We've Already Gone This Far by Patrick Dacey

Author:Patrick Dacey
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781627794664
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

MUTATIS MUTANDIS

THE REASON WHY I went on The Dr. Jack Show in the first place? I wanted happiness. I thought maybe happiness had something to do with how I felt on the inside and how I felt on the inside had something to do with how I looked on the outside. I let myself go after Ron died, and then when Caroline left for school I pretty much gave up altogether. But I wasn’t clueless; I could see my options like a cold sore on my lip: scrapbooking, movie night, yoga for beginners. I wanted a man to hold me and kiss me and screw my brains out. I wasn’t going to become like these other women in town. So I took a shot. In my letter to the show, I said I’d put myself in their hands. Face, neck, breasts, stomach, butt, thighs, and calves: They’re all yours.

A month later I’m sitting on a super-comfortable orange sofa in what they call “the quiet room,” being instructed by Dr. Jack’s bubbly blond producer, Melanie, on how to react to the crowd. She says they’ll try to change my mind but reminds me that I’ve already signed a contract.

“Dr. Jack will also try to change your mind, which might confuse you at first, but don’t worry, he doesn’t really want you to change your mind. It’s all part of the show. In six months you’ll return a different woman, a stunning, magnificent beauty. Don’t be afraid. Dr. Jack’s hands are like the hands of Michelangelo.”

All I can think is: What happened? I used to be rich. I drove a Mercedes and had a mink coat. My ring was heavy on my finger. We lived up in the Applewood Estates in a community of successful people whose children all played an instrument of some sort and put on concerts in the central gazebo on Sunday afternoons in the spring.

Melanie explains that Dr. Jack probably won’t get into the children and the gazebo and all that, but he’ll certainly bring up my husband’s foolish death and my subsequent financial instability, because, naturally, a crowd would riot if a rich woman were being provided with free cosmetic surgery.

“You may want to consider crying, if possible,” she says. “Think of something horrific. Think of a little girl with burn scars on her face or a puppy hit by a car lying in the street twitching. Those are just a couple of ideas. If you need more, we’ll pipe them in through your earpiece; just blink three times real hard. Believe me when I tell you, crying is the only way to get the audience off your back. It’s especially helpful in grabbing the attention of the audience at home, which we know to be comprised mainly of housewives and stoners. They stop what they’re doing and wonder, Why are all these people crying? They tune in, turn up the volume, and then they tune in tomorrow.”

Dr. Jack’s show opens with the Fleetwood Mac song “Don’t Stop.

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