I listened to the women try to distance themselves from Julia, and I didn’t blame them. With her paranoia and secret projects, and her inability to be forthcoming about anything, it wasn’t surprising that Julia hadn’t endeared herself to the women of Calliope House. She irritated me as well, but I wasn’t so willing to throw her aside. She and I shared a connection to Leeta, which is something the other women couldn’t appreciate. They’d never even met Leeta.
As more women arrived, I replenished the table with fresh slices of toast and pots of jam, which were eagerly received. In Verena’s house there was never any mention of calories, there was no I shouldn’t eat this, I shouldn’t eat that. Plates were scraped clean, ooohs and ahhhs were abundant, women asked for more. No prayers were offered up to the diet gods: I’ll go to the gym later; I didn’t eat dinner last night. There was pleasure that didn’t have to be bargained for.
“Did I tell you I talked to my dad in Shiraz yesterday?” Sana said. “He told me that what Jennifer is doing reminds him of the American Westerns he likes to watch—the Wild West.”
“People in Iran are talking about Jennifer?” Rubí said.
“Everybody is talking about Jennifer. She’s the most famous woman in the world,” Sana said.
Like everyone else, we spoke about Jennifer as if she were a single person, even though we knew that if Jennifer existed, she had a lot of help. For some she was a hero, for others a bogeywoman.
“Did you see the column in the New York Daily this morning?” Marlowe asked. “The columnist argued that Jennifer just needs to get laid, and guys in the comments section were writing things like, I bet Jennifer is fat and Jennifer is a ball-busting bitch and Who’d want to fuck her.”
“I love that their only defense against Jennifer is to label her unfuckable,” Rubí said.
“That’s how dudes always try to bring us down,” Sana said.
“Jennifer will give herself up and do a nude spread in Playboy to make amends,” Marlowe said.
“Maybe she’ll do a Waist Watchers commercial,” I said. “She’ll say, ‘I was on a killing spree until these guys on the Internet called me fat. That was just the wake-up call I needed. Now I’ve taken control of my life by losing thirty pounds!’”
“Burst!” said Verena.
Laughter erupted. Sana and Rubí beat their fists on the table. Even Huck was giggling.
“I don’t think anything is going to stop her,” said Verena. “She’s an avenger, a Fury. She’s in our midst, but at the same time, I think she’s left this world behind.”
“After I’m finished with the companion volume to Fuckability Theory, I’m going to have to write a whole book about this,” Marlowe said. “Did I tell you that a journalist called me yesterday and asked, off the record, if I’d masterminded the whole thing?”
“Did you?” asked Verena, eyebrow arched.
I turned to Marlowe: “Are you Jennifer?”
“I thought you were Jennifer,” she said to me.
“Maybe I’m Jennifer and I don’t know it,” said Sana.
“Jennifer could be anybody,” Rubí said.
On the television in the corner, a yellow banner appeared at the bottom of the screen: LEETA ALBRIDGE SPOTTED? I scrambled to pick up the remote control and turn up the volume. A news reporter was speaking from the parking lot of a Dairy Queen in El Paso, place of another alleged sighting. A swarm of police officers circled the darkened fast food restaurant, many of them carrying automatic rifles. German shepherds on leashes scoured the area; a helicopter hovered overhead.
“What are they going to do if they find her?” I said, feeling sick and scared for Leeta.
“She wouldn’t be stupid enough to flee to Texas,” said Sana. “That’s the last place I’d go if the Man was looking for me.”
“True. And besides, Leeta wouldn’t do something as prosaic as hide out in a Dairy Queen,” Marlowe said.
I appreciated that they were trying to make me feel better, but the sight of men with guns hunting Leeta was a reminder that the Jennifer phenomenon wasn’t a joke. Like everyone else, we talked about what was happening as if it were a Western, as Sana had said, or a comic book or a superhero movie, since there were no comparisons that could be drawn from real life. But it wasn’t fantasy. Sometimes it was difficult to comprehend that.
“Such a show of force to find Leeta is ridiculous,” I said. “She was an intern at Austen Media. She’s not an outlaw.”
“But she is an outlaw now, that’s the problem,” Verena said. “And since there’s no other link to Jennifer, they’re going after her hard.”
Sana took the remote control from me and switched off the TV. “That’s enough for now,” she said, patting me on the head. “You Americans are supposed to start the day with Cheerios, right? Or is it Wheaties? Whatever it is, Sugar Plum, it’s not footage of men with guns.”
She was right. I picked up my plate and carried it to the sink. It was time to begin the day.