Black Girls Must Be Magic by Jayne Allen

Author:Jayne Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2021-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

20

I SAT ALONE IN CHRIS’S OFFICE, FEELING MYSELF SINK DEEPLY INTO the chair across from his desk. The white stacks of paper that were always there seemed to be growing rather than shrinking. He was still old school in that way, printing out everything, writing notes by hand, reading ratings reports and viewer letters, all while paying almost zero attention to social media. I couldn’t help but wonder if following his lead was the truest way forward into a future of higher ratings. Maybe things did need to change, but who was I to take that on? I could barely stay on his good side as it was.

Chris hadn’t given me a clear directive, but essentially implied what he wanted, and I’d done it. Yet still, every time I was called to his office, there was a lead-up of dread. For distraction, I buried myself in scrolling through my phone. The five minutes that passed felt like fifty before Chris finally pushed the door open and walked in. His stocky frame and huffing presence elevated the stress of the environment, even in relative silence. He seemed to carry the weight of our entire staff on his sloping, meaty shoulders. Chris exhaled deeply, taking a seat behind his desk, and leaned forward to look at me over his circular wire-rimmed glasses.

“So,” he said, studying me from the top of my wig-covered head to my protruding stomach, “let’s talk about your maternity leave situation.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly know it was a situation, Chris.” The words escaped my mouth before I really had a chance to consider what I was saying.

“Oh.” Chris laughed uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean it that way.” He shifted in his seat. “We just need . . . to prepare the viewers for your leave. I want to have your pregnancy mean something for them. I mean . . .” I watched as his eyes shifted to my empty left hand that rested on the side of the armchair. “Once again, Tabby, you have a unique situation, so I’m saying, let’s share that perspective.”

At his words, I felt the same all-too-familiar throb in my gut. It was the same feeling in the grocery store every time people took their own look at my protruding stomach and then at my ringless left hand. I knew that look; I knew that judgment, and I didn’t like it. I thought back to Marc’s unromantic offer at the Jewelry Mart. In that moment, a lesser part of me pleaded for us to take the deal. We all need shelter sometimes . . . Ms. Gretchen’s words echoed in my mind.

“Chris, I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I’m open to hearing your idea.” I tried to soften my voice into an airy professional friendliness and hoped it sounded at least halfway believable.

“Oh, come on, Tabby!” he bellowed enthusiastically. “You know you’re on the cutting edge of a new trend. I’ve been reading about it, it’s called ‘single mothers by choice.’ Evidently, it’s all about women redefining the rules of reproduction on their own terms.

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