The Herd(75)

2003: Eve Jobs was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. For the following nine months, she refused her clinicians’ orders to undergo radiation, chemotherapy, and surgery, instead pursuing such alternative therapies as juice fasts, acupuncture, herbal remedies, and veganism. She reportedly even visited a psychic. Due to her unbecoming stubbornness and silly, girlish devotion to the oft-mocked Church of Wellness, she was promptly removed from the company.

2005: Speaking of juices, Eve Jobs ordered a fruit smoothie in a Whole Foods in California, and when the elderly barista didn’t make it to her specifications, she flew into a rage, screaming about the employee’s “incompetence.” The event was captured on film and ruined her career immediately. Due to her nasty, entitled disposition, she was promptly removed from the company.

2008: Apple’s much-anticipated MobileMe system, meant to sync mobile devices with users’ computers, was a disaster from the start. After a Wall Street Journal article tore it to pieces, Eve called a town hall meeting on Apple’s campus. With shrillness, an ugly shade of lipstick, and tremendous hate in her heart, she publicly berated the team for more than thirty minutes, noting, “You should hate each other for having let each other down.” Due to her out-of-control temperament, she was promptly removed from the company.

2010: At a conference, Eve Jobs for the first time presented a tablet called “the iPad.” The announcement was met with shock, disgust, and mockery thanks to the name’s obvious ties with female menstruation. The product launch was quickly canceled, and due to Eve’s poor judgment and female sexual organs, she was promptly removed from the company.





CHAPTER 21





Hana


MONDAY, DECEMBER 23, 5:37 P.M.

Cold had descended on everything again, bitter wind and puffs of feathery snow rolling across the street like tumbleweeds. The road hadn’t been plowed yet, so I walked carefully along a track carved by car tires. My toes felt frozen inside my winter boots, and I couldn’t tell if moisture had seeped through or just coldness.

Katie…and Ted. Ted…and Katie. When…what? I knew she’d met him the night he’d come to reset the router—the night before our Christmas Lights outing, which felt like a century ago—but she hadn’t mentioned him since. So what the hell was that? Yes, people seek comfort in others in grief. Yes, some people turn to sex the way others (e.g., Karen) turn to alcohol. But I couldn’t stem the outrage: It wasn’t even six o’clock, their friend had been found dead less than three days ago, and those two couldn’t keep their hands off each other?

A car flashed its high beams and I shuffled onto the slush-covered curb. There were no sidewalks here, just hulking old mansions with neat front lawns abutting the street. I hurried the last few yards and turned into the Corrigans’ driveway. Icicle lights hung from the roof, in front of the pillars, but all of the windows were dark. I curved around to the brick-and-white cottage out back and rang the doorbell. Finally the door swung open, belching heat into the night.

“Hi.” His hair was back in a little ponytail, his cheeks flushed.

“Hey, Cameron.” I stuck my hands in my pockets. “Can I come in?”

He held the door open and I took a few steps forward before another voice made me jump.

“Hiii, Hana!” Mikki, leaning back from the living room sofa at the end of the hall, her voice a singsong. “What’s up?”

“Oh, hey! Didn’t know you were over here!” Cameron followed me down the hallway. I’d matched Mikki’s cheery tone, but something was off about this whole diorama. And not just the mess, although that was apparent: the movie cliché of a thirtysomething’s bachelor pad, with dishes piled in the sink, mounds of dirty laundry dotting the hallway, and several bags of snacks yawning open on the coffee table.

“Just needed a break from Gary and Karen,” she said. “Er, I guess I should say I wanted to give them a break from me. They seem exhausted.”

“Totally.”

“You want a soda?” Cameron called from the kitchen.

“Got anything stronger?” I asked, then cringed as he said no: former addict, zero substances, that’s right. “Whatever you’ve got is fine.” I dropped into a recliner and turned to Mikki: “I was thinking the same thing. About Gary and Karen? They were so insistent about us coming but looked like they regretted it immediately.”

“Yeah, they’re not doing great.” Cameron handed me a Sprite and then crashed onto the couch, and as he did I watched Mikki’s eyes float to the floor under the coffee table. I followed her gaze and saw it—a little purple cotton bralette, the kind flat-chested Mikki favored. I looked up at her and for a second, we were like bad actors in a telenovela: My expression read WTF, Mikki stared at Cameron with desperate, help-me eyes, and Cameron looked back at her in confusion, his brows and head slightly askew.

It went through me like a gunshot, and for a second I considered pretending I hadn’t seen anything. Instead I laughed and said, “Didn’t realize this trip was gonna be such a fuckfest.” It felt good, the brashness. I saw why Katie must like it.

Cameron coughed. “No, we were just—”

“Cameron, stop,” Mikki said. “Yeah, we have been…hanging out, when we see each other. For a few months. Sorry I didn’t mention it, but I know you…”