Page 7 of Seven Days in June

Humming, the glamazon disappeared into the kitchen, emerging seconds later with a glass of pinot grigio and the ice pack Eva kept in the freezer. Sitting beside her, Cece slipped the frosty pack atop Eva’s head with a flourish, as if it were a crown.

Cece was one of the few people who really knew about Eva’s condition, and she helped out however she could.

“I’m here,” she announced grandly, “to discuss the State of the Black Author panel.”

“The Brooklyn Museum event you’re moderating tomorrow night? Belinda’s a panelist, right?” Celebrated poet Belinda Love was their close friend.

“Auntie Cece!” Audre appeared again, wearing her third costume change: a neon unicorn onesie.

“Audre-Bear! I’ve been meaning to text you for stress-management advice. My kitchen renovation is taking such a toll.”

Audre plopped down on Cece’s lap. “Try chocolate meditation. You stick a Hershey’s Kiss in your mouth and sit quietly, letting it melt. No chewing. It’s about mindfulness.”

“I’ve no doubt, doll, but is there a sugar-free option?”

“Cece, focus,” wailed Eva, smushing the ice pack against her temple. “The panel?”

“Oh. An author dropped out. She got salmonella from a food truck in British Columbia.”

Audre frowned. “Colombia has a British section?”

Brooklyn schools strike again, thought Eva.No concept of geography, but she’s mastered mindfulness.

“British Columbia’s in Canada, babe,” Eva said.

“Interesting. I could’ve looked it up if I had a phone.” Sulkily, Audre rose and disappeared back into her room.

“Long story short,” continued Cece, “I offered you as a replacement. You’re on the panel!” She shimmied her shoulders, pleased with her sorcery. “Every relevant media outlet is invited. It’ll be livestreamed. This isthecareer boost you need.”

The blood drained from Eva’s face. “Me? No. I can’t…I’m not qualified to pontificate on race in America. Youknowhow intense it’ll get. Every Black book event since the election has turned into a woke-off.”

“You named your child after a noted civil rights warrior. Are you not woke?”

“I’m wokerecreationally. Belinda and the other panelists are wokeprofessionally. They have NAACP Awards and are on the talk-show circuit! Who was the panelist with food poisoning?”

Cece paused. “Zadie Smith.”

With a defeated grimace, Eva slid the ice pack over her eyes. “Cece, this is aNew York Times–sponsored panel at the Brooklyn Museum. I’m not a serious author. I’m a last-minute airport purchase.”

Cece’s brow furrowed. “Let’s be absolutely real. You tried for ages to get a film deal. You’ve finally got a producer, and now quality directors aren’t biting, becauseCursedis too genre. Show Hollywood your power! This’ll be PR gold. Well, this plus the 2019 Black Literary Excellence Award you’ll win on Sunday.”

“You think I’ll win?”

“There’s a vampire-witch-mermaid threesome scene inCursed Fourteen,” noted Cece. “You’ll win for the audacity alone.”

Eva groaned into a throw pillow. “I’m not up to this.”

“You’re nervous about sharing a stage with Belinda? The daughter of ahairdresser?”

Eva glared at her. “Beyoncé’s the daughter of a hairdresser.”

“Fine. Go explain to Audre why you’re scared to try new things.”

She threw up her hands. Of course Cece got her with the Audre stuff. Every time Eva made a move, she considered how it’d look to her daughter.

Eva’s parenting wasn’t mommy-blog approved. They often had pizza for dinner and fell asleep watchingSuccession, and since childcare was a luxury, Audre attended too many grown-up events. Plus, on bad head days, Eva allowed Audre unlimited TikTok time after homework so she could crash for a bit.

But Eva let herself off the hook for those things. When it came to mothering, what mattered to her was setting a powerful example. When Audre audited her memories, Eva wanted her to remember a ballsy woman who invented her life from scratch. No man, no help, no problem.

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