In the Unlikely Event... (26 page)

They all stared at her in awe.

Even Lacey bent over to peer inside the charred microwave. “That was an impressive light show. Now, can we talk about me?”

“Let’s go inside and have lemonade, and then two of the best brains on the planet will study your problem and come up with a viable solution,” Bud said.

“Good idea,” Chase said. She thought for a moment. Did she say “two of the best brains?”

“It stinks in here,” Addison said. “What is your problem anyway?” she asked Lacey.

“My Institute is crumbling beneath me.”

“Oh, that should be easy to fix,” Addison said as they exited the garage.

Lacey grabbed her arm. “Do you really think so?”

Addison looked incredulous. “I’m kidding.”

Bud sighed and pried Lacey’s fingers from Addison’s arm
where they were leaving red marks. “Lacey, I’m sure that whatever it is we can solve it. Do you mind if I docudrama our powwow?”

“Is powwow a politically correct term for what we are doing?” Lacey inquired.

Bud smiled, her face the picture of patience.

“I think that she was using it in a metaphorical way,” Chase said, walking briskly up to the house. The sooner she got the lemonade, sat Lacey down and came up with a few ideas Lacey would ignore, the sooner she would leave. Then she felt bad. She loved Lacey. They’d been friends their entire lives, but Chase just wanted to shake her and say, “You can’t fix the world.”

“Oh,” Lacey said, running a few steps to catch up with Chase. “I really do need your help on this one.”

“We’ll come up with a plan, don’t worry,” Chase said, sounding disingenuous even to herself. How Lacey couldn’t see this, she’d never know. One thing was certain: Lacey was so self-absorbed that if her ass weren’t firmly attached she’d walk off and leave it behind because it was not within her direct line of sight.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Lacey said, taking Chase’s hand.

Chase looked over at Lacey. She didn’t like holding hands. She felt claustrophobic and the subsequent sweaty-hand thing grossed her out. She overcame it and squeezed Lacey’s hand. “It’ll be all right.”

Once inside, Chase poured the lemonade while Addison and Bud set up the camera gear. Lacey actually carried the tray with the pitcher of lemonade and the four glasses into the den where Bud had the TM900 camcorder positioned in the corner so it would be as unobtrusive as possible.

Lacey must be in some serious deep shit if she’s being helpful and considerate, Chase thought, and this gave her trepidation.

Lacey poured the lemonade and sat next to Chase. The girls sat on the leather loveseat.

“So here’s my dilemma…” Lacey began. She cocked her head to one side and stared at them as they stared back at her.

“Yes,” Chase prodded.

“Well, I think it’s like a Moses thing, and I’m not liking it,” Lacey said.

Addison and Chase looked to Bud for a translation. Bud was adept at Lacey-speak. “What she means is the Institute is suffering a mass exodus from the homeland like when Moses led the Jews out of Egypt.”

Lacey thumped the coffee table. “Exactly. Now how are we going to stop it?”

“You offer free sex toys, a magazine subscription of your choice and a full season of the
L-Word.
”

They all stared at Addison. “I’m just saying.”

Lacey sipped her lemonade and considered it. “We might use that as a perk, but I’m going to need a more substantial way to keep those damn lesbians from all their bickering.”

Chase wondered what it was like to live in a world so literal—was it delusional or beneficial to one’s social welfare to take the world at face value?

“Since when have your ‘chosen people’ become those ‘damn lesbians’?” Bud said, adjusting the TM900 more to the left.

“Since time immemorial. I never realized how many factions there were in the lesbian community,” Lacey said, obviously puzzled by this epiphany about the community.

“I could’ve told you that. Why the hell do you think I stay as far away as I can from them?” Chase asked.

“But this kind of factionalism happens whenever groups of people are put together in the spirit of community,” Bud said. “Look at camping trips.”

“Camping trips? What do you mean?” Chase said, topping off everyone’s lemonade and passing around the plate of macadamia nut cookies.

“Think about it. Everyone starts off thinking it’s going to be so fun getting back to nature, hanging out together, cooking in the open air, listening to the crickets, etc., and the next thing you know everyone is getting cranky and overly critical and then the talk of going home early sets in,” Bud said.

She had a point, Chase thought. It no longer frightened her that Bud was so intuitively brilliant. She’d gotten used it. Maybe Bud and Addison with their outside perspectives could solve the “Lesbian Problem” as Chase had taken to calling it.

Lacey looked lost.

Addison elucidated. “What she means is that you put all these different kinds of women together and you’re going to get friction.”

“Especially if you put a bunch of progressive-save-the-world types together,” Chase added.

“I know. Everyone is so picky and agenda-oriented. I mean, can’t we just have some fun?” Lacey said.

Ah, now we are talking, Chase thought. The Institute wasn’t a fun place. Even the nail-care-as-love instrument had been a fiasco. The Vulva-Heads, who were aptly named for their intense orientation toward all things feminine, had been offended that the finger-as-manifestation-of-love-device people were interested in having nice cuticles. There were Vulva-Heads with figurative machetes who whacked down anything remotely masculine like insertion of a well-manicured fingernail into one’s vagina. They’d picketed the manicure session with signs about the dangers of nail care like it was some foreign evil that was threatening to take over the world.

Then the omnipresent shadow of Chino and Dixon came to mind.

“You have to get rid of the Pink Mafia,” Chase said.

“Why?” Lacey asked, taking another cookie.

Chase wondered if all the sugar was good for Lacey. A hopped-up depressed person could be a detriment to problem solving. “Should you really have another cookie?”

“Am I getting fat?” Lacey said, pinching the mythical inch on her stomach that indicated her body mass index.

“I’m concerned about the sugar intake affecting your energy level crash. The higher you go the harder you fall,” Chase said.

Addison and Bud studied Lacey. They were well-versed in sugar highs. “It might help her think better if we keep her at an optimum level. I’ll get her some water to keep the dilution-to-absorption rate constant,” Bud said.

Lacey eyed her. “Is that true?”

Addison and Chase simultaneously shrugged. “Sounds good,” Chase said.

Bud returned with the water. “Drink half of it now and then finish it in another fifteen minutes.”

“So we have about fifteen minutes to solve my problem? And why do I have to get rid of Chino and Dixon?”

“Yes on the time thing and because your totalitarian state is driving people away on the second thing,” Chase said.

Bud set the timer on her enormous watch. “Start the brainstorming.”

 “Number one: Stop the insanity of Stalinism at the Institute,” Addison said, pulling a legal pad from her leather backpack. She wrote that down.

“Number two: Start the healing process to eradicate the damage left behind by the radical factions by engaging a therapist,” Bud said.

“Number three: Hire Dr. Robicheck to teach a seminar using her new technique of laugh therapy,” Chase said.

“Isn’t that the same thing as number two?” Bud asked.

“No, number two is about eradication, and number three pertains to the eradicationary method,” Chase replied.

Bud looked dubious but said nothing.

“Number four: Create a task force using members from each group to come up with solutions,” Addison said.

“Number five: Give up on the whole Institute thing and turn it into a Club Med for lesbians who just want to have fun,” Bud said.

“Yeah, right,” Lacey said, but her brow furrowed.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Chase said.

“But then my whole mission would be worthless.”

“Not necessarily. You learned that there are a lot of lesbians out there who need a good laugh and to learn how to relax,” Bud said.

 Lacey appeared to contemplate this. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Can I have another cookie?”

“Only if you call Dr. Robicheck and set up the laugh therapy seminar,” Chase said, holding the cookie plate away from her.

“And you instruct Dixon and Chino that they can’t incarcerate
people—sovereign nation or not,” Bud said.

Lacey looked sheepish. “I am sorry about handcuffing you to the chair. I’ll tell them to back off.” She whipped out her cell phone and told them to release the latest miscreants.

“Holy shit,” Chase said.

“They really deserved it,” Lacey said.

“What did they do?” Addison asked.

“They removed all the tampon machines and hijacked the refills from all the custodial closets so there wasn’t a tampon in the place. It was horrid. We had to make an emergency run.”

“Was it the Menopausals?” Chase said.

“Not directly, but I think they were behind it. We caught the culprits. They were twenty-somethings, so we couldn’t pin it on the Menopausals.”

“How’d you catch them?” Addison said.

“They were the only ones in the building with tampons. We still haven’t located the stash.”

Chase didn’t even want to know how Lacey discovered that they had tampons.

“Do you see what I have to deal with?” Lacey sighed.

“Unfortunately, I do.”

Dr. Robicheck followed Chase down the hallway of the Institute, her sensible but fashionable shoes clicking on the cement floor as Chase skateboarded ahead of her. She stopped at the intersection of two hallways and waited for Dr. Robicheck to catch up.

“When did you take this up?” Dr. Robicheck said, slightly out of breath.

“A couple of months ago. It’s part of my new fearless self.”

“Like the microwave experiment?”

“Yes,” Chase said, seeing some of her writing students and smiling. She was trying to be less socially phobic. They stopped and stared at her, exhibiting the Asberger card for surprise. It was really shocked surprise, but there wasn’t an Asberger card
for that.

“Your new behavior seems to elicit shock,” Dr. Robicheck said.

“Oh, I skateboard all the time. It’s hard for people to accost you because you travel quicker than they do, and they get out of your way.”

“Then why were those women staring at you?”

“I smiled at them. I don’t usually do that, but it’s part of the new me.”

“I see.”

They walked together until they reached the door of the auditorium where Chino and Dixon stood, arms crossed on their chests, looking like thugs.

“Who are they?” Dr. Robicheck said.

“The Pink Mafia. Let me do the talking.”

“All right.”

Chino and Dixon glared at her. “I see you’re still getting your panties starched,” Chase said. “Or maybe it’s constipation that makes you look like that.”

“Piss off, you twerp,” Chino said.

Chase rolled over Chino’s toe with her skateboard. Chino leapt out of the way.

“Ouch! Why, you little piece of shit,” Dixon said. She lunged at Chase, but Dr. Robicheck stepped in her way.

“I teach anger management, perhaps you should come to one of our meetings,” she said and handed her a card.