“Do not answer my phone until I know who it is.” I bring the two buckets of vegetables into the kitchen and let the door slam behind me. If it is Aiko calling, I’ll let Noah do all the talking. We spoke briefly a few days ago when she let us know she’d landed safely, and she said she would call back after they settled some. She and Chaz can have sex several times a day as far as I’m concerned, but it still feels weird talking to her and wondering if it’s happening. When she returns, we have a new reality for Noah to acclimate to. I can’t stand the thought of seeing him half the week while he’s at another house with Aiko the rest of the time. But when she comes home, we’ll figure it out.

“It’s Bubbe,” Noah says, looking up from my cell phone on the counter. “Can I answer?”

“Sure.” I turn on the tap and rinse tomatoes and cucumbers in the sink.

“And Daddy won the award,” Noah gushes a few minutes into his conversation with my mother. He hasn’t stopped speaking since he picked up the phone. “And his friend gave it to him.”

He finally draws a breath, pausing to listen to my mother. “The friend from TV. Kimba Allen.”

He holds the phone to me. “Bubbe wants to speak to you.”

I bet she does.

“Hey, Mom.” I trap the phone between my ear and shoulder while I slice a cucumber.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were receiving an award from the Allen Foundation?”

“Mom, it’s not that big of a deal.”

The silence fills with what she and I both know—it is. I never got the full story of what went so wrong in my parents’ friendship with the Allens, but we moved and, as far as I know, they never had contact with them again. That volatile night cleaved our life into two distinct parts. In one of those parts, Kimba Allen was my best friend. In the other, she and her family didn’t exist.

“Why would they…” Mom pauses, clears her throat. “Tell me how this happened.”

“I received an email saying I was being honored for excellence in education. I went to the ceremony.”

“And Kimba was there?”

“She was. She presented the awards. Kayla, Keith, Mrs. Allen—they were all there.”

“How was Janetta?” Affection softens her tone, something that hasn’t happened before on the rare occasions when we’ve referenced Kimba’s family.

“She’s good. She asked about you, too. She didn’t know Dad had passed. She said to wish you well.”

“Did she?” Mom chuckles. “I wouldn’t have survived those first few years in Georgia without that woman.”

“I know,” I say, determined to step through the rare crack in the door. “So what happened back then? You were all so close, and then—”