Should Have Known Better

I watched for a second and then snapped back to look off and away.

“Is everything OK?” Sasha asked, grabbing her purse.

“Yeah, just need to stop by the library for a minute.”

“No, I mean with you. Are you OK? From last night? Because I—”

“Sasha, it’s fine. I’m fine,” I said, forcing myself to look into her eyes. “It’s all good. I . . . I . . . I . . . I believe. I’m fine. We’re good. Let’s go have girl’s day.”

“We’ll just be in here a second,” I explained to Sasha, turning into the vestibule leading into the library. She was walking beside me in a perfectly wrapped purple dress. I could smell her perfume again. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably an issue with the computers. I’ll call tech support.”

“I’m fine,” Sasha said. “No rush.”

I waved at a few familiar sleepy faces as we headed behind the help desk. Mr. Lawrence and Mrs. Harris sat on opposite ends of the main floor.

“Hello?” I called, stepping into the back office with Sasha still behind me.

We almost ran right into Sharika as she was walking out of the back office.

“Oh, I was just on my way up front,” she said, her leg half wrapped around the desk where she was clearly sitting and on the Internet.

“Yeah,” I said, “I rushed right over here when I got the message about the emergency. What’s up? Kids run the Internet down again?”

Sharika was quiet; she pushed back on her heels and put her hands on her hips. She looked right past me and at Sasha.

“Is that the woman from the news?” Sharika asked and it was rather off because Sasha was right near her and could hear the question.

“Oh, where are my manners? I apologize.” I backed up so Sasha and Sharika could shake hands. “Sasha, this is my coworker Sharika Freeman and Sharika, this is my college roommate and soror, Sasha Bellamy—she’s visiting from Atlanta.”

They exchanged weak smiles and shook uneasily offered hands.

“You have that show on CNN? Comes on late at night.”

“That’s me,” Sasha said, smiling. “You watch?”

“No. I watch A. J. Holmes.”

Sasha’s smile flatlined.

“You know him?” Sharika asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Sharika, what’s the emergency?” I jumped in. “You said you needed me to come by.”

Sharika slid her hand back onto her free hip and slowly shifted her focus from Sasha to me.

“We have an emergency,” she said.

“I gathered as much, as you said that over the phone,” I said anxiously. “Now, what is it? Is there something wrong with the computers?”

“No, that’s not it. Much better!” Sharika led me and Sasha back out to the main desk.

We stood in the middle of the help desk area, following Sharika’s eyes and looking out over the floor.

“It’s them,” she whispered to me. “Mr. Lawrence and Mrs. Harris.” She pointed from one to the other and looked at me. “They’ve been at this all morning.”

I looked at Mr. Lawrence sitting in his usual seat near the dying fern at the end of a row of tables. He had no old, upside-down newspaper and was just staring hard across the room at Mrs. Harris, who was pretty much doing the same back at him. He sucked his teeth at her and she rolled her eyes at him. And then they did it again.