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“Why?”
“Melanie,” he says with a heavy sigh. I hear the exhaustion in his voice. It’s the opposite of what a vacation is supposed to feel like. This doesn’t sound like the Tom I know, so calm, so sure of himself. “I’m going to give you a set of instructions and I need you to listen to me. This is serious.”
“How serious?”
“Don’t leave the house, serious.”
I wait for him to go on.
“We’re taking a trip, serious.”
For Tom to do anything spur of the moment, I know he’s right. To him, this is serious. To me, it sounds like an adventure. “What should I pack?”
“Lightly. That’s all that matters. We don’t want to raise any red flags.”
All of a sudden, this is starting to sound like a bad movie.
“Can you at least give me a clue? What can I expect— temperature-wise?”
“I haven’t decided.”
I think he’s lying. With my husband, everything is decided. “What if I need to go shopping?”
“You can shop when we get there. In the meantime, don’t pay anyone any visits, don’t answer the door, close the blinds, make it look like no one is home, and whatever you do, do not leave the house.”
“Jesus. You’re not—”
“I have some things to take care of here at the office,” he says cutting me off. “And then I’ll be home.”
I stare out the window. I think he’s lost his mind.
“Oh, and Melanie—”
“Yeah?”
“For God’s sake, don’t post anything to social media.”
When I hang up the phone, I realize this must have something to do with Instalook. Tom hates social media so I’m not surprised. I open the app and scan my profile to see what could have pissed him off. Sometimes Beth posts for me. She says I’m still getting the hang of it, and when you’re building something, momentum is important.
Sure enough, Beth has posted three photos on my account. One of new shoes, a photo of some weird looking food that only a tiny bird could find appetizing, and a photo of me in a yoga pose she snapped last week. She isn’t all wrong. My profile has grown by twelve hundred followers in three days. She assures me this is good. I say there should be more. I’m half-dressed in most of the shots. She says this helps with the momentum of things.
That’s when I see it. The shot I took of Vanessa’s “vitamins.” My breath catches in my throat. A lump forms around it. I hadn’t meant to post that, as Beth would say, I’m still getting the hang of it. This reminds me I never did look up the ingredients.
First things first—I delete the photo from Instalook. It doesn’t match with my theme or color scheme. Beth is always getting onto me about this. She drones on and on about aesthetics and how important they are to my target demographic. I bet she finally mentioned this to Tom, and that’s why he’s insisted on the trip. She must have convinced him I need something interesting. Probably something to match my color scheme. You’re selling an image, she’s always saying. I hope for my sake the image she’s going for now happens to be exotic. I could really do for a turquoise beach. I mentioned this to Tom. But he only knows work. That’s why it’s nice to have someone else do your bidding. Someone like Beth. Surely, my husband will understand. It feels nice to use a trick from his playbook.
I scan my phone for a photo to upload so Beth can see I’m doing my job. If it needs to be on the teal side of the color chart, then so be it. Maybe this will help Tom with his destination decision. I know how much my husband wants Beth’s approval. As I’m scrolling through the photos in my album the shot of Vanessa’s vitamins catches my eye.
I must know. I open Google and type in the first ingredient into the search bar: sodium fluoride.
What I come up with is a whole host of articles. Apparently, especially in large quantities, sodium fluoride is a neurotoxin. I don’t know what constitutes as large but I know Vanessa mentioned she takes three capsules, three times a day. I could barely remember to take my birth control pill, I’d said. She told me she lives and dies by her alarm.
Crazy, I’d said.
But the more I read, the more I realize it could have something to do with what she’s taking. According to the internet, sodium fluoride effects memory, IQ and a whole host of other things. Several articles cite that it causes calmness and complacency. Who knows what’s fake news these days and yet this could explain why Vanessa acts dumbed-down, more like a robot than a person. Surely, this has to explain why she cooks and cleans and child-rears to her heart’s content. I don’t know anyone in their right mind who would sign up for that kind of boring life.
I spend the morning packing my suitcase and organizing many of my new things. I don’t want to bring along too much, otherwise my husband will think I don’t
have a reason to shop. Things have been good between us lately; the last thing I want is a fight. Especially since I can’t be sure he won’t replace me. There’s a lot riding on this. I haven’t yet secured an upgrade, nor do I have a significant enough investment to warrant the kind of divorce settlement I’d need to sustain this kind of lifestyle. Plus, I like it here. I finally have something I’ve wanted my whole life. Friends. I haven’t managed to mess it up yet, and I don’t plan to anytime soon. I have a bestie now, thanks to Beth, and the other women are starting to look up to me. But there’s another issue too. A bigger one. I think I might actually feel something for Tom.
