Page 13 of The Snag List
‘So here we are, twelve years later.’ She ran a hand through her dark bob. ‘In my defence, Pierce, I had no context for him. I thought he was probably cool and from LA cos that’s where TV Americans were from.’ She grinned. ‘By the time I realised he wasn’t, it was too late. I was pregnant. Surprise!’ She laughed lightly.
Adam returned to the chair beside her and rubbed his hand along the sandy stubble on his jaw. ‘Turned out to be the most lucrative surprise ever!’
‘Pierce,’ she cut in abruptly. She hated when Adam was glib about their son. ‘You wanted to ask us some questions?’
‘Yes, of course, of course. OK, so I usually start by asking what are the daily life tasks you find the most tedious?’
‘Wiping my ass,’ Adam honked. ‘Can I arrange for someone to take care of things on that end?’
Pierce, while visibly repulsed, appeared to still make a note of this.
‘Oh Jesus.’ Lindy covered her husband’s mouth without breaking eye contact with their life stylist. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She was laughing in spite of herself. They always did better when they were performing their relationship for others, rather than just on their own together. She’d never noticed this until the lockdowns began and they were no longer out all the time doing the Adam and Lindy Show at dinner parties and tech-industry events. It had been an unsettling realisation, and she was desperate to know if their friends had experienced similar; though, as they were pretty much all YouTube families themselves, it was unlikely she’d get an honest answer. As much as the group had in common, admitting that her marriage had washed up like wreckage in the wake of the pandemic felt too risky to reveal. ‘Well-placed insiders’ being quoted on gossip sites and all that could kill a family-orientated YouTube brand.
‘Don’t worry – this is all good stuff here.’ Pierce batted away her apology. ‘This is why we have these consultations. I’m here to really drill down into the different elements that will make Monteray Valley living a first-class experience for you both. Our researchers have spent years exploring the different facets of modern living that corrode human health and well-being. Many are obvious – loneliness, for example. Studies are now proving that loneliness can contribute to death.’
‘Wow, really?’ Lindy feigned interest.Great, I’m already lonely at the thought of leaving my family and friends and now I’m apparently gonna die from it.
‘Loneliness is to the soul what smoking is to the lungs,’ Pierce offered brightly. ‘In Monteray Valley, our residents are never lonely, thankfully. Clients in other facilities report a summer-camp-like atmosphere in the population. You see, there’s a mean age of thirty-eight among the adults; families have an average of 2.2 children; they come from similar socio-economic backgrounds and share a similar outlook on key issues. The cohort has a lot in common so it stands to reason that the social side gels well.’
Facilities? Population? Cohort?Frequently a strangely institutional lexicon bled into the Monteray pitch.
‘Our researchers have found that often it is the low-grade irritants that can really undermine an individual’s well-being. Kind of a “death by a thousand cuts” idea. Life is filled with annoying obligations and that’s something we’re seeking to eradicate for our citizens – in so far as possible at least! We can’t take overeverything, you still have to do all your own blinking and breathing and swallowing at Monteray,’ he twinkled. ‘But where we can, we want to deliver a polished existence. Thoughts, Lindy? What would make life smoother? Sick of the school run?’ He glanced down. ‘Ah, I see you’re already signed up for that. Of course it’s barely a “school run”! Monteray Academy is no more than eight minutes’ walk from where you’ll be in crescent C. Hmmm, what else?’ he glanced down at his notes. ‘Laundry service we have you down for too. What other annoying things do you have to do every day?’
‘I hate changing the bins,’ Adam announced.
Pierce noted this down. ‘Check.’
‘Unpacking the groceries – buying them, even! – all total ball-ache,’ Adam continued.
‘Oh, no one at Monteray does grocery shopping. Not in the old “weekly shop” sense anyway …’ Pierce looked appalled at the mereideaof such drudgery.
‘But how does this all actually work?’ Lindy interjected.
‘We have teams assigned to each crescent. They have access to the houses via discreet staff entrances. They do everything – the cleaning, laundry, replenishing groceries, meal prep, school lunches, you name it – all at night while the family sleeps so that you never have to interact with them directly unless you want to. Think of them like au pairs but for the adults. For you! They’re there to take care of you and will do anything you need – provided it’s legal. Take, for example, hangovers. Do you two drink?’
‘Uh-huh but, obviously, being over thirty-five it’s barely worth it.’ Adam shook his head ruefully.
‘Oh, I feel you.’ Pierce attempted a chummy grin but it didn’t match his general starched primness. ‘So the worst part of a night out on the tear is the hangover, right? Well, not in Monteray Valley. We have the Hangover Helper service. The helpers come, bring you food, hold your hair – they’re even trained to insert an IV to rehydrate you and get you back from the brink faster. One woman in our Orlando complex books her Hangover Helper to come the morning after every book club, and all he does is hold her hand and reassure her that everyone doesn’t hate her. That. Is. Living. Amirite?’
‘Sounds … weirdly intimate. But, nice?’ Lindy was trying to make an effort since Adam had told her she was killing the buzz lately with all her reservations about moving to Monteray. He’d been particularly shirty when she’d confronted him the previous week after the Monteray PTA mixer had resulted in not one but two lump sums from their savings being invested in new-neighbours’ companies. He insisted it was all to get off on the right foot but she knew it was Adam’s ego that got him every time. He wanted to show them how much he had to spare. Which, even though on the face of it Maxxed Out seemed to be on the up and up, was not as much as he liked to pretend. Money streamed in but also flowed out at an unnerving rate and Lindy just wasn’t over the financials as much as she probably should be.
‘Pierce, lemme ask you something.’ Beside her, Adam leaned forward earnestly. ‘We’ve been toying with getting a dog for my son for ages but we’re not really dog people. So. You know the way people can get dogs but hire others to walk them? We kinda want the reverse of that. We don’t really want the dog in the house – the mess, the noise.’ Adam grimaced. ‘Or it being, ya know, “part of the family”. We want doginterludes– is that something that could be arranged?’
‘Absolutely, Mr Zelner. We could find humane storage for the dog for the times that you are not walking it. Or perhaps find another Monteray family interested in doing a dog timeshare.’
Later, after Pierce had left and Max was in bed, Lindy and Adam sat, each plugged in to separate devices, with pizza boxes discarded around them. They’d barely spoken since Pierce had left. Lindy tried to focus on her favourite comfort watch – a YouTube channel called Closet Therapy. Mae and Ramona were two NYC psychologists who had retrained as professional organisers and every episode saw them going through an ordinary woman’s wardrobe and dealing with her issues through the medium of sorting. It was very soothing. The combination of women emoting and Manhattan interiors was intoxicating.
Beside her Adam was scrolling on his phone and watching the Masters. She couldn’t stop thinking about how they’d had more chat that afternoon with a third party present than they had in months. She hated the thought of bringing her lonely marriage to Monteray Valley, where surely their lapsed intimacy would be highlighted by proximity to other happy marrieds. Monteray, she was certain, would be exactly like the group holidays they took with friends – everyone watching and assessing how the other couples were doing ten years in. Giuliana and David were clearly still into each other but were generous enough to be lowkey about it. Miriam and Anthony looked pretty defunct, which Lindy couldn’t help but be vaguely reassured by. Meanwhile Sigrid and Tomas were apparently still attracted to each other, audibly so, as a shared bedroom wall in the last Airbnb could, unfortunately, attest to.
Maybe Monteray could be a new start for her and Adam. She wanted to believe it was possible. Seeing the room around her dismantled brought her back to their very first night in the house. It had been blank then too, but not bereft like this. That first night the empty space was full of anticipation for the potential life that could unfold there. Music was playing – Bell X1, Lindy was sure: she’d been schooling Adam on Irish music at the time. Baby Max was fast asleep in the only place he would submit to sleeping at that time: bound to Lindy’s chest in a stretchy wrap. They had talked into the night and then, after stealthily transferring Max to his makeshift nursery, they’d had sex for the first time since he’d been born.
Lindy had been so nervous. After much sibling debate about how to approach the first post-birth screw, Finn had procured Lindy some Valium. Séamus, on the other hand, had jokingly presented her with two ecstasy pills. She’d availed of neither in the end. She hadn’t needed to. Sex with Adam had always been hot and it was no different that night, despite her nerves. She’d pulled off her top and straddled him, and when he’d roughly pulled down her bra and her breasts spilled out, it had been just like it always had been. Now, stirred by the memory, Lindy glanced at Adam.I need to just break the seal. We can’t go to the new house with this desiccated sex life.
Beside her, Adam was engrossed in golf, but she urged herself on, letting her left hand drift towards his upper right thigh. When she made contact he jolted.
‘Are you OK?’ He whipped off his headphones.
‘Yeah, I just thought, you know … we could do … it?’ Excruciating.
