The Atmospherians by Alex McElroy (reading fiction .TXT) 📗

on her palms, hunting for nectar. It would have been easy to resent her, but I didn’t resent her. I resented my life for not being hers. I resented myself for missing her, despite the pain she had caused me.

The rings piled like sand in my ears. I had gotten so used to her declining my calls that every subsequent ring seemed like a miracle.

“This is Cassandra Hanson,” she said. “Heeelllloo?”

I fumbled my phone but rushed it back to my ear. “Cassandra,” I said. “It’s Sasha.”

“Sasha?”

“Sasha Marcus,” I muttered, more defeated than I liked.

“I’m kidding,” she said. “It’s wonderful hearing your voice. But be honest with me: Are you okay? Have you been drinking? I no longer talk to people when they’ve been drinking.”

“Do I sound like I’ve been drinking?”

“It’s never a good look to call someone so late.”

“Never too late for you. You’re nocturnal. That’s how you always described it.”

“I’m surprised you remember,” she said. “Things always seemed to… slip your mind.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve called, you know. There must’ve been hundreds of calls these last few months. You must’ve been busy. Were you busy? You must’ve been too busy to talk to the woman who boosted your career.”

“Sasha, I know you’re going through something, but if you’re feeling bitter right now maybe it’s best you take some time for yourself. It’s not good for anyone’s cortisone levels to talk when we’re not at our best.”

“You’re the one who called me,” I reminded her. My voice lifted close to a shout, but I contained myself, worried she might hang up. “I’m not going through anything,” I said through my teeth. “I’m returning your call.”

“You really don’t sound well. Try me some other time.”

“Please don’t go.” I must’ve sounded as desperate as I was.

She sighed. “My publicist would throw a fit if she knew we were talking.”

“Our little secret,” I said.

“An opportunity presented itself and I think you’d be perfect. A good friend of mine, the CEO of a start-up, is looking for a spokeswoman. It’s not right for me, sadly, but I mentioned your name and they expressed immediate interest. They’re called DAM. D-A-M. Defense Against—”

“Let me stop you.” I felt a shock of pride. I didn’t want her to save me; I didn’t want her pity. I wanted her envy. “I’m calling to tell you I’m involved in something transformative.”

“Transformative?” She sounded authentically curious.

“It’s going to change everything. No hyperbole whatsoever. America. The world. The universe. Nothing will ever be the same.”

“May I ask what it is?”

“We’re still vetting investors. My lips are sealed. Tight as a tomb.”

“That sounds promising.”

“If it were up to me, I’d bring you on board.” I could hear her squirming, desperate to know more. “Your skill set would be so valuable for us. But there’s just no room on the boat.”

“Oh, don’t for an instant think you need to bring me on board. I’m just so happy for you! This is incredible news. I always knew you’d land on your feet.”

She was, somehow, authentically happy for me. This seemed even crueler than mockery.

“And you,” I said. “I’m being so rude. Congratulations are in order. Your own show.”

“Online only—for now. But yes. I have a lot to be grateful for. My path has widened.”

“Sometimes I wonder—how did it happen? How did Cassandra Hanson rise to such impossible heights? Did she get there on her own? Or did anyone help her?”

“I appreciate everything you did for me, Sasha. I truly do. You were a very important person for me. And it pains me to hear you talking like this. Because clearly good things are happening for you, but you still haven’t put in the work to reckon with how you treated me.”

“Reckon with my friends exploiting me?”

“You weren’t cut out for this, Sasha. I know how conceited that sounds—as if I’m better than you. I only mean that we’re different. I say this because I care so much about your well-being. You couldn’t create a holistic self. It’s a very difficult task, and most people aren’t capable of achieving holisticity. You shouldn’t feel bad for failing. Falling short. Not a failure. You came up a teensy bit short. And you need to accept who you are—and who you are wasn’t right for the career that you chose. Why feel ashamed? You didn’t know this at the time.”

“I was a different person in person. Everyone is different in person.”

“I’m not,” she said. “Because I’ve worked to ensure that I’m not.”

“You mean you’re always acting.”

“It’s not an act if it’s consistent.”

“It’s not a mask if it’s glued to your face.”

“It’s been lovely. A treat, really. Our friendship was always the tastiest fruit in my life. I’m going to give DAM your information—should changing the world fall through.”

“Hold on,” I said.

“What is it?”

“I love you,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why I said it. Perhaps I wanted her to feel bad for ignoring me. Perhaps I really did love her.

“I love you, too,” she said. “I love everyone.”

nine

I OFFERED TO pick up the men’s uniforms. “To save you the trouble,” I told Dyson. In truth my call with Cassandra had left me feeling embarrassed and bitter—and I thought a drive might clear my head. Dyson was reluctant to hand over the keys. I fed him a line he’d told me back in the mall: “This won’t work if we don’t trust each other.”

“I hate when you use me against me,” he said. But he needed the extra time. He had to chat with the men to finalize their travel arrangements, and there was still work to do on The Doctrine: a set of guidelines for the men. “Make sure you check the design on the uniforms,” he said. “These people weren’t my first choice.”

Cooped up in my apartment over the last few months, I’d become sheepish and brittle—I’d become a person I pitied—but the drive unlocked something ferocious in me. On the back roads, I sprayed waves of gravel and nearly