Her Own Happiness, page 21
Nico nodded, sliding on his leather gloves. He extended his hand; Maya slipped her wool gloves on and took it. “I will. I’m glad to know she has such a good friend in you.”
Maya squeezed his hand. “She has her best friend in you, Nico, and she knows that. It’s why she trusts you above everyone.”
He swallowed hard again. “It just kills me to see her hurting so.” His eyes filled. “She means so much to me.”
Maya pressed her lips together and blinked back her shock. Nico didn’t seem like the type to cry at all, let alone in public. But Emme seemed to be his soft spot.
He turned to start down the hallway, then paused. “And of course, everything else is on hold until hopefully Emile is back with us. Salary and benefits will continue as normal.” And with another short wave, Nico was gone.
Maya reached for her doorknob with shaking hands. She’d been clinging to the belief—or the hope—that enough mask wearing, enough vaccination could at least slow COVID down. That if they got everyone to do the right things, they could get back to normal somehow. It was like she had suddenly remembered they’d all been trying very hard not to die. She felt her knees go when she stepped into her apartment and dropped to the floor. Her body was simply unable to deny how fully overwhelmed she was.
Maya was conscious of the feeling of the patterned floor under her hands. She felt like she should pray but couldn’t get anything more out than “God, please help.”
Still on the ground, she instinctively started spreading out her winter coat, comforted by the softness of the fleece lining. Then Maya stretched herself into child’s pose and tried to breathe until it stopped feeling like the world was caving in.
Texts from Maya to her parents, December 8, 2021
I know you won’t get this for a couple hours but I want you to know what’s going on
Emme’s dad is in the hospital with COVID
Emme might have it too.
They got me a hotel room out of an abundance of caution.
I’ll quarantine for a bit and come home
As long as I test negative.
Don’t panic! I feel fine
Just don’t want to bring
The Rona home to y’all
Texts from Maya to Emme, December 8, 2021
Maya:
Emme, I’m so sorry
I’ve got my hotel room and between my grocery order and room service I’m set
Please don’t give me another thought
I’m seriously praying for you and your dad
Emme:
Thank you, I’m so scared
I hate being alone
Nico is on his way, Emme
I know he wants to be there for you
let him, okay?
Okay. He’s so good isn’t he Maya? He’s bossy but he’s so good.
He’s always been so good to me
Texts from Maya to Ella, December 8, 2021
Hey baby sis, can we FaceChat when you get
This?
Having a crisis
That’s sparking a different existential crisis
You know I hate freaking out alone
Maya
Maya hadn’t given much thought to armchairs in hotel rooms before. And after spending an hour or so sending texts, she realized that no one else did, either. The chair was stiff, overstuffed, and looked like a recliner but instead uselessly rotated ninety degrees in either direction. But despite the many things wrong with the chair—including its noisy curtain-style brocade upholstery—it was either that or the floor. Though she was emotionally and physically exhausted from the day, Maya was not about to lie down in the much more comfortable king-size bed. She was too scared that she wouldn’t get out again.
She could feel the tentacles of “the octopus” brushing her legs, that hopelessness that had nearly sucked her down in the spring. She’d do anything to not feel that way again, including staying in this chair that made her back hurt from sitting. (Was that a thirties thing?)
Hopefully she’d hear from her sister soon. She needed to talk to someone who’d just listen. Her finger had hovered over Ant’s number at least ten times since she checked in to her hotel, but she didn’t even know if they could pick up their friendship again now, when she needed it the most.
Instead she fell into a TikTok wormhole for a couple of hours. The app’s algorithm had caught on to her need for validation and was offering her one sincere stranger after another with mantras and words of affirmation. A beautiful Black woman with perfect eyeliner—or a perfect filter; Maya couldn’t tell—asked, “When was the last time you believed in yourself?”
She was spared the burden of responding by a chime from her phone: Ella.
I’m here! I’m here!
. . .
Ella Davis has sent you a video chat
“Oh, thank God.” Maya sighed, connecting the call.
She spent an hour spilling all her fears to her sister, not just for her health but for the future. She and Emme had been doing real work for only about a month. It didn’t feel like she’d built anything yet.
“I’m trying not to be a bitch, but I’ve made two professional contacts. One is about to be busy with her new baby, and the other . . . Anyway, I don’t see Emme being up for anything but caring for her dad or mourning him after this. Now I’m gonna be flipping Eliza Doolittle after the big ball: all dressed up for a new life with no way to get there. And I have a lease!” That last thought made Maya sigh hard.
Her sister was visible from the torso up, looking concerned—but also firm. Ella raised her index finger in a way that made it clear she had several points. “So, first: even though it ended early, you have a DC position on your résumé; second, you have some savings now; and third, don’t forget about the bookstore. They loved you there! And I’m sure you said you left on good terms.”
“I did but . . .” She trailed off, sadness creeping over her face. She saw Ella’s soften in return.
“You’re sad about Ant, aren’t you?”
She nodded, looking away from her phone screen as her eyes filled with tears. “In all the ways I saw things going wrong, I never imagined a timeline where I ended up without him.” She sniffled and wiped away a tear before it could slip down her cheek.
Maybe this whole thing had been inevitable. She didn’t feel ready for a relationship, and they’d have to work out their boundaries as an allo/ace couple. But some part of her felt like she’d sacrificed the most beautiful thing in her life for a sense of stability that was dissipating like mist.
“Hey, hey, Mai?” Her sister was all concern now. “Do one thing for me? I have to go to bed soon. But I need you to change. Did you bring anything more comfortable?”
Maya blinked, coming back to herself and the conversation. Then she looked down. She was still in her work clothes.
Ella continued: “I’m looking at you in this chic camel jumpsuit, and it’s like you dressed for your own funeral.” She clapped her hand over her mouth with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, bad analogy for the current moment.”
Maya snorted a laugh. It felt like the first time she’d laughed in years. “Okay, Ella Bella, clearly you need to go to bed, and I need to change.”
Ella yawned and nodded, leaning heavily on her forearm. “Talk more tomorrow?”
“Sure thing. Not like I’m gonna have much else to do.”
“Okay, go change. Love you, Mai.”
Maya disconnected the call and joylessly forced herself up. It was time for next steps.
She was going to get changed like Ella suggested.
She was going to pour half a bottle of her drugstore bubble bath into her gigantic tub and stay there until she felt better.
She was going to avoid her bed until she absolutely had to get in it. She wasn’t ready to face down the octopus again.
Her sister was right about one thing: once her elegant jumpsuit was in a less elegant pile on the floor, Maya felt ten times lighter. She tossed it into a corner while the water ran—and suddenly remembered one of the best things about having your own space: getting to walk around naked. Soon her undies and her good bra joined her jumpsuit, and she rolled onto the hotel bed. She pulled up YouTube on the room’s TV and put on an undemanding playlist of Tiny Desk Concerts. By the time her bath was ready, Maya was dancing full-out to the cumbia coming from the screen, shaking her hips and shimmying to the bathroom.
It’s fun to jiggle of your own accord. She smiled at her reflection, then stepped into the fragrant water topped with a pavlova of bubbles. Five days was a long time to be alone with her thoughts, so Maya tried to be present in the little moments as much as possible. She focused on the ways her locs felt in her hands as she twisted them into little buns on top of her head. She pressed her face into the bubbles and laughed at the resulting beard that made her look like Black Santa. As the water cooled, she felt the rippling of her hungry stomach. That was her sign to get out of the tub and go order some room service.
Ant
FYI, my taxi should be outside in about 5 minutes
Ant swallowed and tugged nervously at the ribbed cuffs on his sweatshirt. This should be easy. This should be familiar. So why did he feel so incredibly weird? Who was he kidding? Ant knew exactly why—it was because he’d been letting the silence grow since autumn. He’d ignored all olive branches while refusing to make plans. He’d been “busy” and unavailable until she stopped trying. And now she was coming to the house, and he didn’t know what to say.
Auntie Kay came down the steps and looked at him, taking in his nervousness. She met his eyes without pity. “I told you, no matter how awkward things are, you can’t ghost your momma.”
Ant’s face fell, but he had to laugh; she had warned him. She’d happened to be in the room when he’d made the brief, awkward call to his mom saying that he wouldn’t be coming back for Thanksgiving because of his new job.
His mom had hummed. “What would you like me to do with your stuff?” she asked with a calm that should have alarmed him, but he was tired. He’d spent all day getting ready for his move to Centerville. And honestly? He was too annoyed with the subject to notice.
“Can’t your movers pack up my room like they have every other time? I know the navy moves you to your final destination when you retire.”
There was a brief silence before Ant’s mom responded with a measured, “That’s true. But it could be a chance to say goodbye.” Her voice softened slightly. “You kind of rushed out the last time.”
Ant shrugged stiffly. “I don’t think that would help me. Besides, I still hate flying. I needed a support human to come to the mainland.”
He heard his mom perk up at that. “I could fly Maya out, too. Would that help?”
“That wouldn’t help, Ma. Things are weird with Maya.” From the dining room table, Ant could see Auntie Kay pause in stirring her red sauce, unabashedly eavesdropping. He rolled his eyes. “Besides, she thinks it’s exploitative to travel to Hawai‘i as a tourist now,” he continued.
“We’re not tourists. Antonio, you’ve lived here half your life—and not on base.”
Ant shrugged again. “We don’t have a home there anymore, though, so . . .” He trailed off.
“I see,” was all his mother said in response. There had never been a more complete sentence. That he noticed.
“I’ll come visit you after you’re settled in Puerto Rico,” he added, brightening his voice.
“Okay, mijo. We’ll talk soon. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Ma.”
After he hung up, Auntie Kay tapped the pan she was stirring with her wooden spoon and turned around. “Whatever happens next, know you brought it on yourself.”
That had been in September. A conversation he’d wholly forgotten until the red cab pulled into the driveway. Ant was on his feet and out the door before he could think too hard about it. Ma stepped out of the cab, and he suddenly remembered how short she was. As he ran to her, he noticed how tired she looked. “Ma!”
Her head whipped in the direction of his voice. “Mijo! My baby!” She opened her arms wide for him. Then they wrapped each other in the tightest hug imaginable, rocking together on the lawn. Then they were crying. Both of them were crying. Ant hadn’t seen his mother cry since the dark two years after his father died. It was like she’d used up all her tears—or didn’t think there was anything else worth crying about.
Ant stood back, pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his hand, and tried to dry her tears. Before he could, Ma grabbed his hand and held it to her face. “I really missed you, baby boy!” Her voice was rough, but it still felt miraculous to hear it in person.
“I missed you, too, Ma.” He wiped at his own tears. “So much!”
Ma sniffled. “Why wouldn’t you come see me then?” She looked up at Ant without a frown, but sounded so sad he couldn’t be anything but honest.
“I was mad at you,” he blurted out.
“So be mad at me but come see me! That’s what family is!” Ma laughed, looping her arms around his waist.
“Okay, Ma.” He kissed the top of her head.
They both were rocked sideways with the impact of Auntie Kay, coming to hug them both. “Yay! That went so much better than I thought it would.”
Ma laughed. “Well, I finally watched Encanto before I flew out here, so I was softened up. I think I’m my family’s Bruno.”
“Come on, you softies. I promised my good sis some warm apple cider when she got back to this coast, so it’s waiting for us on the stove.”
Ant and his mother followed Auntie Kay inside, hand in hand. He felt like they were ready to do anything, as long as it was together. They crossed the threshold and let Auntie Kay shoo them to the couch so she could serve cider in peace. Ant turned to his mom and frowned slightly. “Do you want to take a nap, Ma? You’ve gotta be jet-lagged to hell and back. Especially if you got in so late last night you needed a hotel.”
His mother chuckled and shook her head. “Honey, I’ve been in town for five days and three negative COVID tests. I just assume that I’ve had a close contact when I get on a plane and quarantine for five days after I land.”
That made Ant step back. “So, what did you do, stuck at the hotel for five days? That sounds like your nightmare.” He watched his mother drum thoughtfully on her chin.
“Funny you should ask. I’ve been hanging out with Maya.”
Maya
Daylight poured in through a gap in her room’s blackout curtains. Maya groaned; December had no right being so bright. She let one eye crack open blearily. Last night Maya had ended her evening with two melatonin. She desperately wanted to sleep in since she didn’t have anywhere to go, and morally, she wasn’t sure if she should go anywhere. Did quarantine mean avoiding all shared spaces or only crowded ones?
“It’s too early for ethical dilemmas,” she groused through a yawn. Then she turned on the TV and watched amenities scroll by. “Oh hey, we get a free newspaper.” She had a sudden vision of herself sitting on her hotel balcony, drinking coffee, and doing the crossword—like a real adult. It appealed to her much more than lying in bed and worrying about Emme, her future, then Emme again. Sitting up, Maya reached for the hotel phone and ordered coffee with the yogurt parfait she saw on the screen. Then she got out of bed (still naked) and went to her emergency duffel.
After her encounter with Nico, Maya had taken a Lyft back to her parents’ house and quickly grabbed some essentials, including the “go bag” she kept in the garage; ever since her first earthquake in Oakland had made her fear nature, Maya had a “ready to flee” bag for emergencies packed with easy-to-wear clothes, plenty of underwear, food, and cash. She’d finally got around to packing her East Coast version after Montage Week—and the size of the guest room closet—made it necessary to move a chunk of her clothes elsewhere.
Maya knelt on the carpet and opened the unassuming navy-blue bag. Even though her big makeover had been only two months ago, seeing her old clothes felt like opening a time capsule, and everything reminded her of Ant. There was the orange maxi dress she’d worn on the great onion rings hunt, lying atop the T-shirt and leggings she’d worn when they got vaxxed in the Six Flags parking lot. She folded them away in the hotel dresser and kept digging: underwear, bralettes, another fleece-lined hoodie the size of a tent—and somehow, the line-a-day journal she thought she’d lost after neglecting her daily lines since September.
Maya opened the journal to an open entry and grabbed a pen from the nearby desk.
Dear God,
Long time, no see
I don’t get this. I don’t get any of this.
Would you cool it with the variants?!
Please help quarantining feel less lonely. Just get me through these next days.
Being merely yogurt and coffee, her order didn’t take long to arrive, and soon she was sitting on her hotel balcony in her hibiscus hoodie, skull-printed leggings, and Crocs with socks, trying to think of a five-letter “teen tennis sensation.”
“Maya, is that you?” a voice called from the adjacent balcony. A familiar but impossible voice.
“Adriana?” she called back incredulously. What was Ant’s mom doing here? She put her newspaper aside and gaped at the woman standing on the neighboring balcony.
Adriana clapped her gloved hands, delighted. “It’s so nice to see a familiar face! I like the blonde—it’s really unexpected.”
Maya was surprised by the surge of happiness in her chest. This was like an answered prayer. “I thought I wasn’t going to see another soul for the next five days. I’m quarantining because my boss has Schrödinger’s COVID and I don’t want to bring anything home to my parents. My mom has asthma and my dad has diabetes.”
