Lakewood(38)

“I wish someone would give me a pill that makes me forget the phrase, ‘Christmas in July,’” Charlie whispered as he and Lena went upstairs to the conference room. They were going to do another synching activity.

“She’s made me hate Christmas,” Lena said. “I hope they Bethany her.”

“Whoa, harsh.”

“I know. Too far.”

Day 36. Lena came back from the weekend ready to engage with Christmas in July. Maybe they could make their own decorations? It could be something fun to do. A blonde woman Lena didn’t recognize was putting a poster up over Bethany’s old STRESSED IS JUST DESSERTS SPELLED BACKWARD! poster. This one had an illustration of five slices of chocolate cake with a cherry on top over a light-pink background. In the middle, in large red cursive, it bore the same slogan: STRESSED IS JUST DESSERTS SPELLED BACKWARD!

This woman looked like a combination of Judy and Bethany. Small, close-set green eyes. Blonde hair was cut into a long bob.

“Hi, my name is Judy,” the woman said. “And you must be Lena. I’m your new neighbor.”

“Hi. Did you know our last receptionist was also named Judy? Isn’t that.”

“No, the last receptionist here was named Bethany. Or at least that’s what they said in my interview.”

Lena paused. When the other woman didn’t laugh or say she was joking, Lena turned to the poster. “I like this. It’s cute.”

This new Judy’s voice was higher. She talked seriously about the poster as if they were at an art museum together: The theme was cheerfulness, perseverance, finding the joy. Her explanation grew more and more condescending, but Lena continued nodding. She imagined herself interrupting this weird lecture on the importance of understanding stress as a manageable state of mind by ripping down both versions of the poster. She took the pieces and burned them in the parking lot. This is what I call desserts, she would yell at Judy. Instead, Lena smiled and said, “Well, I’ve got some work to do,” and went to her desk.

Day 37. Lena woke up at 3 a.m. to a text from Tanya. Are you mad at me? I’m sorry if I was an asshole about something. She continued, writing more in a rambling, misspelled way. She obviously had been drinking while she texted.

Day 39. Lena responded: Work is kicking my ass, I’m sorry.

Day 40. Lena took a walk by herself in the woods behind Great Lakes Shipping Company. Everyone else was doing an office yoga session led by Judy; Lena refused to participate. The woods were quiet, peaceful, and no one there was telling Lena how bad her balance was for someone so young.

Sitting on the path, as if it were a domesticated cat, was a raccoon. It was very clean, with a thick, full tail. The raccoon opened its mouth. “I’m dying here,” it said. Its voice sounded familiar, but Lena couldn’t place it. “I’m dying here,” it said again.

“That’s sad,” Lena replied. She turned around and kept on walking.





15


Last night, I had a dream a doctor performed wide-awake surgery on me. He pulled apricot after apricot from my abdomen and throat. When he was done, the scar on my stomach looked like a diamond bracelet. He said I had to come back every time I have an ache there or if I pee more than six times in a day; those would be signs I was growing apricots again. The doctor lifted an apricot up to me. It was perfect and unblemished. He bit into it and it hurt me so bad. I said, That’s a part of me, but he didn’t care. He took another bite, juice dripped down his chin.”

Dr. Lisa took notes. “What do you think that means?”

“I don’t really know.” Lena looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe it’s insecurities about my body. Or maybe I’m worried about getting sick like my grandma. It doesn’t take a genius to leap from a dream about things growing in my body to—” She paused. “Cancer.” Lena still hated the word.

Dr. Lisa’s hand rested on the desk between them. “I feel like you’re really starting to be less guarded in these sessions.”

“Thank you?” Lena said. She stopped herself from raising her eyebrows at the implication that before she had been dishonest.

Dr. Lisa poured Lena a glass of water and set it next to her hand.

“Let’s shift over to hypotheticals. Say there’s an earthquake or tornado. What happens if one neighborhood is spared? Do they start thinking it was a miracle? Do they try to find the cause or just enjoy their luck?”

“I don’t think I could speak for an entire neighborhood.” Lena waited for the doctor to prompt her to talk about what she would do. Or to pull out more pictures. Tell me what you see. Another thought experiment. When I say “viper,” you say _____________. The dim light in the office made Dr. Lisa’s pupils and irises indistinguishable.

“What if a friend told you all the mailmen in her neighborhood were spies. They read her mail, including the catalogs. She is sure they’re keeping track of her entire life. Would you believe her?”

Lena scratched the side of her face. “Only her? And does she have a theory about why she’s so special?”

“Only her.”

“Does she have proof?”

“Just her word.”

“I—” Lena exhaled, shook her head. “In the scenario, have I been in her neighborhood? Because maybe if I’d been there, and if there was a weird vibe, I might be more likely to believe her. But if I had never been there, I would think about nice but frank ways to talk to her about her mental health and how I wanted her to be okay.”