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“I get it. But just between you and I— we don’t really even follow the teachings of the Bible. Well, not the whole thing. Mainly, we focus on the important passages. You know, the ones that stand out.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t know. I’m an atheist. ”
“It’s like filler.”
“That seems deceptive.”
“Call it what you want. You’ve seen our numbers. We’re small—but we’re growing. People want change. Like you, they want more for themselves and for their families. They want to feel safe, and they’re desperate for something better.”
I was in the process of thinking of a final way to say no thanks when June entered the kitchen with empty glasses. Beth followed her in, and I watched as the two of them stood next to one another, placing the dishes in the sink. It’s only then I got an accurate comparison. Beth may not have seemed that intelligent, but she’s aces in the looks department. Not a single hair out of place, immaculate appearance, fit and trim, even after children. She’s almost perfect. “I’ll talk it over with my wife,” I said, looking at June.
Mark grinned. “That’s a very good call.”
Chapter Thirteen
Melanie
After circle time, Mrs. Elizabeth tucks her hand inside my elbow and tells me to come with her. “When is breakfast?” I ask, toying with small talk, but also, I’m hungry.
“No breakfast for you, Mrs. Anderson,” she says. “You’re on a liquid diet.”
I struggle to keep up with her. “When can I expect my liquid breakfast then?”
She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she halts and looks down at her chart. I watch as her eyes scan the page. “A smoothie was left on your bedside table.” She points and looks to see if my eyes follow. “I see here it was reported as being empty…”
Vanessa.
“Mrs. Anderson?” She turns to me and places her hands on my shoulders. The clipboard rests against my back. I wonder how useful of a weapon it might be. I wonder if I could make it to the end of the hall and if I could, how I’d get out. She searches my eyes. Her face is a mix of serious and stern and something else I can’t read. “I asked you a question. Did you or did you not consume your smoothie?”
I’m not thinking straight when I answer. My mind is occupied with the thought that if I hit her just right, I could knock her out, maybe kill her, and then I could bolt. “I did.”
She carefully assesses my face. “Because we take theft very seriously around here.”
“There was no theft,” I assure her. “I just thought there might be an actual breakfast is all,” I add afterward because when you lie it’s important to add a little substance. Lies should be simple. Never boring.
She takes me by the elbow, and the next thing I know we are barreling down the long corridor once again. “Not on the weight loss plan there isn’t.”
“The what?”
Mrs. Elizabeth doesn’t answer. She walks until suddenly she stops and uses her badge to open a door. “Your advisor will explain all that,” she tells me, nudging me through the doorway. It feels like she’s poking a bruise, testing to see how much it hurts. She nods. “That’s her there.”
I expect to see Beth on the other side of the desk but quickly learn that an advisor and a sponsor are not one and the same.
The woman gestures toward a chair on the other side of her desk. “Have a seat.”
I adjust my hospital gown, which has come loose in the back, before I decide modesty in a place like this is of no use. Bracing myself on the arms of the chair, I carefully lower down into it.
As the woman writes whatever it is she writes on the notepad in front of her, I survey the small office. Behind her is a small window. The shade is down, which is disappointing since it feels like forever since I’ve seen the outdoors. She sits at a large wooden desk that is covered in files. There’s a computer on the desk and a single painting of a meadow hangs on the wall. There’s nothing personal, no artifacts from real life, which tells me she either doesn’t have a personal life, or she isn’t that important around here. Maybe both.
“I can assure you there’s a method to the madness,” she mentions, clearly noticing my eyes on the file folders that are stacked on every available surface. They aren’t labeled in names, merely numbers. She isn’t looking at me when she says it. She’s staring at the file in front of her.
I take the opportunity to take her in. People always give more away when they don’t think you’re looking. Red hair, green eyes. Mid to late forties, if I had to guess. She’s had work done on her face. What exactly, it’s hard to tell. What I know for sure is she’s strikingly beautiful, same as most of the women around here. Except for the old ones. They don’t seem to care.
“Sit up straight, please.”
I do as she asks. Something tells me I want to be compliant with this one. At least in the beginning. So I arch my back and bring my shoulder blades in until they touch one another.
She leans forward and folds her hands. After a moment, she lays them on the file and then meets my eye. “Do you know why you’re here?”
