Page 74 of Pride and Protest
“Well, don’tyouhave all the answers for somebody else’s life?” Janae’s voice crackled over the phone. “Even if we hung out here, he’d have to go back to France for another four weeks, andhe did this without even telling me. Nothing changes the fact that he up and left the country without so much as a text.”
“Isn’t that something you can talk to him about to his face in New York?”
“It’s not always that easy, Liza.”
“Janae, I’m not saying that it’s easy. I’m saying that at some point you have got to let yourself love again. You’ve got to let yourself open up. You can’t just let love pass through your fingertips. DoIlike David? Meh. I think he has a weak chin and a goofy laugh. But I think he works foryou, and he makesyouhappy. You shouldfightfor what makes you happy, not run away from it.”
“You are so great at mapping out what everyone else should do. But can I share something with you? You’re lukewarm on WIC. I can tell. You’re only pressing it to shut Ma up. If he stops by, Deya said you’re barely even in the room. You leave Ma and Deya to swoon over him while you text with an unsaved number. Like all day, every day.”
Liza was glad Janae was on the phone and couldn’t see her face. Her ears burned at the mention of her frenzied texting. She thought she was being discreet. But in the past month, she’d waited for Dorsey’s thoughtful questions or awkward interpersonal struggles with a little too much breathless anticipation. After all the hateful memes, she helped him deal with the darker, intrusive side of internet fame, and he... well, helistenedto her. He made her feel like she didn’t have to shout from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to be heard—that she could whisper and he would come running. But it was a spell that was broken too easily by reality.
“So do you want to talk about everyone else’s secrets, or do you want to talk about your mystery man?”
“Mysteryman? Your heteronormativity disappoints me, Janae.” She fumbled for something else to focus on. “Deya needs to stay out of my business.”
“Is she lying?” Janae challenged.
“Janae, look, I—”
Liza’s phone vibrated in her hand. It was a FaceTime request from Chicho, who never FaceTimed since she thought the camera was “too truthful.”
“Um, it’s Chicho.” Liza was as confused as she sounded. She’d probably realized the enormity of her mistake. Liza would not go into “I told you so”s She was bigger than that.
“Chicho? Her ears must be burning.”
“Yeah, really. I gotta hop off.” Liza pressed the button and answered. “Chicho, is everything okay?”
“No, everything is not okay. The podcast for the inaugural episode is next week, and I have nothing. This is supposed to go on for a year. I don’t have one thing written. This is hard, and I want to quit. I need your help. Can you come?” Chicho’s face showed guileless panic. A small part of Liza had hoped her friend had finally seen through the fraud that Colin was and wanted to come back home, but she just needed help with her six-figure job.
“I can come.”
“Oh, thank god. I can pick you up in a town car. We have a bomb-ass guest room. I want you to stay for the week and hear the first episode.”
“I can’t hang out at your house for a week.”
“Why? Because Mama Bennett is such a charmer?”
“Ugh, she’s been terrible for months.”
“I know. My mom can hear her telling you and me off through the walls.”
“Oh, I saw your dad. He’s looking pretty cleaned up.”
“Rehab can do that for you. He says he liked the rehab so much that he applied for a job there.”
“That’s right, I haven’t been seeing him during the day, and it’s been silent next door.” Liza let the silence ring between them. Quiet next door meant Chicho’s father hadn’t hurt her mother since he’d been back. Liza could hear Chicho’s relieved exhalation of breath.
“Come on, Liza, let me call the car for you. I can ask my mother to make mofongo for you. You can eat it all week without me judging you or calling you gordita.”
“Oh snap, your mother’s mofongo is the best in DC. Okay, call your boy. I’ll be packed and ready.” All she had to do was play nice with Colin—easy.
BOILED POTATOES
From: [email protected]
I’d love to pop over to DC with you. I can’t wait to meet this “friend” you keep talking about. Been scrolling through the feeds, and OMG she looks like that French woman I was obsessed with for like three years, Cindy Bruna... with an American ass tho and funny captions too. Punching above your weight, bro! You need all the help you can get. Be there @6pm.
