Big Swiss(42)

“Well, I’m just finishing my residency.”

A minute or so of silence passed.

“You must get this a lot,” Greta finally said, “but would you mind taking a quick look at this thing on my labia?”

First thought, worst thought, maybe keep your fucking mouth shut?

“It’s most likely a skin tag,” Big Swiss said after a moment. “They’re very common. If it bothers you, or interferes with your sex life, I can freeze it off with liquid nitrogen, after I make certain it’s not genital warts.”

“I was kidding,” Greta said.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a transcriber. A glorified typist, basically. It’s not a real job. I work from home and don’t get out much.”

“What do you transcribe?”

“Interviews,” Greta said. “For journalists. From the city.”

She wondered if Big Swiss had gotten her hands on a Magic Wand, the huge, unwieldy vibrator Om recommended to anyone with a vulva, young or old. It was like recommending a cudgel, and, in Greta’s opinion, not all clits wanted to be beaten to death. Although, Greta’s did. She’d been jackhammering away for over a decade, but only after many years of manual labor. It seemed like the wrong tool entirely for Big Swiss, who acted all hard but probably craved subtlety and nuance.

GILF was off the phone and looked lost. She eyed Silas warily and picked up her dog.

“Did my grandson leave?” GILF asked.

“A few minutes ago,” Big Swiss said.

“Damn,” GILF said, and hurried to her car.

Her grandson. Her real grandson.

“Her grandson invited us for a drink this weekend,” Greta said, and immediately regretted it. “I mean—he offered to buy us a drink at his bar.”

“Where?” Big Swiss said.

“Farmacy,” Greta said.

“I’ve been there with my husband,” Big Swiss said. “We should go.”

Tell her you don’t drink, Greta ordered herself. “You free tomorrow?” Greta said instead.

Big Swiss nodded.

“I have work ’til eight,” Greta said. Or, rather, I’ll be transcribing your next therapy session. “How’s eight thirty?”

She felt guilty as she watched Big Swiss create a new contact on her phone.

“R-E-B-E-C-C-A?” Big Swiss asked.

“R-E-B-E-K-A-H,” Greta said, just to make things more complicated.





7


The following afternoon, Big Swiss’s file landed in Greta’s inbox, along with a vague and confusing explanation about why the session had been cut short—or “truncated,” as Om said. He claimed he’d felt the need to stop recording when Big Swiss began revealing personal information about Keith, her attacker, such as the exact date and time of his release and where he would be living. Apparently, the thought of Greta’s being privy to such information made Om anxious, which of course didn’t make logical sense. Wouldn’t it be better for Greta to know a violent criminal’s exact address, so that she might avoid it?


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

FEW:?FEW.

OM:?Thank you.

FEW:?Who’s the transcriber—you?

OM:?What? No. It’s a robot.

FEW:?Really?

OM:?I mean, not literally, but… it’s automated. I use software.

FEW:?Is it accurate?

OM:?More or less.

FEW:?Well, I met a transcriber at the dog park today. Her name is Rebekah, with a K and an H.



“Fuck me,” Greta said.


OM:?How strange. Are you sure she was… human?

FEW:?Oh yeah. She was around fifty. Attractive. Gay.



“What?” Greta said.


OM:?Are you blushing?

FEW:?Maybe.

OM:?Did she flirt with you?

FEW:?Yes. Even after I said I was married.



“I did?” Greta said.


OM:?What sort of transcribing does she do?

FEW:?She works with journalists. Her clients are in the city.

OM:?Did she, uh, make a pass at you?

FEW:?Well, no. But she made a joke about Easter Bunny semen.

OM:?What joke?

FEW:?It won’t be funny now.



“It wasn’t funny then,” Greta said.


FEW:?But it was interesting, because as soon as she said it, I found myself wanting to tell her… well, everything. I’m usually guarded when I meet new people, but it felt like we already knew each other. She’s one of these intuitive types—

OM:?Are you an intuitive type?

FEW:?Not at all. I’m a thinker, not a feeler.



“Hey, I’m not a feeler, either,” Greta said. “Or a thinker.”


FEW:?Anyway, she intuited a few things.

OM:?Such as?



“Nothing,” Greta said.


FEW:?Well, I’m certain she knew that I’d experienced the first orgasm of my life that morning.



“Nope,” Greta said. “But congrats.”


OM:?What! Where!

FEW:?At home—where else? I took your recommendation and made a certain… purchase, and it came in the mail yesterday.