“Please tell me you have pictures.”
A wide smile split across her face. “I think there’s one somewhere.”
She went upstairs, returning with a Ziploc bag of papers and pictures. She passed me a letter from 1989. “This is from your crazy aunt.” Auntie Lisa had caught her boyfriend in bed with another woman and recruited my mom for a prank.
“Mom! You didn’t!”
She let loose a wild laugh, her head dropping against the sofa. “Wefilled that poor boy’s car with so many condoms I bet there’s still some in there to this day.”
I picked up a Polaroid of her in pink leggings, white scuffed-up skates. “How old were you here?”
She took the picture from me, squinting. “This was my senior year of college. Wasn’t I cute?”
“We look alike.”
Her smile grew. “We do, don’t we?”
I found a more recent picture of her from the early 2000s in a navy pencil skirt and satin blouse, smiling before the HUD building. “That was my first day,” she said.
She was sifting through photos when I found a red envelope with a birthday card from someone named Sam. It was from this year. I wondered why it wasn’t propped on her dresser with the other ones. Glancing over a photo, my mom said, “What’s that?”
“Just another letter from Auntie Lisa.” I closed the card and carefully slipped it back into the envelope, my heart in my ear.
She collected the papers, yawning, then brushed my hair back to kiss my forehead. “You feel like you know your mama better now?”
I thought about whoever the hell Sam was. “Yes.”
Chapter 27
Milan and I locked eyes at dinner service; I’d glanced up to see if my table’s drinks were on the bar mat, and she’d been standing right there, arranging cocktails on her tray. After a beat she turned, lifting her tray, her expression empty.
Throughout the night, I’d catch her scribbling an order, her neck curved downward at an intense, concentrated angle. She’d changed her braids without me. As I moved from table to table, I wondered what I looked like to her through a sieve of anger.
Ryen’s Charger roared up to the restaurant when her shift was over, engine running, puffing smoke. When she got in, they sped down Florida Avenue, out of view. It felt like being at a movie premiere only to realize all your parts had been cut from the final film.
I FaceTimed Jay downstairs. He was outside, the camera shifting erratically as he walked.
“You’re so cute when you’re at work,” he said.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“It’s the messy ponytail for me. I was watching Obama’s 2008 convention speech and I feel so much better. I think we’re going to be okay.”
“I one hundred percent disagree.” Every article since the election was about how this second term would be catastrophically worse than the first.
“That’s fair.”
“The only thing I remember about that speech is how flawless his skin looked. Also remember when he didn’t support gay marriage?”
“He changed! Sorry, I have to put you in my pocket.” The screen went black, but Jay was still talking. “Tomorrow’s history lesson is on democracy and the branches of government. I don’t know how I’m supposed to teach this stuff right now. Hey, kids! Democracy is that important thing our president-elect tried to destroy and will possibly successfully destroy this time and the other two branches are basically dysfunctional. Should I just show them a video ofSchoolhouse Rock?”
“Yes.”
I heard his car start. He propped the phone on the dashboard so I could see his face again. I fiddled with a piece of hair that had fallen from my ponytail. “In other news, I think my mom’s having an affair.”
Jay laughed. When I didn’t laugh along, he said, “Oh, I thought you were joking. Wait, why?”
“I found this weird birthday card from this guy named Sam.”
