He hadn’t told her. Tonya could tell by the smile plastered onto Philip’s wife’s face, a cemented expression, ready to crack. The woman’s pupils darted from Tonya’s large suitcase to their masked faces and back again as Philip welcomed her and Layla inside.
“So, Imani, as you might remember, this is Tonya, the head of my waitstaff, and her daughter, Layla.”
Tonya placed the hand not holding her massive bag on Layla’s back and pushed her forward. Her daughter offered a small wave along with brief eye contact. Unlike Tonya, Layla had never been an actress. She didn’t know how to cover the utter humiliation that Tonya was certain they both felt standing out in the cold on a strange front stoop, a pair of starving alley cats begging for a warm box and milk dish.
Philip reached for the suitcase handle. “Let me help you with that.”
Imani’s brown eyes widened as she watched him wheel in the massive bag. Had Tonya known that Philip hadn’t discussed things with his spouse, she would have shown up with little more than the clothes on her back. As it was, she’d packed for the foreseeable future, bringing most of Layla’s wardrobe and much of her own, as well as notebooks, folders, and other items that Layla would need for school. The Bushwick storage facility was easily an hour away by public transport. Tonya hadn’t wanted to make too many trips.
“I really can’t thank you both enough,” Tonya said, directing her gratitude to Imani. “This whole thing happened so suddenly. Layla and I weren’t sure where we were going to go.”
Imani’s smile seemed to soften. “Well, we do have the rooms upstairs, and I understand your concern about hotels given the virus. Speaking of”—she pointed to her uncovered face—“I suppose I should grab a mask. Just a minute.”
Imani stepped into what appeared to be a dining room. Tonya could see a long table with six chairs and a sitting room beyond. Presumably, the kitchen was on the other side of the wall.
Philip, still maskless, waved them inside.
Tonya urged Layla forward and then stepped inside just enough to clear the door. It shut behind her, locking them in. There was no going back now.
Philip took several steps into the dining room. “I don’t think masks are really necessary, honey,” he said, addressing the bent back of his wife, who was already opening drawers in the hutch. “They won’t be sleeping with them on, so they’re ultimately sharing the same air. The Band-Aid’s got to come off sometime.”
Imani made a noise, part hiccup, part stuttering start to some objection. She turned toward Philip and delivered a hard stare. A million words were passing between them at the speed of light, Tonya knew. She couldn’t read all of them. But she got the gist.
“We can wear one in the common areas, if you’d prefer,” she said.
The tense smile on Imani’s face turned sheepish. “I’m sure you’re healthy. It’s only that we wouldn’t want to unintentionally be carrying something around and make you sick.”
Philip pulled the embarrassingly huge suitcase farther into the house. “The kids are all tested every week at St. Catherine’s. I’m sure we’re fine.” He gestured toward Layla. “You were just tested, right?”
Beside her, Layla nodded. Tonya noticed Imani’s expression change from concerned to surprised. “You’re a St. Catherine’s mom?”
Avoiding such amazed reactions was why Tonya rarely told anyone where her kid attended middle school. St. Catherine’s had a well-deserved reputation among New Yorkers as being an Ivy League farm team with a cost exceeding many colleges. Everyone knew that a single mom wouldn’t be able to afford it on a waitress’s salary. In most people’s minds, that left only three options: Her child was a genius on an academic scholarship, her rich parents were willing to support their granddaughter but had cut off their own kid for some horrible transgression, or Layla’s absentee dad was loaded. Two of the assumptions may have been correct, but Tonya wasn’t allowed to confirm or deny any of them.
“Layla has gone since kindergarten.” Tonya shot her daughter an encouraging look. “You love it, right?”
Layla stepped a little farther into the room. “I like the writing programs a lot,” she said.
“So does Vivienne.” Imani gave Layla a more natural smile. She pointed to her own bare face. “I suppose since you guys are all regularly tested anyway.”
Layla turned to her, wide eyes begging permission. Tonya reached behind her kid’s strawberry-blond locks and unhooked the ear loop. The mask fell away, revealing Layla’s freckled nose and fair skin. Seeing her child’s bare face while indoors in someone else’s house nearly made Tonya gasp. It was like running into a forgotten and once-loved friend.
“Vivienne, Jay,” Philip yelled up the stairs. “Come and meet our guests.”
Tonya bristled at the term. A guest was the recipient of hospitality, someone who might be expected to repay the favor at a later date, in a way yet to be determined. She was a renter. Philip had told her that he’d charge eight hundred a month for the two-bedroom guest suite on his third floor. She intended to start paying once her unemployment checks arrived, four to six weeks hence. Philip had said she could work off the first month in the restaurant washing dishes and cleaning the floors during the takeout dinner shift.
She addressed Imani. “I am really glad to be renting from someone I know,” she said. “Philip mentioned eight hundred per month.”
Imani glanced at her husband. Again, they exchanged inaudible information. Tonya felt a needle of regret. She’d never been close enough to anyone to speak wordlessly, save for with Layla. And things were lost in translation when the conversation was between a parent and child. Adults could convey so much more via gesture and glance.
Imani clapped sharply as she shot Philip another look. Tonya couldn’t tell whether the sound was to emphasize Imani’s excitement or displeasure. “That sounds fine. Let’s show you the rooms.”
Philip heaved the bag over his shoulder. “Welcome to our bubble,” he said.
It was Tonya’s turn to force a smile. Though she understood what Philip meant, she didn’t like the comparison. Everyone knew that bubbles had to pop.