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“Seriously, I’m here for you,” Gillian said. But then her phone pinged. Gillian glanced at her phone and made a face.
“Lot of stuff going on, huh?” Sadie mused.
“Just work stuff.”
“Work stuff,huh?” She said it with a tinge of sarcasm.
Gillian looked at her sharply. “Why did you snoop at my office building? I felt so awkward in front of Lenna.”
Sadie’s mouth fell open. Why was she even bothering? “I came because I was sad and wanted to talk to my friend.” Then she crossed her arms and decided to try another tack. In her best physician’s tone, she said, “Look, Gillian, I know you’ve felt a little…wayward, lately. This has been a big time of transition for you—for us. But you don’t have to pretend. And I hope you’re not making things up just to get people to like you.”Like that Lenna person,she thought.
Gillian raised her chin. Sadie thought she detected fear in her eyes. “What do you think I’m pretending about?”
Sadie stared. Gillian stared back. Was Gillian delusional, or was this deliberate? How long had this been going on, too? Before she started with the magazine—well, so she said—Gillian was at Sadie’s house a lot, always on her phone or computer. But Sadie didn’t know what she was up to—looking for a job, Gillian always said, but was that true? Maybe they weren’t even friends—maybe Gillian was just using her. She was a stranger, essentially—Sadie wasn’t sure about Gillian’s real life atall.And sure, lots of people had strangers as roommates or boarders, but typically, the roommates and boarderscontributed.
“Never mind. Forget it.” Sadie was so tired. The day had been terrible. “I’m going to bed.” She would deal with kicking Gillian out tomorrow.
With the help of a Xanax, Sadie fell asleep fast. But at threea.m., Sadie’s eyes popped open again. The first things she thought of were the embryos. Despair swarmed her. The second thing she thought of was Gillian. Was this neglectful, letting Gillian get away with such duplicity? Gillian’s behavior had to be a cry for help of some sort, and maybe it was Sadie’s duty, as a doctor, to help her. She was possibly enabling some sort of mental health crisis. And what if Gillian’s lies were affecting someone else?
She slipped out of bed for some water. It wasn’t until she got tothe doorway that she realized that Gillian’s bedroom light was on. A ball lodged in her throat. Maybe she could talk to Gillian now.
She tiptoed down the hall; the door was open just enough. Gillian wasstilllooking at her phone. Not typing. Not swiping, not anything. Just looking at something, her gaze unblinking. Was she…readingsomething? Sadie wasn’t sure.
Sadie backed away, a sour feeling welling in her gut. She climbed back into bed, but she didn’t fall asleep. Names of psychiatrists she knew drifted through her mind. She would call one of them in the morning. Get their take. She cared about Gillian, she did, but something was very off, ready to tumble.
The next morning, she got up and made coffee even though it was so early and she didn’t have any appointments until midmorning. After a few minutes, Gillian appeared in the hall dressed in running gear.
“Hey,” Sadie said quietly. “You’re going running in this weather?”
Gillian shrugged.
“Maybe we could talk first?”
Gillian gave her a weird look. “Later.” She turned for the door. “See you in a bit.”
“Wait!” Sadie cried.
Gillian turned back. She looked annoyed. Combative. All the words Sadie planned to say jammed in her throat.
“Be careful,” she said.
Gillian nodded and shut the door. Sadie stood there, irritated. All of a sudden she felt like she needed to confront Gillian. Now. She needed to take her life back.
She stepped out onto the slick, steep driveway. Sadie glanced toward the gray street, frowning at the rain. She saw Gillian jogging toward the street’s dead end, heading for the trailhead. Sadie started to follow.
But then she noticed someone else was following Gillian, too.
The figure was hunched. When Gillian turned toward the canyon path, the figure turned with her.
Gillian reached the entrance to the trail. There was a little railing with an overlook to the winding trail below. Sadie didn’t like peering over the railing, as it offered a view straight down the rocks. The trail wound down into the canyon; the people below—when therewerepeople, on a nicer day—looked like ants.
“Gillian,” whoever it was called out.
Gillian stopped. Turned. She stepped toward whoever it was, relief flooding her face.
The other person turned, too, catching the tiniest bit of light. It was that woman from theWellnesslobby. Lenna.
Lenna stood, arms crossed, her face a mask of discomfort. She was saying something about Gillian cloning her phone. Reading her texts. Lenna’s posture seemed stiff and uncomfortable.
