cruelty was committed in the name of beauty. And in the name of art.
“Maybe. But I guess there are opportunities to do good. Last week, this woman called to schedule services for her sister to celebrate the fact that the sister’s cancer had been in remission for three years. It’s kind of cool to be a part of that. Even though most of the people who come in here are raging lunatics. Or perverts. Or petty thieves.” Emily leaned back into a box of packing peanuts, rubbed her hands over her eyes. I still didn’t know much about her. I knew she rented a room from a family in Brigantine. That she took college classes at night. But I didn’t know what she did for fun, or even what she wore when she wasn’t at work, when she was finally able to shed the impersonal black blazer and pencil skirt. Once I asked her whether she had brothers and sisters, but the look on her face made me wish I hadn’t. When she was nervous, or anxious, she fiddled with the cross on the chain around her neck.
“Why do you ask, anyway? I thought this was just your ‘get back on your feet’ gig.”
I didn’t really know the answer. I had never asked myself at the gallery if it was good, or fair. I was getting what I wanted. “Just something I’ve been thinking about, I guess.”
“One good thing about this company is that it’s almost entirely run by women. It could be a good place to start a career, in that sense. Even if they are as crazy as the guests most of the time.”
“How are your classes going?” I felt self-conscious asking—as though I were creeping back toward the discussion we didn’t have about me seeing her loan balance, but I was curious, and besides talking shit on everyone else at the spa, school was the only other thing she’d open up about.
She sat up, and I picked a Styrofoam packing peanut from her hair. “Okay—I’m taking exams next week, and then I start a new session. At this rate, I’ll be done in, oh, two, two and a half years.”
“That’s great.”
“It seems like such a long time to me. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even going to be worth it. Who will respect me for having a degree from a small local college? Working as a receptionist when other people are out interning with banks or learning about real estate or management psychology.”
“What, you’re not learning about management here? You practically run this place.”
“Yeah. I don’t know. I think, as a woman, I have to anticipate the one thousand ways people will find to dismiss me and how I can make up for it, or prove them wrong, before I can let myself think about what kind of credit they’ll give me for anything I’ve done. As I get older, I keep waiting to step into a world that’s different, where I don’t have to think like that, and you know what? I’m still fucking waiting.”
I wanted to say something reassuring, but what Emily had said was true. I thought of the way men like Matthew went striding through the world, assured that they deserved pleasure, success, money, and happiness, and that they would get it. Even the most talented, intelligent women I knew—Emily included—didn’t think that way. We tiptoed, fingers crossed, making Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, always anticipating the way the world would push us aside.
Emily sighed, nodded at the display. “Does that look even to you?” She held out the instructions that had been sent by our corporate merchandising director. They were overfull of exclamation points and capitals. “PYRAMID SHAPES ARE EASY TO SHOP!!! AND REMEMBER, EVERY SALE IS A CHANCE TO UPSELL!!! AN ATTRACTIVE RETAIL SPACE EQUALS ATTRACTIVE PROFITS!!!”
I studied the display, the backdrop of which was a picture of a woman who was clearly white but wearing a lot of bronzer, dressed in a fringed suede halter top and skirt, sitting on a hillside, surrounded by flowers. “Looks even to me. Fucked up in other ways. But yes. Even.”
“Okay, then. I’m going on my break. Don’t forget …”
“Every sale is a chance to upsell?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you in an hour.”
Clara must have been watching us through the glass, lurking just outside the door, until Emily retreated to the break room. As soon as Emily was gone, she shuffled in. I was struck by how terrible she looked: pale,