Chapter 15
Rachel drove slowly, half blinded by tears.
The sun gleamed off every broken shard embedded in every piece of concrete she drove on, every piece that surrounded her, that rose above her. Her phone kept vibrating on the seat beside her. She didn’t even want to touch it.
Well, at least that addiction is cured! she thought with great bitterness.
Her car politely informed her that she had only 20 miles of driving left on her diminishing tank of gas.
Thinking about Arlo’s viciousness, Rachel wondered why she had never seen any sign of it before.
He had always been so chill, so easy going… Does every visible personality trait hide its total opposite? she wondered – avoiding self-knowledge, as always, by endlessly theorizing about others.
A car horn sounded behind her, startling her out of her distracting dawn-dream. She saw that the traffic light had changed, stamped her foot down, and lurched forward.
The unseen man trying to sell her oranges leapt back in fear. His black dog growled and snapped at her passing.
Pounding at the door, Rachel noticed that she almost never rang doorbells. Aunt Crystal’s doorway to death floated through her mind.
After a minute or two, Ian opened the door wearing clothes obviously grabbed at random.
“Rachel – what’s going on?”
Rachel noticed that it took him a long moment to step back and let her in. She felt a sudden stab of fury.
“Where’s Cassie?” she demanded.
Ian stepped aside, compressing his lips into a white line.
Rachel half-charged into the townhouse.
“She’s – upstairs. Sleeping…”
Rachel said nothing, biting at her thumb.
She glared at Ian. “You – don’t know?”
He cocked his head.
“You – turn your phone off at night?”
“I’m not on call.”
“What if – there’s an emergency?”
Ian shrugged. “That’s what 911 is for.”
“I mean – a family emergency!”
Ian turned away from her and walked into the living room.
Rachel paused for a moment, then stormed after him.
“Shoes, please,” he called over his shoulder.
Using her heels, she violently pushed her sneakers off her feet, without untying them. It gave her satisfying bursts of pain.
Standing in the entrance to the living room, Rachel snapped: “Well? Can you go get her?”
Ian shrugged. “She had a rough night, let her sleep. What’s up, Rachel?”
Rachel sighed explosively and threw herself into a loveseat. Turning, she disentangled a small wooden toy train set from her back and dropped it on the floor.
“Arlo and I… I don’t know, we had a big fight.”
“That’s tough,” said Ian, without much pretense at sympathy.
“This is why I need to talk to my sister,” exclaimed Rachel.
Ian sighed, rubbing his new medieval beard. “Okay – what did you fight about?”
“As if you care!”
“I care if it helps my wife sleep… Seriously, what happened?”
“I…”
Rachel paused, narrowing her eyes at her brother-in-law. He had known her for over ten years – since he had started dating Cassie in grade 11.
Her tongue felt frozen in her mouth. She was suddenly not sure what she could get away with, and so had nothing to say.
“Do you want me to call him?” asked Ian.
“Why?” demanded Rachel, with exaggerated bafflement.
“Well, sometimes – man-to-man…” He shrugged. “It could help.”
“I’m supposed to just – sit here, and watch you…” Her throat seemed to close up slightly, and she sagged in her seat. “I’m sorry, Ian. I’m being a total witch with a capital ‘B’…” She leaned forward. “It’s about – Oliver.”
Ian nodded slowly, significantly.
“And the shortages,” he said.
“What?” snapped Rachel – then immediately smoothed out her tone. “No, I – I ended up publishing that article on the men’s rights movement – last night… It went out to all my subscribers – and then it went – totally viral – like, overnight… I left my phone in my car. You can imagine why…”
There was a pause. Ian’s face was comically shocked, then he burst out laughing. He jumped up, leaned forward and hugged Rachel tightly.
“Wow, holy crap! God be praised! What a move!”
Rachel allowed herself one sob, clutching his shoulders.
After a moment, Ian patted her arm, then sat on the sofa kitty corner from her.
Ian smiled broadly. “It’s like you’re – bathed in this – light. Charging right into the ranks of the persecuted, wow…” He frowned suddenly. “Oh – Arlo – you didn’t – tell him? Before..?”
I forgot… The absurd phrase flitted through her mind, vanishing like a moth flickering past firelight.
“No.”
Ian blew through his lips. “Well, I guess it’s pretty clear to him where your loyalties lie…”
“I don’t – I don’t get men at all,” said Rachel helplessly.
Ian laughed. “Not that you’ve ever had any trouble getting men.”
“Ian!”
He held up his hands. “Sorry, out of line, my bad… Man, he’s gotta be – angry as hell.”
“I – didn’t know he had it in him…”
“Is it – over?”
“We’re – well, circling the drain…”
“What’s happened with the – article?”
“That’s the craziest thing – it wasn’t even that – bad… Sorry, you know what I mean… I just showed – the tiniest shred of sympathy for what just – a few men are going through…”
“Like Daniel?”
“Yeah…”
“Five years in prison for refusing to support a kid who wasn’t even his…”
Rachel shrugged. “I mean – who couldn’t have sympathy for something like that?”
“Most of the world…” murmured Ian. He stood up again, leaned over, cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “That’s the whole point – kill men’s motivations with cruelty, so much easier to take over… Welcome aboard, sister!”
She twisted away from his embrace. “I really don’t like all this – tribalism.”
Ian sat down again. “I don’t like gravity either. Fact of life though…”
The conversation paused as they heard the tread of steps from above.
After a moment, Cassie came down in her nightgown – the soft fabric hanging over her extended belly.
“Rachel, my God, what’s up?”
As Rachel paused, Ian said: “She and Arlo had a fight.”
Cassie sat on the couch next to her husband and stretched her hands out to her sister. “Rach, you come here by me – Ian, go sit on the loveseat.”
Everyone obediently rearranged themselves.
Rachel put her head on Cassie’s shoulder.
Cassie murmured, “Let’s do some hair rubs, your favourite…”
Her fingers played with Rachel’s hair part.
There was long silent moment. Everyone who was not Rachel could see the struggle between her discontent and her desire to be comforted.
Eventually, Cassie murmured: “Tell me all about it…”
“I’ll go - check on Ben,” said Ian, jumping up.
After he had vanished upstairs, Rachel disengaged and stared at her sister.
Cassie said, “What are… What happened?”
“I don’t know,” whispered Rachel.
“Is it – over?”
“One phase, for sure… Not sure if it’s the – only phase.”
Cassie paused delicately. “I think – it’s for the best.”
Rachel said nothing, staring at the floor miserably.
“What were you going to do – play ‘house’ forever?”
“We weren’t just – playing ‘house’!” snapped Rachel.
“I don’t mean to be… I’m not trying to insult everything…” She cradled her belly. “This heart rate isn’t good for the baby…”
“How is – that?” asked Rachel distractedly.
Cassie smiled radiantly. “‘That’ is going to be a boy – is a boy, I mean! We didn’t want to know, but the doctor let it slip. Three boys – and me!” She laughed delightedly. “Just think how much I can nag them about the toilet seat! I’m going to be worshipped – a goddess!”
“That’s – that’s wonderful…”
Rachel felt a sudden queasy belly-drop of terror. “I’m not trying to make it about me – I promise – but I did – end up – publishing that article. Last night…”
Cassie nodded slowly, rubbing her belly with her left hand. “That article?”
Rachel nodded.
“Is that what you and – Arlo fought about?”
“Mostly, yeah…”
Cassie’s eyes widened suddenly. “Please God – tell me you didn’t mention Ian!”
“Not by name…”
“How then?”
“Just as – my brother-in-law…”
Cassie shrank back. “God, Rachel! It would take people about – five seconds to find that connection on Facebook!” She took a deep breath. “Okay, it’s… Just – go and edit the article… It just went out last night, right?”
“I – don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What? Why not?”
“I left my phone in the car…”
“Hah, you without…” Cassie’s face froze. “Wait – it’s not – gone viral?”
Rachel nodded. “And – if I change anything, it just – highlights. More blood in the water…”
Cassie reached over to the side table and grabbed Ben’s tablet. She touch-typed rapidly.
Her face went pale in the light of the screen. “Oh my – God…”
“I – haven’t checked in a while… I assume it’s not – calming down.”
Cassie’s jaw hung slack. “It’s good – that you are here. Don’t go home. You might want to tell – Arlo to get out…” Her voice was hushed with horror. “They’ve got your address… Oh Rachel, how could you?”
“I didn’t think it was – that bad!”
“But without – without giving us a chance to look it over first?” Cassie was not angry – at least, not yet – but seemed genuinely bewildered.
Rachel shook her head slightly – it looked more like a shiver. “It was just a bit of – sympathy. For men…”
Cassie suddenly frowned. “Oh, is that why dad has been – well, so not-dad? Did you talk to him?”
Rachel nodded.
Cassie took a deep breath.
From upstairs, they heard the sudden sound of Ben crying.
“In a sec…” muttered Cassie, thumbing the tablet. “‘Sympathy for the Devils?’ By Rachel Hastings…’”
Rachel watched in obvious agony at her sister rapidly scrolled through her article.
After a minute, Cassie threw the tablet aside.
“Totally reasonable,” she said evenly. “Are you insane?”
“What?”
“Totally reasonable is – the end of the world these days… In a moment Ben!” she called up the stairs, then turned back to Rachel. “I just don’t – understand why.”
“I don’t… I want to make a mark, I want to have a – better career…”
They heard sirens, and Rachel had a sudden vision of being dragged off by uniformed arms.
“Why?” asked Cassie with preternatural perceptiveness. “Is it so bad to just – have children?”
Rachel laughed harshly. “Oh, that’s not… I wouldn’t be a good mother – especially not to someone like Ben.”
Cassie paused, pursing her lips. “Wow, you really are determined to burn every bridge today…”
“I didn’t mean that…” Rachel shrugged. “I’m just not – mother material. I never really had the urge…”
Her sister took a deep breath. “I’m really struggling to stay Zen at the moment, Rach. You’re like this giant – bowling ball, just smashing up everyone’s lives… You’re not a kid – you’re certainly not dumb. What’s with the wrecking ball?”
“I just…” Rachel frowned fiercely. “I just – need a change, Cass… You know?”
Cassie leaned forward. “Then – make a change! Don’t do… Don’t just – blow everything up! Especially when there are innocent bystanders… How can we have a relationship if you take a hammer to my whole life?”
“You are barely mentioned! Ian I mean…”
“You keep talking – as if facts actually matter!”
Rachel put her hand over her mouth, then immediately took it away again.
“I can just run away, hide in a hole…”
“Rachel – I swear to God, if you start another sentence with the word ‘I’ – I will slap you silly!”
A puzzled look froze Rachel’s face into an inaccessible mask. “I don’t know… Sorry, it’s hard to understand – what everyone wants from me…”
Ben’s crying increased. With a dark scowl, Cassie levered herself up.
“I’ve got to go… And then I’ve got to make breakfast. And then I’ve got to get into my car and get to work. And then – and then I’m going to tell my boss that I’m not coming back. That I’m done… You see how interesting a conversation can be when other people get to talk?”
“Cassie!” cried Rachel. “Con-gratulations!”
“So, my job is not at risk… We just have to hope – and pray – that Ian doesn’t lose his now. Otherwise, it’s back to living at mom and dad’s, back to being a teenager…” Cassie paused for a moment. “And we all end up like you.” She raised her hand. “No, that’s not the start of anything… Just – go home, Rachel. Get Arlo, get your things – and get out.”
“I’m – I’m sorry, sis…”
“Me too,” said Cassie, with heartbreaking sadness.
She laughed suddenly.
“Well, if Ian is right – if Oliver’s right – and we’re all toast anyway, maybe it doesn’t matter one bit… Go out with a bang, right? That’s always been your style – I guess it’s mine too, now!”
There was an awkward pause in the face of this strange détente.
Cassie turned and went upstairs.
Rachel heard Ian’s deep voice combining with her sister’s softer tones.
Ben stopped crying almost immediately.
Rachel felt as if the ghost of his tears had jumped from his tiny body to her broken chest.
She went into the hallway, and slammed her feet into her tight sneakers – refusing to open the laces.
She wrenched open the front door.
It seemed that there were sirens everywhere…
Chapter 16
Traffic was a nightmare. Streets had become parking lots. To distract herself from her growing panic, Rachel played mental games with the license plates in front of her, turning the four letters into acronyms for short sentences – but every sentence became a harbinger of doom in her mind, and she quickly gave up.
She turned on the radio.
A man was speaking. “…and of course, the Republicans are seizing on this to basically attack our fine President…”
A woman interrupted with a harsh laugh. “You know how these people are – right after they get out of bed, they start hearing conspiracy theories in the hum of their electric toothbrushes!”
The man sniggered. “Who imagines that they even brush their teeth?”
“Right, right – their teeth are as yellow as their journalism!”
“It’s some kind of life, imagining that the walls are constantly closing in on you, and hysteria and attack are the only rational responses! Sheesh – talk about wearing yourself out!”
“I’m sure, though, Danny-boy – that, at the end of their life, as the light fades from their eyes – and the last thing they see is a faded orange poster of their glorious once-leader – that all they can think about is how wonderful it was to ignore friends and family and spend your life making lame memes online, picturing yourself as some kind of green-frog superhero!”
Rachel could almost hear the man nodding energetically. “Yeah, they always say – the left can’t meme – and you know why? Because we’re out there going on dates and meeting with friends and staying up late talking about things that matter! We’re not going all ‘Gollum,’ scrawling Pepe memes at three in the morning for our glorious six followers!”
Rachel changed the station blindly. A deeper voice, far less frantic, more measured…
“Everyone gets sick, and every time – except one – you get better. You know, folks, there are two days you never live fully: the day you are born, and the day you die… Each one has less than twenty-four hours, for you… And the shortages, well folks – before, they got better… And everyone in power keeps telling you – hey, you have nothing to worry about… But they’re not doing you any favors, friends! They don’t exist to do you favors – you exist to pay them, to serve them! So, I hope you've been listening to my good advice, and the words of our fine sponsors, and you’ve got some resources, some food in the basement, some ammo… Sure, it took the Roman Empire 500 years to fall – but then it did. And every time you get sick, you get better – except for that one time, the last time… One of the greatest mistakes in life is looking at the past and thinking it is a permanent guide to the future. It’s not – we know this, in our hearts, in our souls, but still we think that somehow life and decay – of ourselves, of our civilization – will somehow pass us by… Countries last for about 250 years on average – particularly powerful countries, with empires – and don’t fool yourself, we have one, folks! We are one. Where are we in that timeline? You know. Look around, you know – you know, in your heart… As it goes for people, so it also goes for countries… Civilizations… If you think of the national debt, the dumbing down of the population, the escalation of propaganda and surveillance technology – do you really think that our freedoms, our way of life will…”
Rachel stabbed her finger at the power button, turning the voice off. Her heart was pounding, thudding in her chest like a boxer punching a wall in a burning room.
Everything is designed to stress me out…
Being in a rush, being stuck in traffic – Rachel suddenly thought of a pimple she had gotten on her upper left lip right before her grade 12 prom.
Every day, I think my life is a total mess – and every next day, I would give everything for the problems I had only the day before…
The bad haircut she got before going to Morocco; her skin reaction to that cheap foundation from China; the time she thought she was losing her hearing because her eustachian tube got clogged; the time Arlo took too much protein powder and thought he had bowel cancer; the time she missed an exam, and had to fight like hell to retake it; the time her bank misplaced a large check – and that time early in the pandemic, when she thought that everyone might die…
What she would not give to return to those ‘problems’ – they had all worked out, everything was fine… But the calm radio voice came alive in her head: Everything is fixable, everything is fine – until it’s not…
Rachel was startled out of her reverie by a sudden raging horn from the car behind her.
THERE’S NOWHERE TO GO! she wanted to scream.
She decided to turn her car off, because the gas warning chime was driving her crazy. She could see the gas station, just a couple of blocks down the road.
A group of hooded young men ran screeching and hooting past the front of her car. She saw a flash of dark eyes glaring at her from above a black bandanna - an arm swung down and smashed into her hood, leaving a dimpled dent. His tongue extended in a manic lick of air – then the gang swarmed to her left, disappearing into an alley.
The last siren stopped. It was strangely quiet.
Rachel saw the man ahead of her get out of his rusty car. He was bald, with a ridiculous comb over – he wore khaki pants, and a loud Hawaiian shirt so cheap it made Rachel’s skin itch just to look at it. He shaded his eyes, leaning forward – as if the few extra inches would clarify whatever he was trying to see ahead. He pulled his phone out of his side pocket and raised it to his ear. He suddenly looked to his left and his right, obviously alarmed. He turned back to Rachel, and stared at her directly through her dusty, bug-spattered windshield – and she suddenly remembered her father, years ago, turning to her in the car as an insect hit the glass and saying: “I bet he doesn’t have the guts to do that again!”
The man suddenly jumped back into his car. Rachel watched him lean over, locking all the doors and rolling up the windows. Afterwards, he sat frozen, his shoulders tense. His car shuddered slightly as he turned it off.
Rachel’s phone buzzed again, and she glanced at it.
Seeing the name, she grabbed it, answering breathlessly:
“Hello – yes, hello, Oliver?”
“Rachel – are you all right?”
“That’s a – big question!” she laughed.
There was a slight pause.
“Where are you?”
“Stuck in traffic…”
“How far are you from home?”
“Maybe – twenty minutes? Why?”
“Twenty minutes by foot, or by car?”
“By foot? I’m driving!”
“I know – but you’re stuck.”
“Well, I can’t just – abandon my car, what are you talking about?”
“Is there any way off the road you are on?”
“I have like… I’m driving on fumes right now…”
There was a pause. Rachel could faintly hear Oliver tsking between his teeth.
“What’s – what’s going on?” cried Rachel. “When the calmest person you know is panicking, that’s – really freaking me out!”
There was another pause.
“Rachel, did you lie to me?”
Rachel nodded, then whispered: “Yes…”
“How many times, and about what?”
“Am I in confession?”
“Stop joking!”
“It’s my job to – get what I need…”
“Okay,” said Oliver flatly. “Good luck to you.”
Click.
Rachel suddenly experienced the strangest and most wrenching moment of her life. Her eyes widened, and she noticed that the rust-bucket ahead of her had a bumper stickeRachel: “In case of rapture, this car will be unmanned!”
She didn’t have a sunroof, but imagined her mind suddenly erupting like a geyser through the top of her car – flying up and over the city – and she could see every vivid detail of every building, every street – she could read every sign, every advertisement, every store name – all at the same time… She inhaled sharply, and could feel the tiny pinpricks of each particle of dust and vapour charging into her lungs… From the sky, she looked down, and could see the various hairstyles and hats of everyone running through the city, every loosed pack of dogs roaming the gas stations – and each ground-up bottle cap and wobbly mis-painted line on every intersection…
Rachel grabbed her phone and dialled.
In this moment, she would have given anything and everything to ensure he picked up.
“Oliver here, how can I help you?”
Business tone.
“I lied – I lied about my name. I lied about my boyfriend. I was cruel to – that man who wanted to talk to you… I lied about – why I am doing what I am doing. I am very attracted to you. I know – I know I’m not supposed to… You might have a girlfriend. I’m just a child, wearing makeup – you would never be attracted to… I want to become a better person…” Rachel was in tears. “I don’t have a life, I don’t have a future, there’s nothing appealing about… that. I’m terrified of turning into my aunt. She is the final stop on these – train tracks…”
To forestall his response – and not even sure he was still on the line – Rachel plunged on.
“And I know – I know I am a cliché. A total stereotype. I care about heels and cheekbones and status and being – appealing, like an ape. Like a piece of meat. And I also know that I’m a – female cliché. That I’m ‘monkey branching’ to a more – to a higher status male, a man who can actually protect me from what’s coming, rather than a pretty boy I can show off… And I know I sound hysterical, total Blanche Dubois, and that’s about as off-putting as I can imagine – but I feel like a fictional character, floating in nothing – but you have a – soul. Oliver… I don’t know how you live without wanting to please others… And I’m lying about that, too, right now, because I know that I don’t show any – evidence of wanting to please people. To control them, maybe…”
Rachel willed herself to stop.
Oliver said: “It’s nice to hear from your soul.”
Rachel wept openly. “I thought I did everything right, but everything turned out wrong…”
“Rachel… Nothing can turn out right if you just – manage people…”
There was another slight pause.
“How does it feel to tell the truth?”
“Bloody ’orrible!” cried Rachel in a sudden mock-British accent, laughing despite herself.
“How have your friends reacted to the article?”
“Please don’t tell me you actually have to ask me that!”
She could almost hear him smile. “No, I don’t.”
“I lied to you, cheated you, betrayed you – and you still take my call!”
There was a pause.
Rachel said: “I lied to you, and you are kind to me… I told my friends the truth, and they – and they…” She burst into tears again.
“Do you know why?”
“I don’t…”
“Being attacked for telling the truth is the foundation of – everything we believe in. That I believe in. Your friends think that the world can be made perfect – if you interfere with that fantasy – well, you’re just an enemy, to be attacked… Condemned. Cast out…” His voice lowered, and she pressed her phone closer to her ear. “But I know – I know, Rachel – that human beings… We are fallen creatures, we all fall prey to evil and betrayal – that is the animal nature we are cursed with as a condition of existence, of survival… I do not condemn you for lying because that is the natural state of mankind.”
Rachel took a deep, shuddering breath. “So – you have lied to me as well!”
“Yes.” There was no pause before his word.
“About?”
Oliver sighed. “Well, I do find you – interesting. And attractive. My flaw – well, one of them, one of the many – is that I am very impatient with – manipulation. Because of my… But how could you do otherwise, given what you believe?”
Rachel smiled. “Attractive?”
Oliver laughed. “Yes, that would be the word you pick out… You are intelligent, and passionate – and pretty, which will always mean something as long as the devil rules this world!”
“I don’t feel pretty,” said Rachel softly.
“No… I think you are right at the root of – yourself. You probably love striding confidently – in high heels no doubt – but you are just now only learning how to walk…”
“Death by analogies…” smiled Rachel, rubbing her eyes. “You can’t be… You can’t want to… If I’m such an infant…”
“You asked me to be honest with you, so I was – it’s not a proposal!”
“Oh no!” exclaimed Rachel. “Not that…”
Oliver’s voice grew suddenly serious. “I don’t mean to train you like a puppy, but here is your reward for being honest. Where is the closest place you can take shelter?”
“What – is there a storm?”
“Rachel. You’re not getting any gas.”
There was a pause.
Rachel looked up, and saw that the rusty car ahead of her was now empty.
Chapter 17
Crystal jolted awake at the pounding.
In the half sleep of a dream drugged by exhaustion, she had been hiding in the basement of an ex-pat hotel in Syria – in Damascus. Men in black combat gear were sprinting down the hallway outside the supply closet she crouched in. She had no idea where her cameraman had gotten to, and had vague memories of her elderly producer spiraling off a balcony.
She stared at the cleaning products around her, certain that she was going to die with the full knowledge of the Arabic word for “bleach.” Dust dropped in wide plumes around her as the building shook. She had a wild thought of recording a selfie video, to be found later, and receiving a posthumous Pulitzer Prize for reporting from beyond the grave…
Even to the end, Crystal Pavlovich was dedicated to her craft, her profession…
There wouldn’t be a dry eye in the house – at least until people started laughing over the suggestive shapes of the dessert…
Having faced mortal danger many times, Crystal had ample evidence about how she felt in the presence of death.
She always felt a strange weariness – and a profound sense of relief – when buildings began to shake around her, or planes wobbled dangerously in the sunrise, or interviews turned suddenly violent, or youthful crowds seized at her while she was being filmed.
The last time, when she was savagely yanked into a boiling crowd of protesters in Egypt, she felt her entire body go limp with submission – and the distinct phrase ‘Thank GOD!’ echoed in her mind. She also had a sudden zooming out of perspective, and realized with a deep shock that everything she was reporting on was at best a towering wave into a seaside wall – a crash, a thunderclap, a high splash back – and then a slow recession, and return to normalcy – all that sound and fury signifying just a blip in the general evenness of the ocean. Even an earthquake that topples buildings is eventually forgotten – the buildings go back up, life goes on, and the first-hand stories fall slowly to the grave…
Crystal had pursued such wild stimuli over the course of her life that the idea of death coming as a relief was so foreign to her that it took her quite a long time to understand it. She had taken enough therapy to know that people on the run are always being chased by something – that ambitious people are fleeing from failure, at least in their own minds – but she had no idea what was pursuing her, so made no progress in fighting the growing depression she felt after that moment.
Crystal had been grabbed at, beaten – and rescued by her security team, before any deep and permanent damage was done to her – but she had great difficulty getting back on the horse, so to speak. She had started obsessively reviewing her old footage – something which was anathema to her in the past – all the way back to the beginning – she had to buy a used VCR player and slide in grainy tapes from the late 1980s…
Her young, angular face – when she could have definition without looking haggard – speaking confidently, shrinking only slightly in the face of explosions and flames (just enough to make the men want to protect her) – her seeming obliviousness to her own great looks (another male fantasy) – all combined to launch her into the stratosphere of her profession.
Crystal had started off apolitical, but had gradually drifted leftward – both because it became exhausting to fight the ridiculous undercurrents of her profession, and because she started to believe that government was the only social agency capable of rapidly helping people in desperate need.
Like everyone, she was aware of the strange and growing physics of her environment – the endless rip tides in one direction, the pauses and frowns at any hesitation or – heaven forbid, counter-narrative. Who got promoted, who got demoted – who got cast out entirely… Crystal felt like a puppy figuring out how to hunt – she could not conceptualize the physics, but she sure knew where her food was dangled.
When she was a kid, she enjoyed opening the top of a banana a tiny bit, then pushing the gooey fruit out by squeezing the bottom. This began to feel like her life – she had outstripped the energies of her youth, and was now driving forward based on willpower and – and, something, whatever she was running from…
When Crystal was ambitious, she climbed to the top – when she was at the top, with nowhere else to climb, she turned to fending off – not competitors, exactly, but something… Decay? Obsolescence?
She got to the top by focusing on the future – when she arrived, she turned to the past. Obviously – at least, obviously to an outsider – Crystal turned to the past out of fear for her future – the last third of her life, when she couldn’t be waving a microphone and chasing insurgents down blind sandy alleys…
The great invisibility was beginning to swallow her up – the great invisibility that awaits single women post fertility, past career peak, past youthful energy, in the grip of hot-flash menopause, bone loss and the grim choice between having a more attractive figure, but a less attractive face – or vice versa.
Crystal was running from her future, which overtakes everyone, if they are lucky…
She jumped up as the pounding switched to a sharp knocking.
Peering through the peephole, she saw Rachel’s sweaty face and unkempt hair.
After Crystal unlocked the door, she jumped back as Rachel shoved it open.
“Hi – there…” Crystal’s voice was slow, to express her disapproval.
“I’m sorry – for barging…” panted Rachel. “Can I get some water?”
“Not for coffee I hope!” laughed Crystal.
“No, no…” Rachel half-ran through the living room into the small kitchen. “Where do you keep the glasses?”
“Top left shelf, by the fridge… Don’t use the plastic ones, they’re too hard to clean.”
Rachel grabbed a glass, got water, and gulped it down.
Crystal said: “Rach, I’m sorry about – last night, or this morning, I can’t tell any more… I tried reading the article, but passed out. Your knocking woke me.”
“I’m sorry too,” said Rachel distractedly.
“I know we should talk, but maybe – a nap first? You, I mean!”
“I couldn’t sleep, not a chance,” said Rachel, sitting heavily on the faded orange couch. She ran her fingers through her hair – not to tidy it, but to air out her wet forehead.
Crystal sat down gingerly in an armchair – broadcasting for an invisible audience her belief that she had to move slowly in order not to startle the obviously crazy person in her living room.
“Sooo - you want to tell me what’s going on? Other than the obvious…”
“I’m sorry – again. I just needed a place to – hole up.”
“From the media?”
Rachel blinked in surprise. “Oh no, not that. I haven’t really checked…”
Crystal frowned. “Something with – Arlo?”
“Well, things aren’t too great there…”
“But – not that either?”
“I don’t know… How much food do you keep here?”
Crystal laughed incredulously. “How long are you planning on – staying?”
“I don’t know that either…” murmured Rachel.
“Okay, getting a little alarmed here… You are really going to have to tell me what’s happening.”
“Do you wish you had ever married – again?”
When you’ve known people for a long time, surprise is the only way you can stall obvious and necessary questions. In accordance, Crystal blinked comically.
“Married? I’d have to crawl down the aisle!”
“No, I mean – before, after…”
Crystal shrugged. “That kind of thing was never for me, not really – it was kind of cruel to marry Pavlov in the first place… I liked his hyper-masculinity, but he in turn wanted me to be more – feminine, more girly, and that’s just – really not in me at all!”
“Lessons learned…” murmured Rachel, obviously lost in her own thoughts. “And – when you were in danger, you turned to men?”
Crystal cocked her head in annoyance. “My security detail was men – yes, because that is more respected in patriarchal cultures – which is to say all cultures, as you know!”
Rachel gestured at the air. “And – this building… Built by men. The tap, the water, what quenches my thirst… The sewage system, the roads – the cars – the food, mostly grown by men. We live in a man’s world…”
“Only because we are excluded!”
“Who stopped you from becoming an – engineer, or a construction worker?”
“Are we really going to try and relive an alternate resume from when I was a girl?” snapped Crystal. “And you’re not telling me what is really going on!”
“Do you think that Arlo and I have a – future?”
“What would it matter what I think? What do you think?”
“I don’t have a clue…” said Rachel simply, sadly.
“Hm,” said Crystal, doing a poor job of covering up some strange satisfaction. “Well,” she said briskly, “in my experience, you can’t do anything halfway if you want to do it at all well! Pavlov interfered with my career, he wanted to baby me up, turn me into some kind of broodmare – and I had this flash, every time he begged for it, of ending up like Cinderella, on my knees, in a dirty puffed-out house coat, for the rest of my life… Ending up like one of those prune-faced Eastern European great-grandmothers, scrubbing endless underwear by an outhouse until you just – keel over into the dirty water. Buried and forgotten, just like everyone else…”
“So – no regrets?”
Crystal jerked forward suddenly. “See, that’s why I want these – memoirs to get out! I don’t want to sound – overly vain, although I know that’s a weakness – but I think that my life could be – inspiring for other women. Like it was for you – maybe it still is – I hope so!” She shook her head rapidly. “Much though I love to talk about myself – you’re still not telling me what’s going on. The reaction to the article?”
Rachel shook her head. “No… I mean yes, but not primarily…”
“You could always take a break from your career, help me with my memoirs – I’ll find a way to pay you…”
Rachel shuddered. “I don’t think that’s – going to matter too much.” She jumped up. “That’s a terrible way to put it, sorry. Where’s your remote?”
“Over – there, on the table.”
Rachel turned on the television.
“How do you get regular TV?”
“Damned if I know,” muttered Crystal.
Rachel stabbed buttons randomly, switching through various empty auxiliary inputs. After a few minutes, she gave up.
“Unlock your phone,” she said.
Crystal shuddered. “God, I’m getting 9/11 flashbacks – please don’t tell me there’s been another attack…”
“No…”
Crystal scrolled through the news on her phone. “Nothing too major, just some – shortages. The usual.” She glanced up. “Why are we using my phone?”
“I’m not touching mine…” She too a deep breath. “I abandoned my car.”
“You did what?” Crystal’s voice was sharp, shocked.
“I left it – I’d been in traffic for two hours, nothing was happening – I couldn’t even get to a gas station right within sight, and I was basically out of gas.”
“So you – walked here?”
“Yeah, the subway is closed.”
“Oh come on, they would say that,” snapped Crystal, gesturing with her phone.
“Look out the window!” cried Rachel.
Rolling her eyes, Crystal walked around the tiny dining room table – still holding last night’s delivery food remains – and opened the thick curtains.
Looking down, her mouth dropped open.
“I wish I could open this window,” she said urgently. “What the hell?”
Rachel joined her, lowering her eyes.
Athletic youths were swarming back and forth like a multicoloured churning sea through the rocks of the stationary cars. Even from their high perch – even through the sealed windows – they could hear the occasional gunshot.
“Where the hell are the police?” whispered Crystal.
“I don’t know…”
“Well, today is a fine day to stay home then!” Crystal’s voice was brittle with false bravado. “That’s gonna take a while to clean up…”
“Oh my God,” murmured Rachel.
Far below, someone was pulled out of a car by a swarming gang. There was a flicker, and then a slightly delayed bang. The gang fell back. Half stumbling, the victim backed through the sea of moving bodies. The original group fanned out and circled. As they watched, a golden door to a condominium building opened up, and dark arms pulled the figure inside.
Crystal said: “That’s just – feral!”
Rachel turned to her. “As I said, how much food you have?”
For some reason, Crystal looked furtive, almost guilty.
“I have – well, I haven’t had any real energy to cook, so – I have some frozen meals, but I’ve mostly been ordering – take out…”
Rachel sighed.
Crystal took a deep breath, and colour seemed to return to her cheeks. She gestured at her condo. “I’ve been holed up in worse places…”
“Do you have a radio?”
“God – no, don’t think so.”
Rachel tried getting a television signal again. Both of them suddenly felt acute feminine helplessness.
“We’ve gotta get – out of the city…” muttered Rachel.
Crystal nodded, slowly absorbing the sentence. Her energy seemed to deflate again. “I’m – I don’t have the energy to go anywhere…” She half-collapsed on the couch.
Rachel was biting at her thumb. Grabbing her phone, she dialled. “Nothing? God, they’re always home..! Okay – okay… I’ve got to get to mom and dad’s…”
“Why..?” Crystal bit her tongue, but they both knew the end – why them and not me?
Crystal said, “They have each other – Cassie and – Ian, just down the street…”
“They’re both at work – and Ben, Ben is in a daycare!”
Crystal turned to her, eyes wide. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Rachel tried dialling a few more numbers. “Now I can’t even get a…” She glared at her phone, shaking it. “I have bars, but nothing is – going through. Or coming in, thank God! What am I going to do?”
Crystal raised her hands. “Okay, whoah Nellie! So, there are a couple of riots going on outside, big whup! Couple of summers ago it was even worse… Life went on.”
Rachel murmured, “At some point, it does end though…”
“What does? What ‘ends’?” Crystal’s voice was brittle, sarcastic. “Don’t tell me you’ve become one of those ‘end of the world’ doom-and-gloomers…”
“Everything can just be – mocked away, right?” snapped Rachel. “Everything you don’t like – every objection – can just be…” She snapped her fingers. “Wished into oblivion?”
Crystal looked at her quizzically. “You’ve – you haven’t had any sleep. You’re misfiring on all cylinders…” She leaned forward and opened her thick arms. “Come to Auntie…”
“No!” cried Rachel. She sat on the armchair, running frantic fingers through her hair. “This is a…” She gestured bitterly, and Crystal suddenly smelled the sick scent of her own abode – the endless lying around, the lack of cleaning. A tomb?
“I need to use your car,” said Rachel.
Crystal’s eyes widened. “Now? To go see your parents?”
Rachel shook her head angrily. “Not to – ‘see them’ Crystal - to check on them!”
Crystal sat back in the deep couch. “Not – totally comfortable with that, to be honest. It’s kind of crazy out there…”
“It’s going to get crazier though.”
Crystal sighed explosively. “And then – and then, it will just get better. I’ve been around the block a few times, you know! Things always return to – normal.”
Rachel stared at her. “Have you?”
Crystal blinked. “Me?”
“You’ve been lying on this couch for six months – have you ‘returned to normal’?”
“Rachel!” cried Crystal in horror. “Where is this – coming from?”
Rachel looked away. “You worked yourself too hard, and in the wrong way… Like that summer I was shucking corn – all the guys were fine, but I ended up with a bad back for like two years…”
“It’s not my fault I – got sick!” cried Crystal, raising her hands to her face.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “What is wrong with you?”
Crystal gestured helplessly. “Oh, you know, all these doctors, the patriarchy – they don’t care about women’s issues!”
“What if…” Rachel took a deep breath.
“What?” snapped Crystal. Colour had returned to her cheeks. “What?”
Rachel exhaled. “I really – need your car.”
“No! It’s going to get – torn apart – and you, too! Just – just wait!”
Rachel shook her head rapidly. “I’m tired of – waiting!” she cried wildly. “My whole life, I’ve had this – tension. In my chest, in my belly… Why aren’t you ever aware of the danger?”
“What – danger?”
“God, everything!”
“Rachel, you’re frightening me! Are you – did you take any drugs?”
“Our whole – country is falling apart! You can’t get anything, crime is through the roof – I bet those are daycare kids, out there…”
“What are – daycare kids?”
Rachel shrugged in frustration. “It doesn’t matter… Please, God above, lend me your car!”
“I need it – to get to – appointments!”
“I’ll bring it back! You said it yourself, things are going to – return to normal. Try – calling your sister!”
Shrugging, Crystal did as she was told. “Nothing…”
“Aren’t you – worried?”
Crystal sighed. “I’ve been through too much to – worry about things. You’re young, you’ve had a bad night. You’re taking a – personal disaster and trying to turn it into something – societal.”
“Yeah, psychologizing, great,” muttered Rachel. She stood suddenly.
“Crystal – Aunt Crystal - I’m going out there. I’m going to get to mom and dad. I’m going to find out what’s going on with Ben. I’m getting out of the city. I really need your car. You can – lend it to me, or I can go out – on foot.”
“God – if I had the physical strength, I would restrain you!”
Rachel stared at her.
Crystal whispered: “What if you are – what if you are right? What if things are – falling apart?”
Rachel held out her hand. “I will not leave you here.”
Crystal wiped away a tear. “I – I don’t want you to go. I try to be brave, but…”
Rachel sat slowly. “But – what?”
Crystal sobbed. “It just feels like – a grave in here, Rachel! I used to stride the world like – like that colossus… Your friends – they just – turned on you, last night – and for ever, I think… And my friends – my colleagues – they just – strolled on, like I was – nothing! ‘Crazy Crystal, whatever happened to her?’ No one comes back, no one checks on you…”
“I want to go and check on mom and dad!”
“I know, I know – but they have each other, what do I have?”
“You have your memories…”
“I could – I could have another thirty years on the planet…” said Crystal miserably. “Why would I – even want them?”
“And what was the plan, huh?” demanded Rachel. “You see a lot of female reporters in their 70s?”
“That’s not my fault!” cried Crystal.
“Who – who cares whose fault it is? You always told me – life isn’t fair! Fight your way through, isn’t that what you always said? Tough girl…”
“It’s not my fault I got sick!”
“Maybe – but it is your fault for…”
“For what? Spit it out, dammit!”
“For – not living a life where if you got sick, you would have someone to take care of you! No, not ‘if’ – when! Did you imagine that you were never going to have any problems? I can’t – I can’t be your nursemaid, I can’t be your assistant, I can’t be your – archivist! They are your memories, Crystal – and if I… When do I get to have my vivid memories?” Rachel laughed bitterly. “Well, today perhaps…”
“You think I – I have just lived my life all wrong…”
“Mom has dad. Cassie has Ian…”
“You have – Arlo,” said Crystal coldly.
Rachel frowned.
Crystal said: “You never thought to – call him, did you?” She shrugged. “We are not so different…”
Rachel stabbed at her phone, then shook her head. “He’ll be fine…”
“He can always – sell himself,” murmured Crystal.
“Crystal!”
“He’s – pretty, you know… It’s just a joke!”
“For that – joke – I get your car!”
Crystal reached forward, clutching at Rachel. “In return – in return, if everything goes back to normal, I get you for my memoirs?”
Rachel hesitated, then nodded.
“If we have a future, you can use me for your past.”
