The inside ofComelooks like a hotel lobby. It’s possible this place used to be a hotel. Or an apartment building. There are no people in sight, aside from a young woman at the front desk who is wearing a headset and currently talking to someone, saying, “We will have a bed available next week.”
Too-chipper Phoebe leads me to a small office off the reception area. She sits on one side of a desk, and I sit on the other.
“So I’m the new-client coordinator here atCome,” she says. “We just have a few paperwork things to get out of the way, and then I’ll give you a tour of the facility.”
She is in the wrong career. She should be working on a Disney cruise.
I cross and recross my legs, tap my foot on the floor.
“Are you nervous?” she asks, glancing at my foot.
I force myself to stop with the tapping.
“Sorry.”
She furrows her brows. “Oh, don’t be sorry. Women are altogether too apologetic for feelings that are quite valid. Everyone is a bit nervous on their first day.”
I want to punch this woman in the face.
“So you know the name policy then?” she says, looking at something on her computer screen.
“Yes, though I can’t say I really understand it.”
She reestablishes eye contact with me and says, “We refrain from using real names here, for the protection of everyone’s identities.”
“Protection?”
She’s talking like we’re in a government witness protection program.
She leans across the desk, as if sharing a secret.
“Some women want to reemerge into their real lives with nobody knowing they were here.”
“Their real lives.”
“Not that this isn’t real life,” she stammers. “Their post-Comelives is what I mean.”
“Post-Come,” I say, finding it impossible not to giggle like a dirty-minded teenager. She is straight faced. I doubt Phoebe was ever a dirty-minded teenager. She probably tattled on those kids.
“I see you’ve selected Therese.”
“I was told to use my middle name, and that’s my middle name.”
“Oh, brilliant! Some women don’t use their middle names, but choose whatever they like. We’d have so many Anns and Maries if everyone used their middle name, you know?”
She laughs heartily. This is what makes Phoebe laugh.
When I don’t say anything, she goes on: “Therese is abeautifulname! It sounds very French!”
“It is very French.”
“Well, Iloveit. Everyone here will love it!”
She says this like it’s a compliment that’s supposed to make me blush. I had nothing to do with my middle name.
“How many women are here?”
“Right now, we’re at twenty,” she says. “We have intentions to expand, but we want to do so mindfully. Our pilot program included ten women, and it was such a success.”