Chapter 12
On the morning of the first session, Ingrid almost has a panic attack.
She’s suddenly haunted by the thought that she’s making a terrible mistake.
No book she’s ever read or movie she’s ever watched where someone tries to cheat fate has ever turned out well.
As she stares in the mirror, she feels the overwhelming urge to call it all off.
But then she thinks of her mom on chemo during those last days. Her blistering skin and the sores and white spots on her tongue. Her feet swollen to the point that she couldn’t drive.
Get it together. Those billionaire men never questioned whether they should get to do it. None of them thought they were cheating fate. Or being too bold. Or too loud. Or asking too much. Why should she?
Her agent calls just as she’s grabbing her keys and heading out.
“Hey, did you find Charlie?” Ingrid answers, walking out the door. “The book option’s expiring in less than two weeks!”
“I know, but I think we should be stepping aside on this one.”
As Jack, her agent, tells her his long list of reasons why she should put Summer Rain away, Ingrid jumps into her car and starts it. She sets the navigation to Dr. Hayes’s office.
“I want to at least discuss it with him.”
“I know. He’s been really busy. Blake’s in town. Look, I know this book’s important to you, but Charlie’s got a point. It’s a very old piece of IP.”
She thinks of everything she told Maggie over the phone and blurts out, “Or is it because I’m a very old piece of IP?”
Jack tells her emphatically that that has nothing to do with it. “I’m on your side. I believe in you. But we really need a home run from you if we’re going to get you another deal. Your last picture…well, it didn’t exactly hit the numbers we wanted.”
“You mean the picture that came out during the strike and that we couldn’t promote and we’re just now screening?
” Ingrid reminds him. They’re finally doing a screening tonight in Beverly Hills of her movie Uncharted, about a Latina chef who is hired to cook for a yacht full of rich people, only to discover that they are all wanted for unspeakable crimes and the plan is to have one last wild party before they sink the boat.
“Exactly. The studio lost so much money—”
“Yet they still have enough to fund Blake James’s latest $200 million military propaganda!”
“I agree! It’s ridiculous! But his shit sells. You know how this works. They gotta go to the guys on Wall Street and show actual profits, return on their investment.”
Ingrid rolls her eyes as she drives to Dr. Hayes’s office.
How lovely it is to have your art boiled down to profit margins, judged by the same guys who would happily join Charlie and Bob for a game at Lakeview.
Who chalk Barbie’s success up to Mattel rather than Greta Gerwig.
Who won’t watch Summer Rain but will complain vigorously if they think the lead actress is too old.
She arrives at Dr. Hayes’s, gets off the call with Jack, and takes the elevator to his office. She walks inside and sees Maggie. She’s in blue jeans, a white top, and a denim jacket, looking every bit the image of effervescent youth. Ingrid’s face blooms.
“You ready?” she asks.
“Yes!” Maggie nods excitedly.
As she follows Maggie and the receptionist down the hall, she tells herself not to think about work. Or Kyle. Or anything stressful. Today is the first day of her new lease on life. A historic moment for womankind.
Dr. Hayes is waiting for them in a private room in the back.
“Good morning!” Dr. Hayes greets them, clapping his hands as he leads them over to two chairs. In between them is a three-foot-tall white transfusion machine with a glass monitor, which Dr. Hayes gestures to proudly.
“Is that it?” Ingrid asks.
“In all her glory!” Dr. Hayes says. “Isn’t she a beauty?”
It looks bigger than Ingrid imagined. As Dr. Hayes turns it on, the machine hums to life. The closer she gets to it, the faster her pulse drums. But Maggie plops casually down, like this is all nothing more than a pedicure. “Cool!” she says.
“I know it’s all new and intimidating, but you’ll get used to it. My friend says that some of his clients even do it from home,” Dr. Hayes says as he taps on the screen.
Ingrid shifts her head. “Is that possible? Can we do this at my house?”
Dr. Hayes pauses and thinks. “I suppose it’s possible. We’d have to have a nurse there. Let’s talk after this first transfusion…”
“Maybe we can even go on a trip!” Maggie jokes, elbowing Ingrid. “Hello, Ibiza!”
Ingrid laughs. She feels her body easing into the situation as she reminds herself this is going to be fun.
She’s not doing this with just anyone. She’s doing this with Maggie.
A nice girl. A girl she vetted. They’re not going to talk about her health during the sessions.
They’re going to talk about stories. She’s going to be in her element.
Giving advice. She’s not going to have to drag her fear around like a bag.
Dr. Hayes swabs her arm with an alcohol wipe. He inserts the first needle into Ingrid. “Did that hurt?”
She was so busy staring at the machine, she didn’t even feel the needle go in. Ingrid shakes her head. Next he turns to Maggie. When all four needles have been placed in the two women, Dr. Hayes tells them to relax.
The first burst of red jolts up Ingrid’s IV tube. She feels like she’s about to pass out as she stares at Maggie’s ruby youth gushing into her. She imagines it splashing through her body, across her chest, her gut, her pelvis, revitalizing everything it touches.
She’s never been one to feel grateful. Gratitude is a prison, trapping women in their place.
But this, right here, feels so godlike; it grips her throat how obscenely lucky she is.
She’s so deeply humbled by this opportunity.
If this works, it’ll forever free women.
They’ll no longer feel compelled to rush through life.
They’ll have the same luxury of time that men have.
Forbes’s “30 Under 30” won’t feel quite as infuriating, nor “50 Over 50” quite as insulting. They’ll all finally just be…women.
She turns to Maggie, who’s quiet and also staring at her IV tube.
“How do you feel?” she asks.
“Good! You?”
Ingrid nods, so emotional she can barely squeak another word.
Maggie holds up her phone, and they take a selfie.
Ingrid smiles next to Maggie, a cheesy smile that can’t possibly convey the magnitude of her emotions right now.
As she glances at Maggie and the machine, she’s suddenly nostalgic for her mom.
“I wish my mom could have seen this. She used to say, if time travel were possible, women would have found a way to do it by now.” Ingrid glances down at her hands.
“Is she…?” Maggie asks.
“Passed away,” Ingrid says.
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie says. “What happened?”
Ingrid almost says cancer but then stops herself.
“Just, you know, old age. But I think she’d be pretty blown away if she knew what modern science can do.
” Before Maggie can ask her any more questions about her mom, Ingrid clears her throat.
“I think I would have been a good scientist. There’s actually a lot that storytelling has in common with science. ”
“Oh yeah?” Maggie asks, getting out a notebook.
Ingrid sits up, ready to begin her first lesson.
“People think storytelling is all art. But I think it’s more about logic and the scientific method.
Every story can go fifty thousand different ways.
So really, it’s about trying out different things and not settling until you arrive at the very best combination of what’s possible. ”
Maggie jots down her words. Her captivated eyes dance as Ingrid talks, and for a second, Ingrid doesn’t know what feels more indulgent—trading blood with a young woman or having a young woman gaze at her with such admiration.
—
Almost immediately afterward, Ingrid feels a difference. She doesn’t know if it’s just the placebo effect, but as she bounces out of the treatment chair, every fiber of her being feels energized.
“How was it?” Dr. Hayes asks.
“Amazing!” It’s the understatement of the decade. The therapy was the most spiritual, calming, and sinful experience of Ingrid’s life.
“Painless and inspiring,” Maggie reports, grinning at Ingrid.
Dr. Hayes is relieved.
“Now, remember, you may still be a little woozy, so I would just take it easy today,” he tells them. “We’ll analyze both your blood, and I’ll message you if there are any concerns. Go home. Get to bed early.”
“I can’t. I have a screening tonight.” She suddenly turns to Maggie. She didn’t know if Maggie wanted to come. “Do you want to go? It’s of my latest movie, Uncharted.”
“Oh wow,” Maggie says, her eyes widening. “I’d love to, but I have to get over to Monterey Park. I’m taking my mom to the dentist!”
“That’s so nice of you,” Ingrid says. She’s a little bummed Maggie can’t come but also relieved.
How would she introduce Maggie to her agent and her colleagues?
She reminds herself to be very careful. As fun as it is teaching her new mentee, she has to remember, they have a very specific relationship.
She texts Kyle on her way out. Just finished!
How did it go??
Great! she writes back.
Oh that’s a relief! Meet you at home for a quick bite before the screening?
Actually…let’s go out afterwards, she suggests.
After the panel? It won’t end till 10! Who are you and what have you done with my wife?
She grins and jumps into her car to head to her office, but not before a quick detour to Saks. She’s going shopping!