The Stager: A Novel by Susan Coll

Author:Susan Coll [Coll, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780374710729
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Published: 2014-07-08T00:00:00+00:00

PART III

POOLS OF LIGHT

LARS

In the fine print of the five pages of warnings that accompany the Praxisis refill is the following disclaimer: “In extreme cases, the first-person narration may be told as a story within a story, with the narrator appearing as a character in the story.” I don’t know what this means, but it doesn’t sound good.

Like a neurotic who begins to twitch just hearing about the existence of Tourette’s in the world, I realize this is precisely what’s happening to me—I’m stuck inside my own story and I can’t get out.

“Lighten up, man,” says Dominique, pulling on a Marlboro Light. He scratches his head with his foot, demonstrating an impressive, if unsurprising, limberness, and generates a couple of perfect smoke rings. It has not previously occurred to me that my rabbit might smoke, and his voice, too, is utterly unexpected—not just that he has one, but that he speaks with a slightly Southern accent, and in a frankly grating tone.

“I know it’s bad … It was bad for me, too,” he says. “That’s why I had to get out of that house.”

“It’s a nice house. And we treated you well. Sure, maybe we could have done a better job, but I mean, we did our best. We fed you, we tried to cuddle you. We put little toys in your cage. Let’s be honest—you weren’t a very good pet.”

“Oh, please. Let’s not go there, okay? I mean, I get that you guys aren’t bad people. You’re just … people. Self-absorbed, stuck in your worldview, unable to think outside the box. That’s all I’m saying.”

Hay and grass, plus the fecal smell of fresh mulch, mingle with the incongruous aroma of fresh-baked sugary things. My stomach rumbles. I’d had dinner on the plane, but I’m still hungry. Losing six hours means I really need dinner twice. Or is it the opposite? Maybe I ate twice but should’ve eaten only once? The math is confusing, especially in my current state; plus, these kinds of complicated logic problems have never been my strong suit. Have I mentioned I was a tennis star once? A whirling dervish in Tretorns? The only math I’d ever needed was to count my cash. Anyway, it hardly matters; whatever time it is in whatever country I’m in, I’m hungry, and I have the sense that here, in the dark, in a field, there will not be a stewardess bearing a tray of food.

It’s a beautiful night, with clear stars and a slim crescent moon. I stick a piece of straw between my teeth and, staring up at the sky, I try to identify the constellations, which is difficult without my glasses. I fumble through my pockets and realize it’s possible that I’ve lost them along the way, probably back at the pharmacy, when I took them out to read the literature that came with my Praxisis. But I’m not going to stress; I’ll take the rabbit’s advice. I’ll lighten up, go with the flow, shed my angst, and pop another pill.

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