Big Swiss(102)

“You barely take care of yourself,” Big Swiss went on. “Is there anyone you actually care about?”

“Pi?on.”

“He’ll be dead, probably sooner than you think. Then what? Why are you even alive? Where’s your will to—”

“Stop,” Greta said. “Stop with the will-to-live shit. It’s for the terminally ill, okay? The wrongly convicted, the chronically homeless—people living on the edge. It’s meaningless nonsense coming from you. What you and Luke have is confidence, that’s all, along with the expectation that things will go your way, because they probably will, because they already have.”

Now Big Swiss was quiet. Was she a handful? Yes. But the thought of never handling her again? Unbearable.

“Anyway, suppose by some miracle I did make it to the hospital. Where would you be right now?”

“I chose you,” Big Swiss said. “Over and over, for months and months. I even considered ending my marriage for you, which would’ve been stupid and insane since you’re not really interested in living.”

“Well, our relationship felt like living,” Greta said. “To me, anyway. I’ve never been more myself with anyone, including myself.”

“You’re not yourself with yourself?”

“Not really.”

“But it’s hard to be with someone who simply drifts, who never searches for meaning, who just coasts along, and then wonders why she’s so powerless—”

“Suicidal,” Greta said, correcting her.

“You’re telling me you want to die when my husband was almost stabbed to death by the same man who tried to kill me. Who’s the narcissist now?”

“Me, I guess. Me, me, me.”

“Besides, I doubt you could summon the will to kill yourself.”

Now Ellington brayed. It was hoarse, raw, and very affecting. This was the sound she wanted to make. He seemed to be purging himself of something, and Greta wanted to join him. Crying certainly wasn’t cutting it. Perhaps in the next life she’d come back as a spotted jackass.

“What is that?”

“It’s a donkey, braying.”

“The imaginary donkeys,” Big Swiss said. “Right.”

“Oh, they’re real. They’re right here. They arrived this morning. If you listen to them chew, you’ll feel better, I promise. You’ll feel brand-new.”

Greta held the phone near Pantaloon’s mouth for a few seconds.

“You hear that?”

“I should get back to Luke,” Big Swiss said. “He’s not out of the woods yet. He’s still fighting for his life. When you start fighting for yours, maybe we can see each other again.”





20



OM:?Can you state your initials for the transcriber, please?

GW:?I’m the transcriber, Om. I know what my initials are.

OM:?Right, of course. Thanks for signing that release form.

GW:?You better hope I don’t fall into a K-hole. I’ll be very upset, and I can’t afford to take you to small-claims court.

OM:?I only gave you fifty milligrams.

GW:?Do you give all your clients ketamine? Is that why they’re often sobbing uncontrollably and calling you Dad?

OM:?Only those who are experiencing acute suicidal ideation, like you. I also recommend it to people who are unable to experience their bodies as a home they can always return to, or at least an uncluttered, comfortable space they can enjoy spending time in.

GW:?So, everyone.

OM:?This may surprise you, but a lot of people feel at home in their bodies.

GW:?Name one.

OM:?In any case, they don’t limp around, convinced there’s glass in their feet. How do you feel right now?

GW:?Strange.

OM:?Are you relaxed? Do you feel calm?

GW:?I saw Flavia this morning. At a farm stand. I watched her buy a bunch of corn. I didn’t recognize her at first because she cut off all her hair. It really rattled me. Not her hair, but seeing her. Without speaking. Without touching. I cried in my car afterward.

OM:?What do you miss about her?

GW:?Her intensity. Her smell. Her bizarre insights and condiments.

OM:?Did she see you?

GW:?She pretended not to.

OM:?You’ll move past it eventually. If you stick around Hudson, you won’t be able to enter a room without having weird, sometimes horrifying history with at least four different people.

GW: ?I may have ruined her life, Om. Her husband’s life. They’d be in Ecuador right now, making a baby, if it weren’t for me.

OM:?I’m all for accepting responsibility for your actions, but blaming yourself for Luke’s injuries won’t help you get better. Your actions may have hurt him emotionally, but you didn’t put him in the hospital—Keith did that. Of course, I’m not suggesting you’re blameless. You stalked my client and lied your way into an affair with her. That’s yours to carry.

GW:?I wouldn’t say I stalked her—

OM:?What would you call it?

GW:?[INDISCERNIBLE]

OM:?You’re not being emotionally honest, Greta. You were stealthy, you were secretive, and I’m pretty sure it’s all connected to your mother’s death. [PAUSE] What do you think you’re doing?

GW:?Can you pass the ashtray?