintothebackofherhead.ThethoughtalonemadeNella’sownscalphurt.
Hazellookedoveratthegirl,too.Shefrownedforasecond,perhapstakinginthepinkscar,too,beforetakingaseat.“Nella,I’mgonnaberealwithyou,okay?”shesaid,hervoicesoftening.“BlackgirltoBlackgirl.ThatShartriciabookisn’tgreat.Realtalk,it’sprettybadlywritten.Contrived.Caricature.Youknowthat.Iknowthat.AndI’mprettysureanybodyoutsidethisplacewhohasanysensewillpickuponthat,too.Thatshit’soffensive.It’sembarrassing.”
Nellaswallowed.Afterthemarketingmeeting,ahandfulofcolleagueshadpokedtheirheadsintoVera’sofficesotheycouldtalktoherabouthowmuchtheylovedColin’sbooks.ThesesamecolleagueshadthenpokedtheirheadsintoHazel’scubicle,askingherpersonalquestionsaboutherselfandherparents’livesgrowingupinthe’80sinHarlem—questionsthatseemedinvasivetoNella,butonesthatHazelhadseemedmorethanhappytoanswer.
Nellahadeavesdroppedawkwardlyfromafewfeetaway.She’dtriedtorememberthelasttimeanyonehadaskedheraboutherownpersonallifeanddecidedithadprobablybeenwhensheherselfwasthenewgirl—buteventhen,thosequestionshadn’treallygonebeyondWhereareyoucomingfrom?
“So,wait,”shesaid,confused.“Whatyousaidinthemarketingmeetingwas—”
“Anact?”Hazelsaid.“No,notquite.”
“Thenwhydoit?”
“Fine.”Hazellookedaround.Satisfiedwithhowfaroutofearshottheywerefromanyone,sheloweredhervoice.“I’lltellyoueverything.Butyoucan’ttellanyoneaboutthis.”
“Fine.”
“Notevenyourfriend.OrOwen.”
Nellabitherlip.HearinghisnameinHazel’smouthwasn’tanymorenormalnowthanithadbeenatthemarketingmeetingearlier.
“Imeanit…”saidHazel.
“Fine.Justgoaheadandsayit.”
“Okay.Thisisgoingtosoundcrazy,sojusthearmeout,okay?”Hazeltwistedoneofherlocsandlookedupattheceiling.Afteraboutfivesecondsofthis,shesaid,apprehensively,“There’sthisthing.I’mnotsureifyou’veheardofit.”
Hazelpeekedoveratthebackofthegirlsittingnearby.Thescarwasstillfacingthem,herfacenowdeepinhercellphone.“Thisthing—it’sakindofsocialphenomenon.It’scalled…”Sheinhaleddeeply,thenexhaledthroughpursedlipsandleanedforward.“?‘Code-switching.’?”
ThetipsofNella’searsstartedtoburnasHazeldissolvedintoaboutofgiggles.“Nevermind,”shegrumbled,startingtostand.
Hazelwipedatatear.“Sorry,sorry.C’mon,yougottaadmitthatwasfunny.Itwasjusttooeasy.”SeemingtonoticeNellawasn’tsmiling,sheadded,“So,what?YouhaveregretsaboutsayinghowyoufeltaboutColinFranklin’sbooknow?Isthatwhat’sgoingon?”
“No,”Nellasaid.Atleast,shedidn’tthinkshedid.Whatwasreallybotheringher,whenshethoughtlongandhardaboutit,wasthefeelingthatHazelnothatingtheColinFranklinbook—andactivelylookingatNellawhilenothatingit—hadbrokensomesortofunspoken,inherentpromise.InherentshouldhavebeenHazel’shatefortheColinFranklinbook.AndtheunspokenpromisewasthatHazelwouldmoreorlesspubliclybackNellauponallracialmattersthataroseintheoffice—oratleast,wouldconferwithheraboutitfirst.Wasn’tthatwhatBlackpeopleweregenerallysupposedtodo:sticktogether?Hadn’tHazelimpliedsuchloyaltieswhenshe’dfirstaskedNellaforthescooponMaisy?
Nelladidn’tknowwhattosay.“IjustwishIhadknownyouweregoingtotalkitupsomuch.”
“Ididn’trealizeitwouldmessthingsupthatbadlywithVera,”Hazelsaidwithasigh.“I’msorry.Anddon’tworry.I’mgoingtodefinitelytellVerawhichShartriciaplacesColincandoabitbetteron.I’mjustgoingtobealittlegentlerwithhim,that’sall.That’stheonlywayhe’lllisten.”
NellastaredatHazelimpassively.
“Ifyouwant,youcansendmeyournotesandI’llincorporatethemintominebeforeIsharethem.Whatdoyouthink?Iwon’ttellVerathey’reyours.”
Nelladidn’tliketheideaofnotgettingcreditforallofthetimeshespentreadingthemanuscript,evenifHazelwastryingtobeabithelpful.ShewasalsostillfeelinguneasyaboutHazelingeneral.WasitpossiblethatHazelwassogoodatcode-switchingthatshecouldswitchherselfintosomeonewhowrotehatemailtoherfellowBlackcoworker?Nellawasn’tsure.
Shewassurethatitwasgettinglate,andsheneededtogohome.“Ihavetogo,”shesaidsimply,gettingupfromherseat.“Myfriendsarewaiting.”
“Iunderstand.ButDickisherenow,incaseyouwantedtopopoverandsaygoodbyetohimonyourwayout.”
“Who?”
“Ack,sorry…”Hazelmimedafacepalmasshestood,too.“ImeantRichard.”
“He’shere?”Nellaspunaround.Sureenough,RichardWagnerhadjuststrolledin,adarkdenimjacketcasuallythrownoverhisrightshoulder.Hewaswalkingsteadilytowardthem,asthoughhehadn’tshownupthreehourslatetothemainevent,asthoughitdidn’tmatter,sincehehaddonatedtenthousanddollarstotheorganization.
“Richard!What’sgoingon?”
“Hazel,hello!”hesaidcheerfully,hiseyesneverquitemakingitovertoNella.“Sosorrytomissthis.Imadethemistakeofgettingintoalongconversationwithanauthorabouttheprosandconsofincludingtheword‘the’inthebeginningofthetitleofhisnextnovel.Needlesstosay,itlastedforoveranhour,andthenIhadafewotherlegitimatethingstotakecareofand…well,timejustflewawayfromme.”
“Wow!”exclaimedNella,justasHazelsaid,atthesameexacttime,“WasitJoshuaEdwards?”
RichardlaughedandpattedHazel’sshoulder.“Youguessedit.”
“JoshuaEdwards?Whatapieceofwork!”Nellaheardherselfsay,abittooloudly,hertonebrighteningconsiderably.
Richardlookedoverather—forthefirsttime,really—andsmiledwanly.“Nella!Whatapleasantsurprise.”ThenheturnedtofaceHazeloncemore,hiseyestwopolishedsapphires.“Pleasetellmeyourecordedavideoofthesegirlsreading.IthinkI’dliketoincludethemonourwebsiteatWagnersomehow,maybeincorporatethemintooursocialmedia.”
“Thatsoundsgreat!IthinkJuanitarecordedeverything.I’llintroduceyoutohersoon.”
Richardclappedhishandsagain.“Great.Bytheway,thisplace?Evenbetterthanyoumadeitsound.Youknow…beingherekindofremindedmeofthatfilm.Whatwasthatfilmthatcameoutinthenineties,withtheyoungAfricanAmericanmanwho’sapoet,andthewomanhefallsforisaphotographer?”
“LoveJones?”Hazelguessed.
Richardslappedhisthigh.“Indeed!Thisfeelsquitelikethatmovie.”
HazelsupportedhisclaimwhileNellastudiedhimthroughwatchfuleyes.Themanlookeddownrightmoved.Likehemightcry.WhatdoyouknowaboutLoveJones?avexedAngelaDavisaskedinNella’shead.Notadamnthing
ButNelladidn’tdareutteraword.Maybehehadasoftspotfor’90srom-coms,orforNiaLong.
Or…maybeRichardwasdatinghisownNiaLong.MaybeKenny’sagent—hismistress—wasofthemelaninpersuasion.NellagrinnedinspiteofherselfasHazelsaidtoRichard,“Isn’tthisspacegreat?I’vebeencompilingamentallistofalloftheauthorswecouldhavehereforreadingsandstuff,ifyou’dliketotalkaboutit.”
“Let’splanonit.Howaboutbeforetheweekends?”
Nellabreathedoutaloud,fakeyawn,madeashowofbuttoningherjacket.“Well,it’sgettinglate.”
Richardnoddedasheturnedhisattentiontosomethingonthewallbehindher.
Curious,Nellaturnedtoseewhatwassoimportant.Itwasalargeposterofabeautifulwomanwithbone-straight,just-blow-driedhair.Abeautifulebonywoman.
“Um…I’mgoingtoheadhomenow,”Nellasaid.“Nicetoseeyouboth.”
Shelingeredaslongasherdignitywouldlether,whichhappenedtobethesameamountoftimeittookRichardtopointtotheposter,turntoHazel,andask,“Doesthiswomanworkhere?”
Nellaambledaway,queasy.ThesnubstungmorethanVera’sorevenIndia’shad,becauseithadn’tjustbeenasnub.Itwasaslaponthewrist,apunishment,ananswertothequestionthathadbeenbuggingherforweeks:Yes,RichardhadheardaboutherproblemswithColin’sbook—maybefromVera,butalsoquitepossiblyfromHazel,too.Iwishallofoureditorialassistantsworkedashardasyou,heusedtosaytoherinthatfirstyear,aglowinhiseyewheneverhesawherburningthemidnightoilatherdesk.Vera’sveryluckytohaveyou.
Thesentimentseemedtohaveblownawayinthewind.
Feelingabitoutofwhack,Nellascannedtheroomuntilshespottedherboyfriendandbestfriend.Theywavedather,thrilledattheprospectofleaving,beforeabruptlyloweringtheirhands.OwenleanedoverandmurmuredsomethingtoMalaika,whoshookherheadandclosedhereyes.
Nellafeltataponhershoulder.
“Hey—girl?”
Nellaspunaround.ItwasHazelagain.Shewasholdingasmall,brightbluejarinherhandsthathadn’tbeentherebefore.“Imeanttogivethistoyoubeforeyouleft,”shesaid,handingitover.“Rememberhowyouweretalkingabouthowdryyourendsgetinthefall?Thiswillhelpwiththat.”
Nellaacceptedit,turningitaroundinherhandsbeneaththeoverheadlightclosesttoher.Therewasnolabel,noingredientslisted.Justtheblueoftheplastic.“What’sthis?”sheasked,unscrewingthecapandsniffingthejar’scontents.ItsmelledalittlelikeBrownButtah,butatadbitsweeter.Adeeperinhalegrantedherasyrupywhiffofmolasses.
“It’scalledSmooth’dOut.Iswearbythisstuff.Juanitausesit,too.”
SothiswasthehairgreasethatHazelwasalwayswearing.Morepomadethangrease,Nellarealized,asshedippedthetipofherpinkynailintothesubstance.“It’saleave-inconditioner?”
“Yep.Useittwiceaday,orjustonceifyouwant.It’sprettygreat.”
“Thanks.”Nellawipedthebitofgreaseshe’daccruedonhernailontothenapkinshestillhadscrunchedinherhand.“MaybeI’lltryitwhenmyBrownButtahrunsout.”
“Youreallyshould.Honestly,ifIwereyou,Iwouldstartintegratingitintoyourregimennow.Lockinthatmoisture,prepforthedrynessofwinter,youknow?AndthisstuffiswaybetterthanBrownButtah.Maybeyoucanstartoffbyusinghalf-and-half?”
ItwasHazel’sversionofanolivebranch,butNelladidn’tsayawordasshedroppedthejarinherbag.Whenshelookedupagain,shenoticedthenearlybaldwomanhadmovedtowardthedoorofCurlCentral.TheireyesmetbrieflybeforeHazelstartedspeakingagain.
“Iknowthingsjustgotkindofweirdbetweenus,butIjustwantedtosaythattheydon’thavetobe.”
“I—”
“Wait,”saidHazel,holdingupafinger.“Letmefinish.”Shesighed,castingaglanceoverhershoulderatRichard.Thensheloweredhervoice.“It’sjust…it’sreallysodamnunfair.Whitepeopleneverhavetobeashyperawareofthemselvesaswedo.Whentheywalkintoaroom,theydon’thavetoinstantlyclockthedemographicsandanalyzewhattheysee.Theydon’thavetoworryabouthavingtorepresenthowevermanymillionBlackperspectivesthereareinthiscountryjustbecausehiringmanagersweretoolazytobringinafewothers.Theycanenterasmallstorewithoutworryingaboutbeingfollowedaround.TheyneverhavetoworryabouthavingcartroublesintheSouthwhenthey’redrivingaroundbackroadsatnight.Oranytimeofday,really.Youknow?”
Nellanodded.
“Halfthetime,Idon’teventhinkaboutanyofthesethings,”Hazelcontinued,liftingherchin.“Notconsciously.Butthatstress,thatanxiety—thatunderlyingweightisthere.Right?”
“Ifeelthat,”saidNella,“Ireallydo.ButgoingbacktotheShartriciathing…youmustgetwhyIfeellikeyouturnedmeintothebadcopatwork.Everyoneistalkingabout—”
“Ido,trust,”saidHazel,“butforgetthem.Thebottomlineis,attheendofday,Colin’sbookisgoingtobebetter.Becauseofyouandme.Wedidthat,sis.Together.
“Anyway…Iguessthisisallmywayofsayingwedon’tneedtoseeeachotherascompetition.WealreadyhaveenoughstressbeingtwoyoungBlackwomeninacrazywhiteenvironment.Andso…”HazelputherhandonNella’sshoulder.“WhatareyoudoingonOctobertwenty-fifth?”
Thequestioncamefromwayfaroutofleftfield.“Octobertwenty-fifth?Um.I’mnotsure.”
“I’mhavingsomegirlfriendsoverforanaturalhairpartyatmyplace.Justasmallget-together.Somewine,somecheese.AlittleMaxwell.JuanitaisgoingtocomeandshowussomenewproductsfromCurlCentral,andmycousinTanyaisgoingtobraidsomehairforfree.IcouldevenhaveJuanitabringsomescarvesover,too,ifyouwantedtolearnhowtotieone.”
“Thatsoundsfun,”saidNella.Anditdid,evenifitdidhurthersometoadmitit.
“Great.We’llchatmoreaboutittomorrowatwork.Youcanbringyourfriend,too.What’shername,again?Somethingwithan‘M’?”
“Malaika.”
“Malaika.Right.”Hazelpattedherontheshoulder.Nellatookthisasagesturethattheirconversationwasfinished,butbeforeshecouldwishheragoodnightagain,Hazelwasspeakingoncemore.“Bytheway,”shesaid,tuggingatoneofherlocs,“youmentionedsomethingabout‘notes,’andIwaswondering—whatdidyoumeanbythat?”
“Notes?”
“Yousaidsomethinglike,‘WhatthefuckisyourdealwithRichard,andthenotes…’?”
“Oh.Right.”Nellahadn’tmeanttoletthatslip,butthewordshadalreadyescapedherlipsandmadeitintoHazel’scognizance.“I’vejustbeengettingsomeweirdnotesfromsomeanonymousperson,”shesaidasnonchalantlyasshecould.
“Weirdnotes?Whatkindofweird?”
“Essentially,they’vebeennotestellingmetoleave.”
“LeaveWagner?”
NellastudiedHazel.Thegirlhadgonepale,herfaceshiftingfromahealthyshadeofhickorytoanuneasywalnut.Forthefirsttimeduringtheirinteractionthatevening,Nellanoticedthatthedeepredlipstickonherupperlip,whichwasalmostalwaysimpossiblyperfect,hadfaded.
“Yes,”saidNella.“OnetoldmetoleaveWagner.”
Hazelstaredather.Then,unexpectedly,shelaughed—deep,resoundingbellylaughsthatwerelouderthananysoundNellahadeverheardhermake.“AndyouthoughtIdidthat?”shepracticallyyelled.“That’scrazy!Idefinitelydidn’tdoanyofthat.Youknowthat,right?Definitelybynow,youmust.”
Nellastaredatherforamoment.“Yes.Ido,”shefinallysaid,eventhoughshereallydidn’t.
“That’ssomecrazy,hate-crimestuff,youknow,”saidHazel,puttingherhandsinthepocketsofhercorduroyoveralls.
Nellashruggedandsaidtheonlythingshecouldthinktosay:“Therewasnomentionofthen-word.”
“But…still.”
Inthatmoment,NellarememberedHazel’sgrandfather,theonewho’ddiedintheprotestin’61.Butstill,indeed.
“Andyouhaven’tgottenanynoteslikethat,right?”
“Nope.Butyouknowwhat?NowthatIthinkaboutit,Ididrecentlyoverhearsomepeopleintheladies’roomtalkingaboutyourwholethingwithColin.Theysoundedprettyupsetbyit.”
“NewstravelsprettyfastatWagner.”
“Yeah.Igetthefeeling,though,thatifyoumaybejustapologizedtoColin,itwouldallfizzleout.Justthinkofitasanexerciseincode-switching.”
Nellaprickled.“I’mthinkingaboutit.”
“Good.Youknowwhat?ForgetHR.YoushouldjustgostraighttoRichardaboutthenotes.Justsoheknowswhat’sgoingon.Maybe,”Hazelsaid,hervoicegrowingwithexcitement,“hecouldevenincorporatewhatyou’regoingthroughintosomesortofdiversitydiscussionamongallofWagner’semployees.Turnitintoateachingmoment,kindof.TheColinthing,too.”
Nellawasgoingtoshakeherheadandsaythatno,thatsoundedlikeanabsolutelyterribleidea,butshenowhadnocluewhatwasandwasn’taterribleideaanymore.
“Alright…well,Iknowit’sgettinglate,sohaveagoodnight.”HazellookedoverhershouldertotrackRicharddownagain.Onceshefoundhim,though,shedidn’tbudge.
Nelladidn’t,either.ShewastoobusytakingstockofHazel’smovements.Somethinghadn’tfeltquiterightaboutthisexchange—thewholenight,really.Butthensheheardhernamecalledbehindher,followedbythesuckingofteeth.
“Seeyoutomorrow,”Nellasaid,turningtojoinherfriends.“Andthanksforthegrease.”
Shani
September27,2018
Joe’sBarbershop
Rules.TheResistancehadsomanyrules.Butnoneweredrilledasdeeplyintousasthetwomostimportantones:Stayoffthegrid,andDon’ttellanybodyanything.
RightafterItoldLynnI’dcometoNewYork,shespentthebetterpartofanhourtellingmewhyIhadtopromiseherI’dadheretothesetwofundamentalrules.Maybelonger.Howeverlongitwas,bythetimeshefinallyfinished,I’dstartedtowonderifIreallydidwanttofuckwiththeResistance,iftheyweregonnabesouptightabouteverything.
ButthenshesentmethelistofEva’sever-changingidentities,themapdocumentingherwildtrajectory,andthedestructionshealwayssomehowmanagedtoleaveinherwake.Thatwasenoughforme.IdeletedTwitterandFacebookandInstagram.Icutoffyears’worthofhair.Years.AndItoldMamyreasonforleavingBostonasquicklyasIdidwasbecauseI’dexperiencedsomething“unspeakablyracist”atwork.Iwanttostartover,Itoldher,andwhatbetterplacetostartoverthanNewYork?
MawassurprisinglychillwhenIgaveherthenews.Ifiguredshewouldbe—shehad“startedover”herownshareoftimes,oneofthembeingwhenshemovedtoDetroitshortlyaftergettingpregnantwithme.ShealwayssaidwhenIwasakidthatNewYorkhadbeenhernumberoneoption.“Wewould’veendedupinQueenswithyourauntWhitney,triedtomakealifeoutthere,”she’dsaid.“ButIcouldn’tdoit.”
Madidn’taskmetoomanyquestionswhenItoldhernotjustthatIcoulddoit,butthatIwasgoingto.Ialreadyhadaticket.AndwhenitcametimeformyauntWhitneytopickmeupfromPennStation,hereyesflickeringfromminetomyshavedheadthenbacktomyeyeswithoutaword,shedidn’taskmeanyquestions,either.
Iwasgladforthat.Ididn’tknowhowlongIcouldstayquietifAuntWhithadaskedmewhymylong,beautifulhaircouldnolongerbewovenintoabraidthatwentdowntomybutt.Or—ifourSkypeconnectionhadbeenlessfuzzy—ifMahadcaughtontotheremnantsofsomethingawfulinmyeyes.Justonelittle“what’swrong”wouldhaveendedmethen,becausemyexitfromCooper’swasstillhotandfreshinmymind.Thebetrayal.Theshame.TheunderhandednessofEvasneakilyemailingthatarticletoeveryoneatCooper’srightwhenIwasonthemostimportantphonecallofmycareer…whichexplainedwhyIdidn’tseeit,whichexplainedwhywhenAnnayankedmeintoheroffice,Ihadnocluewhatshewassomadabout.
God.WhatanidiotImust’veseemedlike,sittinginherexpansiveglassofficewithagoofy,uneasysmileonmyfaceaftershe’dtoldmetopackmythings.“ButIjustnowgotsomeonefromtheBostonHousingAuthorityonthephone,”I’dtoldAnna.“Fourdifferentpeoplelivinginpublichousingsignedontotalktome.What’sgoingtohappentothatpiece?WeweregoingtopositionitasbeingtheFeatureofFebruary.”
Butyouneedme,Iwassayinginnouncertainterms,becausewhoelsewillwritetheBlackStories?WhoelsewillbringinBoston’sBlackVoicesforyou?
“We’llfindsomeoneelseforthatarticle,”Annahadsaid.“Besides,Ican’timagineyou’dbehappyhereonemoreday,workingforabunchof—whatwasityoucalledus?‘Vampiric,self-importantwhitesaviorswhosedefinitionofdiversityiswritingaboutBlackandbrownpeoplewhodonothingbuthurtandheal?’?”
She’dthrownthislastsentenceatmesofastthatIcouldfeelitinthebackofmythroat,obstructingmywindpipe.Itwasadirectquote,oneI’dsaidjusttheeveningbefore.AtPepper’s.ToEva.
Eva.
I’dlookedleft,thenright,searchingforherintheseaoffacesthathadquicklyaccumulatedoutsideofAnna’soffice.Iwasthezooanimalondisplay,andpeopleI’dworkedwithfornearlytwoyears—peopleI’dpubliclycalledfriendsbuthadalsoprivatelycalled‘self-importantvampires’becauseincorporatelife,thesethingsweren’tmutuallyexclusive—hadtheirnosespressedagainstthewallsastheymerrilywatchedmeeatmyownshit.
Theonlythingworsethanthatwasknowingthatdozens,maybeevenhundreds,ofotheryoungBlackwomenwereexperiencingthissamekindofhumiliation,too…andyoungBlackwomenwerethecauseofit.HundredsofyoungBlackwomen,probablymore,wereundergoingseverepersonalitychangesallovertheworld.Thedegreetowhichtheywerechangingvariedfrompersontoperson.Somespokedifferently,othersdresseddifferently.Butthemostimportantthingwasthatthechangewasn’tsuperficial.Itwentdowntoeachandeveryoneoftheirsouls.
OBGs.“OtherBlackGirls,”Lynnhaddubbedthem,“becausethey’renotourkind.”Theyweresomethingelseentirely.Somethingclosetoalien,althoughLynnwasn’tout-thereenoughtosuspectthattheseOBGs—orwhateveritwasthatwaschangingthem—hadlandedherefromouterspace.Shejustknewtherewasadeeperexplanationforwhytheseyoungwomenweresuddenlynolongerbeholdentoanyonebutthemselvesandthewhitepeopletheyworkedfor.Whytheyweresoobsessedwithsuccess—andwithtakingdownanyBlackwomenwhogotintheirway.
Twiceamonth,LynnheldearlymorningmeetingsatJoe’ssoshecouldtelluswhatsheheardfromherpeoplewhowerekeepingtabsonotherpartsofthecountry.TheverdictwasthattheOBGswerespreadingfar,andtheywerespreadingfast.WhenLynnfirstlearnedabouttheseOBGsfiveyearsago,they’dbeencontainedtojustafewnortheasterncities:NewYork,Boston,Philly.Butnow,theywerebeingsightedasfarsouthasMiami,asfarnorthasPortland,andasfarwestasLosAngeles.
Joehimselfconfirmeditatourlastmeeting,aftervisitinghisdaughteroutinCalifornia.There’dbeenawetnessinhiseyesashe’dstoodinLynn’susualspotatthefrontoftheroomandexplainedhowitwasasthoughalayerofhisbabygirlhadbeenpeeledawayandreplacedbyafake,transparentsheenthatborenoresemblancetothepersonhe’draised.“AndIknowitain’tjustthatbasicHollywoodbullshitthat’sgottenher,either,”Joehadpromisedusvehemently.“Hergoddamnagentgotherauditioningforthreeslavepartsthismonthalone.Three.”
Penpoisedabovehersignatureorangenotebook,LynnhadpressedJoeaboutthesymptomshisdaughterwasexhibiting.Thesmile-and-nod?Thehelplessshrug?Theglassy-eyedstare?
“Therewassomeoftheglassy-eyedstare.ButwhenIaskedherifsheknewwhatshewasdoing,mydaughteractuallysaidthatshedidn’tliketheideaofplayingaslave.Andshestartedexplainingitalltome…justifyingit.Spoutedallthiscrapabout‘playingthegame’untilshedidn’tneedtoplaynomore.Saidshelettingthemthinktheypullingthestrings,whenreallysheis.”
ThisgottoLynn.Toallofus.ThismeantOBGswereblendingineasierwithnon-OBGs.Blendinginmeanttheywereadvancinginnumbers.Theywereradicallydifferentnowthantheyweretwentyyearsago,whichwaswhenLynnsuspectedOBGs—orsomeformofthem—hadfirstcomeintoexistence.Butatleasttheywerekeepingtothemselvesbackthen.Headsdown,eyesonthetopspot.Now,anyonewhogotintheirwaytothetopgotsteppedon.
Orworse,ifyouweren’tcareful.
WhenI’dsearchedforEvainthatcrowdoutsideAnna’soffice,I’dfoundhertowardtheback,herarmstightacrossherbody,hereyestwohardspheresofonyx.I’dheardthescreechingsoundoflifeasIknewitcomingtoahalt;thewords,narratedsoftlybutcertainly,ofthewomanI’dmetonthetrainhoursearlier:Yousaidtoomuch.You’refucked.OnlythendidIrealizefar,fartoolate,thatsomethingwaswrongwithEva.NoBlackwomanwouldeverdothattoanotherBlackwoman.Notwithoutbeingdeeply,deeplydisturbed.Notwhileseemingsodown.Sohuman.
We’dhavetocomeupwithmorecomplexwaystoseparateourselvesfromthem,saidLynn.Andwe’dhavetobeevenmorevigilantofmyleastfavoriteResistanceRule:NeverconfrontanOBGorpotentialOBGunlessdirected
SucharulekeptmefromgoinginonEvawhenIsawherwithNellaatNico’sinAugust,andthenlastnight,whenIlistenedtoherpreachaboutsolidarityanddiversitytoeverybodyatCurlCentral.Infact,I’dhadtorestrainmyselftokeepfromjumpingoutofmyseat,grabbingherbyaloc,andaskinghertorunthatsmugshitaboutsolidaritybymeonemoretime.
IwasstillenvisioninghowgooditwouldhavefelttowieldapieceofEva’shairabovemyheadlikeacapturedflagwhenLynncalledovertomefrommydesk,askingmeforanupdate.
Iswallowedmygrinandbroughtmylegsuptomychest.Itwasarareoccasionformetohavethecouchalltomyself,butI’dgottensousedtoscrunchingmyselfuptomakeroomthatitcamenaturallynow.“Sofar,stillgood.IwassittinginthefrontrowandEv—sorry,Hazel,barelyevenlookedatme.Youknowhowitis.Paranoidpeopledon’tseewhat’sstandingrightthereinthelight.Theyonlyseewhat’sintheshadows.”
Lynndidknow.“AndNella?”
“Nella’snotcompromised.Isawthemhavingaprettyintense-lookingexchangeattheendofthenight.ButI’mprettysureshe’sfine.”
Shemadeanoise,butshedidn’tlookupfromhernotes.
“So,”Isaid,tryingtosoundneutral,“Pamsaysthateversincesheleftthosenotesforher,Nella’sbeenstayinglateintheofficepracticallyeveryevening.Nella’sapparentlybeentryingtogetJesseWatsontowriteabookforWagner.Idoubtthat’llhappen,buthe’saloosecannon,sowhoknowswhathe’swillingtodo…”
Lynnmotionedformetogettothepoint.
“I’mwonderingifmaybenextweekweshouldfinallymakecontact?MaybeIcanpretendtobeanup-and-comingwriterandtrytoscheduleameetingwithNella?Idoubtshe’dtaketoowelltobeingapproachedonthetrain,becauseshelooksflightyashell,butifwesetupthepublishingpretext,maybeshe’ll—”
“No,”Lynninterrupted.
“Whynot?”
“Because‘I’mprettysureshe’sfine’isn’tenough.UnlessyounoticedanyothersignsthatIshouldknowabout?”
Ishrugged.“Nella’sstilldatingthewhiteboyfriend.Owen.”
“Thatmeansnothing.Whatifshe’sfinishedalready,buthejusthasn’tpickeduponityet?AlotofyoungwhitemenareintoOBGs,”Lynnsaid,makingaface.
Ibitmylipandstartedfussingwiththescragglytrimofoneofthepillowsnearesttome.Noticingmysilence,Lynnfinallypeeredupatmeandasked,hopefully,“DidyouseethewhiteboyfriendandHazeltalkingatanypointlastnight?”
“Forafewminutes.Butitlookedharmless.”
“Hm.Okay.Let’sgobacktoNellaandHazel.Didyouhearanythingtheysaid?”
“No.ButNellalookedlikeshewantedtostrangleherformostofthatconversation.”I’dseenitallinbits—alloutofthecornerofmyeye,ofcourse,soasnottobetooobvious.
Iwasstillplayingwiththepillowwhensomethingelsepoppedintomymind.“Oh!”
“What?”
“WhenIwasleaving,IsawHazelhandhersomething.Itlookedlikehairproducts,somethinglikethat.”
“Didyouseeherhandthingstoanyoneelse?”
“Idid.IfI’dbeencloseenoughtohersheprobablywould’vehandedmeone,too.”
“Thosewereprobablyjustfavorspromotingherorganization.Ortheshop.”Lynnsighedasshejottedthisdown.“Shani,wecan’tjustassumeNella’sgoodyet.She’sstillatWagner.SheevenshoweduptoHazel’sevent.We’veseenenoughtoknowthatwehavetobeextracareful,haven’twe?Rememberwhathappenedtoyouatthatmagazine?AnddoIneedtoremindyouaboutmymedschoolprogram?ThatOBGisstilltherereapingallofthebenefitsfromresearchIdid.AllthemoneyIwastedonnotgettingadegree—”
“Iknow,”Isaid,grittingmyteeth.Iknewthisspeechbyheart.“ButwhatI’msayingis…shedidthattoyoufiveyearsago.Andhereweare.Hidingintheshadows.Westilldon’tknowanythingnew,Lynn,beyondthefactthatthey’rewreakinghavocinHollywood.Wedon’tknowhowBlackgirlsarebeingchanged.Weonlyknowthatthey’reselfishmonsterswhoaregettingbetteratputtingonaward-winningperformances.”
“Wealsoknowwhythey’resogoodatchangingotherBlackwomenwhentheywantto,”Lynnadded,“whichiswhyweneedtosticktokeepingheratarm’slength.”
“Look.”Iputthepillowsasideandsatupsome.“Beingpartofthiswholespythingwithyouguyshasbeen…anexperience.IlovedsneakingthosenotestoPam—she’sthesweetestwomanever.AndIrespectwhatyouallaretryingtodo.IjustwanttoknowwhyIcameallthewaytoNewYorkifwearen’tgonnamakeanymovesonthiswholeNella-Hazelsituation.Imightaswellfocusonsomethingelse.Someoneelse.Likeme.NotNella,anddefinitelynotHazel.Idon’tevenwanttobeinthesameroomwithheranymoreafterwhatshedidtome.”
Ididn’tmeantomakeitsoundlikeLynnandtheResistancehadn’tbeendoingenoughtostoptheOBGs.Butitmust’vesoundedlikethat,becauseLynnsaid,inalow,coldvoice,“Irespectthat.Butthere’smoretothisNellasituationthanyoucouldpossiblyunderstand.”Then,sheclosedhernotebookandputitbackinthebookcase.
Thenextday,sheaskedmetocomebyJoe’sBarbershopassoonasIgotoffwork.“Weneedtotalk.”Nothingmore,nothingless.Iagreed.
BythetimeI’dclockedoutofRise&Grind,wavedhellotoJoeandhiscustomers,andflownupthecreakybackstairs,I’dalreadygottenitintomyheadthatLynnwasgoingtotellmethatmytimeintheResistancewasover.
ButwhenIopenedthedoor,Ididn’tseeLynn.Isawawomanwho,judgingbythehaloofsilverycurlsthatcascadeddownhershoulders,lookedmucholderthantheusualdemographicthatrolledthroughJoe’s.Shewasstandinginfrontofthebookshelfwithherbacktome,lookingupatoneoftheroom’scrowdedpurple-graywalls.
Ilingeredbythedoorforamoment,hesitanttointerrupt.I’dbeencaptivatedbythewalls,too,whenIfirstsawthem.EachwasfillednearlytocapacitywithphotouponphotoofvariousBlackactivists—somefamiliartome,someunfamiliar.OftheonesIknew,MalcolmXstoodoutthemost;atleast30percentofthephotosplasteredalloverthewallswereofhim.Manywereblack-and-whiteimagesthatI’dgrownupseeinginhistorybooksandnewspapers,butafewwerecontemporaryrenderingsofMalcolmXthatIcouldn’tremembereverseeingbefore:Malcolmthroughapop-artlens,inneonshadesofblueandorange;Malcolmthroughacomic-booksuperherolens.
Themosteye-catchingpieceofalldepictedMalcolmwithhishandplacedpensivelyonhistemple,paintedinshadesofred,white,andblue.Incaseonedidn’tknowtowhatitwaspayinghomage,asmall,postcard-sizedrenderingoftheObamaHOPEpostersthatwerebigduringhisfirstpresidentialcampaignwastackedrightnexttoit,aperiodnexttoaverylong,verypowerfulsentence.
“Youknow,he’sstilloneofmyheroes.Imisshim.Istillrememberthatday…”
Thewordscamesoftandlow,butperfectlyenunciated.Ittookmeasecondtorealizethatitwasthesilver-hairedwomanspeaking,andthatshewasspeakingtome.Really,Ididn’ttrulyrealizeituntilsheturnedaroundtofaceme.
Myfirstthoughtwashowsheremindedmeofsomeone—afamilymember,maybe.Thekindoffamilyyouseeonlyonceeverythreeyearsorso,atfamilyreunions.Mysecondwashowgoodshelooked.Herskinwasalmostcompletelywrinkle-free,andherbuildlookedslim—fit,even—inapairofblackskinnyjeanslayeredbeneathablacksleevelesstunic.
“Obama?”Imanaged,whenIrealizedIhadwaitedfartoolongtorespond.“Yeah.Imisshim,too.”
“No.”Shecutmeoffasshewalkedovertothecouchnearesttoherandhadaseat.“Malcolm.”
Icouldonlynod.
“Oh,Shani—great.Youguysfinallymet.”
Lynnhadenteredtheroom.Therewassomethingresemblingasmileonherface,butshedidn’tlookparticularlyhappy—anexpression,Inoticed,thatthesilver-hairedwomanhadalsobeenwearingwhenshefirstturnedandlookedatme.
“Weactuallyhaven’t,”sheadmitted.
Imovedtoremedythesituation,reachingmyhandoutforhers.“ShaniEdmonds.”
Thewomanreachedout,too.“KendraRae.KendraRaePhillips.”
Shewatchedasrecognitionlitupmyeyes,fillingtherestofmyfacewithablazeofembarrassment.“Ohmygod,”Isaid,shakingherhandslowly.“Ms.…Phillips.Hi.Ididn’tknowyouwere…inthecity?”
Oranywhere,forthatmatter,Ithought.
“Noonedoes,”KendraRaesaid,asfirmlyasherfingerswereclaspingmine,“andweintendtokeepitthatway.Don’twe?”
“Sure.”
“Good.”
“So,um…”Igesturedaroundtheroom.“Howlongareyou…haveyou…?”
Istopped,thenstartedagainasKendraRaecontinuedtostareatmeintently.Shewasn’twearinganymakeup,butshewasstillgorgeous—ageless,even—witheyesasrichanddeepbrownasKarocornsyrup.
“Whatareyoudoing…here?”Ifinallymanaged.
Atthat,KendraRae’simpassivedemeanorcollapsedintoasmall,dazzlinggrin.Igrinnedrightback,relieved.I’dbarelybeenabletokeepmyeyesfrombuggingoutofmyhead,butthiswomandidn’tseemputoffbyit.Sheseemedtobethrivingoffit,likeadaisyturnedtowardthesunforthefirsttimeinwhoknewhowlong.
KendraRaeextractedanewspaperarticleandanotebookfromasmallpatchworkbagIhadn’tnoticedshe’dbeencarrying.“Lynnreachedouttomenotlongagowithsomeveryinterestinginformation,”sheexplained,flatteningthearticleacrossherlap.“So,I’mheretotellyoubothalittlebitaboutmytimeatWagnerBooks.Butfirst…Shani?”
Shepausedandlookedmeintheeye.
“Yes?”
“YouneedtotellmewhatyousawHazelgivetoNellaatCurlCentral.”
13
October17,2018
Hey,Nellie!Firstthingsfirst—mydeepest,sincerestapologiesforsuchalatereply!PromisetoletyouknowsomeupcomingdatesforourdrinksassoonasIhavethem.Inthemeantime,wouldyoumindsendingmeHazel-MayMcCall’scontactinfo?(Doyouknowher?SheworkswithMaisy,right???)JustsawthatwonderfularticleabouthermentoringprograminBookCenterandthoughtI’dgiveheralittleshout.I’dbeforevergrateful!Thankssomuch!xxLena
NellalookedoverhershoulderonemoretimebeforetakinganotherviolentwhackattheKeurigwithherfist,butthedamnthingdidn’tbabbleorsputterthewayitwassupposedto.Itjustkepthissing.
Crossingherarms,shestaredatitforamoment,contemplatingotherwaystobeattheKeurigintosubmission.Itcertainlywasn’thowJocelynwouldhavedoneit,butsinceJocelynwouldn’tbereturningtoWagner—rumorhadit,Germanyhadtakenherback—NellasawanymethodoffixingtheKeurigasfairgame.
She’dalreadyusedherfistonthemachine,butshewonderedwhatwouldhappenifsheusedherhead.Thismethodsoundedparticularlyappealing,givenhowwellshe’dmemorizedLenaJordan’sratherirritatingemail.Sincerestapologies,Lenahadsaid.ThoughtI’dgiveHazelalittleshout.
And,perhapstheworstpartofitall:Hey,Nellie!
NellahadmadethemistakeofreadingandthenrereadingLena’snotebeforeshehadachancetodoanythingreasonablethatmorning,likegrabacoffeeorgetabagelfromthecafé.Lena’swordshadbeenrunningthroughhermindonlooplikeabrightbodegamarqueesign,punctuatedeverynowandthenbytwomeaninglessX’s.
HaditreallybeenthatdifficultforLenatogiveheroneortwodatesshewasavailable?AndwasNella’snamereallythathard?
Nellaglancedoveratthemicrowaveclocktoassessthedamage.Itwasaquarterafterten,whichmeantshehadnotimetorundownstairsandbuyacoffeeacrossthestreet.Defeated,shefilledhermugwithhotwaterandreachedforaboxofgreentea.ShewouldsimplyhavetositthroughthetenthirtycovermeetingwithVera,Leonard,andAmyundercaffeinated.Itwouldsuck,butitwouldsucklessthanwalkingintotheroomfiveminuteslate.
Nellatriedtokeepherhandssteadyasshepouredaslowstreamofhoneyintohersteamingmug.Covermeetingshadbeenthehighlightofherweekwhenshe’dfirststartedworkingatWagner.SheusuallyarrivedafewminutesearlysoshecouldsnagthatonecornerseatbythewindowwiththebestviewofLeonard’scovermock-upsforAmy,Richard,andtheeditors.Backthen,thosemeetingshadseemedlikethemostmagicalpartofpublishing.Shegottipsycomparingthedesigner’sartisticrenderingsofabookwiththehypothesesshe’dcomeupwithduringherownread,andhighofftheanticipationleadinguptothebigcoverreveal.
Shewouldevensitinondiscussionsofcoversofbooksshewasn’tworkingon,listeningcloselytoAmyandthedesignersdiscusscolorandbalanceandfontsizeandkerning.Andshetookcopiousnotes—notessheplannedtointernalizeforthatdaywhenshewastheonesittinginTheEditor’sSeat.Sure,therewasanauthorhereandtherewhoquashedatinybitofthemagic,butthisneverprecludedhowhumblingitwastobejustafewfeetawayfromtheinceptionofanimagethatwouldadornthousandsofcopiesofbooksandbedistributedallovertheworld.Beingabletoprovideheropiniononcoversmadeherfeelpowerful,evenif—attheendoftheday—Verahadthefinalsay.
Butthiscovermeetingcomingupinnineminuteswasdifferent.ThismeetingwasforNeedlesandPins
Nellaswipedatthesteamonherfacewiththebackofherhand,gettinganostrilfulofcocoabutterintheprocess.Shewinced,unpreparedforit.Shehadn’tplannedtousethehairgreaseHazelhadgivenheruntilsheranoutofalloftheotherproductsshehadathome,butontheelevatorrideuptotheofficethatmorning,ithaddawnedonherthatshehadn’tputanykindofmoisturizeronherscalpinmorethanaweek.Whenshehappenedtoreachdeepintoherbagandfind,toherdelight,thatthesmalljarofgreasewasstillthere,shewentaheadandmassagedapea-sizedportionthroughherhair.
It’ssopungent,though,she’dmurmuredtoherreflectioninthebathroommirror,andnowagaininthekitchenasshetookthreeslow,deepbreaths—ahabitshe’ddevelopedintheweeksthathadpassedsinceHazelhadsungColin’spraisesatthemarketingmeeting.Thankspartiallytoher,NeedlesandPinswasswimminginaseaofbuzzsodeepthatthetitlewasnowknownaroundthecompanyasa“surefirebestseller”thatOprahmighteventweetabout“ifwegetthepackagingjustright.”
Nellapokedattheteabagwiththethinwoodenstirrer,herfourthpokesohardthatapartofitsplitopen.Shewatched,annoyed,astinyflecksofjasminebrokefreeandswamoutintohercup.TheKeurighissedonbehindher,asweet,mockingreminderofhowlittlecontrolshehadoveranythingthesedays.
Nellahadreceivedthismessageinotherways—forstarters,intheabsenceofinvitationstohavelunchwithGinaandSophie.They’dstoppedaskingNellatoeatwiththemaftershedeclinedfivelunchoffersinthespanoftwoweeks—shesimplyhadtoomuchworktodo—andthey’doptedtotryHazelinstead.Somethingmagicalhadtohavehappenedduringtheirfirstlunchtogether;afterthat,theystartedhangingaroundhercube,gushingaboutherboyfriend’slatestartprojectorherfavoritethingshewasreadingthatweek.EvenGina—dubious,uninterested,“ThatDon’tImpressMeMuch”Gina—hadwalkedawayfromoneoftheirchatsessionsonaparticularlycooldaysayingthatshewantedapairofplatformTimberlandslikeHazel’s.Allthewhile,Hazelhadgobbleduptheattentionlikeapro.Ofcourse.
Nelladidn’tknowwhattomakeofanyofit.ThekindofcelebritystatusthatHazelhadachievedinsuchashortspanoftimerubbedherinawaythatbotheredher,anditbotheredherthatshewasbotheredatall—especiallysincesheandHazelweresupposedtobeonthesameteam.ShehatedhowdisappointedshefeltwheneditorssuddenlystartedaskingHazelforsensitivityreads,butnother.NellahadneverbeengivenevenjustaniotaoftheattentioneveryonehadpaidHazel.Ifshewerebeinghonest,shewouldsaythatshehadn’tthoughtshe’deverreceiveit.Andifshewerelying,shewouldsaythatshe’dneverwanteditinthefirstplace.
ButthevalidationwasimportanttoNella,andwatchingHazelmovethroughWagnerlikeaknifethroughwhippedcreammadeherbegintoquestionherownpresencethere.MaybeIshouldhavelistenedtothoseanonymousnotesIreceivedlastmonth,shesometimesthought,andonce,inaboutofdesperation,she’deventriedcallingthatphonenumberagain.Buttoherrelief—andherchagrin—ithadbeendisconnected.
Inaway,shefeltlikeshewasalreadygone,anyway.Hercoworkerswerecertainlytreatingherlikeshewas.TheywerefloatingbyHazel’sdesktochatmoreandmorefrequently,andNellawasbeginningtounderstandexactlywhatHazelhadmeantwhenshe’dbroughtupcode-switching.She’dknownwhatthephrasemeant,obviously;howelsewassheabletoreadaboutthelatestincidentofpolicebrutalityonthenews,thenclockintoworkatninea.m.withasmileonherface?
But,Hazel…somethingwasoffwithher.Avibe.Nelladidn’tcompletelytrustthewayshetookcode-switchingtoanentirelynewlevel,orthewaysheconstantlyaskedVeraaboutthebooksshewaseditingandalwayscharmingtheplaid-patternedslacksoffJosh.Once,whileNellawasmicrowavingsomeleftoverdinnerinthekitchen,she’devencaughtHazeltalkingtoAmyabouthergrandparents.“Theymetatamarch?Andhediedatamarch?My,my,”Amyhadcrooned,takingararemomenttoremovehercrimson-tintedglassesanddabathereyes.“Talkaboutacharacterarc.”
Nella,who’dfeigneddeepinvolvementwithsomethingonhercellphone,hadfoundthisprettydistasteful.ButtoNella’ssurprise,Hazelhadagreed.“I’veactuallybeenthinkingofcommissioningawritertotaketheirdiariesandtheircorrespondenceandwritealovestoryaroundtheirlivesdedicatedtoactivism.”
ThentherewasC.J.:sodazzledbyHazel,soconsumed.Hewouldhangontotheedgeofhercubeandflirtwithherforfive,tenminutesatatime,smilingatherwiththosebigoldeyeshe’donceusedonlyonNella,andHazel—good-natured,affableHazel—wouldsmileback.Together,theymadeabeautifultwosomethatbelongedinaBlackninetiesrom-cominsteadofthethirteenthfloorofaMidtownofficebuilding.
Meanwhile,Nellawouldsitquietlyacrosstheaisletryingtotuneouttheirconversations.Butbitsofautobiographicalinformationleakedintohercubeanyway,juicybitsthatC.J.hadnevertoldNellainthetwoyearshe’dknownher.Shecouldn’thelpbutwonderwhythiswas.She’dbeenfarfriendlierwithhimthanshe’deverbeenwithIndia.Hadshenotaskedhimtherightquestions?OrhadhesimplyfiguredNella,raisedinamiddle-classsuburbbytwoparents—parentswithadysfunctionalmarriage,buttwoparentsnonetheless—wouldnevertruly“getit”?
Whateverthereason,itdidn’tmatter.WhathadpreoccupiedhermorewasthealiensensationshefeltoverhearingthemreminisceaboutgrowingupinBlackneighborhoods.Itbroughtherbacktoherhighschooldays,whenBlackkidswouldseeherholdinghandswithherwhiteboyfriendinthehallwayoreatinglunchwithherwhitefriendsinacaféandwhispertooneanother,notverydiscreetly,theregotheOreo.Itwasn’therfaultthatherhonorsclasseshadbeenoverwhelminglyfilledwithwhiteandAsianstudents—thattheywereallshe’dreallyknown—andsoshe’djustpretendshehadn’theard.Pretendshedidn’tworryatleastonceeverydaythatshewasn’t“Blackenough.”
Herprimarysourceofcomforthadbeenthebeliefthatthisfeelingwouldgoawayonceshewenttocollege.Butnowitwasbacktorearitsuglyhead,spewingalloftheinsecuritiesshethoughtshe’dgottenover.
Nellaleanedforwardsoshecouldscrutinizethespecksofjasminethatwerefloatingaroundhermug.Thenshecheckedtheclockagain:tentwenty-four.Therewasstilltimetofishoutafewofthepieces.
ShewasreachingforametalspoonfromthedryingrackwhenthesizzlingoftheKeurigwasoverpoweredbythesoundoffootstepsbehindher.
“Hey,Hazel!How’sitgoing?”
NellaspunaroundandsawSophie,red-cheekedandnowhighlyembarrassed.
“Oh,shit,”shesaid.“Nella.Iamsosorry.Ithoughtyouwere—”
“Yeah,”saidNella,glaringather.“IthinkIknowexactlywhatyouthought.”Shedippedherspoonintohermug,grabbedsomejasmine,andtosseditintothesink.
“It’sjustthat…”Sophiestopped.“Well,didyourealizeyoutwoarewearingthesamecolortoday?”
“Arewe?”Nellalookeddownattheeggplantsweaterthatshe’dpulledoverherheadafewhoursearlier.Shehatedthisparticularsweater;itwastoosmallandtooitchyandthetagalwaysstoodupintheback.Butshe’dbarelyhadtimetopickanythingelse.Lately,herbodyhadbeenwakingherupatallsortsofirregulartimesinthemiddleofthenight,andwhensleepdidcomebacktoher,itwasusuallyhalfanhourorsobeforesheneededtoactuallygetoutofbed
“Hazel’ssweaterispurple,too,”Sophiepointedout,eventhoughNella’squestionhadbeenrhetorical.
“It’saverydifferentpurple.”
“Yeah?Irememberthembeingprettysimilar,actually.”
“No,”saidNella,abitmoreforcefully.“I’mprettysureHazeliswearinglilac.”
Shewassureofthisbecauseshe’dcaughtherselfeyeingthegirl’sbell-sleevedsweaterenviouslyearlierinthemorning,whenHazelhadwheeledherchairovertoaskherhowtosetupaconferencecall.Nellahadhelpedher,deliveringthesamespielshegavenewassistants,butithadbeenhard.Herspiralingsenseofself-worthhadstartedtoencroachuponhersanity;hersanity,uponhersleep;andhersleep,uponherabilitytobeafunctioninghumanbeingatwork.Afunctioninghumanbeingwhowasabletoforgiveandforgetthefactthatacolleaguehadmistakenherforadreadlockedgirlwhowasfourinchestallerthanher
There’sthissocialphenomenonIt’scalledcode-switching…
WeekshadpassedsinceHazelsaidthosewordstoher,butapangoffurydugintoNella’ssidenonetheless.Yes,sheknewallaboutcode-switchingandbeingflexibleandeasygoingandnottakinganythingtoopersonally,butasSophiecontinuedtotap-dancearoundherfauxpas,waxingpoeticaboutanarticleshe’dreadabouthowtheeyesawhues,Nellafelttootiredtoplayalong.Shedidn’tbothertonodorlaughatSophie’shalfjokes.Shesimplystoodthere,stone-faced,pickingjasmineoutofhermugpiecebypiece,waitingforthegirltostopspeaking—or,atleast,tofinallystoptrippingoverherselflongenoughtorealizethatshewasn’tgoingtoundowhatshe’ddone.
Atlast,Sophiestoppedtotakeabreath.Shelookedtoherleft,appearingtonoticethattheKeurighadbeenmakingstrangenoisesbeneathherownstrangenoisesoverthelastcoupleofminutes.
“IstheKeurigbrokenagain?”askedSophie,clearlystilluncomfortable.“Damnthing.IhaveafriendoveratJ.F.PublishingandshetoldmetheirNespressomachinenevercrapsout,notlikethisone.MaybewecanpetitiontogetRichardtomaketheswitch.”
Nellagrunted.Thenshedroppedthespooninthesinkandmadeabreakforitdownthehallway.
“Nella,hey—I’msosorry,again,forthemix-up,”Sophiecalledoutfrombehindher.
Nelladidn’tturnaroundandshedidn’tmissabeat.“Allgood,Gina,”sherepliedcurtly,andafterdeliveringthisfinalblow,shemovedfaster,indifferenttothedropsofhotteathatsplashedonherhandwitheachstep.
Whenshewalkedintothecovermeetingafewminuteslater,shewasn’tatallsurprisedtofindHazelsittinginwhatwassupposedtobeherseat,swipingthroughVera’sphone.
“Thatpaintbrush!Vera,he’ssocute.AndhowolddidyousaylittleBrenneristurningtomorrow?”
“Five.”VeraleanedoversothatshecouldseewhichphotoHazelwaslookingat,asthoughshehadn’tbeentheonewho’dtakenitinthefirstplace,andgrinned.
“He’ssuchaprecioussize!Andhowlonghaveyouhadhimfor?”
Verabeamed.“Threeyears.Andeverynewdayisanewadventurewithhim,evenstill.”
Nellaassessedthelousyseatingsituation.Shehadn’tarrivedearlyenough.Amy,Josh,andRichardhadalreadytakentheirusualplacesatorneartheheadofthetable;totheleftofAmysatVera;ontheothersideofVera,Hazel.Theonlyemptyseatcloseenoughtotheactionwasontheothersideofthetable—acrossfromHazel,andbesideGrumpyLeonard.
NellareachedforthechairwhileLeonardremainedhunchedoverhisnotepad,onehandcoveringhalfofhisface,theothersqueezingagolfpencil.Hedidn’tseemlikehewantedtobebothered;hemighthaveevenbeenasleep.Evenstill,NellasoftballedaHow’sitgoing,Lenassheslidintothechairbesidehim.Shewasdesperateforsomekindofnormalhumancontact,anddamnit,shewasgoingtogetit.
Leonardglaredupather.Sheswallowed,takinginhisbloodshoteyes,thefuriousblackscribbleonthepaperinfrontofhim.“Howdoyouthinkit’sgoing?”hesnapped.“Thisplacehasbeenrunningmeintothegroundasusual.That’showit’sgoing.”
Nellanoddedincommiseration.
Veralookedup.“Oh,Nella!Hi!”
“Hey,Vera,”Nellasaidascheerfullyasshecould,studyingherboss.Today’soutfitwasalong,baggyburlapsleevelessdresslayeredoveraneggshell-whitesweater.Herdresswassupercute—verycozy-looking,very1993,verysomethingNellawouldbuyifshethoughtshecouldaffordit,thoughshewasalmostcertainshecouldn’t.ButNellawasquitepositivethat,justlikethefreshlycutbluntbangsthatstoppedhalfwaydownherforehead,itwasyetanotherHazelinfluence.ThelasttimeVerahadwornsomethingthatdidn’tperfectlyfithertinywaist,she’dhadpneumonia.
Veraherselfhadseemedawareofthisfact,too;shekeptrunningherhandsupanddowntheburlapstrapsasthoughcheckingtomakesurethefabricwasstillthere.“I’msogladyoucouldmakeit.Youweren’tatyourdeskacoupleofminutesago,soIdecidedtobealittleselfishandaskHazelifIcouldstealsomeofhertimeforthismeeting.”
Nellahadheardthisparticularsongbefore.SheandVerahadbeenpassingshipsinthenightforweeks,communicatingmostlyviaemailandtelephone,alwaysjustbarelymissingeachotherinperson.WheneverNelladidhappenuponVerasanscloseddoor,shewaseitheraskingNellatodosomething,talkingtoHazel,ortalkingaboutHazeltoanothercolleague.Complimentsonhernewwardrobe,whichhadgraduallyshiftedfromblackandnavytoincludeafewearthytonesandevensomepatternsthatborderedon“whimsical,”wereduetoHazel.Thosedeepburgundyhighlightsinherhair,visibleonlyinveryparticulartypesoflighting,butstillvisible?Hazel’sdoing,too.
NeverbeforehadNellaseenherbossopenuptoanylower-levelemployeeatWagner.
“Selfish?”HazelaskedVera,hereyesstilltrainedonaphotoofBrenner.“Notselfishatall.I’mabsolutelythrilledtobesittinginonthis.”
“Metoo,”Nellasaid,throughgrittedteeth.
Verasmackedthetablewithherpalm.“That’sthespirit!IrememberwhenIwasfirststartingouthere,IalwayssatinoneverycovermeetingIcould.”
“That’strue.Everysingleone,”Amychimedinfromtheheadofthetable.“Shestartedacoupleofyearsafterme,andIrememberhowshealwaysusedtostealmychair.Frankly,Iwantedtokillher.”
Richardsnickered,tossingbackhishead.“That’strue,too,”hesaid,lesstoHazelandNellaandmoretoAmyandVera.“IstillrememberwhenAmymarchedrightintomyofficeandasked,‘WheredidyoufindthatVelmachick?Whereveryoufoundher,youcansendherrightback.’?”
“Agh,yes,”Amysaid,coloringalittlebit.“Notmyfinestmoment.Butnowlookatus!We’rethebestoffriends.”
“Thebestoffriends,”Veraagreedcoolly.
“Mmm.”HazelsetVera’sphonedownonthetable.“Seemslikealittlebitofcompetitioncanbeagoodthing,huh?”
“You’reright,”saidAmy.
Joshfinallystoppedcheckinghisteethforstrayflecksofgranolainhisfront-facingphonecamera.“Probablywouldn’tbeherewithoutit.”
NellaglancedupattheclockasAmyclappedherhands,thenslidoffhertintedglasses.“Okayeverybody,readytogetstarted?Thisisgoingtobeaquickie—Len,yougotAlexander’snoteabouthavingtoreschedulehiscovermeetingtoday,right?”
LeonardventuredtocatchAmy’seyeandbowhishead,buthesaidnothing.Amemberoftheoldguardofsenior-levelemployeesatWagner,Leonardhadheadedthedesigndepartmentfornearlyfourdecades,evenwonnumerousawardsforhisinnovativeworkoncoversforbooksthatwouldbecomeclassics.Butheseemedtruly,deeplyunhappy,carriedalimitednumberofsmilesaroundinhispocket—atleastwhenhewasattheoffice—andonlywhippedthemoutatveryparticularoccasions.Nellawasquitepositivehekeptthemajorityofhissmilestohimself,whenhewasaloneinhisoffice,doorclosed,creativegearsturning.
NellastudiedLeonardforabitlonger,takinginhisunassumingcheckeredshirt,thegolfpencilbehindhisear,thegrayhairthatwouldhavegrowninpatchesonhisscalpifhedidn’tshaveitregularly.Hishead,whichalmostalwayshunglow.Shewasquitecertainthathemadethreetimeswhatshemade,probablymorethanthat.Shewasalsoprettysurethathedidn’thaveanychildren.Whydidn’thejustretire?Washesimplyholdingonuntilhecouldphysicallyholdonnolonger?Howcouldsomeonebesosettled,butsoclearlymiserable?
Amybroketheawkwardsilencethathadbefallenthemeetingsincesheposedherquestion.“Great.Vera,we’vegotsomereallyawesomecoverproposalsforyouthismorning!You’regoingtolovethemall,Ipromise.Len,hon,wanttoshowuswhatyoucameupwithforNeedlesandPins?”
“Yes!Showmewhatyagot,Leonard!”Veragavehimaforcefulwink,apeaceofferingafteralltheSamLewisdramashe’dthrownhisway.Nellafounditunnatural,buttherewasanever-so-slightdecreaseinLeonard’shunch.
“Sure.”Heunearthedamanilafolderthathadbeensittinginhislapandshowilypulledoutthreeglossypiecesofpaper.Hestoodandplacedeachpageonthetable,spinningthemaroundsothattheywerefacingVera,withaslighttilttowardRichard.
“So,I’vedoneupafewdifferentapproacheshere,”Leonardsaid,swayingjustatinybitleftandatinybitright.“Thesefirsttwoarealongasimilarveinofhislastfewbooks:minimalistic,strikingcolordichotomies,sansserif.Ifwewanttokeepwiththebrandingwestarteddoingforhimin2011,wemaywanttogothisroute.Ithinkreaderswhoareusedtohisbookslookingacertainway—andreaderswholikehavingbooksthatlookliketheybelongtogether—willflocktosomethingsimplelikethis:melon-redwordsagainstablackbackdrop.”
Should’vemadethewordschartreuse,thoughtNellasourly.
“Nice,”saidVera.
“Theblackbackgrounddefinitelyworkswellwiththistopic.It’sdesolate.It’sdespair.It’stheopioidcrisis,”addedJosh.
Nellarolledhereyesatherlap.
“Andthenwehaveoneotheroption,incasehedecideshewantstocompletelydismantletheformatthatworkedforhislastfewbooks.Here.Thisoneisn’tevenalittlebitclosetotheroutewe’vetraditionallytakenwithColin’sbooks,butIthinkitmightbeworthexploring.”
NellalookedatthepieceofpaperthatLeonardwaspointingat.ItsbackgroundwasawatercolorrenderingoftheAmericanflag,withillustrationsofvariousfacesweavedamongtheredandwhitestripessothatonlypiecesoffaceswerevisible.
Immediately,Nellawasdrawntothethirdone—howfragmented,howdisjointeditlooked.Sheleanedforwardtoexaminethefacesmoreclosely,adecentindicator,sherecognized,thatsomeonemightbeinclinedtodothisinabookstore.Butsuddenlyshefeltherselfrecoil,movingbackwardinherseatasquicklyasshe’dmovedforward.
Thatwaswhenshereallysawit:Thedarkbrownface.Thewidenose.Thethicklips.Thewide-open,almostfrightenedeyes.ThewildtuftsofblackhairpulledintoBantuknots.Allpresentedinpieces,scatteredamongthestripes,butplacedfrontandcenter.
Shartricia.
Hesitant,Nellapeeredoveratthecoveragaintoconfirmthatherguthadbeenright.NoothercharacterinthenovelhadbeenfeaturedquiteasprominentlyastheBlackone.Shartriciawasthemostrealized,theloudestonthepage.
NellaglancedupacrossthetableatHazel,whoraisedherpiercedeyebrowinreply.
“We’rethinkingitcouldbesmarttogoforanewapproachhere,”AmyexplainedasVeratookinthetwonontraditionalcoverswithsomehesitation.“Thisopioidcrisishasbeensodebilitatingtothiscountry.IthaspaintedsomanyAmericansasbeinglessthanhuman.WethoughtthatifconsumerspickedupthisbookandsawthearrayofpeopleColinwritesaboutonthecoveritself,they’dbeinclinedtospendmoretimewithit.”
“Isee.”Veranodded,althoughshestilldidn’tseemtooconvinced.Hereyeswerestilltrainedonthecover.“Well,Iwillsay,itreallyisa…differentapproach.Muchmoreartisticthantheothers.”
“Andwithartsycovers,itcansometimesbearisk,”Joshsaid.“ButIreallydigthis—fromamarketingperspectiveatleast.DidanyoneseethatrecentarticleinBookCenterabouthowfewbookshavecharactersofcoloronthecover?”NellaheldherhandupdirectlyinJosh’slineofvision,butheignoredit.“Thisisgoingtostandoutfromthepack.It’lldefinitelybeadrawforbroaderaudiencesoftoday—sortoflikewediscussedatourmarketingmeeting.Butitalsolooksbackunflinchinglyonthepast,forcingustoreckonwithourcountry’sracistroots.”
Youthinkso?Nellathought,scratchingatanitchthathadbeensetoffbyJosh’sshowboatingspeech.SheglancedacrossthetableatHazelagain.Butthistime,HazelwaslookingatAmy.
“Actually,ifImay?”
Everyone’seyesshiftedtoHazel.Yes,Nellathought.Please,justdoitExposethispickaninnyforwhatitis.
“Ithinkthisiskindofbrilliant,”Hazelsaid.
“Really?”VeraseemedassurprisedasNelladidbythisdeclaration.
“Yup.Ithinkyouhitthenailonthehead,Leonard.”
“So,youwouldpickthisbookupifyousawitonatableoutinthewild?”
ItwasRichardspeakingnow,hispiquedinterestrenderinghisblueeyesthatmuchsharper.
“Definitely.It’sstriking.Leonard,Ithinkyoudidaphenomenaljob,asAmysaid.”
Richardnodded.Veranoticeablybrightened.EvenLeonard,evertheEeyore,lookedlikeHazel’sclaimhadsethimfreeofhisself-madeprison.
Nellashudderedasshestareddownatthecover,searchingforsomesubversiveelementthatshemighthavemissed,likeaconversationstarterthatmightgetpeopletalkingaboutraceandcolorismandclass.ButallthatwastherewasColin’scaricature.Liveandinlivingcolor.Youcan’tjustdothis,shethought,fuming.Youcan’tjustputanimagelikethisonabookcoverwithoutprovidinganycontext.ShesawlittleBlackandbrownandwhitechildrenwalkinguptotheNewReleasestableatBarnes&Nobleandpickingitup,attractedbythebrightcolors.Sawthelittlegearsturninginthesekids’headsfortwoseconds,orhoweverlongittookforimagestoimprintupontheiryoung,impressionablebrains.Andshesawthesesamekidsrunningbacktotheirfamilies,forevertouchedbythetroublingracistimageofShartriciawithoutevenbeingawareofit.
TheBantuknots.Thoseeyes.Thoselips.
Thesepeople.
“Anyotherthoughts?”Amyasked.
“Youpeopleareun-fucking-believable.”
Nelladidn’trealizeshe’dbeenthinkingthis,letalonethatshe’dsaidit.Butshehad,judgingfromthecurrentofattentionthathadsuddenlysurgedinherdirection.
“Didyousaysomething,Nella?”
Amy’stoplipwasquivering.Leonardlookedappalled.Veralooselyclaspedherhandsaroundthebackofherneckasembarrassmentcoloredhercheeks.Eventhenever-fazedHazelseemedcaughtoffguard.
Richard,though,hadhishandsfoldedonthetableinfrontofhimashewaitedforNellatoanswerAmy’squestion.
“I—no.”Haditalwaysbeenthishotinthisroom?Shebeganfanningherselfwithherhanddistractedly.“Iwasjustsaying,yourworkisun-fucking-believable.Thisisgoingtomakeallthosetop-tencoverlists,Leonard.Youreallyknockeditoutoftheparkwiththisone.”
“Hereallydid.”Veraclearedherthroat,readytomoveon.“Well,I’llthinkthisoversomemore.Len,canyousendmethehighest-resversionofthesecoversthatyou’vegotwhenyouhaveamoment?Allofthem,please.”
“Certainly.”Leonard’sfeathersstillseemedruffledashecollectedthesamplecovers,clippedthem,andhandedthemoff.
“Ver,letusknowwhatColinthinks.IcanhaveHilarysendhimsalesfiguresforbooksthathavecoverswithsimilarrenderingsonthem,ifyouthinkitwouldeasehismindalittle?”
“Youknowhimsowell,”Verasaid,withasmallsmile.
“Oh,wealldo,”Richardsaid.EveryoneexceptforNellachuckledknowingly.Allwasrightwiththeworldagain.
“Alright,terrific.Greatstuff,people!”Amyputonherglasses,adjourningthemeeting.Everyonereadilycollectedtheirthings.Acoupleoffeetaway,HazelwasaskingVerahowsheandherhusbandwereplanningtocelebrateBrenner’sfifthbirthday.
Nellakepthergazedownward,pretendingtowriteinherblanknotebook.Shewantedeveryonetoleavetheroombeforeshedid,lestshehavetoawkwardlyeavesdroponVeraandHazel’sdiscussionaboutthebestplacestobuycupcakesfordogs,orlistentoJoshexplainthatBookCenterarticleingreatdetail.Plus,she’dalwaysfoundsomethingdeeplysoothingaboutsittinginthequietofameetingroomaftereverybodyhadleft,evenifitwasonlyforamoment.
Afteraboutthirtyseconds,shefeltreadytoreturntoherdeskandmaybeevencallbuildingservicestoseeifsomeonecouldcomeandfixtheKeurig.Butwhenshelookedup,sherealizedRichardwasstillsittingattheheadofthetable,typingawayonhiscellphone.
“Oh,”Nellamurmured,deeplyembarrassed.“Sorry.I’lljust—”
Sheplacedherpalmsonthetable,preparingtohoistherselfupandout.Butbeforeshecouldmakeaswiftexit,Richardhadplacedhisphonefacedownandshiftedhisattentiondirectlytowardthespacebetweenhereyes.“No,I’msorry.Please,haveaseat,Nella.Doyouhaveafewmomentstochat?Yes?Iwashopingwecoulddiscussafewthings,especiallysincewewrappedthismeetingupsoquickly.”
“Um…”Nellalookedoveratthedoor.Someonehadcloseditwithouthernoticing.“Sure.Ihaveplentyoftimetochat.”
“Great!”Richardslippedhisphoneintothefrontpocketofhispants.“Ijustwantedtohaveaquickcheck-in.Seehowthingsaregoing.”
“Thingsaregoingprettywell,”shesaid,notsurewhathemeantby“things.”Shesearchedherbrainforsomethingnewtoshare.“You’veprobablyheardthisalready,butwefinallygotSamLewistoagreetoacover.Bigrelief.Thanksforsteeringthatship.Iknowhowhecanbe;hisagentletshimgetawaywithfartoomuch.
“Oh,speakingof—I’msureyou’veheardaboutthis,butDarrinsentusanewprojectthismorningthathe’spositiveisgoingtogofast.It’saboutthistinytowninnorthernNorthDakotathatdoesn’tbelieveinusing—”
“That’sgreat.Listen,Nella,I’mgoingtocuttothechase.”
Nellablinked.Hadhefoundoutthatshe’dbeencreepingoutsideofhisdoor—andtherefore,thatsheknewhewascheatingonhiswife?Orhadheheardwhatshehadreallysaidinthemeeting?
Richardpushedhischairacoupleofinchesawayfromthetablesothathecouldcrosshislong,leftlegoverhisrightthigh.“Hazelmentionedsomethingtomeinprivaterecently.Somethingthathasbeenhappeningtoyouherethatis,Imustsay,deeplydisturbing.AndIwantedtoknowifyou’dliketotalkaboutit.Thefloorisyours.”
Nellasatupinherchair.“Disturbing?”
“Yes.Now,Iknowthismightmakeyouuncomfortable,whichiswhyIdidn’twanttogetVerainvolved.Notunlessyouexplicitlytellmethatyouwantmeto.”
“I’mnotsurewhatyou’re…”Nellastoppedherself.Reliefwashedoverher,followedbytrepidation,thenanger.Hazelhadopenedhermouthagain.“Youmeanthenotes.”
Richardrestedhiselbowonhisthigh,cuppinghisfacewiththepalmofhishand.Hestaredatherexpectantlyinthispositionforanunbearableamountoftimewithoutsayingaword.“Canyoutellmewhatthosenotessaid,exactly?Doyouremember?”
Nellaclosedhereyes.Ithadbeenalittlewhilesinceshe’dreadthem—sinceshe’devenhadtimetoreallythinkaboutthem.Buthowcouldsheforget?“Thefirstonesaid‘LeaveWagnernow.’Andtheothersaidsomethinglike‘Thelongeryoustay,theharderitis.Leave.’?”She’dleftoutthebitaboutthephonenumberonpurpose,awareofhowpooritlookedthatshehadanactualphonenumberbuthadn’treportedittothepolice.
Richardshookhishead.“Andtheyweren’tsigned?”
“Nope,”shesaid,surprisedandalittlepleasedbyhowdisgustedhesounded.“Notsigned.Justleftbymydesk.”
“Mygod!”Richardsaid,banginghisfistonthetable.“Cowardlyfuckers.”
Nellastaredathispink,pinchedface,intriguedatthisnewandunfamiliarversionofWagner’seditorinchief.Shehadneverheardthemanswearbefore,andtheexpletivedidn’tquitemeshwithhisavocado-coloredcashmeresweater.
“Haveyoutoldanybodyabouttheseletters?”heasked.“BesidesHazel,ofcourse.”
Sheshookherhead.
“No?Haveyoutweetedaboutit,oranything?Ortoldanyofyourfriendswhomighthavewrittenaboutit?”
“Sorry—what?”askedNella,genuinelyconfused.“No,Ihaven’ttoldanyone.WhatdidHazeltellyou?”
“Nevermind.Don’tworryaboutit,”Richardsaidquickly.Hevisiblysoftened.“CanIseethem?”
“Seewhat?”
“Theletters.I’dliketoseethem.”
“Well,they’remore‘notes’thantheyare‘letters.’?”
Richardpeeredather,curious.Itseemedasthoughhewantedtocommentonthedistinction,oratherneedtomakethedistinction,buthesaidnothing.
“It’sbeenalmosttwomonthssinceIgotthelastone,andIgotridofthem,actually,”Nellaadded,slidingoneofherownlegsovertheotherasthelieslippedseamlesslybetweenherteeth.She’dactuallyputthenotesinthepocketofaraincoatthathunginthebackofhercloset.Thisexplanationjustfeltmucheasier.
“Well,inanyevent,IwantyoutoknowthatwehavezerotoleranceforthatkindofbehaviorhereatWagner.Doyouunderstand?”
“Yes.”
“Natalieislookingintoitaswespeak.Startingtomorrow,she’llbegintalkingtothemailstaffonebyone.”
“Oh.Thanks,Richard.Ireallyappreciatethat.”Nellaputherpendown,whichsherealizedshe’dbeenclickingandunclickingnervouslyinherlap.ShethoughtofC.J.,withhiswide,unassumingsmileanddisarmingvelvetycharm.ThemailroomwasfilledwithC.J.s—kind,helpfulpeoplewhokepttheirheadsdownandtheireyesaverted.Theyallhaddifferentoriginstories,butalmosteverymailroomstaffmemberhadskinthatfellsomewhereinthebrownportionofthecolorwheel.Theyallknewher,too.MaybenotaswellasC.J.,butwellenoughtogreether.“But,withallduerespect,Idon’tthinkanyoneonthemailstaffisresponsibleforthoseletters.”
Richardshrugged.“Maybenot.Buttheymightrecallsomeonehandingthemthoseenvelopestogivetoyou.”
“Iguessthat’spossible.”
“Well,then.”Richardpausedtoremovehistortoiseshellglassesandholdthemuptothelight.Herubbedatsomethingonhislenseswithhisthumbbeforeputtingthembackon.“I’mgladwehadthischat,andthatyou’reawarewe’reonit.Soundsgood?”
“Soundsgood,”agreedNella.“Thanks.”
“Ofcourse.And,onemorething,betweenyouandme:Therearegoingtobesomechangesaroundhere.”
Nellastiffened.“Changes?”sheasked,hermindimmediatelygoingtothatlistofBlacknamesshe’dfoundontheprinter.
“Changes.Inthenextmonthorso,NataliewillbesendingoutanemailtoeveryoneontheWagnerstaffreintroducingaseriesofDiversityTownHalls.Theywillbemandatoryforallemployees.”
Hazel’sdoing.“That’swonderful,”shesaidrobotically,tryingtosuppressherannoyance,eventhoughitreallywaswonderful.
“Isn’tit?It’llbeanexcellentwayforusto…totalktooneanother.”Richardputhishandsonthetableandpushedhimselfontohisfeet.“DoyouseewhatImean?Ifeellikethere’snotenoughtalkinghappeninghere.We’retalking.Sure.Butwe’renottalking.Ifweweretalking,Idon’tthinkyou’dbereceivingnotesliketheonesyou’vebeenreceiving.Yousee?”
Nellashrugged.Somethingabouthisfixationonthenotesandthetalkingwasmakingherfeelrestless.Hisfixationongettinghertoagreewithhimdidn’tsittoowell,either.“Gotit.”
“Ihaveanotherchangeforyou,too.It’sanevenbiggerpieceofnewsthatI’dlikeyoutokeepprivate.Doyoupromiseme?”
“Sure.”Acrampwassettlingintoherneckfromallofthenoddingshewasdoing,butshekeptatitanyway.
“Theprofound,inimitableJesseWatsoniscomingintotheofficetomeetwithafewofusnextweek.AndI’dlikeyoutobeoneofthefolkswhomeetshim.”
Fortheteeniestamountoftime,Nellaforgottoinhaleandexhaleatareasonablerate.The“profound”JesseWatson?“He’s…he’scominghere?”
“Indeed.Youhaveheardofhim,yes?”
Nellanodded.“Ihave.Ijustthoughthewas…um…takingabreakfromthespotlight.”
“Hewas.Hehasbeen.HeandHazelhappentoshareamutualacquaintance,though—smallworld,isn’tit?—andshegleanedthatthishiatushascomefromhisdesiretofinallywriteabook.He’sbeenwantingtoforquitesometime,and,well…onethingledtoanother,andnowwehaveameetingwithhimbeforealltheotherpublishinghouseshaveevenhadthechancetothinkaboutcontactinghim.”
OffuckingcourseHazelknowshim,thoughtNellapetulantly,childishly.Foramoment,thatwastheonlypieceofinformationshe’dgleanedfromRichard’sstatement.“Smallworld,indeed.”
Richardstudiedherforafewmoments,tryingtoreadherblankexpression.“Ifyoudon’tmindmebeingsoblunt,I’dsayyouseemabsolutelystupefied,Nella.You’dliketomeethim,wouldn’tyou?Surely,amanlikethat,ofhiscaliber—”
“Ofcourse.I’dlovetomeethim.Jessejustseemslike…howdoIputthis…”
“Iknowexactlywhatyou’rethinking,”saidRichard,asmall,knowingsmileplayingacrosshisface.“Youthinkhe’stooyoungandhipforus.Igetthat.”
MoreliketooBlack,shethought,recallingthetimeVerahadcalledJessean“emotionalterrorist.”ShewassurprisedRicharddidn’tfeelthesameway;thenagain,hisinterestinJessedidsupportherBlackmistresstheory.
“Iknow—thiswholethingisunconventional.Allthecontroversiessurroundingthisyoungman…”Richardshookhishead.“He’ssoyoung.Sooutspoken.ButlikeIsaid:Therearegoingtobelotsofchangesoccurringaroundhere.Andwhoknows—wecouldhaveourownbestselleronourhandswiththisguy.Andyou…”RichardpointedatNella.“You,NellaRogers,haveanopportunitytobeapartofthat.You’lljoinus,yes?”
“Ofcourse,”Nellasaidwarmly.Shewasfeelingfarmorerevitalizedbythisconversationthanshe’dexpectedto.“WouldIbeabletoworkonthisbookmyself?Asin…betheeditor?”
Richardnodded.“VeraandIhavetalkedaboutitasanoption.Andwebothagreeyou’vedonemorethanenoughtoproveyourself.”
Finally!Hehadn’ttoldhershewasbeingpromoted,butshecouldalreadyseeherselfloggingintoherLinkedInpageandupdatinghertitleto“AssistantEditor.”Sheonlyhadabouttwentycontactsonit,butshecouldchangethat.Maybeshe’daddLenajusttoremindhersheexisted—andtoremindherhowtospellhername.
Shebeamed.“I’m—wow.Iwouldbehonored.Thankyou,Richard!”
“However,”Richardsaid,straighteninghiscollar,“wewouldberemissnottogiveHazelanopportunity,too.Sincesheintroducedustohiminthefirstplace,ofcourse.”
Nella’ssmilevanished.Shewouldn’thavebeenmoresurprisedifRichardhadpickeduponeofthechairsandthrownitather.ButHazelpracticallyjustgothere!shewantedtoscream.ItooktheinitiativeandemailedJesse,andI’vebeenwantingthisforever!
Forafleeting,rage-filledinstant,sheenvisionedpickingupthechairherself.Butshepushedthefantasyaway,scareditmightcometofruitionthewayheroutburstminutesearlierhad.
“So,then…what?We’llbecoeditors?”
“Let’snotconcernourselvestoomuchwith‘editorthis’and‘editorthat,’?”Richardsaid.“We’llseehowthemeetinggoes,alright?SeehowJessefeelsusout.There’sachancehemightevenwantamoreseasonededitor—maybemyself,maybeVera.Maybehe’llgowithanotherpublishinghouse.Or,there’sachancehe’snotreadytodoabookatall.Youknowhowitiswiththesekindsofthings.Alwaysunpredictable.”
Nellatriedtokeepherfaceasimpartialaspossible,eventhoughhislackadaisicaltoneaboutsomethingascareer-makingasthisirkedher.Nothingneededtobethatunpredictable.RichardhadthepowertopickherorHazel;itwasthatsimple.
Richardpushedhimselfbackfromthetablewithaself-satisfiedsenseoffinality.“Well—Ihavetorunintoanothermeeting,”hesaid,standing,“butIhopethistimehasbeenusefultoyou.Iwantedtoletyouknoweverythingthat’sbeenhappeningbehindthescenes,one-on-one.”
NellaclenchedherfistsinherlapasshewatchedRichardstridetowardthedoor,willinghimtomovefaster.Heneededtobegone,now,soshecouldfumeinpeace.Hishandwasonthedoorknobwhenhepausedandturnedtoaddressheroncemore.“Oh.Andonelastthing,Nella.IstillrememberwhenyoutoldmeabouthowyouwantedtobethenextKendraRaeallthosemoonsago—andIthinkthatyou’rewellonyourway.”
Sheswallowed.“Youdo?”
“Ican’thelpbutthinkofherwhenIseehowhardyou’vebeenworking,”saidRichard.“Howattentiveyou’vebeentodetail.AndI’llsaythat…”Heshookhisheadthoughtfully,closinghiseyes.“IhadachatwithVeratheotherdayaboutgivingyouapromotioninthenextfewweeksorso.”
“Youdid?”Nellaasked,unabletoconcealherastonishment.BetweenRichard’sputtingHazelonanequalpedestaltoher,andherlastfewweeksatWagner,shehadn’tfeltlikeanyonethoughtshe’dbeendoingagoodjobatall,despitehowmuchofhersociallifeshe’dgivenup,anddespitehowquicklysheansweredthephone(animpressive90percentmid-first-ringrate).She’devenquietlyfixedafewcatastrophicproductionissues,thenpreventedtheknowledgeoftheirexistencefromeverreachingVeraatall.Shefelt—ifshecouldbesoproud—liketheunsungheroofpublishingatthemoment.
Butthesemeasureshardlycomparedwithhersurrenderingatyped-upapologytoColinFranklin.Suchanacthadtakenanextremeamountofwillpower,sinceitstilldidn’tfeelnecessarytoNella—butshe’ddoneit.SimplybecauseVerahadaskedherto.
ExceptVerahadbarelybattedaneyeattheextensionofanolivebranch.Itwasn’tlikeNellaexpectedtogetpointsforputtinghertailbetweenherlegs—noYay!You’veputyourprideasidetomakethisprojectmorebearableforeveryone,exceptforyou—butshehadexpectedsomekindofproverbialpatontheback;attheveryleast,athank-you.Instead,Verahadsaid,“Great,”thenhandedheryetanotherfour-hundred-pagemanuscripttoreadinunderforty-eighthours.
Aftermonthsofgivingeverythingtothisjob,shestillfeltasthoughsheweredoomed,stuckinassistantpurgatoryforever,likeDonald.Shecouldseeherfuturespreadingoutrightthereinfrontofher—blotchyandprecariousandfilledwithWhileYouWereOutslips—andshehatedhowlittlecontrolshefeltlikeshehadoveranyofit.
Butnow,herewasRichard,smilingthatdazzlingsmile,tellingherhethoughtthatyes,shewasdeservingofapromotion.Andalsodeserving—possibly—ofworkingwithJesse.Ifnotdirectly,thenatleastmeetinghim.
ShewasstillsearchingforsomethingtosaywhenRichardspokeagain.
“Youknow,weseeagreatdealofamazingthingsinyourfuture,Nella.Wevalueyouaspartoftheteam,too,anditwouldbeashameforyoutoleaveusjustbecausewehaveonebadapple.”
Nellafrowned,confused.“What?Leave?”
“Imean—I’mnotsayingwewantyoutoleave,”saidRichard,quickly.“Iwasjustsayingthatgettingletters—noteslikethose—mightmakeyouwantto.That’sall.”
“Oh…butI’mnot—”
“Justpromiseyou’llletmeknowifyougetanyotherthreateningletters.Alright?”
“Um…”Nellasquirmeduncomfortablyinherseat.“Alright.”
“Andplease—ifyoudogetmore,don’tthrowthemout.Givethemtomeinstead.Andifshe—sorry,thispersoncontactsyouinanyotherway—email,text,whathaveyou—wemightbeabletousetheminourinvestigation.”Richardchuckledtohimself.“?‘Investigation.’Listentome.Mr.Murder,SheWroteoverhere.ButyouknowwhatImean.Right?”
“Sure.Iknowwhatyoumean.”Nellastoodup,too.
“Good.”Richardstrodeovertoherandgaveherhandashake.“We’llbeintouchsoonaboutallthatpromotionbusiness;wejustneedtogetallourducksinarowbeforewegoforwardwiththeofficialtitlechange.”
Nellabrightened,evenasRichard’scold,damphandsqueezedthelifeoutofherown.“Soundsgreat.”
“Nicechattingwithyou,asalways,Nella.Anddoremember:thiswholeconversation—Jesse,theletters,thepromotion—”
“Betweenus.”
Richardbowed.“Untilnexttime.”
Nellawasstillnoddingevenaftershe’dbeenleftalonewithherthoughts.Shecaughtherselfmid-bob,mildlyembarrassedandmajorlyinpainasshepawedafewtimesatthecrampthatnowstretchedbeyondherneckanddowntoherrightshoulderblade.ThenshepulledoutherphonetoGoogle“WagnerBooks.”Thankfully,noop-edsaboutheremployercameup,onlyafewsocialmediapostsaboutbooksthathadbeenpublishedrecently.
Nellaexhaledslowly,thewaveofreliefwashingoverherlikearayofsunshine.Butsuchlight,sheknew,couldbefleeting—soshesetaGooglealertforhernamerightthenandthere.Justincase.
14
October20,2018
“Nala?”Thebaristastaredather,wide-eyedbeneathhisbangs,hismarkerpoisedtentativelyoverawhitepapercup.“LikeTheLionKing?Cool!”
Nellashiftedherweighttoherotherboot.“Notquite.Nella.”
“Bella?Sorry.”Hestartedtowrite.
“No.SortoflikeBella.Butwithan‘N.’?”
Heblinkedather.“Okay.So,Mella,”hesaid,crossingoutthe“B.”“That’sacoolname,too.Iguess.”
“Actually…”Nellapaused.HardlyanyonecouldbeheardoverthesoundofChristmasmusicthat—inNella’sopinion—hadnobusinessplayinginmid-October.Behindher,adouble-deckerstrollercontinuedtobumpagainstthebackofherlegs,pressingherclosertothecounter.Shewasn’tsurewhyshewasspendingsomuchtimeputtingthepoorguythroughthisnamethingwhenhehadalreadytakenherorder.HisonlyjobwastodefendthatparticularMidtownStarbucksfromtouristriffraffandthecrazypeoplewhowentintoworkonSaturdays.
Nella,amemberofthelattercamp,conceded.“Mellaworks.Thanks.”
Shescurriedoutofthewayofanotherpotentialstrollerhit,scouringforasafeplacetowaitforherlatte.Nellacouldn’trememberthelasttimeshe’dseenthecoffeeshopsocrowded…butthenagain,itwasaparticularlychillyday,theholidayswererapidlyapproaching,andtheHeraldSquareMacy’swasameresixblocksaway.ShesupposedthatthiswaswhatshedeservedforleavingBrooklynonaSaturday.
“Logan!VentichaitealattenofoamonthebarforLogan!”
Apetiteblondewomaninabeigefurcoatsteppedforwardtoclaimthecup.Hertrappingsswishedvigorouslyasshestormedout,apparentlymiffedthatshe’dhadtowaitatallforanythinginMidtownonaweekend.
Nellapulledouthertabletandstartedtoread,sothatshewouldn’tbecomeoneofthosepeoplewhofelttheirimportanttimehadbeenwasted.Shehadn’tfinishedafullpagewhenshefeltataponhershoulder.
“Excuseme,miss?”
Nellaturnedaround.Atall,broad-shoulderedBlackmaninagreenparkaholdinganicedcoffeewaslookingdownather.Shedecidedinamatterofsecondsthathewasprobablyinhislatethirtiesand,asshetookinhiskindeyesandhisbeardedface,fairlyattractive.Anaddedpluswasthathe’delectedtopullhisblacksockcapallthewaydownoverhisears,ratherthanletithangoffhisheadlikeacarelesshipster.Shewasn’tsureifsheknewhimfromsomewhere,althoughhedidlookanawfullotlikeMarvinGayeinhisWhat’sGoingOnphase.
Whenitbecameclearhewasn’tgoingtosayanything,shesmiledandasked,tepidly,“Yes?”
“Sorry,”hesaidshyly,runningahandalongthebackofhisneck.“You’rejust…sobeautiful.Wow.”
AflashofheatflaredbeneathNella’sturtleneck.“Oh,”shesaid,asthoughpeopletoldherthisincoffeeshopsallthetime.“Thanks?”
Hecockedhisheadatherandstoppedsmilingonlylongenoughtotakeasipofhisicedcoffee.Hispearlywhiteteethresurfacedassoonasthestrawlefthismouth.“Youareverywelcome.So,uh.Anyway,Ijustwantedtosay…well,thatyou’rebeautiful.Andalso—Ithinkyoudroppedthis.”
Sheheldoutherhand.HedroppedaStarbucksnapkininit.
“Youhaveagoodday,now,”themansaidwithawink.Thenheturnedandpushedhiswaytowardthedoor.
“Thanks?”Nellarepeated.Shelookeddownatthepapernapkin,preparedtocrumbleitupandthrowitinthetrash.Butthenshenoticedninedigitsandthreedashes.
DidthatguyjustaskmeoutonaStarbucksnapkin?Shefeltbothalittlebithorrifiedandalittlebitthrilledatthethoughtofit.ShetriedtofindthetallBlackmanagain.Hewasnowwalkingtothedoor,pullingitopen,squeezinghiswaynotimpolitelythroughafamilyoftourists.Malaikawouldlovethisstory,sheknew.She’dtellOwen,too—exceptmaybeshe’ddownplayhisattractiveness.Justalittlebit.
Nellalookedatthenapkinagain,expectingtogetonelastlaughbeforeshewentbacktoherreading,butwhatshesawturnedherbloodcold.Somehow,before,she’dmissedthewordsthathadbeenwrittenabovethephonenumberinallcaps:
WAGNER’SDANGEROUS.YOU’RERUNNINGOUTOFTIME.
Nellastaredatthefirstthreedigitsofthephonenumber,preparedtoseethenumberthatshe’dcalleduplastmonth.Buttheareacodewasdifferent:617.ThiswasaMassachusettsareacode,afactshe’dinvoluntarilycommittedtomemoryafterabriefflingwithanMITgradbackinherearlyNYCdays.
So,thiswasn’tthesamepersonshe’dspilledhersoulouttolastmonth.Presumably,anyway.
Unlesswhoeverhadbeenfollowingherhadsimplychangedphonenumbers.
ShecranedhernecktoseeifMarvinGaye’sdoppelgangerwasstilloutside,watchingher.Washethepersonwho’dbeenfollowingherthisentiretime?Butallshecouldseewerestreamsofbundled-uptouristsmovingdownthesidewalk,holdinghands,swingingshoppingbags,staringdownatcellphonescreens.TheBlackmanwasnowhereinsight.
Nellaturnedbackaround,awashwithreliefthatalmostinstantlyebbedintofear.Shewantedtoseesomeonewatchingher.Shewantedanswers.Ithadbeenweekssinceshe’dreceivedanote,andshe’dbeennaiveenoughtothinkthatcallingthatnumberlasttimemeanttheletterswouldcease.Butnowthatshe’dreceivedanotherone—no,notreceived,ithadpracticallybeenthrowninherface—shefeltlikeastone-coldfool.
Thiswasgettingridiculous.Thatguywasnoraciststalker.Hewastheguyyoucalledwhenyouneededprotectionfromaraciststalker.Hereallyseemedtobe…warningher.
Nellapulledouthercellphoneandquicklytypedoutanewtextmessage.Shehadtooutrunherotherself—theNellawhohadsense;theNellawhowouldremindherthatshe’dseenfartoomanyhorrorfilmsandepisodesofDatelinewithgirl-being-stalkedplotlinestoletherselfwalkwillinglyintoatrap.
Whoareyou?
Themessageturnedblue.Threegraydotssignalingaresponseappearedalmostimmediatelybeneathit.
I’lltellyouifyoumeetmeinforty-five.100th&Broadway.
Youcouldn’tjusttalktomeatStarbucks?Nellawroteback.
Thereweretoomanyeyesandearsthere.Andthatwasmyfriend,notme.So,100th&Broadway.Cool?
Stupid.Itwouldbestupidtogo.Nellacouldn’tbelieveshe’deventextedthisstrangerwithouttryingtofigureouthowtoblockherownnumberfirst.Whoeverwasfollowinghernowhadgonethroughallthistroubletogetherphonenumber,andnowtheyhadit.WhateverupperhandNella’dhadwasgone.Goingtomeetthispersonwouldn’tjustbestupid;itwouldbeidiotic
Andyet.
Shebitherlip.Typedafewletters,deletedthose,thentypedsomemore.Canyouatleasttellmewhatthisisabout?!shefinallytyped.
Oncemore,thegraydotsmaterializedinstantly.Butthentheyweregone.
“Comeon,”whisperedNella.Shegaveherphoneoneviolentshake,asthoughthatmighthelpekeoutananswer.Butnodots.Noluck.
Nellathrewherphoneinherbag,readytostepoutontothesidewalkandinhalesomenecessarybreathsofsweetfallair.Herfingerswereonthehandlewhenshefeltthesmallpulseofanewmessage:
Hername’snotHazel.
Shani
October20,2018
AsIturnedontoBroadway,tryingtoscrapemywaythroughdrovesofzigzaggingtourists,aturbulentsuccessionofthoughtspoppedtothesurfaceofmybrain:Idon’tneedtobeahero.Idon’tneedNella’ssideofthings,either.Icangohomerightnow,disappearfromeverybody,andstillwriteanentirefuckingexposé.
Ishould’vebeengrateful.IowedLynn.TheonlythingthathadmadeBostonbearablewasCooper’s;withoutthatjob,IwouldhaveholedmyselfupinmyapartmentwithabottleofJackandabowlofReese’sPuffs.
ButI’dhadenough.HowcouldIsitbackandletNellamakethesamemistakesomanyotherBlackgirlshadmade,especiallynowthatI’dmetKendraRae?
Iwatchedtheredhandstopblinking,pausedattheedgeofthecrosswalk,andrecalledthatpleadinglookI’dseenonKendraRae’sfacehoursearlier.IthadbeenenoughtoconvincemenottoleaveNewYork.Notyet.
Butitwasthissamelook—thelookthatpushedmetogorogueandtextNellathismorning,despiteLynn’sorders—thatmademelikewisewanttohoponthenextbusbacktoBoston:Troubledbrowneyesturneddownattheedges.Cornersofherlipsturneddown,too.Nodoubtaboutit,KendraRaestilllookedgood—no,great—forherage.Butthere’dbeenalightmissing.Somethingwasoffinsideher,andthissomethinghadcausedhertospendmorethanthirty-fiveyearsinhiding.
Icouldseetheheadlinetrendingnow—somethingcleverabouttheriverofUncleTomsflowingbeneaththeshiny,plasticsurfaceofcorporatewhiteAmerica.ThatarticlecouldbemygatewaytotellingKendraRae’sstorynext—astoryofbetrayalnotjustbyafriend,butbyanentireindustry.
Thesymbolabovechangedtoawhiteman.Iforcedmyselftokeepwalking,butmylegsfeltlikelead.Behindme,ayoungHispanicwomanwhothoughtI’dbeenmovingtooslowlymutteredsomethingprofaneunderherbreathasshepassedmeby.I’dcommittedtheultimateNewYorkCitysin.
Thethoughtmademelaughoutloud—tomyself,tonoone.Sins.WhatdidIknowaboutsins?Nothing.
Now,KendraRae—thatwomanknewaboutsins.She’dcommittedoneoftherealultimatesinsbytryingtobeherself:Black.Unapologetic.Someonewhotolditlikeitwas.SomeonewhorejectedwhatwasexpectedofherasaBlackwomaninapredominantlywhiteindustry.
Thethoughtofitstillgotme.Whataboss.Whoelsetellsaninterviewerthatshe’llneverworkwithanotherwhitewriter,rightwhenherstarisstartingtorise?
Shewasgrinningwhenshe’dhandedmethearticleclipping.Likeshewasproud.Icouldn’thelpbutsmilealittle,too,asI’dstartedreadingaloud:“?‘I’mtiredofworkingwithwhitewriters.Ihateit.We’vehadenoughofthem.Nooffensetoanyofthem,butIdon’tneedawhitescholartellingmeabouttheGreatMigration.Idon’tneedaJewishmantellingmewhyMileswasthegreatestjazzmusicianeveralive,orwhyBlackpeopleeatblack-eyedpeasandcornbreadandcollardgreensonNewYear’sDay.Idon’tneedanyofthat.’?”
I’dlookedupatKendraRaeonceI’dfinishedreading,thebrown,fadedpieceofnewspaperthreateningtodisintegrateinmyhands.WhileI’dbeenreading,she’dgrabbedacopyofBurningHeartfromtheshelfandstartedgoingthroughit,turningitspageswithoneneat,short,unpaintedindexfingernail.She’dbecomesoengrossedthatshehadn’tnoticedIwasreadytospeakagain,soI’dtakenabreathandsaid,quietlysoasnottostartleher,“Wasthistakenoutofcontext?”
“Notreally.”KendraRaehadn’tlookedup.
“Oh.Well…thisseemsprettymildbytoday’sstandards…butI’mpresumingreadersweren’ttoocrazyaboutitbackthen?”
Lynnhadscoffed.“Theyweren’t.NooneatWagnerBooksappreciatedit,either.”She’dwalkedovertothecouchwithtwosteamingmugsandsetthemdownonthesmallcoffeetable.“TellheraboutDiana,ifyou’refeelinguptoit?”
“Wait.DianaGordonisinvolvedinthis,too?”Icouldn’timaginethebeautiful,enigmaticauthorfromthebillboardsadvertisingherlatestbestseller-turned-featurefilmbeinginvolvedinsuchanefariousoperation.
“Wegoback.Friendssincewewereyoungerthanyouladiesare.ButthenightIleft,IheardDianatalkingonthephoneaboutsomethingImanisaid.”
“Imani’sanotherchildhoodfriendoftheirs,”Lynnhadsaid.
“Soyouthinkshe…?”
KendraRaehadpursedherlipsandshakenherhead.“Thatchangeyou’veallbeenseeinghappentoourkind?Ithinksomeonechangedher,too.”She’dtakenaquicksipofhercoffee.“IthinkitwasRichard—he’sthemanDianawastalkingtoonthephone.That’stheonlyexplanationIcanthinkofforwhyshewouldtrytodothattome.Andwhyshewouldn’tbeseenwithmeinpublicafterwhatIsaid.”
“RichardWagnerwasKenny’sboss,”Lynnhadsaid,beforeIcouldask.“Andhe’sNella’sbossnow.I’dbeensensingtherewassomethingbehindtheconnectionbetweenDianaandRichard—he’salwaysatherfunctionsandshowsupinheracknowledgmentsfartoofrequently.”
I’dblinked.Hazelwastoxic;thatmuchI’dknown.ButIhadn’tknownRichardWagnerandDianawere,too.Whataboutmybosses?HadAnnahadahandinwhathappenedatCooper’s?Hadeveryonebeeninonitexceptme?“Whydidn’tyoutellmeaboutanyofthisbefore?”
“BecauseIwasn’tonehundredpercentsurebeforeKendraRaeconfirmedtheconnection.Plus,Ididn’twantyoutogooffandtellNellasomethingonlyforustofindoutNellaisworkingontheotherside.Andshestillcan’tknowanything,”Lynnhadrushedtosay.
“Youdidn’ttrustme,”I’dsaid,hurt.
“Don’tdothat,Shani.Youknewwhatthiswas:aneed-to-know-basis.I’mtellingyounowbecauseyouneedtoknow.”
I’dturnedbacktoKendraRae.Thiswasn’tthetime.“Andyouguysthinkhe’stheonewho’sbeenbehindallofthis?”
“Itwouldn’tsurprisemeintheleast,”KendraRaehadsaid.
I’dthoughtofDianaagain.I’donlyreadanearliernovelofhers,sincemostpeopleagreedherstorylineswerebecomingmorecontrivedwitheachnewbooksheputout.ButtheoneI’dread—acoming-of-agestoryaboutBlackfriendshipthatspannedfortyyears—hadbeensorawandsomovingthatithadmademecryonabus.
MyvoicehadbeenhopefulwhenI’duseditagain,morelikeachild’sthanmyown.“ButwhywouldDianadothat?”I’daskedher.“Didn’tyousayshewasyourbestfriend?”
Theultimatesin.
Shehadn’tusedthosewordstodescribewhatDianahadtriedtodotoher,butIdidn’tneedtoknowallthattoknowwhatI’dseeninhereyes.Thatherbestfriend,bestsellingauthorDianaGordon,hadcommittedtheultimatesin.
AtruckblareditshornataSeamlessdeliverypersonwho’dstrayedoutofthebikelane.Ilookedupattheneareststreetsign,thosethreewordsreverberatinginmybrain.Somehow,I’dmanagedtogetto100thStreetwithoutnoticing.Itwastoolatetoturnbacknow,evenifIdidfeelsick.Andafraid.Whatif,oneday,IshoweduptoJoe’sandLynnhadbeenturned?ThenwhatwouldIdo?WouldIevenknowrightaway?
Icouldn’tsitbackandwatchthishappentoanotherperson.IhadtotellNella.Besides,Lynnhadalreadysaidherselfthatshedidn’ttrustme.
Isurveyedthesidewalk,butshewasnowhereinsight,soImovedtotheside,pushingmyselfupagainsttheglasswindowofastoreonthecornersoIwouldn’tbeintheway.ThenIunbuttonedmyblacktrenchcoat,afeebleattempttocoolthingsdownabit.Butitwastoolateforthat.Thespacebetweenmybreastshadgrownsweatytothepointofnoreturn.Myinsidesfeltasthoughtheywereswallowingthemselves.
I’mlosingit,Ithought,butIrealizedinstantlythatthatwasn’ttrue.I’dfinallyfoundit.ThiswastheclearestI’dseeninmonths.
IwasplanningoutmyarticlepitchtoNellawhenmyphonestartedtobuzz.ThinkingitwasNella,Ipulleditoutimmediately,preparedtosayI’llbetheresoon.Butitwasn’tNella.ItwasLynn.Callingme.
Hervoicesoundedfaraway.“Shani!Whatthehellareyoudoing?”
Fuck.
“Nothing.I’mjust…”
“You’retryingtomeetNella,aftereverythingwetoldyou?Whatthehell,”sherepeated.
Iwhirledaroundthestreet,disoriented.“What?Howdoyouknowthat?”Isaid,eventhoughIknewimmediatelyWillhadtalked.NeverinamillionyearswouldhesidewithmeoverLynn.Lynnwasblood.“Doyouhavesomeonefollowingmeorsomething?”
“Yes,”Lynnhissed,“andyou’reluckyIdo.Youneedtogoblacknow.Irepeat,goblack.You’reonyourown.”
Shit.“No!”Isaid,asobclawingitswaythroughmythroat.“Youcan’tjustleavemeoutherelikethis,Lynn.C’mon!”
“Goblack!”Lynnshoutedagain.“Kenny’saroundthecorner.Just—”
Reluctant,butwithnootherchoice,Islippedmycellintoanearbyopengarbagecan,pivotingtorun.Butatsomepointduringthecall,acarhadpulledup.Ihadn’tnoticedthesoftclickofacardooropening,orthesubtlestepsofshoesagainstthepavement.Ionlyfeltthefirmhandtakeholdofmyarmandyankmehardintothebackseat.
15
October20,2018
Nellaknewshewasabouttenminutesearlywhenshearrivedatthemeetingspot,butshecheckedherphoneagainanyway.Nervoushabit.So,too,wasthewayshekeptpacingonthesidewalk,spendingtensecondsoverhere,thenfifteenoverthere.Facingsouth,thennorthasanicywindwhippedpiecesofherafrointohereyes.
ThoseboredenoughtonoticeNellafromtherestaurantwindowbehindherprobablyassumedshewasuptonogood,ormaybejustalittlebitoff.AndNellawouldn’thavearguedwithanyofthem.Shefeltlikeamadwoman.Peoplewerebustlingbyherandshekeptlookingeverysingleoneofthemintheeye,desperately.Manyofthemignoredher.Mostgaveherdirtylooks.Onemanwearingaseeminglyinnocuoustie-dyedbandannaspatonthesidewalkinfrontofherandgrowled,“Getthefuckoutofmyface,bitch.”
Nellatookthislastinteractionasasign.ShetextedMalaikatoletherknowthatthemysterypersonhadn’tshownupyet.
Good!!!Nowgothefuckhome.Seriously.You’reactingcrazy.
NellastaredatMalaika’swordsforafewmoments,lettingthemsinkin.Crazy.Yes.Whatwasshegoingtodo—fightwhoeverhadbeenterrorizinghertheselastfewweeks?SherememberedC.J.’sbewilderedexpressionwhenhe’daskedherthisveryquestionthatmorningshetoldhimaboutthenotes.Shewasn’tthinkinglogically.Outhere,shewasasittingduck.Ifitwasamanipulativemonsterwho’dbeensendinghernotes,wouldn’tshebescrewed?
Nellalookedaround,eyeingtheconveyorbeltofpeoplenexttoher.Thensheturnedandquicklyduckedintotherestaurantshe’dbeenpacinginfrontof.
Therestaurant’sbrightyellowwallsandthesmellofhamburgermeatdidn’tespeciallyputheratease,butshepulledoutoneofthehighstoolsfacingthewindowanywayandtookaseat.Toherright,acoupleofguyswho’dbeenwatchingherconspicuouslyshiftedtheirattentionbacktotheirhamburgersandwhetherornotRobhadheardbackfromhislandlordyet.
Nellasighedandbracedherselfforatleasteightmoreminutesofthisconversation,keepinghereyestrainedonthespotwheresheherselfhadjustbeenstanding.
Butitwouldn’tbethatlong.LessthanaminutehadpassedwhenshenoticedayoungBlackwomanamblinguptothecornerof100thandBroadway.Shewastall,closetosixfeet,andherskinwasanunusualshadeofcopper.
AnuncannyboltoffamiliaritystruckNellasquarebetweentheeyes.Thiswasthewomanshehadbeentexting.Ithadtobe.Itwasn’tjustthefactthatshe’dstoppedexactlywhereNellahadbeenstandingmeremomentsago,orthatshelookedmoredeterminedthananyoftheotherpeoplewhoweremillingaroundher.Itwasallthat,pairedwithalong,blackcalf-lengthcoatthathideverythingexceptfortwoblackpantlegsandapairofblackDocMartens.ThegirllookedlikeshewasonherwaytomeetBobbySeale.
ShealsolookedlikeshecouldhaveeasilykickedNella’sassifshewantedto.
“Hithere,ma’am.Howareyoutoday?”
Nellatorehereyesawayfromthesidewalk.Anolderwhitemaninanapronwaswipingdowntheemptyseatnexttoher,givingherabigWhyhaven’tyouboughtanythingyet?grin.“Hi,”shesaid,aftershe’dsecuredhersightsoncemoreonthegirloutside.“I’mfine,thanks.”
“JustwantedtoletyouknowrightnowwehaveaSaturdayspecialgoinguntilfourp.m.,”hesaid,“soyou’vegotabouttwentymoreminutesuntilthatends.”
“Thanks.I’mjustwaitingforafriend.Sheshouldbeherebeforethen.”
“Ofcourse.Wouldyouliketoseeamenuinthemeantime?”
“I—”Nellaglancedoveratthesidewalkagaintomakesurethatthegirlwasstillthere.Herbrainseizedwithfrustration,thenrelief,whenshesawthatshewas.“Sure,”shesaid,exhaling.
“Great.I’llberightback.Youorderupatthecounterwhenyou’reready.”
Themomenthedisappeared,shelookedthroughthewindowagainandnearlyfelloffherstool.Thegirlhadmovedfartherbackontothesidewalk—awayfromthestreet,andclosertoNella.Closeenoughthat,ifthereweren’tanyglassbetweenthem,shewouldhavebeenabletoreachoutandtouchthepinkscarthatranalongthebackofthisstranger’shead.
Nellaeasedforwardabittogetacloserlook.Thisscar,theshapeofasmallmoon…she’dseenitbefore.
Theystayedlikethisforalittlewhilelonger:Nellastaringatthebackofthisstranger’shead;thestrangerstaringoutintothestreet.Finally,afterwhatfeltlikeforever,thegirlpulledouthercellphone.Nellareachedforherownphone,expectingtoreceiveanannoyedtext.Buttohersurprise,itstayedquiet.
“Sorryforthedelay,ma’am.”Theapronedmanhadsuddenlyreappeared,afewmenusinhand.HeplacedtheminfrontofNellasogingerlythatitmadeherhearthurt.“Foryou.”
Nellatippedherheadgraciously.Still,shekepthereyesforward,tryingtoplacethescaronthebackofthisgirl’shead,tryingtoimaginewhothispersoncouldbetalkingto.Anaccomplice?Hazelherself?Reenergizedandfinallyreadyforsomeanswers,shedescendedherstoolandstrodetowardthedoor.Shekepthereyestrainedonthescar—until,allofasudden,thescarwasonthemove.
Nellapausedjustinsidethedoorwayoftherestaurant,shocked,asshewatchedtheyoungwomanquicklydropherphoneintoatrashcan.
Then,outofnowhere,therewasahand.
ABlackhand,attachedtowhatlookedlikeaBlackwoman,wearingwhatappearedtobeworkoutclothes.
ABlackhand,grabbingthegirl’sarmandpullingherfromthesidewalktothestreet,then,intothebackseatofablacksedan.
Andthen,justlikethat,thehand,thescar,andthegirlwereallgone.
PartIV
Diana
October22,2018
LockeHall,HowardUniversity
Washington,DC
Forawhile,Ithoughtshe’dkilledherself.
WhetherIbelievedthisforhersakeormine,Idon’tknow.IjustknowthatformonthsaftershedisappearedinDecemberof’83,Ihaddreamsofherdoingitwherevershewent—offthecoastofConnecticut,whereDickwassureshe’dgone,orthecoastofSouthCarolina,whereshe’dalwayswantedtolive.Wherevershe’dendedup,itdidn’tmatter.Iimaginedwaterbeinginvolved.AndIimaginedhergone.
Mymotherwoulddisownmeifsheheardthis,Godresthersoul,butItrulybelieveitwouldhavebeeneasierthatway.Ifshehaddoneit,thatwouldmeanshehadn’tseenhowmuchI’vegivenup.Itwouldmeanshehadn’treadthefluffI’vebeenwriting,simplybecauseIwanttostaynotjustfed,butwellfed.Itwouldmeanshehadn’tsufferedthroughthatBurningHeartmade-for-TVmoviethatInevershould’vesignedoffon.
Ibentmyheadbackward,consideringthenewsDickhadjustgivenme.So,Kennywasaliveandwellthiswholetime.She’dseenmedilutemyselfandmycareer.Evenworse,she’dreadwhatI’dtoldthatinterviewerin’84,theyearaftershevanished:“I’veknownKendraRaePhillipsasafriend—andsister—foryears.AndwhileIloveherdearly,Itrulybelieveshehasseverementalstabilityissues.Pleaseforgivemyfriendforanypainorhurtshehascausedyouall.Allwritersmatter.Allstoriesmatter.”
Dickcould’vebeenwrong.Ishouldcallhimbacktomakesure,Ithought.Buthe’dsoundedsosure.Imight’vehaditinthebackofmymindthatKennyhadbeendeadoverthelastthirtysomethingyears,butDickandIhadbeentryingtotrackherdown.Itwasonlynaturalthatwe’deventuallyfindher.
Thequestionwas—nowwhat?
Abellrangthroughmycomputerspeakers.ImanihadsentmeanemailwiththesubjectlineLOLhaveyouseenthis?
Iopenedit,inneedofalaugh,andsnortedwhenthepagefullyloaded:LongtimeEditorinChiefofWagnerBooksDonatesHeftyChunkofChangetoDiversityInitiative.Dickwasatitagain.Hehadalwaysbeenconcernedaboutoptics.Thatwastheonlyreasonhe’dbeensoinsistentuponkeepinganeyeoutforKendraRaeallthistime.Sheknewtoomuch.Shewasaliability.
IstudiedthephotoofDickandthatLeadConditionerwe’dredirectedfromCooper’stoWagnernotlongago.Thetwoofthemlookedprettycozy,andforaselfishsecond,IregrettednotgoinguptoNewYorkfortheeventeventhoughDickhadbeggedmetocome.Hemissedthesmellofmyskin,he’dtoldme,butwhatIreallyheardhimsaywas,Nowthatyourhusbandfinallyleftyou,wedon’thavetohideanymore.ThatwasDick—seizinganyopeninghecould.
Ipulledatoneofthedry,tinycoilsofhairnearmyearasIcontinuedtodissectthepicture.Dick’sshirtwasunbuttonedathirdofthewaydowninthepicture,thewayI’dtoldhimheshouldhaveitwheneverhewenttosocialfunctionsbecauseitmadehimlooklesslikeayuppie.WhenIfirstmetDickintheearlyeighties,he’dhaditbuttonedsotighthelookedlikehisheadmightpopoff.
Still,I’dfeltatinglewhenthatyuppietoldmehethoughtBurningHeartwasincredible,andI’dpracticallypassedoutwhenhesaidhebelievedmybook—mybook—couldchangetheworld.Beneaththetable,oneofhisblackandpositivelyexpensiveshoeshadrubbedagainstmybareankle.
Ihadn’tmindedit.I’donlypulledawaywhenhe’dadded,inbetweensipsofhiscognac,However,IthinkitwouldbebetterforbothofusifyouwentwithKendraRaeonthisone.
Sensingmydiscouragement,he’dgoneontosayhow“in”Blackauthorswere.He’dcitedAlexHaleyandAliceWalker.“Blackeverythingisin.LookwhatMichaelandQuincydid.Sowhydon’tweputyouwithaBlackeditor,too?”
Itwasn’tjustanyBlackeditortheyweregoingtoputmewith.Itwasmyverybestfriend—someoneI’dknownandtrustedforyears.Still,I’dbeenskeptical,becauseI’dcaredaboutoptics,too.ThatwaswhyIhadtriedsohardtogetDicktochangehismind.Itwasn’tanythingpersonalagainstKenny;itwasjustthatshe’dstillbeensonewtothepublishingworld.Onlythreebooksunderherbelt,noneofwhosenamesIremembernow.Whywouldn’tIwanttogoallthewaytothetopwithsomeonelikeDick,someonewhobecamealegendbythirtyandknewallthebellsandwhistlesofpublishing?OnceIgotthere,IknewI’dbeabletobringKennyrightonupwithme.
Thatwasn’thowitquitehappened,though.Tomysurprise,Dickhadbeenright.KennyandIwereperfectlyfineonourown.Notperfectlyfine—perfectlyincredible.Everythingstartedtocometogether:thestory,thepublicity,thepositioning.KennytookBurningHeartandelevatedittonew,fantasticheights—heightsIhadn’tevenimaginedwhenI’dfirststartedwritingitbackatHoward.“You’replayingtheshortgamewiththisdraft,Di,”Kennyhadwritteninherfirstsetofnotesbacktome.“Youneedtobeplayingthelonggame.Writeforyourself,nobodyelse.PullnopuncheswithEvie.Givehermorebreath.”
Idid.Andafterafewmorerevisions,wewereabletocomeupwithabookthatreadersdevoured.ItwashardtofindacopyofBurningHeartinanylibraryorbookstoreafteritcameout,andwhenhighschoolsstartedbanningitforitsexplicit,occasionallygruesomecontent—itwasthetimeofReagan,afterall—itscomparisonstoNativeSoncausedbookclubstospringupinunexpectedplaces:whitesuburbanhomes,butalsoBlacklower-andmiddle-classhomes,too.Apparently,somethingabouttwoBlackwomen—onelight,onedark,bothcollegegraduates—hadcapturedtheheartofAmerica.
IclickedoutofthearticleandclickedopenthelatestspreadsheetofyoungBlackwomenwhoneededfixing.Teachersatawomen’scollegeinAtlanta,Inoticed.Thethoughtwasunappealing—women’scollegeswerenewterritoryforus,andwedidn’thaveasmuchexperienceworkingwithfortysomethingsaswedidwithtwenty-andthirty-year-olds—butifDickhadn’ttoldthedeanno,Icouldn’t,either.
IhitPrint,spunmychairaround,andglancedoutthewindow,comfortedbythemechanicalsoundsofhiddengearsandshiftingpaper.Butratherthanthecool,sparklingbluewateroftheMcMillanReservoir,IsawKennythelasttimeI’dseenher:hersicklybrownfaceheldinplacebyflat,glassyeyes.Adull,monotonousvoice.Theeffectwassupposedtobeapurelytemperamentalone;Imanihadpromisedmethat.Butwewerebothfrighteninglyoptimisticthen,Isuppose.Neitherofuscouldknowitwouldtakeheryearstofashionalessharshformula.
Adingsignaledafinishedprintjob—themostrecentofmany.Sometimes,whenDickgavemeassignmentsthatseemedparticularlydifficult,Icontemplatedgettingout.TellingDickthathe’dhavetofindhimselfanewconnect—somethinghe’dneverbeabletodobecauseImanihadalwaysbeengoodaboutkeepingherlabaffairsonlock.ButhowcouldIdothattohim?DicktookcareofmeafterKennydisappeared.He’dconnectedmewithanewpublishersoIcouldhaveacleanslate.He’dhelpedmelandthetalkshows,thetelevisionadaptations,themoviedeals.
Mostimportantly,he’dfundedthewholething.OnceIgothimtobelieveitwouldwork.
“Iknow,Iknow,”I’dsaidintothephonethatwinternightin1983,keepingoneearattunedtoElroy’ssnoresinthenextroom.“Thewholethingsoundsunlikely.”
“Morelikeimpossible.WhatKendraRaeneedstodoisjustsuckitup.Apologizeforwhatshesaidandbegratefulforwhatwe’veallbeenabletoachieveheresothatwecangetbacktobusinessasusual.I’vegotfour—no,fiveauthorswho’vetoldmethey’reholdingontotheirworkuntilKendraRaegetswiththeprogram.OneofthemisBlack,too,youmaybeinterestedtoknow.”
“ButKenny’snotgoingtosayshe’ssorry,”I’dsaid,nottakingthebait.Ihadn’twantedtoknowwhotheselloutauthorwas.“She’dliterallydoanythingelseonthisearthinsteadofsaysorry,evenifitmeansbeingblackballedfromtheentireindustry.Webothknowthat.Andwebothknowwhereshe’scomingfrom,right?You’vesaidityourselfhowsuffocatingthisplacecanbe.Ifyouwereinhershoes—”
“Iwouldn’tbe.I’dnevershitwhereIeat,anditservesthedamnbitchright.”
“Jesus,Dick.She’sbeengettingdeaththreats.Everybody’sbeenputtingherthroughtheringer,and—”
“Oh,she’sbeingputthroughtheringer?Afterallthecrapshetoldpeopleaboutthe‘frigidracialclimate’here,youthinkshe’stheonebeingputthroughtheringer?”
ThiswaswhyI’dapproachedhimaboutthistopicoverthephone:Iknewjustthementionofhernamewouldsethimoff,andIknewthathisexplosionwouldmakemewanttohithim,hard.Itwasn’tthathedidn’thaveempathy.No.Itwasthatheuseditasaweaponwheneveritbenefitedhim.Iknewthisfirsthand.
ButcouldIjudgehimforthat?JustbecauseI’dspentsomanyofthosedayswhisperingintohisneckabouthowguiltyIfeltleavingKennytofendforherselfdidn’texcusemefromthefactthatIhad.Ihadn’tspokenoutagainsther,butIhadn’tdefendedher,either,becauseI’dknownitwasineveryone’sbestinterestnottogetinvolved.
“Alright,”Dicksaid.“Ifshe’snotgoingtoapologize,thenyouknowwhatyouneedtodo.”
“We’vebeenoverthis.I’mnotdenouncingher,either.”
“Whynot?”
“That’dneverwork.SomeBlackpeoplewillseemeasatraitorandtheywon’tbuymybookifIdothat.Look,”I’dsaidpractically,“doyouwanttoendthemediacircusornot?”
I’dimaginedDickstickinghispinkyinhisearandgivingitalittleturn,atickI’dnevergottenusedto,notevenafterwatchinghimcomesomanydifferentways,somanytimes,withthemostinscrutableofexpressions.
“Fine,”he’dfinallysaid,afteralong,drawn-outpause.“Whatthehelldoyouwanttodo?”
I’dproceededtotellhimhowI’drecentlyreturnedtoNewarkandrunintoImani,achildhoodfriendI’dalsoattendedHowardwith,inthefreezeraisleofWegmans.HowI’daskedherwhatshe’dbeenuptosincethetwoofushadfallenoutoftouchaftergraduating,andshe’dtoldmethatshe’drecentlyreceivedherPhDinchemistryfromGeorgeWashingtonUniversity.She’dstartedworkingatacosmeticscompanyjustafewmonthsearlier.
Thathadbeenherdream,andherparents’dreamforher,backwhenwe’dtalkedfutureplansonKenny’sstoop.Iwassoproudofher.Soproud.Icongratulatedheronitall,andshecongratulatedme,too,onBurningHeart—myownprofessedstoopdream.
I’dstartedtocrythen.Rightthereinthefreezeraisle.
Then,I’dhandedheranarticleabouttheKennycontroversy.ItwasnewstoImani,butnotextraordinarynews.AndhereIwasthinkingthatthescienceworldhadalltheproblems,she’dsaid.
Andthen—afterlookingdowntheaisletomakesurewewerealone—she’dtoldmeallaboutthepetprojectshe’dstartedworkingonafterhours.AprojectthatcouldmakethelivesofBlackwomenalloverthecountryjustalittlebiteasier.
“ButIdon’tgetwhyanyBlackpersonwouldwanttodothat,”Dickhadsaid.“Isn’tBlackPridestillin?”
“Ofcourseit’sstill‘in,’?”I’dsnapped.“AndImani’screationisn’tgoingtochangeanyounceofthat.It’sjustsupposedto…helpkeepthatprideintact.HelpusBlackwomenwadealittleeasierthroughthewavesofracismwithoutfeelinglikewehavetoswimsohard.”
“?‘Wavesofracism’?Soundslikesomething—”
“KendraRaewouldsay.Yeah.Iknow.”IwasbeginningtoregretbringingthisuptoDick.Iwasabouttotellhimtoforgetitwhenhetookadeepbreathandslowlyreleasedit.
“Andthisissupposedtofixeverything?”heaskedsoftly.
“That’smyhope.”
“Hm.Idon’tknow,Di…that’satallorderforachemicalthatmightnotwork.Ononeofthemoststubbornwomentowalkthisearth,especially,”Dickhadadded,hisvoicecloakedinbitterness.ButIknewIhadhim.I’dhavethecheckinhandwithinaweek;maybesooner,ifElroyendedupgoingtovisithisfolkslikehe’dbeenplanningto.
“I’mnotsayingIwanthershuckingandjiving.I’mjustgoingtohelpherchilloutabit,that’sall,”I’dwhispered.“Helpherfindherfootingagain.Trustme—she’sbetterrelaxedthanuptight.”
Relaxed.Helpher.That’swhatI’dtoldImaniIwantedtodo,too.That’swhatI’dplannedondoingallalong.SmoothKenny’skinksoutforalittle,justlongenoughtomakeeveryonehappysothateverythingcouldgobacktonormal.We’dplaythelonggame,justasKennyhadtoldmetodo.We’deventuallyshoottothetop,maybecreateourownimprint.MaybeevenourownBlackpublishinghouse.IowedKennythatmuch.
Butthenshe’ddisappeared.Afewweekslater,DicktoldmeaboutafriendofafriendwhowashavingsomeproblemswithaBlackwriterwhowasspreadingrumorsabouthiswhitebossatamagazineinTulsa.Afewdaysafterthat,aBlackadjunctprofessoratWashUclaimedshe’dbeencalledthen-wordmultipletimesataChristmasparty.IrefusedbothofDick’sasks,onlytolearnlaterthatbothoftheseindividualshadbeenfiredandleftunemployed,withfamiliestofeedandnoonetohirethem.
So,whenthenextaskcame…well,Ihadn’tbeenabletosaveKenny.ButmaybeIcouldsaveothers.
Igrabbedthepagesofftheprinter,cringingthroughthenamesofthewomen’scollegeinstructors:“?‘Quinnasha,’‘Rayquelle,’‘Kasselia,’?”Iread,shakingmyhead.“Mygoodness.Wepeoplekeepnamingourkidsthesenamesandyetwestillwonderwhywe’renotgettinganyofthejobs?”
“Aw,shoot.Whowegotnow?Involuntaries?”
IlookedupandregisteredImani’stallframestandingjustinsidethedoor.“Seemslikethat’sallwegetthesedays,”Isaid.
“Mmm.”Imanicrossedherarms.“Well,ifyouaskedme—andIknowyoudidn’t—I’dsleepalotbetteratnightiftheyweren’tInvoluntaries.”
“AndI’dsleepalotbetterifthatlastbigbatchyouconcocteddidn’tmakethesegirlssodarncompetitiveagainsttheirown,”Isnapped.“I’mveryconcernedabouthowoftenourLeadConditionersendupbeingtheLastBlackGirlStandingattheoffice.That’snotwhatthisgreaseisfor.”
“Iknow,Iknow,Iknow.HowmanytimesdoIneedtotellyou,I’msorry?It’sanunfortunatesideeffect.ButI’vebeenworkingonit,andIthinkIgottherightbalanceonmynewestbatch.LessTerminatorthistime.”
“Good.Thankyou.”IhandedherthelistI’dprinted.“Here’sthelatest.”
“?‘Quinnasha’?”Imani’stonerosehigherthanhereyebrows.“Whatthehellhappenedto‘Mavis’and‘Cheryl’and‘Estelle’?”
Webothgiggled.“So,whatdowethink?Who’stheclosestLeadConditionerthatcangetintothatcollege?”
Imanitappedherlong,narrowchinwithalong,narrow,peach-coloredfingernail.“I’llreachouttomySpelmancontacts.Seewhattheysay.”
Inodded.“Great.Letmeknow,willyou?”
“Mm-hmm.Oh,beforeIforget—”ImanireachedintoherpocketandpulledouttwoZiplocbaggieshalf-filledwithawhite,greasysubstance.“Foryou.Freshlymade.I’llbuyyoulunchifyoucanguesswhichflowerIaddedtothisbatch.”Shedroppeditonmydeskandstartedforthedoor.
“You’reagoddess.”Iwastednotimeopeningthebagandinhalingitscontents.“Ugh,yes,please.Honeysuckle?”
“Bingo!”Imanichuckled.“God,I’vecomealongwaysincethefirstone,haven’tI?Rememberhowawfulthatstuffsmelled?”
Suddenly,Kennyflashedthroughmymindagain.Butthistime,itwasn’therfaceIwasseeing.Itwasherthick,darkhairdividedintoeightvulnerableparts,myrightglovedhandsmotheredinthecool,creamyformula.I’mpositivethisbatchwon’tburn,Imanihadpromisedwhenshe’ddroppedthejaroffthedaybefore.
I’ddoneatestrunwithjustmypinky,anyway.Justtosee.
“Feelokay?”I’daskedher,hopingshedidn’tcomplainaboutthesmell.
“Mmm.Just,whateveryouplantodoupthere—braids,curlers—don’tmakemelooklikeafool,Di.I’mtrustingyou.”
I’dpromisednotto.Then,I’dreachedaglovedhandintoherhair,grabbedapiecebytheroot,andsaidalittleprayer.
16
October22,2018
NellahadneverparticularlyenjoyedlisteningtoPitbull.Notatherseniorprom,andcertainlynotonthosenightsshe’dspentinfrathouses,glugginguppartyjuiceandbobbingherheadto“IKnowYouWantMe”likeitwasdeliveringavitallifeforceintohersystem.
Now,huffingandpuffingbesideMalaikainBopItOutFitness,Nelladespiseditwitheveryburningounceofherbeing.Butshedidhavealottobopout:thenotes,hercovermeetingoutburst,thepickaninnycoverthathadinspiredtheoutburst…
Andthentherewasthatpossiblecrimeshe’dwitnessedjusttwodaysearlier.Evenifthemusicwasterrible,strugglingtostraightenherbackandhoistherkneesintimewiththebeatprovidedamuch-neededtemporarydistractionfromherbizarrereality.ItalsomadeherfeelbetterthatMalaika,whospentmostofherdaybreathingthesameairasfitnessfreaks,wasstrugglingjustasmuchasshewas.
“Beforeyou…sayanything,”herfriendhuffed,power-jackingwithlittlepoweronnumberfourteen,“letmejustsay…I’msorryaboutthis.”
Nellascowledassweatdrippedintohereyes.
“I’llalsosay…youoweme,”Malaikagasped.“Ifeellike…Ihaven’tseen…youinyears.”
“I…know…timeflies…whenyou’rebeingstalked…atwork,”saidNella.“Notsomuch…whenyou’relistening…toPitbull.”
Malaikaekedoutanapology.“BeyoncéCardio…wasfilledby…thetime…Ilookedat…theschedule…thismorning.Thiswas…theonlyopenclass.”
“Iwonder…why!”Nellasaid,although,shesupposed,asshetookstockoftheburningsensationinherthighsandtheprominentsheetofsweatthathadalreadyaccumulatedaroundherwaist,aBeyoncéclassprobablywouldbeevenharder.Thewomandidhavethighsofsteel,afterall.
SodidIsaac,theirperfectlytannedfitnessinstructor,whowasnowpumpinghisfisttwicetothebeatandbendinghisknees.“Andnow…SQUAT!IT!OUT!”
Nellaobeyed.Sheloweredhertorso,albeitdelicately,andtooka“break”soshecouldcheckouttherestoftheirclass.Theforty-by-twenty-footroomwashardlyfull;eightorninewomenandoneextremelyserious-lookingoldmanhaddecidedtospendtheirMondayeveningexercisingwithademonicworkoutinstructorintheFlatironDistrict,ratherthandoingsomethingsensible,likerestockingtheirwinesupplyordoingacrossword.MaybethatwaswhatNellashould’vebeendoinginstead.Whatifthekidnapperontheloosestormedintothegymwhileshewasmid-squat,lookingtosnatchNellanext?Whatifthekidnapperwaswaitingoutsideforher,preparedtopouncethemomentsheandMalaikawenttheirseparateways?
Whatifitwasn’takidnapper,though?
Nellahadneverseenakidnappinginreallifebefore—atleast,notthatsheknewof.Throughtheglassdooroftheburgerrestaurant,shehadn’tbeenabletoseethelookonthebald-headedgirl’sface.Norcouldsheseehowtightlythathandhadbeengrabbingherarm.Nellajustknewthatthehandhadbeenoneoftheirown.Black.Andshealsoknewthat,apparently,noneofthepassersbyhadfeltmovedenoughbywhatwashappeningtosayordoanything.Whichmeantmaybethebald-headedwomanhadn’tbeenscreaming…whichmeantmaybeshe’dknownshewasn’treallyindanger?
Nellaputanendtothislineofthinkingveryquickly.No,ofcoursepassersbywouldn’tsayanything.ThiswasNewYorkCity.AndshewasaBlackgirl.
Whateverhadhappened,thegirl’snamewasstillamystery—soshecouldn’treportmuchofanythingtoanybody.Shewassureofthis;she’dpracticedcallingananonymoustiplineenoughtimeswhileshewasintheshower.“Here’swhatIknow:Abald-headedyoungwomansentmethesestrangenotesinSeptember.Thenshestartedtextingmestrangethingsaboutmycoworkerwho,bytheway,isalsoreallystrange.Andthatbald-headedgirlandIweresupposedtomeetup,butthenshegotputintoacar…butnotbeforeshethrewherphoneintoagarbagecan.Momentsaftersaidcardroveaway,anotherstrange,hoodedpersondugthecellphoneoutofthetrashcanandranaway.”Inthishypotheticalexplanation,she’dleaveitthere.
Buttherewasmore.
Hoursafterthekidnapping,asshelayonherbedreplayingwhatshe’djustseen,shegotacallfromthecellphoneshe’dwatchedgetpickedup.
Shethoughtaboutdecliningit,butOwenwouldn’tbehomeforanotherhour—shehadtime.
Sheheldituptoherear,thinkingitmightbetheMarvinGayedoppelgangerfromStarbucks.Butthefraughtvoicethatfilledherearsoundedlikeitbelongedtosomeone’sgrandmother.“Nella.Youanswered.Thankyou.”
Therewasapause.
“I’msorryyouhadtoseeallofthat.Weweren’treallypreparedfor…Therehavebeensomepeoplewatchingyou,tryingtolookoutforyou.ButIguessnotcloselyenough.Itoldthemtobemorecareful,”sheadded,moretoherselfthantoNella.
“Who’s‘they’?Whoareyou?Andwhathappenedtothatgirlwhogotshovedintothatcar?Doyouknowanythingaboutthat?Andwhataboutherfriend—thatBlackbeardedguy?Whereishe?”
“Ican’tansweranyofthat.Justknowthatwe’retryingtohelpyou.I’mworkingonit.Ineedyoutoknowthat,andIneedyoutokeepthisconversationbetweenus,okay?Don’ttellanyoneatworkaboutit.”
“You’reworkingonit?”Abanghadclatteredfromsomewhereoutinthehallway—likelytheneighborbringinghisbikeupthestairs.“HowdoIknowyou’renotthepersonIwastoldtowatchoutfor?Andwhat’sHazel’srealname?”
Thelinewentsilent.“Youaren’tsupposedtoknowthatyet,”thevoicesaid,exasperated.“Hm.Okay…youhavetwooptions.Youcanwritemeoffasalunatic,oryoucanfindoutwhoHazelreallyis.”
“But—”
“Dosomemoredigging.”
Thecallended.
Withthis,Nellahadcontemplatedsmashingherphonewithasaucepanandhidingunderherfavoriteblanket.Butbeforeshecouldgoanywhere,itpinged.Thewomanhadsentheranimageandthewords,“Takenthispastsummer.Keepdigging.”
WhenNellaenlargedthephoto,she’dmadeoutayoung,short-hairedBlackwomanwearingasweatshirtimprintedwiththewordsCOOPER’SMAG,andwhensheincreasedherscreentofullbrightness,shecouldseethegirl’sshiningbrowneyesclearly.Theywerefilledwithmirthandasparkleofsomethingelse—ambition—andalthoughshedidn’thaveaneyebrowpiercingorlong,flowinglocs,NellarecognizedthatLenaHornenoseandthatgo-getterglint.
Nella’sfingertipshadgonenumbfromgrippingthephonetootightly.Thecall,thephoto…itwasalltoomuchandyetstillnotenoughtoquellasmall,sneakingfeelingofcuriosity.Whathadhappenedtothatbald-headed,BlackPantheresquewoman?WhowaslookingoutforNella,andwhy?
AndwhothehellwasHazel-MayMcCall,really?
“It’shardoutthere,right?”Isaacbarked,pointingattheroom’sonetinywindow.“Isn’tithardoutthere?Itmaybehardinhere,butit’sevenharderoutthere.Iwantyoutogivemeeverythingyou’vegot.Squat.It.OUT!”
“Ohlord.”Malaikasquatteddownlowonce,andthenasecondtime.“Ihadnoideathiswasgoingtoturnintoatherapysession.”
Nellasqueezedoutanotherworldlygroanofprotestthatsheherselfdidn’taltogetherrecognize.
“Althoughmaybeyoudoneedone,”Malaikacontinued.“EspeciallyafterwhathappenedtoyouSaturday.”
Nellatriedtoscoff,butherlackofbreathmadeitsoundmorelikeregurgitation.Sheasked,weakly,“Whatdoyoumean,‘afterwhathappened’tome?”
“Youknow,whenyoufroze.Whenyouwerethisclosetofindingoutwho’sbeencreepingonyou—like,literally,thisclose—butyoulethergo.”
Nellarolledhereyes.“Dowehavetodothisagain?Now?Whilewe’relisteningtoshittytop-fortymusic?Icameheretobopitout,notin.”
Malaika’ssquatshaddepreciated;nowshejustlookedlikeshehadtogotothebathroom.“Yes,wehavetodothisagain.Shit,Nella…youweresupposedtogetthelicenseplateofthatcar.Youweresupposedtogetintoanothercarandfollowthebaldchick’scar.Butyoudidn’tfollowthebaldchick,andnowyou’rebackatsquareone.”
“Well…notexactly.”
Keepthisconversationbetweenus,thewomanonthephonehadsaid,butwhatdidsheexpectNellatodo?Sitwiththisnewknowledgeonherown?“Beforethebald-headedgirldisappeared,shetoldmethatHazel’snameisn’treallyHazel.Andafterthatgirldisappeared,Igotacallfromthephonesheditched.”
Malaikafroze.“Wait.What?”
“Iknow.”
“Whydidn’tyoutellmebefore?Whatdidthecallersay?”
“ThatIneededtofindoutaboutHazelformyself.Dosomedigging.”
“Andthatwasit?”
“No…shealsosaidthatsheandsomepeoplehavebeenfollowingme,too.Butthatthey’relookingoutforme.”
“Whatthefuck?”Malaikapanted.
“Iknow,Iknow.Butthiswomansoundedlikeshewasbeingforreal.”
“Idon’tevenknowwhattosayanymore,Nella.Thiswholethingisgettingscarierandscarier.”
“HowdoyouthinkIfeel?!I’mbeingfuckingfollowed!”
Malaikaignoredthis.“Ijustthinkyoushouldbecareful,that’sall,”shesaid.“Whatifthesepeoplewho’vebeenwatchingyouareonthebadside?Whatifit’ssomeonewho’sinthisclassrightnow?”
Nellaglancedaroundthegymagain,hereyesfallingontheconvulsingmanatthefrontoftheroom.“Idoubtit.Andwedon’tknowwhichsideisthebadside,”sheremindedher.
“AllI’msayingis,youneedtotakeeverythingthisnewpersonistextingyouwithapoundofsalt.Whyisshesuddenlytellingyouallofthisstuffnow?Whywouldn’tthesepeoplehavesaidsomethingbefore,insteadofsendingyouthesecrypticnotes?”
“Idon’tknow.Iwasn’tabletoaskher,”Nellaadmitted,irritatedbyMalaika’squestions.ShewasconfusedenoughbytheworriesbubblinginherownheadwithouthavingtoaddMalaika’stothebrew.“ButIfeellikeI’mfinallystartingtogetsomewherehere.Can’tweagreethat’sagoodthing?”
“Butwereyouabletofindanythingaboutpinkcrescentscarsonline?Becauseitsoundsalotlikeacult,”Malaikapressed,butthenshemusthavefinallyheardherself,becauseshequicklyadded,“Okay,okay,fine.It’sagoodthing.I’mjustworriedaboutyou,that’sall.AndIdon’tappreciatethesepeoplefuckingwithmybestfriend.”
Nellafeltapangthatwassosharpandsoshamefulthatithadtohavebeenthatofguiltratherthanacharleyhorse.TheweirdnessthathadarisenbetweenherandVerasinceHazel’sarrivalwasreallytakingahitonNella’spersonallife,andtheworstpartofitallwasthatshe’dbarelynoticedhowmuchofanimpactithadhadonMalaika—notuntilnow,whenNellahadnoworkemailstoentrapher,nonewmanuscriptstodistracther.Thesedays,Nellabarelyhadtimetoseeanybodyanymore;shefeltanongoingobligationtosaynotoallnon-work-relatedactivitiesandyestoalltheworkshecouldbedoinginstead—becausetherewasalwaysworktobedone.Somuchwork,infact,thatshewouldsometimesgetsotiedupthatshe’dforgettosayanythingatallinresponsetoMalaika’stexts.
ThentherewasOwen,withwhomNellahadn’tspentanymeaningfultimeinweeks.ThedinnerstheydideatintandemoftenconsistedofherturningpagesovertakeoutChineseorIndianorThaiasOwenscrolledthroughhisphone,readingemailafteremail.Nellahadn’tthoughthe’dnoticed.Earlierintheirrelationship,shewastheonewho’dhadtofightforhisattention—theonewho’dhadtowrenchhiscellphoneorthenewspaperoutofhishandsasshe’dsetthetable.Owenhadalwaysbeenanavidreader;thishadattractedhertohiminthefirstplace,andoncehisstartupreallybegantotakeoffafewmonthsaftertheystarteddating,thisqualitysteppedupconsiderably.“Youknowsocialjusticedoesn’ttakebreaksfordinner,”he’djokedaftershe’dpickeduphistablet,hurleditontothecouchacrosstheroom,andaskedhimtograbacoupleofbeersfromthefridge.
Owenhadn’tdonethiswhenNellahadgoneintoaggressiveassistantmode.He’dletherreadhermanuscriptsinpeaceduringtheirmeals,hadsaidnoworrieswhenshe’ddecidedtoforegoanepisodeofTheSopranosbecauseshehadtofinishsomethingforVera.He’devenforgivenherformissingfamilytimewithhismoms.ButOwenwasn’tdense.Hewasgoodatreadingtheroom—anotherqualityNellahadadmiredinhim—andtheweekprior,ashe’dpoppedthegreasyplasticcoveroffthebasilfriedriceoneevening,hewasfinallyreadytosaysomethingaboutit.
“It’sthenewgirl,isn’tit?”he’dasked,ratherplainly.
Nellahadalreadyimpolitelystartedinonthesteamedbokchoy,hadalreadyevenmoreimpolitelyopeneduphertabletsoshecouldcontinuereadingthecontemporized,queerreinterpretationofLordoftheFliesthatVerahadaskedhertotakealookatthatevening.Ithadbeenasgoodastheagenthadpromiseditwouldbe,maybeevenbetter,soshecouldn’thelpbutfeelthetiniestbitruffledwhenOwenpulledheroutofit.
“I’mnotsurewhatyoumean,”Nellahadsaid,reachingherforkoutsoshecouldsnagaroguegreenbeanthathadfallenontothetable.She’dskippedlunchthatday—again—andruedthenotionofanyvegetablegettingleftbehind.
“WhatImeanis,you’rebustingyourassatworkbecauseofthenewgirl.AmIright?”Owenfinallyhandedherthecontaineroffriedriceandstartedtopushhisfoodaroundhisplatewithhisplasticfork.
Itwasanactthatproducedaloud,scratchysoundthatNellacouldfeelinhergut.Butinsteadofcallinghimoutforit,she’djustclenchedherteethandspoonedriceontoherownplate,waitingforthescrapingnoisetocease.
“Hazelhasnothingtodowithanyofthis.I’vejustrealizedI’vebeenslacking.I’vegottentoocomfortableinmypositionatWagner,andIreallyneedtostepitup.”
“Bullshit.Comeon.ThisnewBlackgirl’sgotchushook.”
She’dhadtokeepherselffromsmiling.“Firstofall,youcan’tusemyownpeople’sslangagainstme,”she’djoked.“Andsecondofall,Hazelisn’tnewanymore,notreally.She’sbeenatWagnerforthreemonths.”
“Didn’tyousaythatyoufeltlike‘thenewgirl’forthefirstsix?”
“Thatwasdifferent.IwastheonlyBlackgirlthen.TheonlyBlackperson,”she’dcorrectedherself,“nevermindtheonlyBlackgirl.”
“That’swhatI’msaying.Sheblewupyourspot.”
“I’mprettysurenoonesays‘blowupyourspot’anymore.”
“TheguysthatIworkwithdo.”
Nellagavehimthechucklethatsheknewhe’dbeenfishingfor.MostofOwen’scoworkersthought“HeyYa!”wasOutkast’sbestsong.
“Admitit,though,”saidOwen,hislipsflatteningintoonehorizontalline.“YousortoflikedbeingtheonlyBlackgirlatWagner.Right?”
Nellahadgnawedonapieceofbabycornandeyedhimsilently.
“Hey,don’tworry,baby.Youcanbehonestwithme,becauseIgetit.Itotallygetit.Okay,soIdon’tgetitgetit,”headdedself-consciously,feelingtheforceofherraisedeyebrow.“ButyouknowwhatImean.It’snotawfulbeingtheonlyminority.WheneverI’mtheonlystraightguyatbrunchwithallofyourfriends—”
“Whichhappensprettyrarely…”
“—Ialwaysfeelkindof…Idon’tknow,exceptional,maybe?Becauseeverybodyalwayswantsmetoweighinoneverything.‘Whatdoesthistextmean?’‘Why’dheusetwoexclamationpoints?’?”He’dpinchedhisnosesohecouldmimicAlexandra,anonline-dating-obsessiveNellahadmetthroughMalaikaafewyearsprior.
“Igetwhatyou’resaying.But,babe…areyoureallycomparingyoubeinga‘minority’incertainsituationstomebeingaminorityincertainsituations?Really?Because,just…no.”
Owenhadputhisforkdownatthis.“WhatImeanis,I—”
“It’sastronomicallydifferentfromwhatI’mtalkingabout.”
Hehelduphishands,visiblyhurtandclearlywonderinghowthisconversation—whichhadstartedasharmlessspeculation—couldhavetakensuchaturn.“Whoa,Nell.No.Whosaidanythingaboutcomparing?Youknowthat’snotwhatIwastryingto—Iwasjusttryingto—”
Nellacuthimoff.“Babe,it’sfine.Iknowwhatyoumeant.”
“Areyousure?BecauseIwouldnever—”
“I’mpositive,”she’dsaid,althoughithadtakenheramomenttorealizethatshewaslookingnotatherboyfriendbutatherplateoffood,whichwasgettingcold.Shecaughtherself,reachedoutatentativehand,andsqueezedOwen’sasaffectionatelyasshecould.She’ddonethisdozensoftimesinthepast,timeswhenthey’dsuddenlylookeddownandfoundthemselvesknee-deepinanuncomfortableconversationaboutrace,anditalwayseasedanytensionsthathadrisenbetweenthem.
Thoseotherconversationshadfeltdifferent,though.Thoseconversationshadbeencomposedofmuchsweetertones;equippedwithalcoholorpotorthedimbackseatofalate-nightUber,NellahadnoproblemtellingOwenthatshesometimesfeltguiltyformissingouton“Blacklove,”andOwencouldadmitthathismaternalMissouriangrandparentsweredie-hardMAGAsupporters.
Inthebrightlightingoftheirpainfullycrampedkitchen,thisconversationaboutbeingaminorityanda‘minority’feltliketoomuch.“Iloveyou,”she’dsaid,sothatshedidn’thavetosayanythingelse.Thenshe’dreachedforhertabletoncemore.
“What?Arewedonehere?Seriously?”
“Wastheresomethingelseyouwantedtosay?”
Owenhadstaredather.“No,”he’dfinallysaid,pickinguphisownphone.“Nevermind.”
They’dsatlikethatfornearlyhalfanhour,untilOwenhadrisentohisfeet,pickeduphisplate,andthrownitinthetrash.
“O.I’msorry.”Nellahadspunaroundinherchairsoshecouldfacehim.“Ijustreallywantthatpromotion.AndI’msoclose.ItoldyouaboutwhatRichardsaidtomelastweek,right?”
“Oh,somethingaboutyouhavinga‘brightfuture,’andhowyou’re‘wellonyourwaytobeingthenextKendraRae’…yes,IthinkIremember,”Owenhadsaid.Hehadn’treturnedhergaze,butshecouldseethesmallsmilethathadcutacrosshisface.
“AndmaybeitisHazelthat’sdrivingmealittlecrazy,”she’dcontinued.“Idon’tknow.Ijust…it’shard.”
OwenhadswipedhishandsonhisAdidasshorts,whichservedashisloungewearwhetheritwasseventeenorseventydegreesoutside,andwalkedovertowhereNellasat.He’dreachedoutandbeguntoworkherneckwithhisblessed,blessedfingers,awhiteflagofsorts.“Haveyoutriedtogettoknowher?Like,reallytried?”
“Wegotlunchwhenshefirststarted.AndIwenttotheCurlCentralthing.”
“That’snotthesamething.InviteheroutwithyouandMalaika.Gettoknowher.”He’dshrugged.“Idon’tknow,itseemstomelikeyoumightwantheronyourside.Alltheconnectionssheprobablyhas…”
Nellahadlookedupathim.“Howdoyouknowaboutallofherconnections?”
Owenhadfrowned.“FromwhenwemetatCurlCentral;Ijustgottheimpressionthatsheknewalotofpeople.”He’dsteppedbackafewinches,asthoughtakingherinforthefirsttime.“Areyoufeelingokay?”
“I’mfeelingfine.ButcanIaskyousomething?”
He’dnodded,lookingconcernedaboutwherethiswasgoing.
“Ican’tbelieveI’msayingthis,but…CurlCentralwasthefirsttimeyoumetHazel,right?”
Owenhadblinkedather.“What?”
“Youdidn’tknowherbeforethatevening?She’snotsomeoneyouweretalkingtoonlinebeforeyoumetme?”
“Whatareyousaying?”
“I’msayingthattherewasthisonetimewhenshereferencedyoubyname—‘bringOwentoCurlCentral!’—butI’dnevertoldheryournamebefore.So,Iwonderedif—”
“I’venevermetHazelinmylife,”Owenhadsaid,hisblueeyesablazewithdefensiveness.“Youprobablyjustmentionedittoherinpassingandforgot.”
“IknowIdidn’t.I’vehardlytoldheranythingaboutyou.”
Owenhadflinched.
“Itjustnevercameup,”Nellahadsaid,asthoughthiswouldmakeitbetter.
Hisarmshadleftherneck.“Haveyouconsideredthatmostofyourothercoworkersknowmefromallofyourwhackholidayparties?Thattheycould’vesaidsomethingtoHazelaboutmeatanygiventime,sinceyou’vesomehowalwaysbeentoobusytomentionme?”
AnychanceofNellatellingOwenabouteverythingthathadhappenedatworkhadwalkedoutofthekitchenwithhim.Shehadn’tfollowed.She’djustsatthereandthoughtabouthowimpressedOwenwasbyHazel’sconnections.HowtogetherOwenthoughtHazel’sshitwas,andhowuntogetherherownshitwas.
Owenhadapoint,Nellathoughtnow,copyingIsaac’sjumpingjackseventhoughshefeltlikeshe’dbeenbeatenbyahuman-sizedtenderizermallet.Receivingmysteriousnotesatworkandnottellinganyoneaboutthem;agreeingtomeetthestrangerwho’dbeensendingthem;andnowdoingthiscrazyworkoutclasssoshecould…what,bereadytorunfromsomeoneatthedropofadime?Hershitwasn’ttogetheratall.Notlately.Lately,itfeltlikeithadbeenscatteredacrossallsevencontinents.AndallOwenknewwasthatshewashavingaweirdtimeadjustingtothenewBlackcoworkerattheoffice.
Nellapromisedherselfthatthemomentshestartedtogetanswers,she’dexplainexactlywhyshe’dbeensostrungup.
“Onamorepositivenote,”shesaidtoMalaikanow,jogginginplaceaftershe’dthrownherselfdownontothefloorforaburpee,thendecidedshewasn’tgoingtodothatagain,“RichardtoldmethatI’mgoingtobegettingapromotionsoon.”
“Noshit!I’dsay‘waytoburythelede,’butthatkidnappingyousawdefinitelytookprecedence.”
“True.Guesswhatelsemightbecomingwiththispromotion,though?”
“I’mincapableofguessinganythinginthiscurrentstateofbeing,sopleasejusttellme.”
“TheopportunitytoworkwithJesseWatson.”
Malaikaabruptlystoppedmoving,thistimefromelationratherthanexhaustion.“What?!”
“He’sthinkingaboutdoingabookwithWagner.”
“Withyouguys?”Malaikasnorted.“Nooffense,butJesseWatsonbeingpublishedbyWagnerBooksisakintoputtingmayooncornbread.”
Nellagagged,partlyfromthemetaphor,butalsofromthefactthatthey’dnowswitchedtopush-ups,andthelate-afternoonlatteshe’dhadatherdeskhadcomebacktohaunther.“Well,forsomereason—cough,Hazel—we’vefinallymadeourwayintothetwenty-firstcentury.”
“Yes!Welcome,”Malaikasaid,bemused.Shetookhertimerollingontoherstomach,unbotheredbythefactthatIsaachadalreadydonetenpush-upsononehand.“Itcontainslotsofwokewhitepeople.AndawholelotofPitbull.”
Nellalaughed.
“So,letmeguess:Theywantyoutodoanicelittlesonganddancewhenhearrives,tellinghim‘datWagnerisoneofthebestplacestoworkonearf,anddatyoujustcouldn’t’magineworkingno-whea’else…’?”
NellahadheardMalaika’sslaveaffectationplentyoftimesbefore,butneverhaditmadeherasuncomfortableasitdidnow.Shewasn’tsureifitwastheworrythatotherexercisersmightoverhear,orthefactthattheslaveinquestionhere—theoretically—wasNellaherself.Butsheclenchedherjaw,waitingforherfriendtofinishherlittlesoliloquy.
“Oh,c’mon,”MalaikasaidwhenshenoticedNellahadn’tfoundherminstrelimpressionparticularlyamusing,“webothknowthat’sreallythereasonwhytheyaskedyoutomeetJesse.Notthatyou’renotqualified,”sheaddedquickly,“butwhenhavetheyeverletyoumeetsomeoneashigh-profileashiminthelasttwo-plusyearsyou’vebeenworkingthere?
“Andhe’snoteventhathigh-profileanymore,either,sincehedippedout.
“God,IwishIcouldhearhimweighinonthatshootingthathappenedintheBronxlastmonth.AndallthatKKKshithappeninginIndiana.Just…alltheshit.”
Nellanodded,oblivioustowhateverincidentsMalaikawastalkingabout.
“So,Ihavetoask:Havetheyenlistedtheservicesofyou-know-whoforthisJessething,too?”
Nellasnorted.“Yep.Richardsaidhemayevenlethereditit.”
“What?Shejustgotthere!Anddidn’tyouwriteJessethatemail?DidyoutellRichardaboutthat?”
“Ithoughtmaybehewouldn’tappreciatethatI’dgonebehindhisback.”
“Bureaucraticbullshit.”
“Yeah,Iknow.It’sfuckedup.”
“Ugh.Weren’tyousayingHazel’sbeen,like,bestfriendswiththeboss,though?”askedMalaika.“Theywereallbuddy-buddyatCurlCentral.Sobizarre.Dowethinkthey’re…?”
“I’mstillnotunconvincedhismistressisn’taBlackwoman…butHazel?Ugh,I’mfeelingnauseousenoughwithoutevendiscussingthat.”NellasighedasvisionsfromtheNeedlesandPinscovermeetingshuffledacrossherbrain.“EverybodyatWagner’sobsessedwithher.Notjusthim.”
“Well,onthebrightside…you’regonnameetJesse,andmaybeevenworkonhismaybe-book,right?That’sprettyexciting.EvenifitdoesmeanyouhavetocollaboratewithHazel.Maybehe’llevenwanttodiscussthatbookideayousenthim.”
“Somethinglikethat.AlthoughRicharddidn’texactlysaythatI’dgettoworkonit.Butitislookingprettypromising.”
“Promising,”saidMalaika,tryingtoappearconvinced,eventhoughsheclearlywasn’t.“Nice.Andifitdoesbecomeyourbook…you’restillgonnadoit,right?”
“Whywouldn’tI?”
“Idorememberacertainpersontalkingabouthowshewasgoingtoquitafteracertainauthorwentbatshitonher.AndhoweverybodyatWagnerseemstobedrinkingtheKool-Aid.OrshouldIsayCrystalLight?”sheself-corrected,findingenoughbreathtolaughatherownjoke.
“True.ButnowthatIhavethisopportunity,it—”
Isaacclappedhishands.Forthefirsttime,thesoundofhispalmsdidn’tcauseNellatoflinch.Shewasactuallyrelievedshehadmoretimetothinkaboutaresponse.“Now,planks.Keepthosearmsstraightandthosecoresengaged!”
“Alright,it’sofficial,”Nellahuffed,relievedthatshecouldstopmovingevenifitmeantmoremuscleburn.“Thisguyisafuckingmonster.”
“Lookinggood,guys!”Isaaccalled.
Besideher,Malaikawhisperedafaintobscenity,herarmsshakingprecariously.Thirtysecondslater,whenshespokeagain,theywerestillplanking.“Youdohaveachoice,”shesaid.“ThewayIseeit,youhavetwo.Ithinkit’sobviouswhatyoushoulddo.Oratleast,whatyoushouldwanttodo.Weren’tyouthinkingaboutquitting?Don’tyouhatethisplace?Youshouldwanttogotothemeetingandfuckitallthewayup.TellJesseabouthowyoudroppedhisnametoVeracenturiesago,buteveryonetherethoughthewastooBlacktodrophimaline.TellhimallaboutShartriciaandhowHazel’sbeensteppingalloveryoutogeteveryonetolikeher.Andthenpulloutyourboombox,jumpuponthatconferencetable,andgiveeveryonethefingertothereelingsoundsof‘FightthePower.’?”
Malaikahadalwayssaidthatshedidn’tmindbeingasoundboardforNellaandhermanyWagnergrievances,andforthat,Nellawasgrateful.Owencouldonlywithstandsomuchtalkaboutmicroaggressions;hiseyeswouldglazeoverafterfifteenminutesofconjecturearoundwhatthisorthatunsignedemailfromVerameant.Herownbosscouldbejustasfrustrating,soMalaikawasalmostalways“hereforit,”offeringNellawordsofwisdomthatsheconsideredasgoodasgold.
Thus,Malaika’sadviceaboutstickingittotheManshouldn’thavecaughtNellabysurprise.Itwasexactlywhatherfriendhadbeensayingsincedayone,eversinceNellafirststartedcomplainingaboutherjob:Ifyou’resounhappy,thenfuckallofit.Leave.Everytime,Nellawouldagreethatyes,sheshouldleave—andthatshewould,oneday.Thatshewouldn’tturnintoLeonardorMaisyorevenVera.Buteverytime,aftershe’dlaughedoverallthedifferentwaysshecouldquitwithMalaika,shewouldsaythatshehadn’treachedherbreakingpoint.Thatithadn’tgottenthatbadyet.
Butinthisinstance,Malaika’sadviceseemedwayoffbase.ThethoughtofjeopardizinghercareerbyburningallofherbridgesatWagner,afterRichardhadtoldherjustdaysearlierthatshewasclosetogettingapromotion,seemeddownrightabsurd.Itunnervedhersomuchthatshespentthenextsixtysecondstryingtokeeppacewiththefiftysomething-year-oldwomanwhowasshowingeverybodyupintherowdirectlyinfrontofthem,ratherthansayingwhatshefeltinherheart:that,HazelornoHazel,ShartriciaornoShartricia,shewasn’treadytogiveup.Therehadtobeanotherway.
MalaikaappearedtohavenoticedNella’strepidation.Becauseafterthenextsetofplanks,shewasclearingherthroatsoloudlythatNellacouldhearitoverPitbull.“Thatwasoptionone,”sheclarified,hertonemoresoberthanNellahadheardherfriendspeakinawhile.“Butwebothknowthat’snotviable.So,whatyoureallyshoulddoispreparelikecrazy,thengotothatmeetingandwowthepantsoffJesseWatsonandyourbossandyourboss’sboss.MakeJessewanttoworkwithyouandonlyyou.Andthen,findoutifhe’sreallydatingthatpurple-hairedchickwhowasinhisprofilepictureafewmonthsago.Ifnot,givehimmyphonenumber.”
Nellabrightened.
“Butreally,”Malaikacontinued,onceshe’ddugdeepenoughtofindanotherwindfromwithin,“sitinthatmeetingandbenicetoJesse.Connectwithhim.Doitsowellthatbythetimethemeetingends,he’sbeggingyoutoworkwithhim.Andifit’snotyou—ifRichardtriestoputanothereditoronit—thenJessewon’tacceptadealwithWagner.”
“ButHazel—”
“Ms.Hazel-Shit-Don’t-Stink-Mayhasbuiltherreputationofbeingthe‘goodBlackgirl’atWagner,right?Howdoyouthinkyourbosseswouldfeelifshesuddenlygotsuper…Black?”
“Ladiesintheback!”Isaacscreeched.“Getwithit!”
Nellagloweredatthefloorbeforespinningontoherback.Shehadn’tthoughtaboutitbefore,butshesupposeditwouldbeespeciallyhardforHazeltobetwo-facedinfrontofbothVeraandJesse.JessewouldbeabletosmellherbullshitassoonashelandedonthetarmacatJFK,wouldbeabletotakeonelookatHazelcomparinghairnoteswithVeraandcallheroutforexactlywhatshewas.
Nellaflippedtoherstomach,thenuponherhands.“YouthinkIshouldgotothisJessemeeting,then?”
“Ithinkyou’veworkedtoohardnottogotothisthing.Butgoready.Holdonuntilyougetwhatyouwant.BlackitupandgetJessetoloveyou.Or,atleast,likeyoumorethanHazel.”
Nella’sshouldersstartedtoburnasshetriedtokeepherbackflatandabstight.“ButwhatifthiswholeJesseWatsonthingisjustanothercarrot?Andthere’snothingontheothersideofitbut,like…morecarrots?”
“Ifthat’sthecase,”Malaikasaid,remainingwhereshe’dfallen,“thenatleastyouhaveyourcarrot.Maybestartthinkingaboutmakingsomemoves.Takethatcarrottoadifferentpublishinghouse.Don’tpublishingpeopledothatallthetime?Weren’tyoujusttellingmeaboutthatdisgruntledassistantwho’dbeensohelpfulwithoneofhisboss’sauthorsthatwhenhechangedjobs,theauthorfollowedhim?”
JoeyRagowski.JudgingfromthewayVerahadtoldherthisstoryonce—hervoicedrippingwithcaution—itwaswidelyviewedastheultimateassistantbetrayal.Close,Nellapresumed,tocallinganauthorracisttohisorherface.
“It’snotreallythatappealingofanoption,”shesaid,“butdefinitelybetterthanthefirst.”
“Iknow.Ican’timaginehavingtostartoverwithanewIgor.Butatleastyou’dhaveasexylittleJesseWatsoncarrotonyourarm.”Malaikachuckled.“Gogetwhat’syours.Weallknowyoudeserveit,butfirstyougottadothework.”
17
October25,2018
Malaikastompedherfoot.“Isaid‘youhavetodothework,’?”shegroaned.“Ididn’tsay‘youandIhavetodothework.’?”
“WhatcanIsay?Youinspiredme.”NellaleanedforwardandsquintedatthelistofsilverbuttonsthatwereattachedtoHazel’sfrontdoor.“WhichnumberdidIsayitwas?”
“Numbertwo.”
Nellapushedthenumberonce,waitedasecond,thenpusheditagain.“Shetoldmetobuzzthisone,eventhoughthewholeplaceishers.Ithink.”
Sheknewthisforafact,butshecouldn’tbringherselftosayit.ShewastooengrossedinenvyingHazel’shome.Itwasexactlywhatshe’dexpected—whichistosay,itwasexactlywhatNellawouldprobablyneverbeabletoafford,butwouldalmostalwaysyearnfor:atall,beautifulbrownstone,occupiedbyHazel,herboyfriend,andJuanita,locatedaconvenientfive-minutewalkawayfromtheClassonstopontheGtrain,athree-minutewalkfromCurlCentral,andaone-minutewalkfromahip,Black-ownedhybridvintagestoreandbarthatNellahadalwaysmeanttocheckout.
Ayearearlier,whenOwenandNellahadfoundthemselvesstrollingthroughClintonHillarminarm,morethanalittlebuzzedoffoverpricedapplejuicespritzers,shehadjokinglyaskedhimhowmanyappdownloadsitwouldtakeforthemtobeabletoaffordtobuyinthatneighborhood.“Let’sjustsaywe’dneedtomakeaYouTubechannel,andI’dneedtolearnhowtobraid,”Owenhadreplied.Nellahadlaughedandsqueezedhisarm,admittedlygiddywithdelight—partlyfromtheoverpricedspritzers,butalsofromtherealizationthatOwenwasinfactwatchingthosecheesyinterracialcouplevideosshesenthim.Theywereintendedasgags,buttheywerealsowaysofsayingHey,lookatthis—aren’tyougladwe’renotthesepeople?
Butnow,asNellamadeherwayupthesteepstepsofHazel’sHuxtable-inspiredbrownstone,hoistingherlong,flowingskirtaboveheranklessothatshedidn’ttrip,fall,andbustherfaceonthewayup,sherememberedwhypeoplewantedtobecome“thosepeople”inthefirstplace.Shewantedavestibuletoputacoatrackandabikein.Neitherofthesethingsweresomethingsheparticularlyneededtoown,butshelikedthenotionofatleasthavingtheoption.
“Well,whatareyouwaitingfor?”Malaikaleanedagainsttherailing.“Thesoonerwegetupinhere,thesoonerwecanconfirmthisbitch’srealname,pulloutherfakedreadlocks,andthengetthefuckout.”
“Theabridgedversionoftheplan.Ilikeit,”Nellajoked,eventhoughshewasstartingtowonderifbringingherfriendhadbeenamistake.IthadtakenhermuchlongertoconvinceMalaikatocomealongtothisnaturalhairpartythanithadtakentodraghertotheYoung,Black’n’LitGirlsreading,andherresistancewaspalpable.Whenthey’dmetupforaquickdinnerbeforehand,aPuertoRicankidnoolderthaneighthadenteredtheburritospotwearinganavy-blueAdidastracksuitandagoldchain;Malaikahadn’tsaidonewordaboutitwhenshenormallywould’vegivenhimahighfiveforhisoutfit.Andwhenawhiteguypassedbythemonthestreetrapping“99Problems,”Malaikahadn’tlingeredtoseeifherappedthen-word,either.
Nellanudgedherplayfully.“He-ey.YouowemeforallthatPitbull,remember?”
“Prettysureyou’dalreadyowedmeatthatpoint.Whichmeansnowyou’regoingtoowemeagain.Butthisisgoingtocountdouble,Ithink.Yeah.So,nowyoudouble-oweme.”
“Thisisgoingtosuckasmuchformeasitwillforyou.Butjustrememberwhatwediscussed:Wepretendwedon’thaveanyproblemswithHazel,sowecangetridoftheproblemthatisHazel.”
“That’sexactlywhatIjustsaid,butfine.”
“Right.Whatever.Okay.”Nellareachedupandpressedbothbuzzers.Hazelmaterializedinfrontofthem,locspostedhighatopherhead.
ThemusclesinthebackofNella’sneckslackened.Shedidn’tknowwhatshewould’vedoneifamaidhadanswered.ProbablygonehomeandcriedintoyetanothersadmealofcheapChinesetakeout.“Haze!Hey.”
“Nell!Youmadeit!”Hazelrushedtohugher,asthoughtheyhadn’tbeenseatedacrossfromeachotheramerethreehoursearlier.Meanwhile,Nellacouldfeelthechillcomingoffherfriendafewfeetawayasshewaitedtobegreeted.Evenstill,shemadeanefforttograbMalaika’sarmandtellHazelhowexcitedtheyweretobeinthisveryvestibule.
“It’slovely,”Malaikaaddedflatly.
“Thankyou!Melanie,right?”
“Close,butalittleBlacker.Malaika.”
“Right.Youworkforthatbigexerciseguy,right?”
“IgorIvanov.”
“Right.IjustlovehisIG,”Hazelsaid,straighteningthehemofherblackT-shirt.ItwasthemostcasualNellahadeverseenherdressed,sherealized,takinginthegirl’spurpleleggingsandherlime-greenpairoffuzzysocks.Shefeltoverdressed.Ithadbeensilly,really,forhertohavewornthesamecream-coloredlacyblousethatshe’dworntoworktoanaturalhairparty,whereshewouldmostlikelybesheddingbitsofhairandhairgreasealloverit.Butitwastoolatetoworryaboutthatnow.
“It’sashamewecouldn’tproperlymeetatCurlCentralafewweeksback,”Hazeladded.
“Yeah.Well.”Malaikaclearedherthroat.Nelladid,too,feelingabitlikeachildwhohadstupidlyroundedupherdivorcedparentsforadreadedschoolfunction.ShecranedherneckoverHazel’sshoulder.Attheendofthehallway,shesawasheeryellowcurtainthatseemedtoserveasadoorforanotherroom.“Thatmustbewherethepartyis.AndwhereAnitaBakeris,itsoundslike?”
Hazelperkedup.“Mm-hmm.That’sthefoyer.I’vetoldMannythishastobeoneofthefirstsongsweplayatourwedding,”shesaid,startingtowardthemusic.
NellapracticallyfelttheairchangeasMalaikasuckedherteeth.“Suchagoodchoice.IsMannygoingtobeheretonight?”sheasked,hopeful.
“Nah,Itoldhimgirlsonly.He’soutwiththeboys.”
Damn.Mannywassupposedtobeherwayin.Sheconsideredexcusingherselftothebathroomandtextingthepersonshe’dspokentoonthephonetosaythatthingswerealreadytakingaturnfromtheplan.Butshedidn’ttrustthatMalaikawouldn’tgetintotroublewithouther.
Plus,itwasn’tlikeNellawouldn’tbemeetingahandfulofotherwomenthatshecouldsizeup.ShecouldalreadyhearbitsoftheirlaughterbubblingbeneathAnita’scrooning.“Girls’nightsarewhatI’mallabout,”shesaid.
“Hewasdisappointed,ofcourse,”Hazeladded,leadingthemfirstpastahugerubbertreeplant,thenpastasmallvintagewoodentablethatwashometothreeframedphotos.Nellapeeredcloselyatthelargestone:asix-by-nineblack-and-whitepictureoffoursmilingBlackfolkswhoappearedtobenoolderthantwenty-fiveorso.Shewasabletostealonlyabriefglanceattheothertwophotos,althoughitwasobviousfromtheirfadedconditionthatthose,too,hadbeencapturedinanothertime.Hazelwasinneitherofthem.“Hehaslong,curlyhairthathetakesreallygreatcareof.BettercarethanIdoofmine,actually.”
“Bettercarethanyoudo?Now,Ifindthathardtobelieve,”Malaikapipedupfromsomewherebehindthem.
Nellafroze.Thereitwas:nudge-nudgenumberone.Ithadbeenstupidofhertoshowthatphotoofnon-dreadlockedHazeltoMalaika,shedecided,butitwastoolatetochangethat.OnceshewaspositiveHazelwastoobusyleadingthemtowardthelivingroomtonotice,NellaturnedandshotMalaikaalook.Stopit,shemouthed.
Malaikapretendednottosee,feigninginterestinanantique-lookingmirrorthatwashangingontheleftsideofthehallway.
“Whatwasthat?”
Nellafeltatouchofwhiplashasshespuntolookforwardoncemore.Hazelhadpausedandwaslookingbackatthetwoofthemcuriously.AnitafinishedandalivelierEnVoguesongstartedup.
“Iwasjustadmiringthisintricatebronzeframe.Thismirrorissolovely.”
“Oh,thatoldthing?Thanks,Mal.ThatwasManny’sgrandma’s.Thiswasherhomesincetheseventies;herdaughtergaveusthisplacewhenshepassed.”
Malaikanoddedsolemnly.“Hownice.‘Malaika,’please.Not‘Mal.’Thanks.”
“Um,wow—lookatthat!AretheseManny’sgrandparentshere?”Nellapracticallyshouted,pointingattheoldblack-and-whitephotoofthesmilingcoupleshe’dbeeneyeingafewsecondsbefore.
“No,thosearemine,”shesaid.“ThiswastakenthedaybeforetheyrodedowntoWashingtonforKing’smarch.Allfourofmygrandparentsmarchedtogether,whichIthinkisprettycool.”
Forjustasplitsecond,Nellaforgottobreathe.“Verycool.”
Hazelcockedherheadslightly.Nellacouldpracticallyseethegearsturninginthegirl’sheadastheyturnedinherown.WhatyearhadHazelsaidhergrandfatherdiedprotestingbusingwhentheywereatNico’sallthosemonthsago?1961?
Andtheyearofthemarch…1963.Herfatherhadquizzedheronsuchfactswhenshewasateenager,aroundthesametimehe’dgivenherthatcopyofBurningHeart
“Mygrandmotherremarried,”Hazelsaid,almostinstantly.“He’smystepgrandfather,buttheword‘step’getssomessy…”
Butitwastoolate.“Yes,”Nellasaid,noddingsatisfactorily.“It’ssoadmirablethatshewasabletomoveon.”
Malaikalookedfromherfriendtotheenemy,confused.ButHazelignoredherandcontinuedwalking.
Nellaexhaledapuffofairshehadn’trealizedthatshe’dbeenholdingin.“So,howmanyareyouexpectingtonight?”
“There’llbesevenofus,total.”
“Great.Friendsfromcollege,or—?”
“Arealmix,”saidHazel.“Iknowthemfromallovertheplace.Youknowhowyoupickupfriendsalongtheway—atcollege,differentjobs,differentplacesinlife…allthat.”
“Mmm.It’sreallysomethingthatyoustillkeepintouchwiththemall,evenafteryou’vemovedaroundsomuch.”
“Yeah,itis.Youknow,Ipreferwhenthenumberforthesethingsisabitlower,ataboutthree,”saidHazel,atlastleadingthemthroughaprewarawning.“Itmeanseverybodycangetalittlemoreattention.ButwhenIputoutthebait,everybodybit.Andspeakingofeverybody…”Shepausedinthedoorwaysoshecouldmakeanannouncementtothewomenwhowerealreadysittingintheyellow-orangeglowofthelivingroom.“Ladies,I’dlikeyoutomeetNellaandMalaika.Nell,Mal—”Shemovedoutofthewaysotheycouldenterthefoyer,too.“Thisiseverybody.”
“It’sMalaika,”shesaidsternly.Atthesametime,Nellaheardacacklecomefromthegreenpaisleyarmchairintherightcorneroftheroom,whichwasallbutswallowingabrowngirlwithanElaineBrown–sizedafrowhohadbeenflippingthroughamagazinebeforetheywalkedin.Onthefloor,acurvierBlackgirlwithskinthecolorofNella’spalmsrolledhereyesandnudgedJuanita,whowassittingbehindheronthebigsofa,handsinherhair.Juanitajustshookherheadandcontinuedtogreasethegirl’sscalp.
Nellabitherlipanxiously.Sheputupherhandandflickedherwristinthatawkward,beautypageantwaythatshealwaysdidwhenshefeltoutofplaceanddidn’tknowwhattodowithherappendages.“Hi,everybody.”
ThegirlinthepaisleyarmchairwasstillsnickeringwhenJuanitaspoke.“Dang,Hazel.Wedon’tevengetnames?Sheesh.”
“Shesaid,‘Theregoeverybody,’?”thegirlontheflooradded,beforegentlypullingawayfromJuanitasoshecouldstandupandshakeNella’shand,thenMalaika’s.“I’mEbonee.”
“Kiara,”ElaineBrown’shairheirsaid,wavinghermagazine.ThatitwasanissueofHarper’sdidn’tescapeNella,nordidthefactthatshehadapeninherhand,asthoughsheweremarkingitup.
“AndyourememberJuanita,right?”
“Ofcourse.Goodtoseeyouagain,”saidNella.Malaikabobbedherheadandmanagedaweakhello
HazellookedaroundtheroomasNellaandMalaikamovedtotakeseatsonthetwoemptycushionsthathadbeenplacedoneithersideofEbonee.“Where’sCamille?”
“Shehadtostepout,”saidJuanita.“Somethingabouthavingtocallherboobecausehewasgettingoffworkandhelikestotalktoherforatleasthalfofhiscommutehome.”
MalaikahelpedherselftoahandfulofbluecorntortillachipsthatweresittingonwhatappearedtobeasmallsquareIKEA-lookingtableinthemiddleoftheroom—theonlypieceoffurniture,Nellanotedwithinterest,thatactuallyseemedtobefromIKEA.Everythingelsearoundthemlookedlikeithadbeenownedandcherishedforsometime.Thegreen-and-beigecushionshe’dchosentositonwasjustassquishyasKiara’sarmchairlooked,andtheartworkonthewalls—lotsofblackfiguresthatweresupposedtorepresenthumansinvariousstatesofjoypaintedagainstmiscellaneousbrightbackdrops—werereminiscentofanothertime.Betweentwoofthesepaintings,standingtallatmaybesixfeetorso,wasadustyyetobstinatemoneytreeplantthathadtohavebeenaroundwhenBushwasinoffice.MaybeeventhefirstBush.
“Camille’sboyfriendgetsoffworkateightthirtyp.m.?”askedMalaika,incredulous,asthoughshe’dknownCamilleherentirelife.“Whatdoeshedo?”
“Heworksataninsurancecompany.”HazelloweredherselfontotheopenseatnexttoManny’ssister.“Buthelivesin…wheredoesheliveagain,Eb?”
“SomewhereoutWest.Colorado,Ithink.”
“Doesn’theliveinMontana?”askedJuanita.
Eboneesnorted.“LikeIremember.Aren’ttheybasicallythesame?”
“HelivesinMissoula,”Kiarainterjected,flippingapageinhermagazine.
Nellanearlychokedonherpotatochip.“Missoula?”
“Uh-huh.Atleast,thatfinesnackshewasshowingmepicturesofonherphonelivesinMissoula.AndhelookedfreshoutofaPatagoniaad,so.”Kiarashruggedherbareshoulders,twomuscularknobsbeneathaperiwinklewifebeater.
“Youbeenthere?”HazelaskedNella,surprised.
Nellashookherhead.“No,Ijust—isthatwhereCamilleisfrom,too?”
“Believeitornot,yes.She’spartofthatsmallpoint-fivepercentofBlackpeoplewhogrewupthere.”
“Nowthat’ssomething,”Malaikasaid.
Nellaregardedherfriend,whoappearedateasenowthatshe’dseenHazel’sfriendsreallydidhavemouthsinsteadofthemultiplerowsofleechteethshe’dpresumedbeforearriving.ButwhenMalaikacaughthereye,thateasequicklytransformedintoconcern.Shewrinkledhereyebrow,asthoughtoask,Yougood?
Nellawasn’tgood.Farfromit.
SheswallowedandglancedoveratHazel,whohadgrabbedasatchelfrombehindthecouchandwasnowstartingtotakeoutlong,vibrantpiecesoffabric.“Ipickedupabunchoftheselastweekend—youknow,fromthatAfricanfabricstoreIgotIndia’sscarfat,”Hazelsaid,holdingupablackscarfwithrowsandrowsoftinywhiteandreddiamonds.“Theywerehavingasale,twofortwenty-five.Takealookandseewhichoneyouwant?”
“Thosearegorgeous,”saidMalaika,takingthesatchelfromHazelsoshecouldpassittoNella.“Nell,thatblack-and-redonewouldlookgreatonyou.”
Nellaacceptedthebagawkwardly,stillhunguponMissoula,andstillgettingweirdeyesfromMalaika.Sheconsideredpullingherfriendasidetotellherthatmaybecomingherewasn’tsuchagoodideaafterall,butsheknewhowitwouldlookforthetwoofthemtogooffandhaveaprivateconversationatanintimatepartysuchasthisone:rudeatbest;suspiciousatworst.
NellapluckedthescarfMalaikahadpointedoutandheldituptothelight.“Ithinkthisone’sthewinner,”shesaid,settingthesatchelonthegroundbetweenherfeet.
“Nicechoice.Wannaslideonoverhere?Icantryafewdifferentscarfstylesonyouandthenyoucanpickwhichonesyouwanttolearnhowtodo.”
“Soundsgreat.”NellaremovedthelargeblackelasticfromherhairandslidhercushionoversothathershouldersrestedagainstHazel’sknees.Theactalonesentajoltofmemoryupherbackmuscles.AsHazelstuckherhandsinNella’shair,givingitasuperficialfeelandthenroamingherwayaround,Nellacouldn’thelpbutrecallhowmanytimesshe’ddonethisexactsamethingwithhermotherbackwhenshewasakid,andhergrandmother,too,wheneverherfathertookherouttheretovisitandshewantedhergrandbabygirltohavefreshlydonebraids.Inalmosteveryinstance,she’dhatedit:whenshewasgettingcornrows;whenshewasgettingDIYrelaxers(theyearthatNella’smothersaidtheyneededtostart“cuttingback”);whenshehadtositthroughhermother’stedioussoapoperas;whenhergrandmotherinsistedonpressingthecurlersoclosetoherforeheadthatshecouldfeelherskinsizzling,evenif“it’snottouching!”likeGrandmaalwayspromised.Nellawastender-headed;alwayshadbeen.Restless,too.
Butthere’dalsobeensomethingprofoundinthosemoments.Somethingintangible.Thissomethingwasinthelookthatherfriendsgaveherwhenshetoldthemhowmanyhoursshe’dspentsittingbetweenhermother’slegswatchingthe227marathonthathadbeenonTVOnethatweekend(then,explainingwhat227was);itwasinthenatureofthiselongatedphysicalcontactthatmostnon-Blackteenagersdidn’thavewiththeirmothers,butshedid.Anditwasinthelittlethingssuchcontact—howevermanyhoursoftimeshe’dspentwithhandsinherhair—taughtheraboutthewomeninherfamily.Hair-careregimens,passeddownfrombothsides.Patience,untilthefinelineofimpatiencesettledoverthewholescenelikeabadodor.Perfectionism.
Nellahadadaptedandincorporatedafewoftheseelementsintoherownhair-careroutinesasshe’dgottenolder.Buttheonethatshedidn’tconsciouslyrememberholdingontowastheonethatdrewhertogettingherhairdoneinthefirstplace.Wasn’tthatpartofwhathadattractedhertotheideaofgoingnatural,anyway?Beingabletodoitherself?
Evenstill,sherelaxedhershouldersasshefeltthepokingofacomb,andwhenshefeltafewbobbypinshereandthere,sheleteveryhintofapprehensiongo.SheforgotaboutbeingmistakenfortheotherBlackgirlintheoffice.Sheforgotaboutthatgirlwho’dgottenshovedintothebackseatofacar.Andsheforgotaboutthatawfulpickaninnycover.Sherelaxedsomuch,really,thatshedidn’tflinchwhenshefelttheshockingcoolnessofsomethingcreamytouchherscalp.Infact,sheleanedintoit,welcomedit,asthoughthesubstancehadbeenapartofherbodyallalong.
“What’sthat?”
NellajumpedatthesoundofMalaika’svoicesoclosetoherear.Openinghereyes—hadsheclosedthem?Shedidn’trecalldoingso—shewatchedwordlesslyasherfrienddippedhernoseclosetoherscalpsoshecouldsmellit.
“JustsomehairgreasethatI’vebeenusingforawhile.It’scalledSmooth’dOut.IthinkIgaveNellaajarofthisbackwhenyouguyscametoCurlCentral.”
“Ohyeah,”Nellamurmured,ashereyeslockedontheopenbluejarHazelwasholding.“That’sthestuffthatkindofsmellslikeBrownButtah.”
“Yep.IalwaysliketopreparemyscalpbeforeIputscarveson,”Hazelexplained.“Moremoisturetolockin.You’vebeenusingthestuffIgaveyou,right,Nell?”
“OfcourseIhave.”
Theliedidn’tgetpastMalaika,whoshotheraninquiringlook.“Well,itsmellsincredible,”shesaid,reachingforit.“CanIseethelabel?Nelladidn’ttellmeshefoundsomethingnew.”
Kiara’seyessnappedupfromhermagazineandlockedonMalaika,thenonNella,butshedidn’tsayaword.
Abeatpassed.Finally,Hazelpickedupthejarandhandeditover.“Sure.Onlythingis,there’snolabeltosee.”
“Areyouoneofthosepeoplewholovestoreadlabels,Malaika?”askedEbonee.
“Asamatteroffact,Iam.”
“Kiaradoesthat,too.Ipracticallyhavetodragheroutofthegrocerystore;itcangetsobadsometimes.We’reroommates,”Eboneeexplained.
“Hey,”saidKiara,puttinghermagazinedowninprotest.“IliketoknowwhatI’mputtinginmybody.Nothingwrongwiththat.”
“That’sfair,”saidNella.“Hey—kindofrandom,butdoyougetHarper’sontheregular?I’vebeenthinkingofgettingasubscription.”
Kiarashookherhead.“WholeFoodscheckoutaisle.I’vethoughtaboutit,too,becausethat’swhatmycreativewritingteachersuggestedtododuringmylastsemester,butit’stoorichformyblood.Besides,IalreadygettheNewYorker,NewYorkmagazine,theAtlantic—”Shepaused,staringatthefingersuponwhichshe’dbeentickingoffhersubscriptionsasshetriedtoremembertheothers.“Thereareacouplemore.ButIcan’trememberwhich.Mostweregiftsfromfamily.”
“Ihearthat.Thatstuffaddsup,”saidNella.“IworkinbookpublishingandI’vebeenblessedenoughtogetadiscountonPublishersWeekly.Oneofthemanyperkstocompensateforthelowpay,”sheadded,rollinghereyes.
“Hey—thepaycouldbeworse,”saidHazel,rubbingabitmoregreaseonapartshe’djustcreated.“ThemagazineIwasworkingatbeforepaidmeatinybitlesstodoalmosttwiceasmuch.”
“YouwereinBoston,though,weren’tyou?Costoflivingisdifferentthereversushere.”
“Notnecessarilybetter,though.”
“Whichpublishinghousedoyouworkat?”askedKiara,puttingthemagazinedownatherfeet.
“I’matWagner,”Nellasaid,atexactlythesametimethatHazelsaid,“Weworktogether.”
“Ohhhh,”saidKiara,noddingslowlyasshegesturedforEboneetopassthesmallramekinofWheatThins.“Makessense.God,theypublishthebestbooksthere.Youmustloveit.AndRichardWagneris,like,agod.”
“He’sprettydecent.”
Malaikaraisedaneyebrow.“Really?Weren’tyoujusttellingmethat—”
“Youmustbebrilliant,”Eboneeinterjected,staringatNella.“It’sharderthanhardtogetajobthere,fromwhatI’veheard.”
“EvenjustgettinganinternshipseemsharderthangettingLaurynHilltoshowupontime,”Kiaraagreed,slippingacrackerinhermouth.“Congratulations!That’saprettybigdeal.Youshouldbeproud.”
“Thanks.”Nellagrinned.AtideofpridestartedtorolloverherassheresistedtellingthemwhatRichardhadsaid:Iseehowhardyou’vebeenworking.Wevalueyou.“I’vebeenthereformorethantwoyearsnow,anditseemslikeImaybegettingalittlemoreresponsibilitysoon.Maybeeveneditingmyownbook!”
Nellafeltalighttugononeofherstrandsofhair,butwhenshelookedup,Hazel’shandswereinherlap,notonNella’shead.“So,um,whatdoyoudoguysdo?Ifyoudon’tmindmeasking,ofcourse,”sheaddedquickly,rememberingthatshewasatanaturalhairparty,notanetworkingevent.
“It’sallgood.Ijustfinishedmybachelor’sinEnglish,”saidKiara.Shedidseemyoung,notjustbecauseofherbabyface,butbecausesheappearedtohavespentmaybeforty-fiveminutesinfrontofthemirrorgettingready,judgingbytheheapsofeyelinerencirclinghertopandbottomlashes,herfoundation,andherperfectlydonemattelips.“ButI’mlookingatjobsrightnow.That’showImetHazel.”
“Same,”saidEbonee,gesturingtohavetheWheatThinsback.“WewenttoNYUtogether,althoughIgraduatedacoupleofyearsago.I’vebeeninterningattheParisReviewthepastyear.”
“Butwe’realmostpositivethey’regoingtoofferherafull-timeassistantpositionbeforetheyearends,”Hazelboasted.“Sorry,Ican’thelpbutbrag,Eb—you’reabadass.”
“Whoa,okay.Tonsofliterarypeoplehere,”observedMalaikalightly.“Nell,aren’tyoualwaystellingmehowwhitetheliteraryworldis?”
Nellaraisedaneyebrow.She’dbeenthinkingthesamething.“Verywhite,”shesaidstiffly.“Itwouldbegreattohaveyouguysinthisworld,too.”
“Sogreat,”Hazelagreed.“Thetwoofuscanonlydosomuch.”
“Well,I’mnotintobooksorwritingoranyofthat,”Juanitasaidproudly.“I’mworkingongettingmyhairtechniciandegree.”
“Nice!”Malaikalookeddownonceagainatthejarshe’dbeenhanded.“Sinceyouknowhair—tellmewhatthedealiswiththatgoopHazel’sslatheringintoNella’shair.Isithomemadeorsomething?Isthatwhythereisn’talabel?”
“That’sexactlywhy,”Juanitasaid.“Andhey,Icandoyourhairnext,afterIfinishwithEb.Anyideaofwhatyouwanttohavedonetonight?”
Malaikaspunthejararoundinherhand,searchingforanswersshewouldn’tbeabletofindonunlabeledplastic.“Cool!Thanks,butnothankstothegrease.Maybesomebraids,sinceitisstartingtogetcoldout…”
“?’Nitadoesafierceprotectivestyle,”saidEbonee.
“Ido,it’strue.”
Nellaheardamutterofassentcomefromabovethebackofherhead,followedby,“AndtheSmooth’dOutreallylocksthemoisturein,too.Irecommendit.”
Malaikashrugged,handedthejarback.“Thanksfortheoffer,butI’mgonnapass.”
“Howcome?”askedJuanita.
“I’mnottoobigonusinghairproductsthatdon’thavetheiringredientslisted.Anyproducts,really—butespeciallyhairproducts.”
“Yeah,Malaikaisreallyobsessiveaboutthosekindsofthings.”
HazelstartedwrappingthefabricaroundNella’sheadwhenshesaidthis,andshedidn’thavetolookupatherfriend’sfacetoknowshewasgivingherThatLookagain.Malaikahadapointaboutonlyusinghairproductsshetrusted.Still,Nellacouldn’tmusterthecouragetoagreewithher.
JuanitatuttedasEboneeleanedovertoexamineMalaika’shair.“Thatmustbeaprettyhardruletoliveby.Doesthatmeanyoushopat,like…Target?”
Nearlyeveryoneintheroomvisiblyshuddered.“SheaMoisturereallyfuckedupmyhair,”Kiarasaid.“Fuckedupallmyends.IendedupquittingTargetentirely.”
“Hey,IusedSheaMoistureforyearsbeforeIstartedusingBrownButtah,”Nellafinallymustered.“It’snotthatbad.”
“Look,everyone’shairisdifferent.Ijustknowmineissensitive,”Malaikasaidcoolly.“WhenIboughtsomeunlabeledproductonceatanaturalhaircarefairintheBronxafewyearsago,thatfuckedupmyhairandthatwasitforme.IknewI’dnevertodothatagain.ButIcantrustwhat’sinmyownhomemadehairgrease.”SheturnedtoHazel.“Unlessyoucantellmewhat’sinyours?MaybethenI’dchangemymind.”
ThepiecesofthescarftightenedaroundNella’shairline—tootight.Butshedidn’tsayanything.“It’sasecretrecipe,”Hazelsaid,grinning.“Afriendofafriendofafriend’smommadeit,andshehasn’ttoldanybodywhat’sinit.Ever.Sorry.”
Malaikahandedthejarback.“Noworries.”Shestillseemedascalmandaslightassummerrain,butNellasensedathunderstormbrewingunderhereyesafterthatexchange.“Nell—thatscarflooksincredibleonyou.”
“Yeah?”
Kiaraputdownhermagazine.“Itdoeslookdope.Youhaveagreat-shapedfaceforscarves.”
“Really?I’veneverwornone,”saidNella,feeling—againstallofhersmarterinstincts—flatteredbythecompliment.“Neverforfashion,anyway.Justforbed.”
“Letmesee?”
NellaturnedaroundsoHazelcouldtakealookatherwork.Shenodded.“Youshouldwearthemallthetime,”shesaid.“Andjustthink,you’redeep-conditioningrightatthisveryminute.’Nita,yougotahandmirror?”
“Ah.”Juanitapunchedherthigh.“IknewIforgotsomething.IthinkIleftitinthecar.CanIgetitwhenI’mdonewithEbonee?”
“Icantakeaphotofornow,”Malaikasaid,reachingintoherpursetograbherphone.ButNellastoppedherbeforeshecouldgetit.
“No,”shesaid,abitcurtly,keepinghereyesonMalaika’slongenoughtosparkcognizance.“Iactuallyhavetousethebathroom,socanIjustusethemirrorinthere?”
“Definitely.It’supstairsontheleft,”saidHazel,pointingatthedoorwaythroughwhichthey’dcome.
Nellathankedherand,ignoringMalaika’spleadinggazeforhernottoleave,liftedherselfupfromthecushion.ThensheslippedoutoftheroomjustasKiaramadeajokeaboutwhatCamilleandherboyfriendwereprobablydoingonthephone.
Camille,fromMissoula.
Thiscouldn’tbeacoincidence.Thatlistofnamesshe’dfoundontheprinterafewweeksagocouldn’thavejustbeenaguestlist,oranauthorlist.
Youknowhowyoupickupfriendsindifferentplacesalongtheway,Hazelhadsaid.Asthoughshe’dcollectedeachofthem,likeahandfulofBlackgirlTamagotchis.
Nellaquickenedherpace,takingthestairstwoatatime.Whenshereachedthetopofthelandingshesawthreedoors.Theoneontheleftwascracked,thefaintlightofacandlejustbarelyvisiblethroughthesliver.Theothertwodoorswereshuttight.
Timewasticking.Shealreadyestimatedshehadaboutfiveminuteslefttoexplore—seven,ifMalaikadistractedthemsuccessfully.Nellaregardedtheglowonelasttime.Then,withoutonemorethought,shereachedforthedoorknobontherightsideofthelandingandturned.
18
NellahadtopracticallyflingherselfintoHazel’sroom.She’dneverbeenthetypetoexplorespacesthatweren’thers.Tobefair,sherarelyhadtheopportunity.Beinganonlychildmeantprettymucheveryroominthehousewasfairgame,sinceherparentswouldletherwatchmoviesintheirroomallthetimewhenshewaslittle.Butevenwhenshewasolderandmorecurious,sherefrainedfrompurposelygoingtoaroomthatwasn’tthebathroom,heldherselfbackfromopeningcabinetdoorsabovesinksthatdidn’tbelongtoher.
Herreasonforthiswasn’tbecauseshehadastrongmoralcode.Itwasbecauseshe’dseenTheTexasChainsawMassacrefartooyoung.Sheknewwhatcouldhappenwhileexploringaplacethatwasn’tyourown:Atworst,abigdudeinamaskcameanddraggedyouintoabackroomsohecouldslaughteryou.Atbest,youwereoffonathirty-minutechase,quiteliterallyrunningforyourlife.
Nellawasn’texactlysurewhatsheexpectedtopopoutatherwhenshepushedopenHazel’sdoor—notsomemanwithacleaver,butmaybesomethingjustasunsettling,likephotosofhertakenfromastalker’sdistance.ShehadnoreasontobelievethatHazelactuallygaveashitabouther.MaybeeverybodyelseatWagnerhadbeenfooled,butNellawasabletoseethroughthebullshit.
Shesteppedthroughthedoorwayquickly,makingsuretoturntheknobbeforesheshutitbehindher.Shedidn’tthinkthesoundofmetalclickingagainstmetalwouldbeheardaboveSade’s“SmoothOperator,”but,again:Hazelhadsomehowalwaysmanagedtobeonestepaheadofheroneverythingsincethedaythey’dmet.Whatmadethisanydifferent?
Shefumbledaroundthewallforaminute,herhandfinallylandingonalightswitch.Sheflickedit,thoughtsofchainsaw-wieldingpsychosstilldancingaroundherbrain.Theshiftfromdarktolightrevealednotatorturechamber,butwhatseemedtobeanordinarybedroomthatbelongedtotwotwentysomethings:aSamsungsmartTVwasperchedatthefrontoftheroom,alongwithaSonosspeaker,aWii,andaWiFirouter.Facingthetelevisioninthecenteroftheroomwasaqueen-sizedbedwithamarooncomforterthatNellarecognizedfromTarget—oneshe’dalmostpurchasedbeforeOwenfoundablack-and-grayoptionintheclearancesection.
Nellamovedtowardthebedsoshecouldgetabetterviewoftheroom.Sheestimatedthatshehadaboutfiveminutesbeforepeoplestartedaskingquestions—maybefewerifMalaikalosthercoolandstartedinonHazel’sdreadlocks.
No.Sheneededtostopthinkingaboutallthethingsthatcouldgowrongandthinkinsteadaboutwhereinthisroomshewouldhidesomething.Itdepended,shesupposed,onhowmuchMannyknew.Ifheknewhernamewasn’tHazel,maybeshewouldn’tneedtosearchtoodeeply.Ifhedidn’t,well—shehopedshe’dhavethetimetodigdeepenough.
Nellathrewbackthemarooncurtainthatwassetuponthefarsideoftheroom.Waitingbehinditwererowsandrowsofclothes,allvaryingpiecesoffabric,allquasi-foreign,obscurepatternsthathadtohavebeenthoughtupinanotherdecade.Nellareachedoutandgrabbedthearmofapowder-blueblazer,thenthepocketofaburlapAfropunkFestivalkindofthingthatjustkeptgoingandgoing.Romperormaxi-peasantdress,Nellawasn’ttoosure,althoughthethoughtofitbeingtheformercausedaphantomitchinesstogrowbetweenherthighs.
Sheletitgososhecouldchecktheothersideofthecloset,whereshefoundapairofforest-greenmen’ssweatpants,thenakelly-greenpairofrunningshorts,thenaGreenBayPackersT-shirt.Yourboothangmighthave“good”hairandmightbeadopeAFartist,shethoughttoherself,shiningalighttoseewhetherornotthefootwearonthegroundwasactuallyjustfootwear(whichitwas),butitseemslikehehasonefashionsetting:basic.
Nevertheless,shecountedthepairsofNikesandAdidasbeforedecidingshe’dfinallyseenenough.Shepulledbackandcontemplatedotherobvioushidingplaces,lookingforsomekindofworkdeskorahaphazardlyleftlaptop.Therewasn’tatonoffurniture.Andthensherealized—forthefirsttime—thatthereweren’tahellofalotofthingsinHazelandManny’sroomatall.Thereweren’tanybooksscatteredaround.Nophotoboothsnapshotsfromso-and-so’swedding.Nooverflowingdirtyclotheshampers.Justthebareminimum:abottleofperfumelinedupnexttoabottleoflotionnexttoabluetubeofdeodorant,someofherunlabeledhairgrease,andasmallcupofbobbypins.Tidinessdevoidofanypersonality,notunlikehercubicledesk.
Strange.
Stumped,Nellalookedtothebedagain.Itwasworthatry.Shefelltoherknees,theplushburgundycarpetingcoolbeneathherfingertipsassheslidherheadbeneaththeframe.Whennothingofnotejumpedoutather,sheusedherphoneasaflashlight.Stillnothing.
Okay,fine,shethought,pushingherselfupoffthefloor.Isupposethatwouldhavebeentooeasy
Shefeltherselfbeginningtopanic,andthenwaver.Timewasrunningout.Wasanyofthisworthit?Whathadsheexpectedtofind?
Shelookedaroundtheroomagain,hopingforaHailMary.Thenshenoticedthetwoglassdoorsbeneaththetelevisionscreen,clockedafewbottlesofwhatlookedlikehairgrease,and—morenotably—amanilafolderlyingnexttothem.
Boom.
Nellahadbegunmakingherwayovertotheglassdoorswhenherphonebegantovibrate.PleasebeOwencalling.PleaselethimbeaskingwhereIam.DidItellhimwhereIwas?AnybodybutMalaika.Anybodybut—
Twocomingupforbathroom.CodeKente.
Two…atonce?Whytwo?Thiswasn’ttheclub.Thiswasahairparty.
NellasentbackasimpleKandtriedtostayrelaxed.Sheknewthatthetwogirlscomingupstairswouldreturndownstairswiththenewsthatshehadnotbeeninthebathroom.Butshealsoknewthat“CodeKente”meantthatnobodysuspectedanythingyet—or,atleast,itseemedlikenoonesuspectedanything.Itsimplymeantthatshemighthavecompany.
AbeadofsweattrickledoutfrombeneathNella’sscarfanddownherforehead.Then,likeacertifiedprowler,shelungedforthelightswitchsothatwhoeveritwasdidn’ttellHazelthatshe’dforgottentoturnherbedroomlightoff—orworse,wenttoturnitoffthemselves.Ineededtotakeanimpromptuphonecallinaprivatearea,shecouldsay,ifcaught,andiftheyneededextraconvincing:It’smymother.She’ssick.
Aidednowbynothingbutherflashlightandroughlytwo-thirdsofthecourageshe’dfeltwhenshefirstcrossedthisthresholdmomentsearlier,Nellareturnedtothecabinetandgrabbedontooneofitsknobs,makingsuresheleftnotonefingerprintontheglass.Then,sheextractedthemanilafolderandbegantoleafthroughit,turningoverwhatseemedtobevariousmagazineclippings.
Butjustasshewasabouttoputthefolderback,closethecabinetdoor,andfigureoutanexitstrategy,herfingersfoundanon-glossypage.Andthenanother.Alittlemorecarefulconcentrationofthebeamonthestackofpagesrevealedthatone-quarterofthefolder’scontentswereregularpiecesofpaper,eightandahalfbyelevens.
Nellarefrainedfromlettinglooseahystericalcheer,butwhenshecameacrosstherowsofwallet-sizedfaces—allfamiliar,allinvaryingshadesofbrown—sheallowedherselfasoftone.Theretheywere:Kiara,Ebonee,andaccordingtothenamenexttothephoto,Camille.Nexttoeachoftheirfaceswereacity,athree-digitnumber—alabelingsystem?—andcountlesshandwrittennotes.
She’dbeenright.
Nella’sfirstinstinctwastorunandtellMalaika.MalaikacoulddistractHazel,andthenNellacouldtellalltheothergirlsdownstairs…
Tellthemwhat?Shedidn’tknowwhattotellthem,really—andsheknewshedidn’thavetimetoreadanyofthenotes.Notnow.Soshelistenedtohersecondinstinctandtookaphototosaveforlater.Then,notnearlysatisfied,shecontinuedtoleafthroughthepages,speedingupwhensheheardthevaguesoundofatoiletflushingafewfeetaway.
She’dhitthejackpot.Thereweremoreandmorepagesjustlikethisone,eachfilledwithBlackgirls.Shedidn’trecognizeanyofthefacesbesidestheonesdownstairs,butshecontinuedtoflipanyway,feelingmoreandmorevalidatedthatshe’dthrowncaution—andtheDumbFoolPlaybook—tothewind.Becausehereshewas,sittingonHazel’sfloor,siftingthroughafolderofdocumentsinthedark,findinganswerstoquestionsthatseemedinsane.
Andthen,toherhorror,shefoundanotheranswer.
Thecurtainscaughthereyefirst.Aquamarine—hermother’s.Andthebright-eyed,wine-tipsygirlstandinginfrontofthesecurtains…
Itwasher.
Nellastareddownatherself,transfixed.Thephotohadbeentakenonhertwenty-fourthbirthday,whenshe’dgoneuptoConnecticuttocelebratewithherfamily.Shelookedsohappyandanxiety-freethatshe’dmadeitherprofilepictureforallofhersocialmediaaccountsimmediatelyafterleavingherparty.She’dnevertakenaphotoquiteasgoodasthatone,whichwaswhyitwasthelastphotoshe’deverpubliclypostedofherself.
Nellacouldn’tescapethemessagethewomanhadtextedherdaysearlier,minutesaftershe’dimploredNellatokeepdigging.
She’scomingforyou,too
Therewasonemorephotobehindhers.Nellawaitedaboutatenthofasecondbeforefinallyflippingoverthepage—she’dcomethisfar;howcouldshenot?—andcaughtanunmistakableglimpseofKendraRaePhillips.
Terrorandconfusionfilledherchestasshequicklysnappedaphotoofthewoman.Then,withoutthinking,sheturnedbacktothephotoofherselfandsnappedapictureofthat,too,theflashofherphonetemporarilyilluminatingherchocolate-lipstickedlipsandsproutsofateeny-weenyfrothatwasstilltryingtofinditswings.Butbeforesheputitbackinthefolder,sheskimmedtherestofthepage.Nellaswallowed,asdesperatetositonthefloorandreadeverysinglewordasshewastothrowitallintothenearestgarbagecanandsetthewholethingablaze.
She’dbeenallottedanentirepage—notarow,liketheothergirlshadgotten.Stuckbeneathherphotowasahotpinkstickynotewithhandwrittenwordsonit:Seemscomplacentenough;butmoreeffortswon’thurt—orderof8jarscomingin10/20.
Thatwasenough.Nellaslidthefolderbackwhereitbelongedandclosedthecabinet.Thenshetiptoedovertothedoor.Shewaspreparedtoletherselfoutwhensheheardatoiletflush,followedbythesoundofvoices.
“DoyouthinkNella,like,leftorsomething?”
Nellafroze.
“Noclue.She’sanInvoluntary,right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Sofunny.Whywouldn’tyouwantit?Mymotherwouldhavekilledforthisstuffwhenshewasmyage.”
“She’sprobablyoneofthoseuppityBlackgirlswhothinksshecangetbyonhercharmalone.”
“Ew,thosearetheworst.GoodforHazelfortryingtohelpherout.”
Helpme?Nellabitherlip.Thesegirlsweren’tHazel’svictims.Theywerehercomrades
Nellawaited,listeningtothesoundofrunningwater.Foramoment,shethoughttheymight’vealreadygonebackdownstairs,butthensheheardoneofthegirls—Kiara,sherealized—say,“Dang,Juanitahookedyouup.”
“Itlooksgood?”
“Yeah,butstopfussingwithit,now—letitbe.”
“Ijust—it’ssotight.Itoldhertomakeitalittlebitloose.”
Nelladidn’thaveachancetohearwhetherornotKiaratoldhertostopcomplaining,becausetheirfootstepswerealreadywindingdownthestairs.Onlywhensheheardnothingdidshecounttotenonce,thenasecondtime,beforeslippingoutofHazel’sroomasquicklyasshe’dentered.
“Thatwasterrible,”Malaikacomplained.“EvenworsethanIthoughtitwouldbe.”
NellaremainedsilentasshetookaseatnexttoMalaikaontherowofcold,dirtybenchestowaitforthetrain.
“Theydon’tcareaboutanythingotherthangettingjobsandworkingin‘this’industryand‘that’industry,”Malaikacontinued.“Andhair…like,dotheynothaveanyotherconcerns?Ilovebeingnatural,too,butyoudon’thearmetalkingaboutiteverytwominutes.Doyou?”
Nellastilldidn’tsayaword.
“And,speakingofhair—youshouldhaveseenhomegirl’sfacewhenIleanedforwardandtriedtotouchoneofherdreadlocks!Shepractically—”
“Please,Mal.Stop,”Nellasnapped,thesoundofhervoicestartlingherself.TheentirewalkfromHazel’sfrontdoortothesubway,she’dbeentoostunnedtospeak.She’devenhadahardtimewalking.Shedidn’tfeellikeshecouldtrusthermindorherbody.
Nellascannedeveryfaceonthetrainplatform.OnceshewassurenoneofHazel’sgirlshadfollowedthem,shepulledouthercellphone.“Andyou’resurenobodysuspectedanything?”
“Ishowedthemsomedumbhairvideoonmyphonetheminuteyouwentupstairs.C’mon,now—tellmewhatyousleuthed!Youwereuptherefor,like,days.”
Nellanarrowedhereyes.
“What?”
“Ijust…”CouldshetrustMalaika?Shestudiedherbestfriend,wonderingifHazelhadsomehowmanagedtogettoher,too.Malaikastudiedherrightback,visiblyconcerned.“Yougood,Nell?YoulookinglikeyoutookatriptotheSunkenPlaceandback.”
Nellanoddedonce.Malaika,shecouldstilltrust.Shehadto.
“Whatdidyoufind?”herfriendpressed.
“ItookasmanyphotosasIcould.”Nellapulledupthepictures,thenhandedherphonetoMalaika.“Thesepiecesofpaperwereinherroom.”
“Jeez.”Malaikapinchedthescreenforacloserlook.“IsthatEbonee?”
“It’sEboneeandCamilleandKiara.It’sallofthem.Mal,”Nellasaid,hervoiceshaking,“Ididn’thaveachancetotellyouthisbefore,butthosegirls—allofthosegirlsattheparty—I’dseentheirnamesbefore.”
“Youhad?Where?”
Nellatoldheraboutfindingthemontheprinteronemorning,allthewhilekeepinghereyestrainedonpassersby.
“Andyouthink—”
“Well,Ithoughttheywerecandidatesintherunningtoreplacemeatwork.‘Diversityhires.’Butnow—nowIdon’tknowwhattheirdealis.Ioverheardthemcallme‘anInvoluntary.’AsthoughI’mbeing,like…convertedtosomething.”
Malaikalookedatthephotosagainbeforeansweringherownquestion.“Well,see,thatexplainsalot.They’resippingthatCrystalLight,too,right?Holdup.Whatarethesewordsnexttotheirfaces?Theylooklikebios.”
Shewasabouttosaymorewhensheabruptlycutherselfoff.Nellalookedaroundtoseewhathadbroughtontheheavysilence.Abrown-skinnedgirlwithlocsthathadbeenrubbedwithpinkhairchalkwheeledabicyclebythem,hummingsoftlytoherself.
Nellawatchedher,too,untilshewasagoodfifteenfeetaway.Justtobesafe.Whenshewasoutofearshot,Malaikabegantoread.“?‘Kiaraisanamazingwriterandgreatatpickingupsocialcues.Prettyshy,though,withalower-than-usualunderstandingabouttheclassics.’?”Shescrolleddown.“?‘Ebonee’sblaccentissothickyoucanhardlyunderstandeveryotherwordthatcomesoutofhermouth.’‘Camillebroughtsuchgreatvibestotheworkplace.Butwordgotaroundthatshewasfeelinglessthanpleasedwithhowwewere“treatingher.”Goodattitude,butoverallungrateful.’
“Whatthefuck—whatisthis?”
Nellasnatchedherphoneback,didsomescrollingofherown.“ThispageisdatedashavingbeenprintedonMarch4,2017—whichmakessense,becauseEboneedoesn’thaveablaccentatallnow.Nottome,atleast.”
MalaikashookherheadasNellapulledbackfromthatphotoandstartedswipingtotheright,skippingovertheotherphotosshe’dtakenuntilshegottothepagewithherfaceonit.“Here’stheworstpartofitall,though.I’minhere,too.WithentriesdatingbacktomyfirstfewmonthsatWagner.WaybeforeHazelgotthere.”
Malaika’seyeswidened.“What?Lemmesee!”
Nellaheldupasolitaryfingerandclearedherthroat.“?‘June2016.NRseemssmart,quirky.Haswhiteboyfriend,Owen,whichcouldbeuseful.IsfromCTandproudofit.’?”
Sheflinched,butreadon.
9/3/16.NRsentJesseWatsonlinktoexternalemail.Apparentlysubscribedtohischannel.
1/4/17.Copshooting.TemporaryDiversityTownHallsputinplace;NRseemscomplacent.
“Seriously,what?”Malaikasaid.“?‘Complacent’?Whatkindofbullshit—”
Nellacontinuedon,tryingherhardesttoseparateherselffromthepersonshewasreadingabout.
7/14/18.BookCenterarticleaboutblackgriefinawhitespacepublished.NRsentarticlefromSK;accordingtoemailsback&forth,thiswasNR’sfirsttimeseeingit(saidsheagreedw/article’scontentbutsaidshedidnotwrite).
8/21/18.NRnoticeablyhappywithHazel.Seemslikeperfectmatch.Estimatedtimeuntilcyclecompletion:~4months.
“?‘Completion’?Completewhat?!”Malaikaspat,causingtheladywhowasemptyingthegarbageafewfeetawaytopauseheractivitieslongenoughtoeyethemquestioningly.
ButNellaloweredhervoiceandcontinuedon.“?‘9/26.Acceptedgrease,noquestions.’Andhere,insmallerletters,‘Mysterynoteseemstohaveheronedge—isitKP?Consideraltplan.’?”
Malaikascrunchedhereyebrows.“That’sthesamenightwewenttoCurlCentral,isn’tit?Andwait,who’sKP?”
“I’llshowyouinamoment,”Nellasaid,readingfasterandfasterwitheachnewline.
10/16/18.Stillconcernedaboutnotes.NRmayknowmoreaboutHazelthanshe’slettingon.WorkingwithKP?
10/17/18.Note-senderdiscoveredtobeShani(Cooper’s).ConfirmedNRstillinthedark—moretimeboughtw/Jessebook&promotiontalk.
“Hazelwroteallofthis?”
Thatwasthemostunsettlingpart.Sheknewthishandwriting,anditwasn’tHazel’s.
Nellaclosedhereyes,picturingthiscursiveshe’dseenahundredtimes—thesignatureoneverycontract,everythoughtfulholidaycardwrittentoWagner’sauthors.“Richard.ThisisRichard’shandwriting.”
“Richard,asinyourboss?!Iknewthatmanhadskeletons,”Malaikabreathed.“ButwhydoesHazelhavethis?”
Nellacoveredherface.“Becauseshe’sclearlyhelpinghimdo…whateveritisthatshe’sdoing.Maybethat’swhyshe’satWagner—toconvincemetobe‘complacent.’To…hypnotizeme?Ihavenofuckingclue.Whatever’shappeninghere,it’sterrible,andit’sbig.Biggerthanme,andprobablyevenbiggerthanHazel.Whoeversheis.”
Nellastaredoutintothedarkabyssofthetraintrackstoclearhermind.Butshesawthebald-headedgirl,theBlackhand.Theblacksedan.Ifshe’dspentmoretimelookingthroughthosefiles,shewouldhaveprobablylearnedhername,too.
“Fourmonths,”Malaikarepeated.“Thatwaswrittenwhat—threemonthsago?What’ssupposedtohappentoyounextmonth?”
“Idon’tknow.Butifthat’snotconfusingenough…meetKP.”
Nellascrolledtotheverylastphotoinhercameraroll—theoneshe’dsnappedoftheKendraRaePhillipspage.Judgingbythequalityofherwallet-sizedpicture,NellaguessedithadbeentakenaroundthetimeBurningHeartwaspublished.Itwasmaybeoneofthelastpublicphotostheeditorhadevertaken.Besideitweremorenotes,alsoinRichard’shandwriting,withdatesthatwentfromtheeightiesallthewayuptopresentday.Nellareadafewofthemoutloud—Possiblesightingupstate,1/5/86.1992—movedtoParis???—butthelastonecapturedherattentionandkeptitthere.
10/20/18,confirmedsightingofKPnear100thandBroadway.TookShani’sphone,thenwentunderground.
Somethingice-coldshotthroughNella’sveins.Adrenaline.Fear.Awareness.ItwasShaniwhohadbeenputintheblacksedan.
So,then,thenewnamelesstexter—thepersonwho’dtoldNellasomeonewascomingforher…
YouchosetodealwithKennythewayyoudid.
ThewordsclippedNellainthejaw,suddenly,asthoughshe’dbeensocked.Shetrieddesperatelytorememberwhereshe’dheardthem.OutsideofRichard’soffice,whenshe’dsuspectedhewasspeakingtohisBlackmistress.
“WhatdoesKendraRaePhillipshavetodowithyou?Isn’tshebasically,like,gone?”
NellalookedoveratMalaika,whowassittingthoughtfullybesideher,nibblingatherthumbnail.ShewanteddesperatelytotellMalaikaeverythingshewasfeeling—abouthowscaredshewastogotowork;abouthowshe’dbeentalkingtosomeonewhowassupposedtohavebeen“dealtwith.”Andhowshemightsoonbe“dealtwith”herself.
Butshedidn’t.Shesimplykepthereyestrainedontheturnstilesthroughwhichthey’dswiped,mullingitallover.Hazelmighthavepretendedshedidn’tsuspectathing,butNellawasfullyawarethatshe’ddisappearedforjustaminutetoolong.HazelwasHazel:Iftherewasanythingshewasperfectlyattunedto,itwastiming.
“So,nowwhat?Youaregoingtoquit,right?OrblowthewhistleonthefactthatRichardWagnerhasbeenkeepingtabsonyoulikethis?Youshouldwriteanarticleaboutthis,”Malaikahuffed,growingmoreandmoreindignant.“Wouldservehisguiltyassright.Maybethenhe’dhavetoexplaineverythingelsehere.”
Nellasatasstillasstone.Sheinhaledslowly,thenexhaledevenmoreslowly,tryingtothinkofawaytoputwhatshewasfeelingintowords.SomethingrottenresidedwithinWagner’swalls,andshe’dbeentrackingthatrottensomethingaroundonhershoesinceDayDamnOne.Howmanypeoplehadknown?Everyone—ithadtobeallofthem.Vera,Maisy,Amy…theyallhadtobeinonit.HowelsewouldRichardhavesuchcopiousnotes?
Fardownthetrackandintothetunnel,Nellacouldmakeoutthelightsofaslow-approachingtraincomingtotakeherawayfromClintonHill.Afterafewstops,shewouldtransfertoanothertrainandbesweptintoadifferent,lessattractivepartofBrooklyn,wherefewbusinesseswereBlack-owned,andbrownstonesbecameboxy,medium-sizedapartments.Wheretherewerenofancyvestibulestoputherimaginarybikeandcoatrackin.
“Whoeverthatphonebelongstohashadyourbacksincedayone.Presumably,”Malaikafinallysaid.“Andyou’regonnasendthosephotostothatpersonwho’sbeentextingyou.Right?”
Nellanodded.Shestartedtostand,thered-and-blackscarfHazelhadgiftedhersuddenlypullinguncomfortablyathereyebrows.
Malaikastood,too.“Good.Becauseyouknowthat’stherightthingtodo.Maybeitseemslikethecrazythingtodo,butwhathaveyougottolose,right?”
“Right.”Nella’seyeswerestilltrainedonthelightsinthetunnel.
“Great!So…”MalaikapointedatNella’sphone,whichNellawasclutchingtightlytohertorso.“Wannadothat,like…rightnow?”
“IthinkIjustwanttohandlethiswhenIgethome,”Nellareplied.“Thetrainiscoming.”
“Wehaveplentyoftime,”saidMalaika.“Here—youmustbereallyfreakedout.Icanjustdoitforyou.Passit.”
Shereachedforthephone,butgotNella’sarmandawitheringglanceinstead.
“IsaidI’llhandleit,Mal.IjustwanttodoitwhenIgethome.Myhead’sspinningrightnow,I’mtired,andI’drathertalkaboutsomethingelsefortherestofthistrip.Let’sdropitfornow.Please?”
Malaikalookedhurt.“Okay,okay,sorry.Ijustfigured…”
Thearrivingtrainrattledsoloudly,Nelladidn’theartherest.
19
October26,2018
WagnerBooks
Elevenforty-threea.m.Stillnonewmessages,andstillnomissedcalls.
Nellaslippedherphoneintoherpocketandsighed.Hadshedreamedthelastfewmonths?Maybe.Maybetherewassomeexplanationforallofthis—onethatwashidinginplainsight,rightunderhernose.
Themorningwasasnormalasanyotherone.HazelhadgreetedherwithherusualWhat’sgoingon?whenshe’dfirstenteredtheofficethatmorning,andNellasomehowmanagedalukewarmgreetinginreturn.Vera’daskedherifshecouldreadtwonewmanuscriptsbytheendofnextweek.Andjustafewminutesearlier,she’dreceivedanemailfromDonaldremindingherthattheJessemeetingwasatnoon,andthatitwouldtakeplaceinthesmallconferenceroom.“ThemostintimateWagnerroom,”everyonealwayscalledit.
Nellapushedherselfupfromherdesk,smoothedherPrince-purpleblazer,andstartedthefifteen-secondwalkovertotheconferenceroom.Shewasgoingtobefifteenminutesearly—morethanearlyenough,sinceshewassureJessewouldbeatleastthirtyminuteslate.Likehe’dsaidinhisCPTimesegment:IshowupwhenIshowup
Nellawascheckingherphoneathirdtime,settingherfirstfootintheconferenceroom,whenshewasprovedwrong.
TherewasJesseWatson,sittingatthefarendofthetablewithabluefortieth-anniversaryWagnermuginhisrighthandandaballpointpenintheother.“Oh!”sheexclaimed.
Helookedupfromhisnotepadandoverather,hismoutharticulatingwordsthatsoundedevensmootherinpersonthantheyhadinherheadphones,andinaflash,hewasmovingtogreether.“YoumustbeNella,”hesaid.“It’ssonicetofinallymeetyou.I’veheardsomuchaboutyou.”
“Um…yeah.Yes.Hi!”Hehadn’tsaidhe’dreadheremailandlovedit,buthedidn’tneedto.Shewasstarstruck:Jessewasevencuterinpersonthanhe’dbeenonhercomputerscreen.Hesmelledgood,too,likeautumnalpotpourri.“Itisso,sonicetomeetyou!ThanksfortakingthetimetocometoWagner.”
“Oh,it’snotroubleatall.I’malwaystraveling,andNewYorkisoneofmyfavoriteplaces.”
NellalookedaroundattheemptyseatsasJessesatbackdown.Seeingherhesitation,hegesturedattheoneclosesttohim.“Haveaseat?”
Shesmiled.“Thanks.IwishIcould,”sheapologized,pickingaseatthreechairsdown,“butIthinkmybosseswillwantthoseseats.”
Fuckthat.Whitepeoplehavebeenarrivinglatetothepartyforcenturies,andtheystillgetpriorityseats.
ButJessedidn’tsaythis.Hejustshrugged.“Oh.Gotit.”
“Andyouknowhowitis:probablybetterforusBlackfolktospreadout.Beevenlydistributed,youknowwhatImean?”
Shewassureshe’dusedtheperfectamountofsarcasm,hadverballywink-wink-nudge-nudgedwithoutactuallywink-wink-nudge-nudging.ButJessewasstaringatherlikeshe’dsuggestedtheyblowuptheentirebuilding…whiletheywerestillinit.
Nellaswallowed,suddenlyawareofthetighteninginherthroatandthedrynessonhertongue.She’dfeltmoreateasespeakingtoRichardaboutthenotesthanshedidatthisverymoment.
Richard.
Justthethoughtofhisnamestrippedawayanychanceofherspeakingagain.Fortuitously,Verawhirledintotheroomatexactlythatmoment,pink-cheekedandpositivelycheery.“Mr.Watson!You’vearrived!VeraParini.Ihopeyoufoundusokay.Canwegetyouanycoffee?Tea?Water?”Withthislastquestion,sheregardedNella.
“I’mgood,thankyou,”Jessesaid,shakingthehandshehadstuckinhisface.“Donaldbeatyoutoit.”
“Greatguy,isn’the?”Veraasked.
“Yep.He’sahoot,too.”
“Ariot,”saidRichard,who’dquietlyenteredtheroomwithoutNellanoticing.Shewrappedherarmsaroundherself,achillburrowingintoherbonesasheandJessegreetedoneanother.ThefeelinglessenedonlywhenAmyandhernewhighschoolinternfiledinnext.Nellacouldn’trememberhisname,butheappearedtohaveadropofsomethingnonwhiteinhim,whichwaswhy—sheimagined—he’dbeeninvitedtothishigh-profilemeeting.
VeraaskedaboutHazel.Nellashrugged.“Shewasn’tatherdeskwhenIwalkedoverhere.Maybeshecamedownwithsomething?”
Maybeshedecidednottocomeintoday.Maybeshe’stoobusymixingupnewbatchesofhypnotichairgrease.Maybeshe—
“Haze!Girl,howyoudoing?”JessepoppedupsofasttogiveHazelafierceembracethathepracticallyknockedoverhischair.“It’sbeenaminute.”
“Beentoolong.I’mgreat!Betternowthatwe’vegotyouhere.”
“Didn’ttaketoomuchtodothat,”hesaid,castinganarmtowardthechairNellahadturneddown.HazeltookitwithoutasecondthoughtasRichardsmiledatherfromacrossthetable.“Thanksforhookingmeup.”
“Yes,andforhookingusup,too!”Verasaidforcefully.“Whatagreatmeetingofmindsthisisgoingtobe.”
“Indeed!”Amysaid,clappingherhands.“Let’sgetstarted,shallwe?”
“Let’s.Butfirst,Jesse,haveyoumetNellayet?”Richardaskedemphatically.“She’soneofourfinestassistantshere.Shehasareallysharpeye.”
Nellaswallowedandforcedasmile.Thewarningnatureofhistonehadn’tbeenlostonher.“Thanks,Richard.Wedidmeet,briefly.”
“Indeed!”Jessesaid,beaming.Hewaspracticallyvibratingnow,heseemedsohappy.Muchhappierthanhehadbeentenminutesearlier,Nellanoticed,asthoughalighthadjustturnedoninsideofhim.
Nellashookoffthethought,tryingnottoletitfazeherfromthetaskathand:WinJesseover.Makehimwanttoworkwithyou.LeaveWagner.
“Jesse,wenormallystartoffthesekindsofmeetingsbytellingpotentialauthorsabitaboutwhateachofusdoeshereatWagner,”Amybegan,foldingherhandsinfrontofher,“butRichardandIspokeearlier,andwethinkthatit’sbestthatyoustartusoff.Wouldyouliketotellusalittlebitaboutwhyyou’reheretoday?”
JessenoddedandlickedhislipsinthewaythatNellahadseenhimdocountlesstimesonscreen.“Absolutely.Asyouallmayknow,I’vebeenavoidingthespotlightforthelastyearorso—everythingbecametoooverwhelming.Thenews,thepolitics,thetweets—allofitwasjusttoomuch.Itseemedappropriateformetotakeabreak.”
“Wasthereanyparticularreasonyoudidthis?”askedNella,curious.“Likeabreakingpoint,oranything?”
“Nell—maybeweshouldlethimfinishfirst.No?”
WhenNellalookedoveratherboss,shenoticedthatVerawassmilingabittoohard.
“Yes,you’reright,”shesaid,embarrassed.Sheavertedhereyestothescribblingsonhernotepad.“Ofcourse.Sorry.”
“It’sallgood.Um,anyway—wherewasI?”
“Youwantingtotakeabreak,”Richardremindedhim,quick-firingdaggersatNellaoutofthecornerofhiseye.
“Right.So,IthoughtI’dtakeabreak.AndthenIwassittinginthepark,notreallydoinganything,andanideaforabookcametome.Agraphicnovel,actually.”
ThethoughtseemedsooutofleftfieldthatevenRaúl,Amy’sintern,satupinhisseat.“Agraphicnovel?”heaskedquizzically.
Jessenodded.“Agraphicnovel.”
NoticingthatnoonehadreprimandedRaúlforspeakingoutofturn,Nellasaid,hopefully,“Thatsoundsgreat!Asin,like,asociallyconsciousPersepoliskindofthingthatshowstheriseoftheBlackLivesMattermovement?”
Thesocialmediamogulblinkedatheracoupleoftimes.“No,”hesaidfinally.“Notthat.”
Nellaregardedhernotepadagain,thistimereadingthetermsshe’dwrittendown.“Policebrutality,maybe.Orbussing,housingprojects,healthcare—”
“Iwasn’tthinkingaboutwritingaboutanyofthosethings,either.Iwanttodosomethingmorepositive.Somethingwithtwomaincharacterswhocomefromdifferentworlds.Differentbackgrounds.One’ssuperchill;theother’s,like,superuptight.Butthey’rebroughttogetherforaparticularreason—maybethey’recops?Andtheyteacheachotherthings,despitetheirdifferences.”
“So,letmegetthisstraight.Youwanttowritesomethinglike…agraphicnoveladaptationofLethalWeapon.”
Jessegrinned.“MelGibsoniskindofmyhero.”
“Really?”Nellaasked,toobaffledtohideherdisappointment.
Richardclearedhisthroat.“Nella…”
“It’sjustsostrange,that’sall.”
“What’swrongwithMelGibson?”Veraasked,atthesametimethatHazelsaid,“Nella,Idon’tthinkwewanttopushhimintosomethinghedoesn’twanttodo.Right,Jess?”
“Thankyou,”Jessesaid.
Nellacockedherhead.“But,like—areyou…areyousure?Isitbecauseyoudon’tthinkwehavetherighttoolshereatWagnertohelpyouputintowordswhatyou’dreallyliketowrite?Becausewe’refullyequippedtohelpyouwriteareallyhard-hitting,award-winning—”
“Imean,believeme,wecandiscusssomepoliticalstufftoday,”Jessesaid,holdinguphishands.“ButIdon’twantthattobethefocusofmybook.”
“Oh.Okay.”Nellasquinteddownathernotepad,unsureofwhattomakeofthis.She’dspentthelastfewweeksimaginingwhatitwouldbeliketoactuallymeetJesseWatson.She’dflippedthrougheverypossiblescenariolikeadeckoftarotcards:snottydiva;Blackhippie;totalspacecadet.Butnoneofthesepersonalitieswerevisibleinthepersonseatedinfrontofher.Jesseseemedwashedout.Different.Andnotjustbecauseofhisnewpairofclearplasticglassesframes,whichNellahadneverseenhimwearinanyotherphotosorvideos.Heseemedcleaner;tidier.Hisbeard,whichsherememberedbeinglessreservedandmoreRastafarian,wasnowcloselycropped;thetinytwistsheusedtowearwerenolonger.Hishairnowlayflatacrosshishead,smoothandjustalittlebitshiny.Greased.
Nellaswallowed,suddenlyunderstanding,suddenlyawareofthatmagneticforcethatwasturningherheadtowardHazel.Itwasthelastthingshewantedtodo.Butshehadnochoice.Shetookthreeslow,deepbreaths.Then,sheliftedhereyesupfromthetabletomeetHazel’s.Whatshesawwasexactlywhatshe’dexpected:alookofsmug,unbridledtriumph.
Nellastartedtocough,thedrynessstartingupagain.“Um,”shesaid,standing,“willyoualljust…excusemeforamoment?Ihaveto…”
“Goahead,Nella,”saidRichard.
VerawasalreadyaskingaboutJesse’sfavoritebooksasNellahustledoutthedoor.Shepausedlongenoughtohearhimsay,almostindignantly,“InfiniteJest.”
Therewasawhoopofapproval.Richard.Thatwasallittooktopropeleveryoneintoafeverishfrenzyofagreement,theechoesoftheirhigh-pitchedsquawkshoundingNellaallthewaydownthehall.
Nellastaredatherreflectioninthebathroommirrorabovethesink,takinginventoryofwhatstaredbackather.Themelatoninshe’dswallowedthenightbeforeleftherfeelingmorerestedthanshehadinweeks.HerblazerworkedwellwiththeopalearringsherfatherhadsentherasacongratulationsforgettingajobatWagnerinthefirstplace.Evenhercurlswerelookingextraspringy,dartingouteverywhichwayfromherheadinanorderly,moisturizedfashion.
Buteverythingfeltwrong.
Nellareachedforthefaucetandbeganfillingherpalmsupwithcoolwater.Coldshowersweren’tnormallyherthing,buttodayherclammyforeheadfoundcomfortinthesplashoftheliquid.Itfeltgoodthesecondtime,soshediditathird,too.Shewasreachingforthepapertoweldispenser,dropsofwaterstillblurringhervision,whenshefeltsomethingnudgeherhip.“Igotyou.”
Nellablinkedafewtimes.Whensheopenedthem,shewaspresentedwithHazel,wide-eyedandgrinningandclutchingabunchofpapertowelsinherhand.
NellalookedfromthetowelstotheknowinggleaminHazel’seyetothetowelsagain.
“Takethem.Yourfaceisdrippingwet,girl.”
Nellaregardedthepapertowelswarily.“Thanks,”shefinallysaid,takingthepapertowelsandwipingherface.
“You’rewelcome.”Hazelwalkedovertothecounterandinspecteditforwetspotsbeforeleaningbackagainstit.“What’sgoingon,Nell?Youseemedreallyjitteryinthere.”
“I’mfine.”
Hazelgaveheraonce-over.Nellareturnedthegesture,noticingHazelhadalsodecidedtopickablazerfortheirJessemeeting—thesamepowder-blueonethatNellahadrunherfingersoverjustthenightbefore.
“Youknow…I’vebeenlookingforwardtothismeetingforawhile.AndIknowyouhave,too.That’stheonlyreasonwhyIcanimagineyou’restillhere.”
Nella’sbodywentrigid.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imeanthatyouwouldn’thavecometoworktodayifyoudidn’twanttotakeastabatJesseWatson.”
“What?”Nellaasked,feigningignorance,becauseofcoursethathadbeentheplansheandMalaikahadcomeupwiththenightbefore:MeetJesse.ShowJesseeverythingNellahadonherphone.ThenleaveWagnerwithJesse,andneverlookback.“Whywouldn’tIhavecometoworktoday?”
“IthinkI’mbeingtoonicehere.Letmeputitthisway.”Hazelcrossedherarms.“Youshouldn’thavecometoworktoday,Nella.Youshould’vequit.Wedon’tneedtokeepyouaroundanymore.”
Nellaopenedhermouthtoprotest,butHazeladded,“Andno,Richarddoesn’treallyvalueyou.Thatwasbullshit.Hewasjustsayingwhatyouwantedtohear.He’sonlybeenkeepingyouheretokeepaneyeonyou.
“Plus,nowthatheknowsthatyouknow…”
“HeknowsIknowwhat?”
“Stopit,”Hazelbarked.“Don’tplaydumb.Don’tactlikeyoudon’tknow.Youweresnoopinginmybedroom.DoyouthinkI’mthatstupid?Seriously—afterallthistime?”Shesnorted.“Iwantedyoutofindthosefiles.Iwantedyoutofindthem,becauseIwantedtoseewhatyouwoulddo.Iwantedtoseewhatchoiceyouwouldmake.Andnow,hereyouare.”
Nellafelthumiliated.Herstomachtookatriptohertoesasshecontemplatedhernextmove.Butshedidn’thavetimetoactuallymakeone.Suddenly,Hazelwasrightupinherface,jabbingafingernailintoherclavicle.Thestrong,overpoweringsmellofhercocoabutterhairgreaseburnedNella’snostrils.“Iknowitwasaprettybiggambleonmypart,becauseyoucouldhaveopenedyourmouthandblabbedaboutittoShani.Butwehandledthat.
“Andbeforeyoueventhinkabouttellinganyone,”Hazelsnarled,hersmooth,buttery-nougatvoiceshape-shiftingintosomethingcompletelyunrecognizable,“nobodywouldbelieveyou.Everyonewouldthinkyou’reinsane.”
“AndIwouldagreewiththem,”Nellashotback,puttingahandtohertemple.Thereweresomanythingsspinningaroundinherhead;therewassomuchshewantedtoknow.Butshewastoostunnedtoaskanythingotherthan“Didthosegirlsagreetothisontheirown?”
Hazelstillhadn’tbackedoff,soNellacouldseethetinytwitchofincomprehensionworkitswayintohereyebrowpiercing.
“Thegirls.Theonesonyourlists.Theyallaskedtobeapartofthis—whateveritis?”
HazelstudiedNellasohard,andsohatefully,thatNellawasquitepositiveshewasgoingtobeslapped.Butafteralong,longsecond,Hazelblinked.“Howsad,”shesaidthoughtfully.
“What?”
Hazellaughed.“HowsadthatShaniwasn’tabletofillyouin.”
NellaresistedtheurgetoshieldherselfasHazelreachedforherpurseandpulledouttwojars:onebrightblue;theother,hotpink.
Hairgrease.
“Thisstuffiseverything,”Hazelsaid.Hermovementssuddenlyhadacertainshowmanqualitytothem;itwasasthoughsomeonehadpickeduparemoteandswitchedherchannelfromBravototheHomeShoppingNetwork.Whichwasstrange,sinceNellacouldstillfeelhernailonherclavicle.“Let’scallthese…sociallubricants.Yourememberthisone,right?Smooth’dOut?Ofcourse,you’vebeenusingthisstuffsinceCurlCentral…butnotenough,Idon’tthink.Luckily,Iappliedalotofittoyourhairlastnight.Lookinggoodtoday,bytheway.”Shewinked.
Nellaeyeditcuriously,butdidn’treachforit.
“Andthispinkone—KinkFree—actually,maybeI’lljustgivethistoyou.Youonlyuseadabofthisone.Justadab.Thisonehelpsyouholdontoyouressence.YourBlackness.It’soptional—notallthegirlsworryasmuchaboutusingit—butit’sgoodtohaveinsituationslikethisJessemeeting.”
“Slowdown,”Nellasaid,findinghervoiceatlast.“?‘Sociallubricants’?”
“Yep.Thecontentswithinthesejarsareclutch,”Hazelwassaying.“They’llmakeyoumoreamenablewhenitcomestoworkingforandwithwhitefolks.Butthebestpartisthatthey’llprecludeanyguiltyoumayfeelfromdoingso.Youwon’tfeellikeyou’recompromisinganything.No‘sellingout.’No‘publicversusprivate’disposition.
“It’sgonnanumbyourventromedialprefrontalcortex.Butit’llalsohelpyoutodomorewithyourtimethanyou’veeverbeenabletodobefore.Don’tstress!Youwon’tfeelthenumbingtoomuch.Couldbeworse,too—Iheardtheoriginalformulaitchedlikeamotherfuckerandturnedyouintoababblingidiot.”
“Noneofthismakesanysense,”saidNellabluntly.
“Iwasabletocurryfavormorequicklyatworkinacoupleofweeksthanmostpeople—Blackornot—areabletodoinoneyear.Thatway,Ididn’tneedtospendallofmytimegoingtheextramilewhenIwasn’tatwork.AndI’vestillbeenabletorunYBL.”
“Butevenifthatsomehowallcomesfromahairproduct—you’restillcompromisingwhoyouare,”Nellapointedoutweakly.Atthesametime,though,shewasthinkingabouthowshewasn’tevensurewhoshewas.Thereweresomanythingssheneverhadenoughenergyfor—somanysocialinteractionsshe’dgottensoincrediblywrong—becauseWagnerhadsuckedherdryofherconfidenceandhersenseofself.
“What’sthedifferenceifyoudon’tknowwhoyouare?What’sthatsaying—‘ifatreefallsinaforest,butyou’renotaroundtoseeit,doesitcount?’Somethinglikethat.”
“?‘What’sthedifference’?”Nellalaughed.“You’rekidding,right?Yourgrandfather—”
ShestoppedherselfwhenHazeltittered,butpressedon.“Anyoneolderthanuswouldbedisappointedtoknowthatyouexist.Thatsomethinglikethisexists.”
“No.They’dbeenvious.Thinkhowmuchfurthertheycould’vegotten,Nella.Nothavingtofeelallthepain…”
“YouneveransweredmyquestionaboutCamilleandEboneeandthem.Whetherornottheyreallyknowwhat’shappening.”
“Eboneewould’vebeenaninternattheParisReviewforanotheryear,maybetwo.Sheneededthis.Soshedoes.Afewothersknow,too.ButalotwerereferredtoDick,whothenrefersthemtome—andafewotherBlackgirls—tofix.Astimepasses,though,theystarttoloveit.Believeme.”
“Sothat’sano.Youdon’tthinkthat’sjustatinybitfuckedup?Changingthesegirlswithouttheirconsent?Their…soberconsent?”Nellaasked,forlackofabetterword.
Hazelshrugged.“Whattheydon’tknowwon’thurtthem.”
“Whattheydon’tknowwillhurtalltheBlackpeoplewhoaren’tdoingwhatyoudo.Andit’llhurttherestoftheworld,too,ifeveryonestartsthinkingthatwe’reallhappycompliantmammieswhoask‘howhigh’whenwe’retoldto—”
“Theyalreadybelievewe’reall‘StrongBlackWomen,’though,”Hazelinterrupted.“Ifthey’regoingtobelievethatstereotype,andifwe’regoingtocontinuetofeedthemthatstereotype,thenwemightaswell—”
ButNelladidtheinterruptingthistime.“Howcanwetrulyfixanyofthosestereotypes—thoseproblems—ifwe’renottrulyfeelingalloftherealthingstheworldisthrowingatus?Whoareweasapeopleifwe’renot…ifwe’renot…”
HazelwasgivingNellaanotheronce-over,butthistimeitwasclearshedidn’tlikewhatshewashearing.“Ifwe’renotwhat,Nella?Suffering?Isthatwhatyouwant?Tofeeloverextended?Tofeelworndownbyeverymicroaggressionyouexperienceintheoffice,andeveryinjusticeyouseeonthenews?Arethosethekindsofthingsthatmakeyoufeellikeyou?
“WhatI’mofferingyouhere,”Hazelsaid,“isanopportunitytobeapartofsomethingthatwillallowyoutoletgo,andgofurther.”
Nellascoffed.“Well,Idon’twantit.”
“Butyoudo.Iknowyou,Nella.”
“No,youdon’t.”
“Ido.Igetit.”
NellaknewthosethreewordsandthatearneststarethatHazelwasgivingherwereallsimplyfluff.Aploy.ButwhenshetriedtowrestleawaythisliltofBlack-girlsolidarity,shefeltapoundinginthefrontofherbrain,likeshewastryingtodriveacarupabrickwall,rammingintothissamewalloverandoverandoveragain.
“Youthinkyou’reabovewhatIdo.ButIseethatdriveyouhave,”Hazelcontinued,adamant.“EverythingIdid,IdidbecauseIhavethatdrive,too.Ialwayshave.Lookatyourself,Nella.Youknowit’strue.”
Nellarefusedtoregardherselfinthemirror.“We’renotthesame,”shesaid,glaringatHazel.“Ihaveconvictions.Ispeakout.Idon’tostracizeotherBlackpeople.You’rejustan—”Nellastoppedherself,notbecauseshewasn’tcomfortablesayingittothegirl’sface,butbecausethatrammingfeelinghadreturned—exceptthistime,thecarthathadbeenrepeatedlybackingupandmovingforwardhadtransformedintoatractortrailer.Ithurtsomuchthateverythinginherlineofvisionturnedabright,blindingshadeofred.
“Justawhat?”Hazelasked,agrininhervoice.“An‘UncleTom’?”
Nellaputahandtoherhead,tryingdesperatelytocollectherthoughts.Itdidn’twork.“Yourwords.Notmine,”shesaidhazily.
“Sometimeswehavetobeinordertogetwhatwewant.Shit.Look.”ShegesturedabstractedlyatthewhitetiledwallthatNellawasnowusingtokeepherselfupright,butitwasclearthatshewasalsocastingahandatallofthetimethathadpassedNellabywithoutsomuchasapromotion.Allthistimewithoutherowntitletoedit.Allthistime,justtobesurpassedbyacooler,shinier,andseeminglyBlackerversioninamatterofmonths.
“You’vebeenworkingsohardforsolong,”Hazelcontinued.“Don’tyouwanttojustleanin?Makeiteasier?”Shestartedrummagingintheblackpurseslungoverhershoulder.
“I’mnot…”ThepaininNella’sheadwasgettingworsenow;shecouldheareverythumpofeveryarterypumpingbloodintoherbrain,louderthanabassdrum.Buteventhoughshecouldfeelthebloodmoving,pulsingaroundinherveins,somethingfeltwrong.Standinguprightfeltwrong.Shesuddenlybecameveryawareofhowfarawaythegroundfelt—toofaraway,really,forhertofeelcomfortablecollapsingonit.“I…Ican’t…”
Hazelextendedherhand.ItseemedtotakeagesforittolandonNella’sshoulder,butwhenitfinallydiditfeltasthoughitwereburningthroughtohermarrow.“Youcan.Stopfightingthetide,Nella.Onceyoustopfighting—onceyouletthiswavewashoveryou—you’llsee.It’llwashoveryousoquickly,youwon’tevenfeelit.Youwon’tfeelthepain,thewhitesupremacy.You’llreadthosearticles,watchthepolicefootage,thengotoworkthenextmorningwithoutfeelinglikeanotherpartofyouhasdied.Thatheavyanvilofgenetictraumathat’sbeenstrappedtoyourankleforalltheseyears…gone.You’llswimtothetopandbefree.You’llbeyou.ThisisBlackGirlMagicinitspurestform.
“Justtellmeyes.That’sallyouhavetodo.”
Gaspingforair,Nellamouthedasilentno
“Don’tyouwanttobesuccessful,too,Nella?Don’tyouwanttoswimfree?”
Yes,avoiceinsideofhersaid.Butthiswoman’svoicesoundedtootiny,toomuffled,tobeAngela’s.Whenwasthelasttimeshe’dheardAngela’svoice,anyway?
“I…”
“Justayes.That’sallIneed.Justayes,andit’llstop.Ipromise.”
“Yes,”Nellafinallywhispered.“Yes.”
Shefeltwearytothebone,asthoughsomeonehadpickedherupandwrungheroutfrombottomtotop.Evenstill,shefeltbetterthemomenttheairfinishedtravelingthroughhertwotopfrontteeth.
“Good.”HazelcockedherheadatNella.“Now,don’tyoufeelsomuchbetter?”
Nellasurrenderedasmallnod.Shefeltvulnerable,likeshe’djustgottenherfirstPapsmearanddidn’tknowhowinvasiveitwouldfeel.
“Wait,”saidNella,justnowplayingbackthewordsthatHazelhadsaidaminuteearlier.“Whatdidyoumeanbeforeby‘You’vebeenusingthisstuffsinceCurlCentral’?”
“IgaveyouthatjarofSmooth’dOutattheYBLreadingamonthago,andyou’vebeenusingit.Imean…isn’tthatwhyyouapologizedtoColinFranklin?You’vealreadybeenconverted.”
Aslow-movingwoozinessbegantocreepin.Nellatriedtosteadyherselfbyplacingahandonthesink,strainingtorecallwhenshe’dusedSmooth’dOutonherown.Thensherememberedthatpea-sizedbitshe’dappliedhereinWagner’sladies’room,andhowmuchshehadn’tlikedit.She’dmuchpreferredthewayBrownButtahhadmeltedintoherroots.Ironically,she’dfoundSmooth’dOutabittooclumpy;ithadleftspecksofwhiteinherhairlinethatshecouldn’tmassageoutnomatterhowmuchshetried.BrownButtahsmelledbetter,too:Subtle.Lesssharp,lesschemical.
ThesethoughtsmusthavebeendancingacrossNella’sface.BecauseavictoriousgrinwassettlingacrossHazel’s.
“Wait.Youhaven’tbeenusingit,haveyou?”Shelaughed.“Whoo-hoo-hoo!ThefightisinNellaRogers,afterall.Howthrilling.”
“I…no.I’mstill—”
“Faceit,Nell.Yougaveuponyourconvictionsalongtimeago,”Hazelwhispered.ShepointedatNella’sreflectioninthemirror.“Lookatyourself,andthinkaboutit.Haveyoureallybeenyourselfoverthelastcoupleofmonths?”
Thistime,Nelladidventuretoseewhatwasstaringbackatherinthemirror.Whatshesawwassomeonewhohadn’tcheckedFacebookinweeks—afeatthatwasn’ttoounusual.Butshealsosawagirlwhocouldn’trememberthelasttimeshe’dsharedalinkonTwitteraboutanyBlackissues.It’dbeenweeks.Months,maybe.Shesawagirlwho’ddeclinedherboyfriend’sproposaltogoseeadocumentaryaboutwrongfulincarcerationatBAM,citingtoomuchworkasanexcuse.
Shemovedawayfromthewall,approachingthesinkoncemore.Acloserlookatherselfrevealedsomeonewhobarelysawherbestfriendanymore,andthefewtimesshedid,theytalkedaboutherjob—notaboutthevideoofthePuertoRicanteenagerwho’dbeenshotinthefaceeighttimesbyashopownerwho’dwrongfullyaccusedhimofstealing;notaboutthatFortune500CEOwho’dbeenoutedjusttheweekbeforeafteritwasrevealedhe’dwornblackfacetoapartywhileObamahadstillbeeninoffice.Justherjob.
Butperhapsthemosttellingthingshesaw—thenailinhercoffinofirresponsibleBlackness—wasagirlwhohadn’tsentKendraRaePhillipsoneiotaofproofthatHazelandRichardWagnerwereuptofoulplay,eventhoughshehadalloftheevidenceatherfingertips.Eventhough,shesuspected,sheheldthekeytofreeingKendraRaefromhiding.
NellalookedoveratHazel.Shewasstillstaringatherexpectantlythroughslittedeyes,asthoughshewereseeingallofthethingsNellawasseeing.
“Idon’tknow,”Nellawhimpered,wipingawayatear.
Atthis,Hazelknittedhereyebrowstogetherinpity.Hermienpossessednotjustasadness,butaknowledgethatshecouldrescueNellafromtheholeshe’dfoundherselfin,ifonlyshewereallowedto.Shivering,Nellaheldhergazerightback.Sheshouldhavebeenthinkingaboutherself—Whatwasshegoingtodo?Whowasshegoingtobe?—butinstead,shewasthinkingabouttheyearsHazelhadspentdoingwhatshe’dbeendoing.HadHazelchosentoconvertherself,orhadshebeenmanipulatedthewaythatshe’dmanipulatedNella?
Shedidn’trememberaskingthisoutloud,butshemusthave,becauseHazelwasnoddingconfidently.“IwasanInvoluntary,too.WhydoyouthinktheypulledmeoutofBostonandassignedmetoyou,Nell?We’realike,Isaid.Iknowyou.Youwantedtogetalongtogetalong,justlikeIdid.EvenwhenIpubliclyannihilatedyou,youdidn’tcrack.Theytoldmeyouweretoughandsmart,andIsawthat.Iseeitnow,too.YouunderstandwhereI’mcomingfrom.Youhearme.Icantell.”
ItwasdifficulttodecidewhethertheconfidencethathadalwaysemanatedoffHazelwasmanufactured,somethingthattheSmooth’dOuthadinstilledwithinher.Orifitwasapushshe’dalwayshadwithin,fromthedayshe’dfirstlearnedthatitwouldnotbeenoughforhertosimplygotocollege,getgoodgrades,andgettheinterview.Thatitwouldn’tbeenoughtosimplyshowuptowork;tosimplyweartherightclothes.Youhadtoweartherightmentality.Youhadtolivethementality.Beeveryone’sbestfriend.Besassy.Beconfident,butalsobedeferential.Bespiritual,butalsobedown-to-earth.Bewoke,butstillkeepsomeofthatsleepinyoureyes,too.
“Breathein,Nell,”Hazelcooed.“Breathein.”
Nellanodded.Shehadn’ttakenabreathinsometime.
“Good,good.Nowtakethis.It’llbehelpfulforwhenyoustartatanewpublishinghouse.”
“But,whydoIhavetoleave?”Nellaheardherselfwhimper.
Hazelshrugged.“Becausetherecanonlybeoneofusperoffice.Oneperofficeguaranteesmaximumresults,obviously.”Shepulledatoneofherlooselocs.“Now,wherewasI?Oh,yes.Ialsorecommendusingthesegreasesforaweekortwobeforeyourfirstday.It’lltakealittlebitoftimetoreallysettlein.Especiallysinceyouhaven’tbeenusingit,”sheadded.
Nellamusthavehummedsometuneofassent,becauseHazelhadclappedherhandsonceandwasnowbowingherhead,Amy-style.Unrestrainedsatisfactiondancedacrossherface.“Itwon’tbeaneasytransition…althoughitwon’tbeasbadasitcouldbe,either.Butweshouldreallygetbacktothemeeting.”Hazelsmiled,athrowbacktotheHazelshewaswhenthey’dfirstmet.“We’lltalkmoreafter.Doesthatsoundgood?MaybewecanevenaskJessetogiveyousomepointers,too.”
Jesse.
I’vealreadywonthisone,Hazelhadallbutsaidjustminutesearlier,atthetable.Andthere’snothingyoucandoaboutit.Nellahadthoughtitmeantwhatshe’dalreadysuspected:thattherewasnowaythesocialmediamogulwouldpickanyothereditoroverHazel.Hisshinyscalp,hissweetnewdemeanor.Hewasgone.
Buthe’dseemedhappier.He’devenseemed…freer.
WhenwasthelasttimeNellahadfeltfree?Really,truly,whollyfree?Shecouldn’tremember.Wasitwhenshechoppedoffallherrelaxedhair?WhenshemovedtoBrooklyn?WhenshegraduatedfromcollegeandrealizedsheneverhadtoreturntotheSouthagain?
No.Itwasnoneofthesetimes.
AsNellaregardedherselfinthemirroronelasttime,sherealized—withgreatdespair—thattheanswerwasnever
Epilogue
January2019
ScopeMagazine
Portland,Oregon
Whatdoesthismeanfortherestofus?Forthoseofuswhoarefightingfair,showingupfirst,andclockingoutlast?Forthoseofuswhoaredoingtheheavylifting,providingdomesticand/oremotionallabor,armedwithnothingbutourdignity?Itmeans,mysisters,wemuststayfocused.Wemustcometogether.Andwemustcontinuetoresist.
IhitSaveandleanedbackinmychair.Itlookedgood—notjustthelastparagraph,butallofit.I’dscrapedoutmysoulandgraftedittoeverysentenceofthisarticleoverthelastfewdays.Finally,itfeltreadyforfresheyes.
Iopenedanewemail,eyeingfirsttheclock,thenthedarkpatchofglassaboveGwen’sdoor.IstillhadtimetosendthisOBGpiecetoherandtakeashortreadingbreakbeforeresearchingmynextarticle.Or,Iimagined,myfingersflyingacrossthekeyboard,Gwenwillprioritizethispieceandreassignthatbasiccoffeebeanarticletosomeothernewbie.AslongasGwencameinduringthenexthour,I’dhaveeditsbyfour,we’ddoanotherroundortwoofrevisionsbysix,Ralphinlegalwouldreviewmyevidence,andoncewegottheokay,it’dbeonlinebyfivea.m.thenextmorning—justintimeforEastCoastcommutersinneedofreadingmaterialtogobbleitdownontheirwaytowork.
IgrinnedasIattachedthefiletotheemailinacoupleofsmoothclicks.BlackTwitterwouldgocrazywhenthisgotout.TheNAACPwouldprobablyholdapressconference;CNN,aprimetimespecial.JesseWatsonwouldhaveafieldday;thiswasprobablyenoughtopullhimoutofhishiatus.AndeveryworkplaceinAmericawouldgointocrisismode.Forawhile,maybeyears,Blackpeoplewouldn’tknowwhichBlackpeopletotrust.Itwouldbehard.Butthingswouldrightthemselvesoutintime.Andinthemeantime,maybemycareerwouldreallyrightitself.Nomorenewbieshit,nomorehavingtoprovemyself.Afterthisarticlewentviral,I’dbeahouseholdname,goonallsortsoftelevisionshowsandpodcasts,and—
Ahouseholdname.Shit
MycursorlingeredovertheSendbutton,aslow,steadysenseofimpendingworldannihilationrollingintomywrist.OnceIhitSend,therewouldbenoturningback.Itwouldallbeoutthere,whetherGwendecidedtopublishitornot:Screenshotsofconversations;alogofNellasightings.Photos,even—aselfieI’dpostedtomyInstagramstoryjustsecondsbeforeEvahuggedmegoodbyeatPepper’s,croppedtofitnexttothephotoI’dtakenofheratRise&Grind.Apoint-by-pointaccountofhowI’dbeenabletoslipawayfromtheentireOBGmesswithouteitherside,LynnorHazel,knowingwhereI’dgone.Thepiecewasthoroughlyseasonedwithundeniableevidencethatwassupposedtostayhiddenbecause,asLynnoftenremindedus,“Prematuresharingisrisky.Weneedtohaveabsolute,definiteproof.Otherwisethey’llthinkwe’redelusional.”
Lynnhadhadapoint.Butshewasn’twhyIdidn’timmediatelyhitSend.KendraRaewas.Shewastheonewho’dtalkedoneofthemintolettingmego.Ifyouletusbe,thenweletyoube,she’dpromised.Everythingstaysquiet.Iowedittohertokeepmymouthshutandwaitforfurtherinstruction.
Butthathadbeenthreemonthsago.Wherewasshe?
Iclosedmyeyes.Alotcouldhappeninthreemonths.ForKendraRae,alothadhappenedinlesstimethanthat.WhenIlastsawher,sheseemedreadytopullawayfromLynn’smission.“It’stoolatetostopDiana,”she’dsaid,afterourUberdriverhadaskedmewhichairlineheshouldbelookingfor.“She’sbeencompromisedforfartoolong,andIjustdon’tseetheResistancegettingaheadofthisanymore.Pandora’sboxdonebeenbustedwideopen.”
“We’llshowtheworldwhat’sflownoutofit,then,”Isaid.“YouwerelyingtotheOBGsaboutkeepingquiet.Weren’tyou?”
“No,”KendraRaehadsaid.“Well…notreally.Wedoneedtokeepquietforalittlewhile.Letthisunfold.We’llkeepaneyeontheHazelsofthecountry,watchthemrisetothetopoftheirfields.Oncethat’shappened…we’llcuttheseOBGsofffromtheirsupply.”
Itsoundedtooobvious.Tooeasy.“Really?WhatdoesLynnthink?”
“Lynnisn’tapartofthisplan,”KendraRaesaidfirmly.“ShecouldhavedonemoresoonertopreventNellafromgoingunder,butshedidn’t.”
Iwasn’tsureIagreedwiththat.I’dshifteduncomfortablyinmyseatasweenteredtheexitthatwouldtakeustoDepartures,anascendingplanevisiblethroughthedirtyglasswindow.“Cutthemoffhow,ifDiana’scompromised?Andthere’snowayRichardWagnerisgoingto—”
“Iknowsomeoneelse.Justtrustme.”
“ButLynn…”
Lynnwasgoingtoleaveyouthere,she’dsaid,andspeakingcandidly,Iwouldn’thaveblamedher.Whatyoudidwasstupid.
Myeyespoppedopenandfoundtheemail.Itappedmyfingerlightlyonthemouse.ClickingSendcouldblowitallopen.Itcouldgetussomerealdetectivessothatwewouldn’thavetokeepplayingCarmenSandiego.Thiscouldclosethebookoneverything.
Oritcouldopenanewchapter—oneinvolvingme.ThisarticlecouldspoilnotjustwhateverKendraRaewassupposedlyplanning,butmyfreshstart,too.WasIreallygoingtojeopardizemynewjob,mynewlife,forsomethingthatwasn’t100percentguaranteedtowork?WasIreallygoingtotakeordersfromsomeonewhodidn’thavemybestinterestsatheart,again?
Myweightshiftedintomyindexfinger—bymyowndoingorbydivineintervention,Ididn’tknow.Butitdidn’tmatter.
Themessagewasout.
Anditfeltgood.Damngood.Speeding-down-an-empty-highway-blasting-TLC-with-my-windows-downgood.
I’djustopenedasearchbrowserandtypedinHazel’snametoconfirmthatshewasstillinNewYorkandstillworkingatWagnerwhenIheardthefamiliarpingofanemailnotification:DeliveryStatusNotificationFailure.
“What?”Imurmured,recheckingtheemailaddress.I’drespondedtoanenthusiasticnotethatGwenhadsentinresponsetomypitchjustafewdaysearlier:Whoa!Wild.Bereadytoprovideafewmorematerialsforcross-reference,butI100000.00%believethishappenedtoyou.(#BelieveBlackWomen!)Can’twaittoseewhatyoudowithit.xo.
Iliftedmychinoncemore.Gwen’slightwasstilloff.Shehadn’tslippedinsoundlessly,thewayshesometimesdidwhenshewasn’treadytospeaktoanybodyyet.IwasconsideringotherreasonsshemighthavebeenheldupwhenReagan,asprightlywomanwithdermalpiercingsinherrightcheek,cruisedby.LookingfrommetoGwen’soffice,sheyelped,delighted,“Youhaven’theard!Haveyou?”
WhenGwenhadtakenmearoundtomeeteveryoneafewmonthsearlier,Reaganhadgivenmeavise-griphugandsquealed,“Finally!It’sabouttimewechangedourimage.”Sheseemedevenmorethrillednowthanshehadthen.
“Heardwhat?”Iasked,chewingontheinsideofmycheek.
“RivertoldmethismorningthatGwengotacrazyopportunityfromoneofthosebrainymagazinestostudytheeffectofmassfoodhysteriaupontheAmericanpublic,”Reaganexplainedhaughtily,asthoughsheherselfhadbeenpresentedtheopportunity.“YousawthearticleaboutthatmurderinAlabamaoverafriedchickensandwich,right?”
Aflareofheatwoundupmylowerbackandwrappedaroundmyneck.“What?When?”
“Hardtosay;Igetallthesandwichcasualtiesmixedup.IthinktheAlabamaonehappenedin—”
“No.WhendidGwenfindoutaboutthis?”
“Fridaynight,apparently.Shepackedupallherthingsovertheweekendandwordhasitshe’salreadyinMissouri.”
Isatwiththisexplanationforsometime.Gently,Iasked,“Whenisshecomingback?”
“Unclearwhen.Orevenif.She’sbeentryingtoworkatanationalpublicationforyearsnow.Andshe’snotgettinganyyounger,”Reaganloud-whispered.
Igroaned.“Fuck.Greattiming.IjustfinishedareallyimportantpieceandIwanthertotakealookatit,like…now.”
“Aw,yeah—thatsucks.Butdon’tworry!”Reagansaid,pattingmyarm.“Riversaysthey’vealreadyhiredaninterimeditortotakeGwen’splace.Actually…thatmightbeher?”
MyeyesfollowedReagan’s.AyoungBlackwomanappearedtohaveenteredfromtheparkinggaragesideoftheoffice.Holdingatotebaginonehandandacoffeecupinanother,she’dalreadypassedthepottedficusandthepoliticseditor’semptydesk;nowshewasstruttingpastPrinterRow,herhaircroppedandglistening,andhersightssetonmeandReagan.
“Sick!Another…”Reaganglancedatme,caughtherself.“…youngperson.”
Ididn’tspeak.Iwastooconcernedwiththiswoman’slong,pronouncedstrides.Shewasmakingtooconfidentofabeelinetowardusforsomeoneonherfirstday.Likeshealreadybelonged.Likeitwasn’tabigdealthathershoeswerefour-inchheels,shoesthatI’dneverseenherwearbefore.
Andherhair…oh,herhair.Wispy,fine,thecolorofaroastedalmond.Fashionedintoachic,asymmetricalbobthatwasperfectly,painfully,straight.
“Ladies,”shesaid,casuallyrunningherfingersthroughthebackofwhatcouldonlybeafulllaceweave.“Hello.Howareyouthismorning?I’mDelilahHenson—Gwen’sinterimreplacement.”
Reaganrespondedconvivially.IonlymutteredmyownresponseasIexaminedherpainted-oneyebrows,herheavilycontouredskin.Whenshewaved,shebroughtanauseating,syrupyodorwithher.
“CouldoneofyoupleasetellmewhereGwen’sofficeis?”
Shewaslookingatme,butI’dalreadyreturnedmyattentiontothatbounce-backemail.Itwastheonlythingkeepingmeanchoredtomychair.Youremailwasnotdeliveredbecausetheemailaddressyouenteredcouldnotbefound.
ReaganpointedatthesmallmetalslabintowhichGwen’snamehadbeenengraved.“You’vecometotherightplace!It’srighthere.”
“Perfect.”Thewomanhelduphercoffeecupingratitude.“Andnow,sorry,onemoreask—canoneofyoutellmewhereShaniEdmondssits?”
ReaganpointedmeoutbeforeIcouldtellhernotto.“She’srighthere,too!”
“Stellar!Shani,wehavesomuchtotalkabout.Gwenmentionedyou’vebeenworkingonaveryimportantarticlethatyou’replanningonfinishingtoday?Iwouldhateforittogetlostinthetransition.”
“Lookatyou,alreadyhardatwork!”Reagansaidadmiringly.“I’llleavesoyoutwocangetacquainted,butDelilah,let’sdolunch?I’dlovetochatmore!”
“Yes!I’dlovethat,too.NamethetimeandthedateandtheplaceandI’llbetherewithbellson,honey.”
Andthenweweretwo.
IswallowedasIslowlylookedupattheBlackwomanagain.Herteethshoneanimpossibleshadeofwhite;hereyes,whichwereasdarkandflatasherhair,weretooglossytorevealtheveracityofhersmile.Butthenshespoke,herpolished,practicedtonestrikinganall-too-familiarchordwithin.
“Now,Shani,tellme…”Nellacamecloser,putacoolhandtomyshoulder.“What’sitreallylikehere?Youcanberealwithme,sis.”
Acknowledgments
Therearesomanypeoplewithoutwhomthisbookwouldn’tbepossible.First,abig,bigthank-youtotheamazingteamofpeoplewhohelpedmeturnmychildhooddreamintoareality.StephanieDelman,mylovelyagentwhobelievedinthisprojectfromtheverybeginning:thankyouforyourdedication,yourfaith,andforalwaysbeingjustonetextmessageaway.Icouldn’thaveaskedforasharperormorethoughtfulagentthanyou,andIcouldn’thaveaskedforamoresupportiveagencythanSanfordJ.Greenburger.Aspecialthanks,too,tomytwofierceforeignrightsagents,StefanieDiazatGreenburgerandVanessaKerratAbnerStein,whobothhelpedtransportTheOtherBlackGirltolandsI’donlydreamedmynovelwouldsee.
LindsaySagnette,mybrillianteditorandchampion:Ourhours-longchatsandyourinsightfulnotesexceededallofmywildestdreams.Thankyou,always,foryourendlessencouragementandyourinvigoratingspirit.FioraElbers-Tibbitts:Yourdiligence—andalloftheinstrumentalworkyouputintokeepingthegearsofthisbookturningsmoothlyandefficiently,evenduringapandemic—havebeenessential.MilenaBrownandArieleFredman:Tosayyouarethebesthypewomenisanunderstatement.Thankyoutimesamillionforspreadingthewordaboutthisbooknearandfar,andinsuchmeaningfulways.Somanythanks,also,toLibbyMcGuire,DanaTrocker,GaryUrda,andthephenomenalSimon&SchustersalesteamforpullingoutallthestopswhenitcametopublishingTheOtherBlackGirl,andtoJimmyIacobelli,JillPutorti,TamaraArellano,andCarlaBentonforthecareandtimeyouspentmakingitbeautifulinsideandout.
IamsogratefultoeveryoneatAtriaforbeingsocarefulandconsideratewhenitcametoeverydetailanddecisionofhowthisbookwaspublished,includinglicensinganiconicworkofartbyTemiCokerforthecover.AndIamsogratefultoyou,Temi,forentrustinguswithyourwork.
Additionally,I’dberemissnottosaythatIwasgrantedtheutmostgoodfortuneofhavingtwoadditionaleditorshelpmepushthisbooktonewheights:ChelceeJohnsandmyUKeditor,AlexisKirschbaum.Chelcee,thankyoufortakingeachandeverysinglesentenceofthisnoveltoheart,andforbeingsogenerouswithyourtimeandyourtalents.Ican’tthankyouenoughforyourhelp.Alexis,yourenthusiasmwaspalpableallthewayacrossthepond,aswasthatofAmyDonegan,EmilieChambeyron,JasmineHorsey,andeveryoneatBloomsbury.Ithasbeensuchapleasureworkingwithyouall,andIfeelsoluckytohaveyouonmyteam
Inadditiontocrossingcontinents,TheOtherBlackGirlhasalsobeengiventheopportunitytocrossmediums.Thankyousomuchtomyveryhelpfulfilm/TVagentsatUTA,AddisonDuffyandJasmineLake,andtoTaraDuncanandmyentireteamatTempleHill,forshowingmetheropesandbelievinginthisstory’spotentialtoreachevenwideraudiences.
Bits(okay,maybereallylargechunks)ofmyownexperiencesarewoventhroughoutthisbook,andthewritingIsubmittedinmynonfictionMFAworkshops,aswellastomysteadfastthesisadviser,ZiaJaffrey,helpedmeworkthroughmanyoftheseexperiences.ThankyoutoeveryoneintheNewSchoolcreativewritingprogramwhoreadtheseoftenrawandverypersonalessays.Havingyoureyesandyourearswasinvaluable,aswerethefriendshipsImadethere.Alison:Yournotesonmyearlydraftwereinstrumental.YouareoneofthemostgenerouswritersandfriendsIhaveeverknown.Sincere:YourenthusiasticresponsewhenIfirstmessagedyoutheembryoofthisideaonGoogleChatwhileIshouldhavebeenworkingwasclutch.ThankyouforhelpingmespotOBGs,andforgivingmethespacetobemyunabashed,Blackity-Blackself.
Genevieve,myformerworkwifeanddearfriend:Idon’tknowwhatIwouldhavedoneifIdidn’thaveyoutolaughandkvetchandmakebadNespressocoffeewithduringmypublishingdays.Thankyouforyourincrediblesupportthenandnow.Andthankyou,too,toallofmyformercolleaguesandauthorswhocheeredmeonwhenIleftpublishingtowritethisbook.Iprintedoutyourkindwordsandstillhavethemtothisday.
Grisha,mywonderfulpartner:It’snotalwayseasylivingwithyourpartnerinastudioapartment,andIimagineit’slesseasywhilethere’sapandemicragingoutsideandyourpartnerisaself-consciouswriterlikeme.Thisbookcouldnothavehappenedwithoutyou.Thankyoufortalkingmethroughtrickyplotpointsandpullingmethroughmomentsofwonderingifsomeonewouldactuallywanttoreadthisbook.Youwereright.Meow.
Lastbutcertainlynotleast,allofthegratitudeintheworldgoestomymotherandfather,whonourishedmyloveofreadingandwritingwhenIwasakidandhavebeennothingbutencouraging—evenwhenIquitagoodjobwithgoodinsurancesoIcouldseethisbookthrough.Thankyou,Dad,forallthosecarridestoandfromkaratethatwespentmakingupscarystoriestogether,andforshowingmehowimportantitwastowritecharacterswholookedlikeus.Thankyou,Mom,forallthosegamesweplayedonthatfiftiethanniversaryeditionScrabbleset,andforalwaysbeingthereformewheneverIneededtoventorcryaboutlife.
Thisisforbothofyou.
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AbouttheAuthor
ZAKIYADALILAHARRISspentnearlythreeyearsintheeditorialdepartmentatKnopfDoubledaybeforeleavingtowriteherdebutnovel,TheOtherBlackGirl.Priortoworkinginpublishing,HarrisreceivedherMFAincreativewritingfromtheNewSchool.HeressaysandbookreviewshaveappearedinGuernicaandtheRumpus.ShelivesinBrooklyn.
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Names:Harris,ZakiyaDalila,author.
Title:Theotherblackgirl:anovel/ZakiyaDalilaHarris.
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TableofContents
TitlePage
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
PartI
Chapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5
PartII
KendraRaeChapter6ShaniChapter7ShaniChapter8Chapter9DianaChapter10Chapter11KendraRae
PartIII
Chapter12ShaniChapter13Chapter14ShaniChapter15
PartIV
DianaChapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
Copyright
© Copyright Notice
The copyright of the article belongs to the author. Please do not reprint without permission.
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