“I’ve neverbeenin a movie,” she snaps.
“Okay,” I say easily. “My mistake.”
Evelyn nods once, apparently satisfied.
“Do you have anything else you would like to ask, Evelyn?” Richard says.
“No, I’m done.”
“Does anyone have anything they would like to share?”
To my surprise, the group moves on from that weird interlude with relative ease.
Marie tells us her husband is recovering from a cold and that even though having a cold is the most mundane thing in the world, she worried over him the entire time, unable to shake off her fear of losing him, even after all these years. She talks about her children, one of whom just lost her last baby tooth, and starts crying as she discusses her joy at every milestone that she never would have gotten to experience had she not been given this second chance.
I find myself moved by her story to the point that my eyes start to tear up, and I have to rein myself in. This is all I want from my second life. Knowing that Marie has achieved the kind of personal fulfillment she never had the first time around, I feel hopeful for my own future.
Given how affected I am by Marie’s words, I’m surprised to notice Kimiko not-so-subtly rolling her eyes. And is Stevenglaringat Kimiko? Odd.
I learn personal details of these people’s lives as they discuss things in a frank and open manner that has me continuously glancing up at the ceiling, waiting for someone to be wiped from existence.
But that moment never comes.
Kimiko’s hand shoots up in my peripheral vision, and I watch as the room reacts. Richard looks comically surprised, while Steven and Marie seem almost hostile.
Soweird.
From the way Kimiko approached me and immediately talked my ear off, I would have thought she’d be a big sharer during these meetings, but I can tell by everyone’s reactions—as well as the fact that she hasn’t said a word since we all sat down—that this isn’t the case.
Richard clears his throat and asks, “Kimiko, do you have something you would like to share with the group?”
“Hard pass,” she says. “I just want to establish that you haven’t actuallyaskedJoey if she wants to talk.” She turns to me. “You can talk, you know. Richard’s big on easing us in and making sure we’re comfortable, but you can talk if you want to. Do you want to?”
I freeze, suddenly on the spot for the second time tonight.
“You can talk if you would like to, Joey,” Richard confirms. “But you don’t have to.”
I take a moment to think about it.DoI want to talk? I came here for a reason, didn’t I? And yet… something about this is so disconcerting; the way everyone talks and looks at each other is just a little off. I feel like I’m missing something, maybe something big, but I can’t put my finger on what it might be. There’s a tension in the air, a judgmental undertone to every action. I’ve never been to group therapy, but something tells me it’s not supposed to be like this.
But Ididcome here for a reason. Even if I never come back, I want to know that I did my best to help Helen.
Easier said than done.
Even though I’ve listened to every single one of them speak with unnerving frankness, I still have my caseworker’s words in my ear, reminding me that the one and only rule of this whole deal is that I don’t talk about it. It’s likeFight Club. First rule, second rule, et cetera. So why are we all here talking about Fight Club? Something’s gotta give.
“Do the people…” I struggle with the wording. “The people up there…”
“The caseworkers?” Richard fills in.
“Yes. The caseworkers. Um, the caseworkers inthe game—”
Kimiko snorts, then says, “We all know you’re talking about ‘the game.’ You’re fine. They’re not going to smite you. We’ve been doing this for years.”
“Right. How, though?”
“How have we been talking openly about it?” Richard clarifies.
I nod. “My caseworker—in the game—told me that talking openly about the opportunity I was given would result in me being… kicked out of the game. Erased from the game completely. Did your caseworkers not give you the same warning?”
