Chapter 22
22
I’d come a long way in six months, evolving from nervous initiate to host of the VBB. I didn’t bother asking my landlords’ permission to entertain a gathering of six or seven women, give or take Karina, as I didn’t know if she’d deign to attend an event on my turf. I hoped she wouldn’t come, as I knew my latest board would only add fuel to her disgust. But our friendship was dead, anyway. I no longer cared what the Chens thought of me, either. I didn’t mind if they evicted me, as I was about to evict myself from the world.
On Friday, I moved my furniture to the center of the cube and scrubbed the walls with a washcloth dipped in warm water with a dollop of dish soap. I vacuumed with a cordless Dirt Devil I’d found discarded on the sidewalk a few months before. Though its exterior was filthy, the devil able to clean all but its own body, the device functioned as advertised, its canister filling with my skin cells and hair, crumbs of past meals, and a few tiny dead bugs. In the bathroom, I wiped down the sink, toilet, and tile floor, and then—why not?—I extended my cleaning to the shower stall, though I doubted any of my guests would wish to bathe during their brief visit to my quarters.
I took a break, lying on my bed, which remained adrift in the middle of the room. I logged in to my bank account, a compulsive habit since my showdown with Christa. All week, the total had remained stuck around five hundred dollars, decreasing incrementally as I purchased food and sundries. Now, when the screen refreshed, I discovered my wealth had soared to more than six thousand dollars! Payroll had deposited my hush money, plus post-tax earnings for a final week of work I hadn’t actually done. I checked my email and saw Christa had sent a contract, which I signed after a cursory skimming. I got the point: they didn’t want me to talk about Acuity or my relationship with Dave, and I had no intention to. I’d gotten my money, an amount large enough to enact the next phase of my plan. After a moment’s deliberation, I venmo’d Simon five hundred dollars, as I wouldn’t have had the confidence to demand payment if it weren’t for his scheming.
I’d embark on my reunion with N92823 directly after the VBB. My fate hadn’t actualized during my last binge, but this time would be different, as I’d be flying with my soulmate. I would fly with him for as long as it took for him to remember me. In the meantime, I decided to purge my room of its embarrassing relics, as I didn’t plan on returning. I loaded my backpack with the items I’d bring on my journey: a few spare T-shirts and underwear, granola bars, and a plastic bag of toiletries in TSA-approved quantities. The rest I put in garbage bags, which I then stuffed in the closet. I removed my old vision boards and flight paraphernalia from under my bed. On Saturday afternoon, I brought it all to Ocean Beach and burned it in a fire ring. I kept only my chunk of 737, which I held in my fist as I watched my secret life reduced to ashes.
I surrendered the fire to a cluster of youths hovering nearby and made my way home, stopping at 7-Eleven for brunch fare. I purchased four six-packs of mini donuts in powdered sugar and chocolate varieties, bottles of sparkling water, two bags of Ruffles potato chips, and a twenty-four-pack of Miller High Life. I lugged it all back to my cube and spent the rest of the night constructing my vision board.
Sunday morning, I laid the only towel I owned, still damp from my shower, across the foot of my mattress, and arrayed upon it the spread of refreshments. I set bottles of High Life on their sides, parallel to each other, like guns displayed by a dealer in a seedy motel room. It looked shitty, but it didn’t matter. Any tepid affection my guests had harbored for me would be extinguished once they saw my vision board. I needed them only as witnesses, to amplify my appeal to the universe.
I put on my gold dress and blow-dried my hair. I excavated my makeup bag from the cabinet under the sink and made use of its crusty offerings, applying concealer beneath my eyes, powder across my T-zone, and mascara to my eyelashes. With ten minutes remaining before the appointed start time, I realized my guests would need to find their way to my cube. I scrawled VBB on an old envelope and taped it to the garage’s side door.
Judy was first to arrive, texting me from outside the garage, in spite of the clear signage I’d posted. Her curly hair was pulled into a bun, highlighting the freakish length of her neck. I led her through the garage, and she stood in my doorway, taking in the lay of my cube with a neutral expression. “It’s cozy,” she said, echoing Karina’s prior sentiment. I offered her a beverage, gesturing to the spread.
“I’ll take a sparkling water,” she said.
“Are you sure you don’t want a Miller High Life?” I said, holding a bottle aloft. I hoped to lubricate my guests with alcohol, so they’d be more receptive to my board.
“?‘The champagne of beers,’?” she said with a laugh. “Okay, why not.”
I twisted off the cap and handed her the bottle. “I haven’t had one of these since high school,” she said. She took a sip and winced.
“The bathroom is right through that door, if you need to use it,” I said, remembering my panicked moments at Esme’s condo. A good host should never conceal their toilet’s location.
I knew the next step of proper hosting was to offer Judy a place to sit, but my bed was occupied by refreshments, aside from a two-foot strip at its head, where I’d anticipated people would stand to present their boards. I dragged out two of the garbage bags full of my possessions and said we could use them as beanbag chairs.
“It’s okay. I can stand.”
“They’re not full of garbage,” I said. “It’s stuff I’m donating to Goodwill.” I realized this sounded the same as garbage.
Judy put her hand on my arm. “I wanted to get here early so we could talk about Karina.”
I stiffened. “What about her?”
“She mentioned you two had a falling-out. I was sorry to hear it. I could tell you were a good friend to her.”
“It was unfortunate,” I said. “I’ve missed her.”
“I’m sure she misses you, too.”
I wished this could be true. “I’m pretty sure she hates me,” I said.
“Oh, I doubt it,” Judy said, pausing to take another swig. This time, she didn’t wince, and I hoped she was warming to the beverage. “Karina does this with all her girlfriends. She has trouble trusting people, so when she gets close to someone, she winds up lashing out, and then regrets it, but is too embarrassed to apologize. It’s happened a bunch of times with us. I’ve learned to just let her blow off steam. After a few weeks I’ll call her and we’ll both pretend nothing happened.”
I thanked Judy for providing this context, though it didn’t seem relevant to our situation, in which I was far from blameless. “How’s she doing these days?” I asked.
“I don’t know, honestly,” Judy said. “I’ve tried to hang out with her a few times, but she says she’s busy with wedding stuff.”
“Do you think she’ll come today? She hasn’t said anything in the chat.”
“She’s coming. We texted this morning.”
My stomach knotted with anxiety. Still, I was determined to follow through with my plan. I’d have no need for friends, where I was bound.
Esme and Stacy arrived next, having carpooled together. Esme scanned the room critically. “So this is where you live,” she said, as if trying to convince herself it could be true.
“I’m into it,” Stacy said. “Reminds me of my old dorm room.”
I invited them to partake of the brunch spread. Stacy opened the bag of cheddar and sour cream Ruffles, saying it was her favorite flavor. Esme primly selected a bottle of plain sparkling water. Morgan and Nikki appeared in the doorway, and the other women exclaimed over Nikki’s presence. We’d assumed she wouldn’t be able to come, due to her in-laws’ visit.
“It all worked out,” she said. “My in-laws are taking Sean to the zoo. I didn’t want to miss another VBB!”
Morgan stepped past the other women and peered into my bathroom, like an apartment inspector. “How much is your rent, if you don’t mind my asking?” she said.
“Nine hundred a month.”
“So cheap!” Stacy said, around a mouthful of Ruffles. “And you have your own bathroom. I pay twelve hundred and I have two roommates.”
“Is it legal not to have a window?” Nikki said, her eyes scanning the ceiling.
“Probably not,” I said.
“What happens if there’s a fire?” Morgan said from the doorway of the bathroom.
“I suppose I would burn to death,” I said. “Please, everyone, have some donuts.”
The space was tight now, the cube’s temperature rising, the air thick with a yeasty smell from the beer, mingled with the women’s perfumes and hairstyling products. The garbage bags further reduced the floor space. No one seemed to recognize them as makeshift beanbag chairs, and I feared the women would think I was such a slob, I’d left trash strewn around the room.
“These are chairs, by the way,” I said, gesturing to them. Stacy plopped down on a bag, too exuberantly, it turned out, as the plastic burst, exposing a tangle of old leggings and underwear.
“Maybe we should do this at the beach? It’s a beautiful day,” Esme said, her hand on her stomach, which had swelled slightly with pregnancy. Inwardly, I cursed Esme for making this suggestion. It seemed important for the ceremony to unfold in my cube, as the psychic energy of manifestation would diffuse in the open air.
Before the others could respond, Karina appeared at the door. “Hey, everyone,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. Got stuck in traffic.” She was dressed casually, in an oversized pink T-shirt and black Lululemon leggings. She greeted the other women before turning to me with a practiced smile.
“Hey, Linda,” she said. “Thanks for hosting.”
I was flooded with emotion, the weight of how I’d missed Karina crashing against me. I cleared my throat. “Let’s get started,” I said.
Judy said she’d go first. I gestured to the head of my bed, and she kicked off her flats and climbed up. She bounced a few times, as though my mattress were a trampoline, and everyone laughed. I wished I hadn’t pressured her to drink the beer, which had made her excessively irreverent.
Judy’s board was a soothing collage of nature-themed images: Baker Beach on a rare warm day, a flower bed, a hiking trail in Marin, a cluster of grazing deer. Judy explained that she wanted to volunteer for a beach cleanup and spend more time gardening.
“I’ve been really stressed with work lately, launching the STEM camp,” she said. “The modules were so buggy, I was staring at a screen for, like, ten hours a day. I want to be intentional about making sure I spend some time outside every day, getting my hands in the dirt.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Nikki said. “Beautiful photos.”
“That’s the other thing,” Judy said. “I took these myself. I want to get back into photography this quarter, too.”
“Damn, original photos?” Stacy said. “You’re really setting the bar high.”
“Oh, thanks,” Judy said, blushing.
We clapped, and Judy stepped off the bed with an ironic curtsy. “Okay, who’s next?” I said, impressed by my own domineering attitude.
Nikki’s board featured images of women talking and laughing, a child crouched over a book, and a plate of linguine with clams. She told us she hoped to mend relations with her sister on the East Coast, with whom she’d recently gotten into an argument about homeschooling, and learn how to cook her Italian grandmother’s recipes. Stacy’s board contained mostly dogs, with one prominently displayed at the center, a golden retriever named Broccoli who suffered from a mysterious ailment. She implored the universe to assist in Broccoli’s full recovery, so that he could find his forever home. Morgan’s board centered on the project of converting their downstairs unit into an Airbnb, while Esme’s board prioritized rest, self-care, and the consumption of foods rich in prenatal vitamins.
Soon it was down to me and Karina, just as it had been at the previous VBBs. Our eyes met, and Karina smiled shyly.
“I’ll go,” she said, mounting the bed. The women were silent, probably fearing that Karina would show us the same board for the third straight quarter. They’d have to reprimand her, or the affair would descend into farce. Karina struggled to remove the hair tie she’d secured her board with, increasing our suspense. When she released the board, though, it was clear this was an entirely new creation. We gathered closer. A constellation of wild animals, clouds, the planet Saturn, a lamb, and an icon of the Virgin Mary, all swirling around the word “SURRENDER.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching lately, and I realized you all were right,” Karina said. “I’ve been trying to control my life in an unhealthy way. I was searching for fulfillment through external milestones, but even when I got what I wanted, it didn’t make me happy.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “Wedding planning has been so stressful, and I’ve realized that I have to chill out, or I’ll drive myself crazy,” she continued. “Let go or get dragged, right? So, this quarter, I’m not setting any concrete goals. I want to let the universe guide me. I’m giving up. In a good way.”
The other women remained silent for another beat, reflecting on Karina’s words. I heard the door from the main house open and footsteps approach the washing machine. Presumably, Mrs. Chen was doing her usual Sunday load. I held my breath, knowing that in another moment, the women would betray their presence in my cube.
As I’d expected, they erupted in cheers. Judy jumped onto the bed and hugged Karina. Two unopened bottles of High Life clattered to the floor, though luckily neither of them shattered. I heard the door to the house slam, as though Mrs. Chen were rebuking me.
Karina climbed down from the bed, wiping tears from her eyes. When the other women had finished hugging her, I approached her timidly. Karina laughed and threw her arms around me. “Oh, Linda,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”
My VBB was a success so far. More than half of the mini donuts had been consumed. I’d laid the groundwork. All that remained was to unveil my board. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I saw Kevin had texted: Hey Linda. You having a party? I had to work quickly, before the VBB was broken up.
I stood on the bed and unspooled my board, allowing the women to drink in its horrifying images. Dreamliners and 737s pitched downward, flames rising from their engines. A plane flying inverted. Mangled debris, charred plane parts lying in a field. Headlines of doom, taken from flight disaster simulations: “Falling from the Sky at Over 34,000 Feet Per Minute.” “Airbus A320 Takes Off by Itself.” “This Plane Tried to MURDER Everyone on Board.” The registration numbers of crashed planes, along with brief descriptions of the horrors that had befallen them. At the center of the board, an image of a 737 with N92823 printed on his flank, next to a photo of my face, from the series Karina had taken for my dating profile. Above us stretched a flower-strewn arch that read “Just Married.”
The women squinted, confused, except for Karina, who stared at my board with resignation, as though it only confirmed what she’d already known.
“You might recall my first board featured pilots,” I began, my voice clear and strong. “The pilots were a stand-in for my true desire. The truth is, I love planes—in particular, a 737 named N92823, who I told you about at the last VBB. I thought N92823 was lost to me, but I saw him last weekend, and now I’m going to find him again.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at the women’s faces. Instead, I stared at the wall opposite me. “I’ve always known my fate was to marry a plane—that is, for myself and a plane to be united in death, our love sealed for eternity. I pray the universe will look upon me with favor and grant me my only wish.” I stopped there.
Morgan was the first to speak. “Wait. What are we talking about here? A plane crash?”
“If you want to phrase it in such vulgar terms,” I said.
“You’re full of shit,” Nikki said. “No one wants to die in a plane crash.”
“Is this a joke, Linda?” Esme said quietly, from her position by the closet. “I don’t think it’s funny.”
“Not a joke,” I said. “I hinted at these goals on my previous boards. I finally have the courage to ask for what I want directly.”
“You’re making a mockery of tragedy,” Morgan said. Her skin flushed pink, though that might have been due to the room’s excessive heat. “What about the people who’ve actually died in plane crashes? You’re making light of their deaths.”
“I honor their deaths,” I said. “I hope to join them.”
“Linda, the vision boards are supposed to be used for positive goals,” Judy said. “You can’t use them to bring about mass death.”
“It’s not normal to want to die in a plane crash,” Esme said. “It’s sick.”
Karina remained silent in the corner, her arms crossed over her chest.
“I dunno, I think it’s kind of romantic,” Stacy said. The other women stared at her. “Well, let’s be real. It’s not like these boards actually do anything. Linda’s not going to make a plane crash just by gluing some crap to a board.”
“And I would never meddle directly,” I said. “But if it’s my fate, I can’t escape it. I’d prefer to run toward it with an open heart.”
A knock came at my door. The women startled, as though I’d summoned a demon. Judy opened the door to reveal Kevin. I turned my board to face the wall before he could glimpse its imagery.
“Hey, everyone,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt, but this room happens to have a maximum capacity of one person. This gathering is actually illegal, so you’ll all have to leave now.”
The women began shuffling out. “Wait,” I said, climbing down from the bed. “We have to recite the manifestation mantra.”
Stacy hugged me. “Don’t listen to them,” she whispered in my ear. “Go after your dreams, you crazy bitch.”
Karina lingered at the door. “Simon told me what happened,” she said. “Are you okay, Linda?”
“I’m better than okay,” I said. “I’m finally free to pursue my dreams. Isn’t that what you always told me to do?”
She glanced at Kevin, who held the door open with an air of impatience. “Okay. See you later, then.”
“See you later,” I said.
Kevin and I stood in the wreckage of the VBB: the empty beer bottles, fallen potato chips, and a dusting of powdered sugar from the donuts. “I assumed you knew you couldn’t have a party here,” he said. “My parents are pretty upset, and so am I, to be honest. I thought you were going to keep it low-key.”
“Sorry, Kevin,” I said. I folded my board into a dense square and tucked it into my backpack. “I’m moving out, so you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
“You have to give thirty days’ notice.”
“Fine, I’m giving it now.”
Kevin scratched the back of his neck. His anger was gone, replaced by curiosity and, I hoped, a tinge of sadness that I was leaving. “Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting my soulmate in Seattle.”
“Well, good luck.”
I realized I’d never see Kevin again and was moved to embrace him. His shoulders were stiff, but he endured the hug. I offered him the leftover beer.
“Sure, thanks,” he said, and took the case with him.