Page 3 of Rosie and the Dreamboat
I take a packet of earplugs from Dionne. “Do these work against intrusive thoughts?” My sister can always be counted on to laugh.
“You can’t get stuck in these, can you?” Bree asks, her eyes bright on mine, and I manage to conceal the twist in my gut with an Academy Award level of skill. I have been somewhere tight, in the dark once. It is a memory I sidestep with uncharacteristic grace whenever it pops up.
Dionne takes the question seriously. “Let me assure you, they are perfectly safe. If you have any reason to get out, there’s a manual handle on the inside. But would you prefer to leave it open a few inches?” She hovers her finger over the iPad. “If you have claustrophobia, that is perfectly okay. You can also choose to opt out, and we can get you some herbal tea.”
But my sister is looking at me with a daring half smile. “Are you scared?”
“I’m okay.” I would like to leave the entire lid wide open, but I’m Rosie the Nudist. With my luck, a window washer would appear on cue.
“This is hilarious. Thank you so much for doing this with me. Best day ever,” Bree says after we are left alone and she sinks into the water. As her lid lowers, she calls out, “Goodbye forever.”
“Goodbye forever,” I echo with less conviction, and when she’s sealed inside, I climb in nude and close my lid, too. It doesn’t sound exactly like a car trunk closing, but then again, it kind of does.
I’m in absolute darkness. I didn’t select any music. Why didn’t I curate a sunrise sequence, too? The water is the silkiest, slimiest, milkiest, saltiest brew imaginable. I try to getcomfortable, but there’s nothing I can do to adjust. Twisting myself this way and that only causes splashes, and a rippling tide that bobs me all the way to the top side of the tank. I bump my head. “Ow!”
I absolutely hate this.
“Enjoy this,” I order myself, and my grim tone resonates. It’s a crime to waste this valuable, unusual experience. I try again. “This is relaxing and fun.”
This is nothing like thatother time, the one I’ve never even told Bree about. My heart is pulsing uncomfortably in my ears, dulled only a touch by the earplugs. I paddle my hands in the warm water.
I’m safe, and I’m not a joke.
And because I have no other option, I close my eyes and will myself unconscious.
I jolt and splash at the sound of knocking above. I hear Bree’s muffled singsong, “Rosie, wake up.”
“I’m awake.” I am quite indignant for someone who was just asleep. I put my hands all around myself, lid, sides, the base. The blackness in here is surreal. I don’t feel like I have eyes anymore.
“Wasn’t it amazing? I had an epiphany. I thought of a project I can put forward at tomorrow’s team meeting.”
I open my mouth, and eight-year-old Rosie lies: “I had an epiphany, too.”
“Sure you did, sleepyhead. Come on, hop out. I’ve got your robe here. Let’s go be two pigs in a muddy pigsty. Then it’s the massage.”
“Press the thingy for me.” I wait for a few seconds and pat around on the wall. “Bree, press the thingy. I’m in the dark.”
“I can’t find a thingy. Oh, here’s Dionne. Rosie’s timer hasn’t gone off. She’s also not wearing anything, so avert your eyes.”
Dionne says with bright professional humor, “No problem.” Pause. “I’m just releasing the lid now.”
“Thank goodness,” I say in the dark. “Please tell me you’ve got my robe ready.”
Nothing happens.
“Just one moment,” Dionne assures me. My sister cackles.
“What’s so funny?” Hurt tightens my throat. I need to get out of this thing, because the bad memory is becoming harder to sidestep. It’s forming a huge, black pothole in the path before me, and I’m going to fall into it if I’m not careful. “Ha ha, Bree. Let me out.”
“It’s just so . . . Rosie.”
Dionne repeats more firmly, “Just one moment. I’m restarting the app. Technology. Doesn’t it drive you crazy sometimes?”
“It does. Especially when my sister’s locked in a big white toilet.”
“Locked?” I feel all the way down the left-hand side. “I’m just going to use the manual lever, okay?”
I don’t think they hear me. I can’t find anything that feels like a lever. I try the other side, in case I’ve forgotten my left and right. I try the roof. I feel around near my feet. There’s nothing that seems pullable. There are two handrails, which I tug hard, but nothing happens. My earplugs fall out. My breathing’s picking up. There’s no space to sit upright. My legs splash and slosh.
