I'll Be You(55)

* * *



—

I drove to the pizza place at the edge of town, parking in the lot at an angle that allowed me to watch the road that led to the compound. I sat and waited, my rolled-down windows the only defense against the sun that slowly turned my car into a skillet. I flapped the loose sleeves of my dress, directing air toward my dripping armpits. At least my head was cool, an upside of my drastic new cut.

An hour passed, and then another, as the sun began to descend and a breeze kicked up in the orange groves across the way. Customers came and went from the pizzeria, giving me odd looks as they passed by my car with their greasy stacks of cardboard boxes. No one asked me to leave.

It was nearly dinnertime when I finally saw them in the distance: two women with shaved heads wearing white dresses, slowly making their way down the road from the center of town. Their arms sagged under the weight of the grocery bags they were carrying. They were not, thank God, the same women I’d encountered last time.

I waited, slumped out of view below the dashboard, until they passed the pizza place and turned up the road. Once they had their backs toward me, I got out of the car and followed them. I brought nothing but the key to my car, which I tucked into my moist bra.

I caught up to them as they were passing the avocado farm, halfway up the hill. They heard my footsteps and turned to watch me approach. Now that I was closer I could make out their features, beyond the distractingly bald heads. One was a heavyset blond woman, her eyes bloodshot and pale in the sun; and the other was a slight Asian girl, probably just out of her teens, but alarmingly young-looking.

I slowed my walk as I approached, rounded my shoulders, and let a dimple escape. You be me, and I’ll be you. I smiled benignly.

The Asian girl looked at me and then down the road. “Eleanor?” she asked, her voice a tinny squeak. “Why are you alone?”

The air spun around me, hot and languid and disorienting. I didn’t know how to answer this woman’s question. “What a lovely evening,” I said, trying to be as sweet and anodyne as I imagined my sister would be. Did she still want so much to please? I had to assume that she did. “Nice and balmy.”

The heavyset woman was still staring at me, and for a moment I wondered if she’d seen right through me that quickly. I hadn’t seen Elli in so long; maybe she had a new tattoo, or a facial scar, a giveaway that I’d missed entirely. Maybe she was angry and abrasive now, not the sweet and pliant sister I was conjuring up. Maybe I just wasn’t as good an actress as I thought I was, which explained why my career had tanked.

But this woman had other concerns. “Did they give you dispensation to go into town alone?” she asked accusingly. I nodded, a wild guess, and she frowned. “Christ. I’ve asked three times and never gotten it.” She glanced down at my hands, saw that they were empty. “And no Service, either? Fuck. Cindy really does play favorites.” She turned and swerved off down the road, heaving the bags to adjust them, then slouching under their weight with exaggerated annoyance.

“Ruth…” the Asian girl squeaked. She threw me a look of commiseration and then dashed after the older woman, her grocery bags thumping against her skinny legs. There were giant sweat stains on the back of her dress.

“Here—let me help.” I chased the older woman down the road and took the grocery bags from her grip. The bags were full of sweet potatoes and cans of coconut milk, and the weight of them almost knocked me down. Ruth grumbled, but I could tell she was happy to let go. She flexed her palms, crossed with pink welts from the plastic handles.

The Asian girl gave me a dirty look, as if I’d just kicked her in the shin. “That’s her Service. You’re not supposed to take over someone else’s Service. That’s defeating the whole purpose. Dr. Cindy says that the Method only works if we push through our own vulnerability and weakness. The best way to help Ruth up is by letting her find her own bottom first.”

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Hush, Suzy. It’s only for a minute.”

“We’re supposed to be warriors,” Suzy persisted. “How are we going to lead a new movement of powerful women if we can’t even carry our own groceries?”

I fell into step beside them, unsure of what to say. I wanted to ask these women what this place was about. Was the retreat some sort of psychological boot camp? Was it a punishment or a reward? Was it supposed to be a permanent residence? If not, how long until my sister came home?

But I couldn’t ask any of this without giving myself away.

I was sweating now, too, the grocery bags cutting grooves into my palms. We turned a corner, walking single file as the road began to narrow, and when I looked up there was the tall wooden fence. The women both fell silent as we started to walk alongside it, our feet kicking up dust in the road. One by one, we passed the towering female statues that stood guard along the path.

Across the valley, the disappearing sun had set the Topatopas alight with a neon pink glow. It made me think of ice cream, and I realized I hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast. We entered the shade of the oak trees, passing through pockets of cool air trapped between the shrubs. “We’ll be late for dinner,” Ruth muttered. “And I’m getting three hundred calories tonight.”

“Does that count the apple you ate in town?”

“Shhh.” Ruth seemed to have shrunk into herself. The lines around her eyes had grown deeper, and I could see an angry rash on her bare skull. It struck me that she wasn’t grumpy; she was scared. And then the shadow of the iron gate fell over us and I suddenly felt frightened, too. What if I was found out? What if Elli was standing right there, on the other side of the gate, and the whole ruse fell apart? Worse—what if she was there and she wanted me to leave? What would I do then?