Her Own Happiness, page 20
Thanks,
Taylor
Black Girls Love Paramore Chat, October 26, 2021
—EmmeVP: Did you see? Gina shared a video of you doing a headstand during sunset yoga.
—Signs&1nders: Oh God! I didn’t know she was filming
Can she take it down?
—Signs&1nders: I’m on private for a reason.
I don’t have the energy to be queer, fat, Black, and a woman for the consumption of the general internet right now
—EmmeVP: but the caption she wrote is so beautiful and inspirational!
—Signs&1nders: Okay
. . .
. . .
—Signs&1nders: Emme, this video isn’t of me
It’s of you taking a video of my sirsasana I’m barely in it
—EmmeVP: What, really?
—Signs&1nders: Oh! I see. She used the picture you took of me at the end of the reel, but it’s like 3 seconds of this 30 second clip
—Signs&1nders: I’ll live. I’m backlit in your photo anyway so Gina’s million followers can’t really see me
—EmmeVP: I’m looking at the post
And it’s not what I expected. Gina said “I got a great video of you and your protégé”
I assumed she’d be highlighting you
—Signs&1nders: . . .
—Signs&1nders: Okay, Emme.
I’ve been waiting but I still don’t see the vision with Rev. Gina. All she talked about when we were together was her podcast idea
—EmmeVP: “Holy Moolah: mindful investing”
—Signs&1nders: As a Christian, respectfully
—EmmeVP: As an atheist, disrespectfully
—EmmeVP: She’s been emailing me constantly, too. I think she wants me to cohost. I would have blocked her if it wasn’t for you
—Signs&1nders: Please explain.
—EmmeVP: I thought she was interested in you, okay.
—EmmeVP: I knew how hard it was for you to give up Ant—even though it was definitely the right choice
—EmmeVP: I wanted to reward your trust by connecting you with someone who shares your trajectory.
—EmmeVP: Gina, even with her questionable ideas podcast, is into you. And she is going places fast
—Signs&1nders: You are so sweet to see and believe in my beauty but
No. just no. She is not remotely interested in a fat girlfriend.
—EmmeVP: But she flirted with you a lot. Outrageously
—Signs&1nders: It was “fat friend flirting” Once I stopped being so starstruck I could see it.
People flirt with us outrageously because “everyone knows” it can’t possibly be real.
—Signs&1nders: Especially when the fat woman is also a Black woman
Like remember when people thought Harry Styles was dating Lizzo?
—EmmeVP: So Harry was never into Lizzo at all?
—Signs&1nders: Oh, honey.
—EmmeVP: I’m kinda devastated
—Signs&1nders: Me too. I thought
you were getting me a job with her
Email from Maya to Nico Vasiliou, November 2, 2021
Subject: Green Roof Idea
Good afternoon Nico,
Have you considered reaching out to Donwell Family Flowers for the new green roof initiative? I’m pretty sure they have a great reputation among tenants. And they do garden education workshops. Just a thought.
Best,
Maya Davis
Texts from Maya’s mom to Maya, November 5, 2021
Momma:
Block off your calendar
we are seeing A Strange Loop
together for my birthday
November 22nd
Gigi told me about that show!
It sounds amazing
Very Black and Very queer
I want to make sure I do some fun things before winter
These new variants keep getting scarier and scarier
Email from Nico Vasiliou to Maya, November 7, 2021
Subject: RE: Green Roof Idea
Good morning Maya,
Thank you for reminding us of them. We will definitely be reaching out.
Best,
Nico Vasiliou
Maya
“Well.” Maya’s dad chuckled as he set the bowl of popcorn down on the basement coffee table. “I can definitely say that I did not have this on my pandemic bingo card.”
Maya laughed. Even though everyone she knew had made some version of the “bingo card” joke these days, he was right. While she’d accepted that her parents had both lowered their brows in terms of TV intake, she never thought there’d be a day where three of them would be getting ready to watch a Black-biracial elementary school teacher find love on The Bachelorette.
Her mom had tried to entice her into the world of 90 Day Fiancé, but she found that show depressing, and the ugly American behavior unwatchable. Since she’d officially given up, tonight Mom was hopping on the Bachelorette bandwagon, and was less than thrilled about it.
“I’m only here to see what all the fuss is about.”
“Think of yourself as doing this for work,” her dad offered. “I would bet at least fifty percent of the young white teachers at your school watch this show or know enough to have some opinions. Gives you something to talk about besides the weather.”
“It’s like modern art—you don’t have to like it,” Maya added. “From what I can tell online, most people are watching to pick it apart intellectually or straight up roast it.”
Momma crunched down a handful of popcorn and Reese’s Pieces before letting out a throaty laugh. “That’s good to hear, because the trailers make it look boring as hell. Popcorn, baby?” She rattled the bowl in Maya’s direction. She took it with a smile. When was the last time they’d all settled to watch something together?
Even though Maya had been home since spring and was actually enjoying her parents, the three of them hadn’t done something like this since they were all home for Thanksgiving during Ella’s last year of college. Maya was suddenly overwhelmed by the loveliness of it all—probably because she needed to tell her parents that she had an official move-in date. And she would. She’d do it tonight (probably), but not right now.
“Let me catch you up, Momma. There’s only two guys we need to worry about: her high school crush, and the tall guy who looks like an f-boy but isn’t.”
Her dad snorted. “We don’t agree on that.”
Maya rolled her eyes.
He snorted again. “How he gonna be on TV looking all rumpled in that cater-waiter suit? Anyone that swag reliant (1) didn’t come to impress the bachelorette and (2) knows women like him no matter what.” He spread his arms as if to say “I rest my case.”
Momma adjusted her glasses and looked at the screen. “And all these other dudes are playing for time?”
Dad shrugged. “The music teacher at my school said most of them get recycled into other parts of the Bachelor universe, so this part is one long audition for their other shows.”
This made Momma sit back thoughtfully. “So this is basically The Mole but with kissing.”
“And no official cash prize . . . ,” Dad added.
“And many moles,” Maya concluded.
Her mom tapped her upper lip thoughtfully and then signaled for the popcorn. “Okay, I’m interested now.”
“So, how are you feeling at work now?” Maya’s mom asked from her side of the couch. “Settled in?” She leaned forward and turned to her. Her dad muted the TV and did the same. Apparently they were very interested. Fortunately, the work had been good lately.
“I’ve really enjoyed doing the initial round of research for Emme’s next investment. Not to toot my own horn, but I found a truly diverse crop of businesses from here to Baltimore that should be on Emme’s radar. What I’ve been doing is creating profiles on all of the potential projects: size, sector, financials, blah blah blah. Once she sets her budget for next year’s work, we’ll be ready to do some outreach.”
Her dad raised his eyebrows. “Wow, Maya, where’d you learn to do all that?”
She gave a little laugh. “I was the Ohana Center’s unofficial grants manager for like four years. I flipped and reversed the process I used to find funders. This side of the money is a lot nicer.”
“I know that’s right!” Momma laughed.
“The most important thing,” Maya added, “was finding a connection from Emme to the candidates. Basically, who in Emme’s sphere can facilitate an introduction? The worst thing you can do is cold-call someone in need of funding and then drop them.”
To prevent this, Maya had sorted through Emme’s Instagram mutuals, her useful Visitation alumni, useful GW alumni. The goal was no more than three degrees of separation so the introduction could be made with an appropriate level of faux casualness. In the before-times, this would have been followed by a series of coffees, lunches, and dinners, first to see if the people themselves passed the vibe check, then to learn exactly what they needed.
“I hope Emme appreciates how diligently you’ve been working on this,” Dad added, obviously trying and failing to keep the frown off his face.
“She does,” Maya quickly replied. She took a breath. This was as good an opening as any. “She helped me get an apartment in Northwest. I can move in December 1.”
An almost spiritual silence followed. Maya noticed that The Bachelorette was back from break and wondered if she could distract her family with whatever extremely awkward activity the contestants would inevitably be forced into next.
Her dad leaned over and wrapped her in a hug. “I knew it was gonna happen sometime but was hoping to have you until Christmas.” He followed up his words with a tight squeeze.
Maya’s eyes filled with unaccountable tears. He’d meant it; they’d meant it. No advice or questions, only support. She leaned into her dad’s embrace and felt her mother squeeze her hand.
“Emme takes two weeks off for most of the holidays, so you’ll still have me around for most of it. I’m gonna need at least a week in the kitchen to make my fancy cookies. I make them instead of Christmas cards now.”
“Like the ones they do on Food Network?” At her nod, Maya’s mom put her hand to her chest and gasped. “And why haven’t we received a fancy-cookie Christmas card?”
Maya shook her head, blonde locs bouncing. “Because I was pretty sure y’all would get a box of crumbs! Don’t worry—you’ll be sick of my beautiful cookies by the time I’m done this year.”
Her dad was probably about to say something when the screen caught his eye. “Ring the alarm, Rumpled Suit’s got a solo date! This is all they’re gonna talk about tomorrow.”
“Mom and I were cracking up when that five-foot-seven blond dude turned up on the date and Michelle looked madder than Nayte did.” Angie chuckled while applying a glittery, sheer orange to Maya’s nails.
“Not five foot seven!” Maya laughed. Angie was fun to chat with when she stuck to one topic. It was her tendency to bounce around that could drive someone (like Emme) nuts.
“Mom said, ‘That white boy’s about to get squashed like a bug!’ I said, ‘No, Ma, the tall brother is Canadian, he’s too polite.’ Then she said, ‘Well, let Michelle squash him then.’”
Both ladies enjoyed a chuckle as Angie put Maya’s left hand under the UV light to dry. “You and your mom should have your own Bachelor podcast, Ms. Angie. Listening to you talk about it is more fun than the show is.”
Angie put another coat of orange on Maya’s right hand and carried on with the conversation. “I like the way you think, Maya. My niece Jazzy could put us on YouTube. She knows how to do everything.”
Maya smiled politely. She’d met Jazzy only once, at last week’s session of rooftop yoga—which had turned into rooftop hot chocolate and sympathy once Emme and Maya realized they were too cold and Taylor said she was “too pregnant.”
Jasmine, as she’d introduced herself, was a beautiful brown-skinned woman with high cheekbones, dimples, and close-cropped hair that showed the last remnants of pink dye. She smiled up at Maya when they were introduced, but she had the kind of strained, pinched face Maya recognized. It was one she’d seen in the mirror when her life was falling apart in Hawai‘i. For most of their rooftop hang, Jasmine was also quiet and withdrawn. Maya couldn’t think of a way to reach out, and Emme seemed to be triggered by her presence.
It was weird. It was also, she supposed, none of her business.
One side effect of this encounter was that Emme was more focused on finding next year’s project than Maya had ever seen her. Emme was scrolling through the spreadsheet Maya had made with one hand, while dictating texts to the phone in her other. Occasionally, she could hear Emme muttering to herself, doing an odd European accent, “‘Jas is immensely talented, Emme; she just needs help.’ Like I’m not literally taking care of my father with dementia, Nicky. ‘The pandemic took away everything Jas worked for.’ But I’m silly ’cause I want to help someone in a similar situation.”
Yeah, Maya was leaving that alone.
As Maya’s right hand went in the UV light dryer, Angie began packing her tools back into her pink wheeled suitcase.
“Maya,” she began quietly, “how did things go with your friend—with the cute chunky boy?”
“Could we maybe go back to talking about The Bachelorette?”
Angie made a sympathetic face. “Did you send . . .” She nodded in Emme’s direction. “Or did you try and close the door quietly?”
Maya sighed and rested her chin on her hand. “I tried to close things gently, but I think I caught a draft and it slammed anyway.”
Angie gave her own sigh and finished packing up her things. Her phone buzzed. “That’s my Uber.” She set the suitcase down and wheeled it toward the door but stopped to rest a reassuring hand on Maya’s shoulder. “Where there’s life, there’s hope. Hang in there, baby.”
ENTER OMICRON
Maya
Everyone Maya knew was freaking out about this new variant, and with good reason. It spread fast but seemed just as powerful as the original recipe. At least they had the vaccine now, but you could still get really sick. Over Thanksgiving Emme gave big bonuses to staff who volunteered not to visit their families and stay in town. This looked really smart the week after the holiday, as the increased travel led to a spike in cases that put a whole lot of people in the hospital.
Dad’s school had so many staff and subs call in sick that he and the other vice principal covered seven classes over that week. Momma was threatening to get the teachers’ union involved to let her work virtually because she was at high risk for COVID. Ella had been sounding the alarm on Omicron since mid-November and was vowing that she would not be alone in London for another lockdown.
In the middle of it all, Maya had gotten the keys to her new apartment. A few days before Thanksgiving, she and Emme had gone by her building (the Covington, a Vivant property), where Maya signed the lease and did a little dance in the lobby. Now was the time to start moving in—slowly. Since Emme’s place was a short bus or bike ride away from her new place, Maya planned on bringing a few things over before work, starting with her bike.
This meant starting her commute at the butt crack of dawn, when it was pitch black outside, which was harder to get used to than the December chill. There was something somber about the month that would have been unbearable if it weren’t mitigated by the millions of Christmas lights, which made her nostalgic and hopeful at the same time.
Holding on to her handlebars, Maya gazed out the windows of her red line train, watching the sky lighten from black to a velvet blue. She hoped to glimpse a bit of the sunrise before her train went underground. It was jarring to catch her reflection in the window when she was in her work clothes; she should be used to it, but she still didn’t recognize herself.
At least this version of herself had her own apartment for the first time in her life, so that was something.
When Maya and her bike got to the Covington, she made a point to savor every first: First time buzzing herself in with the metal-plated fob. First time greeting the building receptionist. First time locking her wheels away in the building’s bike cage, which looked like a cross between a subway turnstile and modern sculpture. It was all thrilling. She practically skipped down the hall to the door of her ground-floor apartment. She wanted to take some pictures using her winter coat for perspective. As she opened her door, Maya heard someone call her name.
She looked down the hall and blinked in surprise.
“Nico?” It was him, looking drawn and distraught as he jogged toward her.
“Thank goodness, Emme said you’d be here.” He paused to catch his breath, doubly surprising until Maya realized he was struggling not to cry. Up until now she’d thought Nico had only two emotional settings: sarcastic and annoyed. Now he was simply devastated; things had to be bad.
“Oh God, what’s happened? Is Emme okay?”
“Emme is . . . as well as can be expected. Her father has been hospitalized with COVID.” He swallowed hard. “It’s not looking good, Maya.”
Her keys fell from her fingers in shock. Nico scrambled to grab them, probably as much to collect himself as to retrieve them. He stood and straightened his jacket. “She wanted you to know right away since you’re living with your family. If you want to stay in a hotel until you’ve had three negative COVID tests, we’ll cover it, no questions asked.”
Now it was Maya’s turn to swallow hard. She hadn’t had a chance to consider the full implications of Nico’s news until he laid it out so plainly. On the one hand, she’d been careful. She was vaxxed and boosted, and was never with more than five people except when she was on the subway. On the other hand, Omicron didn’t seem too interested in how “careful” people were. Emme’s dad pretty much lived in isolation except for the house staff and visits to his doctor.
“I think . . . yes, I’d like to do that, thank you. I’ll make my own arrangements.” She looked at Nico, who seemed so wilted it made her heart ache. “May I give you a hug?” She tugged at her face mask and waited until Nico’s brief hug to hold him close. He was tense at first but hugged her back after releasing a shuddering breath. Maya let him go after a long moment. “Please give Emme my very best.”
