Chapter 3
3
On Sunday, I took the bus to Daly City and walked west, toward the address listed on the evite. The sky above me was cloudless and scarred, gloriously, by six contrails of varying thicknesses, corresponding to how recently the planes that excreted them had passed overhead and how low to the ground they’d been flying. I was so distracted, I crossed against the light and was met with a chorus of honking.
I’d dressed carefully for the VBB, in light-wash jeans, a purple sweater Karina had persuaded me to buy on one of our post-happy-hour trips to Forever 21, and a denim jacket, also from Forever 21, which I’d purchased because I’d seen young people on the bus wearing them. They were SF State students like Kevin Chen, son of my landlords, who presumably had some stake in the world, being enrolled at an accredited institution. I carried my rolled-up vision board under my arm. I’d spent forty dollars at the copy shop; printing wasn’t enabled at our office, but even if it were, I wouldn’t have dared to print such scandalous images at my place of employ. It pained me to part with this sum, which represented a quarter of the airfare for a roundtrip from SFO to SLC. However, if the boards worked as well as Karina claimed, this initial investment would pay dividends.
I made my way through curving blocks of boxy, pastel-colored houses. My anxiety mounted as I approached Anthony’s mom’s house, which was painted light blue. I was proud of my board, but I feared the response it would receive from the VBB’s other attendees. I didn’t want to embarrass Karina. I wondered if she was unaware of my weirdness, or if she recognized it and didn’t mind. Perhaps she only tolerated me because she needed a friend at work.
I heard the haunting cry of engines and looked up to find a plane passing directly overhead, heading northeast at around six thousand feet, low enough that I could discern the details of his sexy undercarriage. I opened the flight-tracking app on my phone and discovered this gentleman was a 777-22ER named N792UA. He’d taken off from SFO three minutes ago and was headed to Zurich, where he’d arrive in ten hours and seventeen minutes. I nodded to N792UA. If I’d had a hat, I would have tipped it. His appearance was a good omen, filling me with courage in my endeavor.
A silver BMW pulled to the curb, and two women emerged. The driver was a tall, regal woman with light-brown skin, wearing gold hoop earrings and a floral-print wrap dress; the passenger was a short woman of Asian descent, wearing a fleece half-zip pullover, jeans, and checkered Vans slip-ons. I was grateful to see the second woman dressed casually, as I’d worried I was underdressed. The tall woman popped the trunk of the BMW, and from it they retrieved two rolled posterboards.
The woman in Vans noticed me standing across the street, and I waved, hoping she’d recognize me as a fellow passenger bound for the VBB ship. She waved back with a confused look. The two women proceeded up the stairs to the front door. Karina stepped out of the house to greet them, and while she was hugging the tall woman, she looked over her friend’s shoulder and spotted me.
“Linda!” she said. “What are you doing over there?”
I crossed the street and climbed the stairs. When I reached the top, Karina threw her arms around me. “I’m so glad you came!” she said. She touched the edge of my rolled posterboard. “There it is, huh? I can’t wait to see what you came up with.”
I followed Karina inside. She wore a dress I’d never seen, in a red paisley print, which plunged at her chest and cinched at her waist. As she led me to the kitchen, I noticed Karina held her body differently here than she did at work. She seemed relaxed as she stood behind the butcher block arrayed with mimosa components: bottles of champagne and orange juice, and three small bowls of fruit garnishes.
“Which would you like, Linda?” she said, gesturing to the spread. “I have raspberry, pomegranate, and classic orange.”
I pointed to the pomegranate, though it made no difference to me. Karina clapped her hands.
“Excellent choice.”
There was a rustling at the door behind Karina, and a moment later, Anthony emerged from their downstairs lair. He was a handsome fellow, with sparkling blue eyes and a wide, affable face reminiscent of the A310. As usual, his facial hair had been barbered in a sharp line from chin to sideburns, drawing attention to the square diamonds in his earlobes. He wore an oversized teal T-shirt, presumably of his own design, on which a goblin-like creature smoked a cannabis cigar.
“Hey, Lindy,” he said, drawing me in for a hug. “You’re on board with the boards, huh?”
“It’s my first time,” I said. Anthony smirked. My cheeks flushed as I realized I’d accidentally said something sexually provocative. A virgin I wasn’t, unfortunately. I’d had sex maybe ten times in my life, with two different men. Afterward, I always felt disgust, along with a bloated emptiness, as when I’d eaten a large quantity of popcorn for dinner.
I surrendered to Anthony’s charm, which was comforting on this fraught social occasion. He was a familiar object in a sea of unknowns, a life vest I could strap on.
“Did you make a vision board?” I asked.
“Nah,” Anthony said. He opened the fridge and withdrew a bottle of Glacier Freeze Gatorade. “No guys allowed at the VBB.”
“That’s not true,” Karina said. Anthony kissed her cheek lustily, and she swatted him away. “Go back to your cave, you creep,” she told him with affection.
“Karina never shows me her boards. They’re a state secret around here.”
“You never asked,” Karina said, though surely Anthony was right that the boards were a secret from him. Karina couldn’t show him her engagement-themed board from last quarter, revealing that she’d wielded the universe’s infinite power to coerce him into proposing. Other people didn’t like to feel their free will had been tampered with; they underestimated the appeal of surrender. As I watched Karina and Anthony flirt, I found myself rooting for their relationship. Karina loved this man the way I loved planes. Knowing this, how could I begrudge their happiness?
Anthony winked at me and disappeared down the stairs. At last, there was no escaping the other women. I moved to the living room with Karina.
“Everyone, this is my coworker and dear friend Linda,” she said.
“Oh, you’re Linda!” the woman in Vans said. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
The women in the living room—the two I’d seen outside, plus two others—stood to introduce themselves, shaking my hand in a firm manner that would have pleased Guillaume Faury, whose spirit I’d endeavored to trap inside my board. The tall woman was Esme, while the woman wearing Vans was Stacy. There was also Morgan, a freckled woman with red hair and large teeth, and Judy, whose neck seemed overly long. We settled into the living room furniture—Esme, Stacy, and Morgan on the couch, Judy on an armchair. I claimed the second armchair, though I worried Karina would have nowhere to sit.
“I was happy to be invited,” I said. “I’ve never made a vision board before.”
“Of course,” Esme said in a chilly tone. “All are welcome.”
I found this hard to believe. Surely they wouldn’t let in anyone off the street.
“It’s a silly thing we’ve been doing since college,” Judy said. I didn’t like how the women were minimizing the ceremony. I’d hoped they took the art of manifestation as seriously as I did.
“Where’d you go to college?” I asked.
“Stanford,” Stacy said with an ironic eye roll.
“Except for Karina,” Morgan clarified. “She went to SF State.”
“My housemate goes there,” I said, though I wasn’t sure this term accurately conveyed my relationship to Kevin Chen. Kevin was a member of the family and lived in the house, while I maintained a spectral presence in the garage.
“It’s a good school,” Judy said. The other women murmured in agreement, a bit too strenuously.
“Where did you go, Linda?” Esme asked.
“Nowhere,” I admitted. “I took an English class at a community college once, but I never turned in my final essay.” An awkward silence ensued.
“College isn’t right for everyone,” Esme said.
Judy agreed, adding, “My cousin makes six figures as a plumber.”
“That’s a great job,” Stacy chimed in. “Totally recession-proof.”
“Has anyone heard from Nikki?” Morgan asked. I was grateful she’d changed the subject. I sank further into the armchair, hoping to make myself invisible. I sipped my mimosa, admiring how long and lean my fingers looked against the glass, like the string cheeses I stocked my mini-fridge with. From their conversation I gathered that Nikki was about to give birth. I assumed this was why she was unavailable today, though it seemed a risky moment to shirk the universe’s influence.
I scanned the room, admiring the decorating choices of Anthony’s mom, Celia. She was a nurse and a devout Catholic. According to Karina, Celia had also pressured Anthony to propose, so he and Karina wouldn’t be living in sin in her garage. A portrait of Celia with Anthony’s dad, who I understood was no longer around, either dead or simply gone, hung on the far wall, above a credenza topped with a lace runner and an assortment of glass figurines in the shapes of animals. Sunlight flooded through the front windows, bathing the left side of my body in a nauseating heat. I turned to see a two-foot wooden crucifix with an agonized Jesus hanging on the wall behind me. I flinched and was grateful I’d already drained my glass, as otherwise I’d have spilled my mimosa.
Judy laughed, not unkindly. “He’s something, isn’t he?”
“Let me get you a refill,” Karina said, having materialized beside my chair. She took the glass from my hand and returned to the kitchen.
“So you and Karina work together?” Morgan asked, and I was horrified to find the other attendees’ focus retrained upon me, as though my reaction to the crucifix had reminded them of my presence.
“We do,” I said.
“What’s that like?” Morgan pressed. “I’ve read articles about those places.”
“I love it,” I said. “It’s the best job I’ve ever had.”
“Linda’s the top mod in her vertical,” Karina said, placing the topped-off mimosa glass in my hand.
“It seems like pretty intense work,” Esme said.
“Why don’t we get started?” Karina said with an abruptness that suggested she wanted to avoid discussing Acuity. While I’d been focused on the décor, Karina had ferried in trays of croissants and glass cups of yogurt parfait, which stood on the coffee table like offerings on an altar, untouched by all. She brought a straight-backed chair in from the dining room and perched at its edge.
Stacy tore the nose from a croissant, which seemed to signal the start of things, as though the knob of pastry were the pin of a grenade. Esme volunteered to go first. She stood in front of the window and unfurled her board. The other women leaned forward to inspect it, and I mimicked them. Esme’s board was divided into four sections, with each quadrant comprising a cheerful collage of images. The top left quadrant was devoted to fitness. Esme pointed to a photo of a woman doing an advanced yoga pose, her elbows on the floor and her legs raised to the sides, in an enviably winglike configuration.
“I want to work out five days a week, with three days of HIIT and two of hot yoga,” Esme said.
“God, I wish I had your energy,” Morgan said. “Enjoy it now, because once you have kids, exercise is a luxury.”
Esme smiled stiffly at Morgan, seeming annoyed by her interjection. “That brings me to the next section—personal relationships and family,” Esme continued, pointing to the lower left quadrant, which featured images of a man and woman drinking coffee and laughing, a pregnant torso, and a teddy bear. “I had my IUD removed. Ian and I have started trying.” The other women congratulated her. Esme, blushing, moved quickly to the third quadrant, which displayed two human hands clasped in a handshake, a woman in a power suit walking down a city street, and a roomy corner office with a view of downtown San Francisco.
“I’m planning to ask for a promotion to lead portfolio manager,” Esme said.
“Hell yeah,” Stacy said. “You deserve it, babe.”
“Finally, and most importantly,” Esme said, pointing to the fourth quadrant, which contained a photo of a woman sitting in lotus position, “I want to work on developing a spiritual practice this quarter. I might even go on a meditation retreat at Green Gulch.”
We clapped. Esme curtsied and allowed her board to respool around itself. I felt daunted and wished Karina had given me more guidance in crafting my board. I hadn’t known I was supposed to divide my goals into quadrants.
Stacy’s board contained text, in addition to images of dogs, mountain trails, and leafy greens. She has fire in her soul and grace in her heart, read one snippet, scarily. SELF-CARE, commanded another. Morgan’s board focused primarily on her children, two red-haired boys under the age of five, along with images of Costa Rica, where her family was planning a summer trip. Judy hoped to go on a backpacking excursion in Joshua Tree with her wife, and commit herself to mentoring younger female employees at the education startup where she worked. Each time an attendee finished displaying her board and was feted with applause, my anxiety ratcheted up another notch. Still, I was determined to go through with the embarrassing spectacle, as Karina had said showing the board to others was a crucial step in transmitting one’s intentions to the universe.
It was Karina’s turn. Her board consisted of wedding-themed photos, generic shots of a bride and groom at an altar, along with pictures of babies, stock models like the pilots I’d found for my board.
“I’m hoping we can set a date for the wedding this quarter,” she said, her voice hushed in case Anthony was listening from the basement, I presumed. “I’m not in a rush, but I’d like to start looking at venues.”
“You haven’t set a date?” Morgan said.
“Not yet,” Karina said. “Anthony’s been busy with work and his side hustles. He’s hoping to hit big with his T-shirts this year. He’s looking into partnering with a streetwear brand.”
Esme leaned forward, uncrossing her legs. “Isn’t the novelty T-shirt sector fairly saturated at this point?”
Karina seemed thrown off by Esme’s question. “Anthony’s got his own niche,” she said, with less confidence than before. “He sold out of a few designs over the holidays. I’m so proud of him.”
From their tepid responses, I gathered the women had the same reservations about Anthony I’d held in the era prior to an hour ago, when we’d had that nice exchange in the kitchen.
“I’m sure you’ll set a date,” I said. “Anthony’s a great guy.”
“Thanks, Linda,” Karina said, smiling at me.
Morgan peered at Karina’s board over her mimosa. “What about your professional life?” she asked. “No goals in that department?”
“Not at the moment,” Karina said. “I’m happy at Acuity.”
“Are you, though?” Judy said gently. “I worry the work is traumatizing you.”
“It’s not so bad,” I said. “We get free snacks and a nine-minute wellness break every day.”
“When you’re ready for a change, I know plenty of companies are looking for people,” Esme said, ignoring my comment.
“My sister says they’re hiring at Airbnb,” Judy said. “I bet she could get you an interview.”
“Maybe you should all mind your own business,” Karina said. Everyone—we humans, the glass animals on the credenza, Jesus on the wall behind me—remained still, as if the air had gelled. Karina rolled up her board and lowered herself with great dignity into her chair.
“Linda, you’re up,” she said.
Conditions were more awkward than I could have imagined. Yet somehow, the way the mood had tilted into conflict, fraught with relational context of which I was ignorant, felt freeing. I would throw myself on the chopping block for Karina’s sake. I stood before the window and unrolled my board.
The women’s eyes scanned the images. I couldn’t bear to look at my board, though I’d memorized its layout. The best photos I’d procured of planes shot from various angles, their wings and faces and one naughty landing-gear shot. The pilots. Guillaume Faury.
Stacy was the first to speak. “Wow, look at all those planes!” she said.
“I always thought pilots were kind of sexy,” Judy said.
Esme stood, glass in hand, and scrutinized my board at closer range. “Are you thinking of a career change, Linda?” she asked.
“No, I want to marry a pilot,” I said. “Now that I’m in my thirties, I figure it’s time to get married.”
The women crouched one by one to examine my board. They seemed delighted, as though it were the morbid artwork of a child. Stacy curled up on the floor at my feet.
“Your board is fucking amazing, Linda,” she said. She seemed a little drunk.
“Pilots are gone a lot of the time,” Morgan said, as she settled back onto the couch.
“That’s true,” Esme said. “I’ve heard they have high divorce rates.”
“I don’t think it has to be a pilot,” Karina said. “That’s just an example. A guy with a good job. Right, Linda?”
I nodded, grateful she’d translated my board into acceptable terms.
“Who’s that?” Stacy asked, reaching up to tap Guillaume Faury’s stoic face.
“That’s Guillaume Faury, the CEO of Airbus,” I said, feeling insulted on Faury’s behalf that these women didn’t recognize him, and that Stacy had poked him.
“So you want to marry a CEO?” Morgan said. I sensed she was mocking me, but I pretended not to notice.
“Oh, I don’t want to marry him,” I said. “He’s pretty old, and I think he lives in Europe, anyway.”
“Why does she have to date a CEO?” Esme said to Morgan. “She could be one herself.”
I nodded again, or perhaps I’d never stopped nodding. “I’d like to be the boss,” I said, hoping this would please them.
“Fuck yeah,” Stacy said.
“And what do the planes signify?” Karina asked. I’d dreaded this question, especially from Karina, as I worried the plane imagery would trigger her phobia.
“Travel,” I said. “I’d like to travel more.”
Karina nodded, and I knew I’d passed an important test.
“Next time, you might want to add some images from particular destinations,” Esme said. “The more precisely you can express your vision, the better.”
Next time! I couldn’t believe it. They seemed to like me in spite of my board, which was so different from theirs. I’d shown them a sliver of my true self, and they’d accepted at least this partial measure of me. I felt an overwhelming affection for these women, recalling those teen girls from my moderation queue who’d harassed their friend, calling her a cum dumpster. Perhaps I’d finally been inducted into a similar sorority.
I decided to wrap things up before they asked me a question I didn’t know how to answer. I rolled up my board, and they applauded. Karina crossed the room and hugged me. I breathed in the familiar smell of her perfume, along with the waxy scent of her scalp.
“One more thing,” she said. “That was a great first effort, and I really like the unified theme, but for your next board you might try not leaning so heavily on one type of image. You don’t want the universe to think you’re obsessed with planes.”
Everyone laughed, and I laughed along with them, while inwardly, I prayed the universe was canny enough to decipher my board’s coded meaning. We stood and joined hands for the final stage of the ceremony. Esme led us through a manifestation mantra she’d learned at a corporate retreat: “Universe, empower me to become the best version of myself, in accordance with your infinite wisdom.”