Later, she would describe this time as coming out of the first major depression of her adult life. The months before were still clinging to her, the crying, the anger, the stink of lying in bed and trying to force herself not to want death. It was a time when wanting anything positive felt like a surprise. There was a strange exultation when Ayanna could leave her room by herself or sleep through an entire night or look forward to eating the chicken broccoli bake in the cafeteria.

The party was in a public park. Everyone but Ayanna was wearing some form of partywear. Almost all the white people had gone ironic: thrifted prom dresses with maroon sequins, ruffled tuxedo shirts, or T-shirts screen-printed to look like a wedding dress or a tuxedo. Everyone else was dressed seriously and beautifully. A woman with skin so well moisturized that Ayanna made a point of pretending to accidentally brush her hand against her exposed arm to see how silky it was. So many golden jumpsuits and bright red heels. A light-skinned man with blue eyes like a nighttime soap opera star was fully dressed as a king. A crown tilted sideways, a red velvet cape he kept using for dramatic emphasis. Ayanna felt attracted to him but only because of the cape. Under the lights, there were shapes flickering between person, bear, stone, wave, zebra that Ayanna pointedly tried to ignore. No one could explain how Jane could get so many people to come to a party in a park.

No one could explain why Jane was also dressed as a zombie.

“Don’t ask,” a woman said. “The explanation will only make you hate her.”

That was the first rule of knowing Jane. You had to accept she was whimsical, and the loveliness of the whimsy would persist only when it wasn’t dissected. Ayanna felt the world needed more whimsical Black people, so she loved this rule.

No one mentioned Ayanna was the only one in jeans and a tank top. The king approached her and placed his crown gently on Ayanna’s head. “Go forth and party, my good peasant,” he said.

Some of the crowd was playing croquet. A few people were dancing even though there was no music, only the sound of many conversations and cars whizzing by on the slightly damp pavement. The crown was much lighter than it appeared. On the king’s head it had truly looked real, but on her, it felt plastic and slippery.