* * *
Evaluation day for Unit 3 falls on the first Monday in May. In the warehouse parking lot, Frida, Meryl, Beth, and Linda unbutton their uniforms as low as decency allows and roll up the legs of their jumpsuits. They sit on the ground and lift their faces to the sun.
“I haven’t been this pale since I was a baby,” Linda says.
She begins telling them how she used to sunbathe on her parents’ back porch but pauses when she sees Beth’s legs. Her scars. Linda whistles. She asks when it started. She’s afraid of knives.
Beth says she didn’t use knives, she used razor blades. She now describes her cutting as an act of selfishness. “Had I known the pain I was causing my parents,” Beth begins.
Meryl punches her in the arm. “You don’t have to be fake with us.”
“I’m repenting,” Beth hisses.
Beth spots Frida’s nearly hairless legs and exclaims. Since Frida stopped shaving, her leg hair has become sparse, though she still requests razor and tweezer privileges to manage her underarm stubble and upper lip. She hasn’t cut her hair since November. Her ponytail hangs halfway down her back.
They take turns running their hands up Frida’s calves, cursing the unfair advantages of Asians. Beth and Linda both have thick leg hair. Only Meryl’s legs are shaved. Linda wants to know who she does it for—a man or a woman, a guard or another mom.
“None of your business,” Meryl says.
Beyond the parking lot is more forest. A subdivision. A mall. Big-box stores. The highway is a major truck route. Several FedEx trucks pass. Some for Fresh Direct, UPS. The life in which Frida earned money and purchased goods on the Internet feels as far away as childhood.
She hasn’t spoken to Harriet in nine weeks, doesn’t know how Harriet is behaving with the social worker and child psychologist. It frightens her to think of the counselor interviewing Emmanuelle. There are days when the doll answers no to every question. Harriet was like that too. “No” came before “yeah,” then “yes.” Fifteen other words arrived before Harriet said “Mommy.”
Linda is called into the warehouse. She hugs each of them before going inside, seems genuinely nervous. They wish her luck. “Run like someone is trying to kill you,” Meryl says.
She and Beth choose to pass the time by braiding each other’s hair.
“Frida, come sit with us,” Beth says.
Frida takes her place in front of Beth. Meryl has been nagging her to be nicer, to stop calling Beth a bad influence.
“I’m allowed to have two friends here,” Meryl told her.
As Beth begins braiding, Frida feels soothed. It’s been so long since another adult, a human, touched her head. That night at Will’s, he played with the ends of her hair, compared the texture to paintbrush bristles. Gust used to stroke her head when she had trouble sleeping. She imagines his hands in Susanna’s thick red mane, wonders if he always liked redheads, if she, the mother of his child, was the anomaly, the detour, when all along, he was looking for Susanna. They looked so happy at the birthday party.
They switch. Frida combs through Beth’s sleek hair with her fingers. Beth asks Frida to rub her neck. When she woke up this morning, she couldn’t turn her head. Soon, all three are braiding and massaging each other’s necks and shoulders, sitting one behind the other.
If they were schoolgirls, they’d make clover chains. Frida remembers sitting alone at recess and tying the end of one flowering weed to the head of the next. She’s never felt closer to them. A sisterhood based on shared incompetence. If this were another life, she’d take a picture now. Meryl resting her head on Beth’s shoulder. Beth crinkling her nose. In this light, no one would be able to tell that they’re losing hope. That they’re dangerous women. Women who can’t control themselves. Who don’t know the right way to love.
13.
THE DOLLS MAKE THEIR BODIES heavy and limp, like protestors resisting arrest. The instructors work together to carry each doll from the equipment room. Ms. Russo soon strains a muscle in her lower back.
Emmanuelle has a trail of dried tears below each eye. Frida cleans her face with spit. She chooses a station by the window and invites Emmanuelle to sit on her lap.
“We understand that yesterday was intense,” Ms. Russo says. “Girls, you’re allowed to feel scared. You’re allowed to feel confused. It’s very hard helping Mommy learn how to keep you safe. Thank you very much for your hard work.” She leads the class in a round of applause.