A Solstice Side Story: Number 14

Nadia Ciobanu's dream to live and work in America came true all too easily.

A handsome young man approached her in a bar, faintly Russian, smelling of expensive cologne and cigarettes. Piercing blue eyes. A thumb scrolling through photos of New York City at night, the Pacific edge of Big Sur. He promised her it would be easy and luxurious. And indeed it was.

A modeling contract, something she always knew her features and figure were ready for, awaited her.

All the paperwork would be handled, and within two weeks, tickets and a visa would be sent to her mother and brother so they could join her.

Her best friend, Crina, shook her head in amazement, and the young man turned to her, "Would you like to come, too?"

Crina gasped, hand to heart, and said yes.

Excitement, alcohol, and weed swept them into a car, to a dark private airstrip, to an awaiting private jet. Four other young women sat inside already, sipping cosmos from clear plastic cups, laughing at something none of them would remember.

Before taking off, headphones were passed out to the six women.

The evening survived only as a flash of cabin lights and the taste of a cosmo, gone before she could hold it. It surfaced sometimes, just before waking, and melted before she could open her eyes. She'd forgotten how to care about the past, family, friends, boyfriends. Her hand would close around a memory and find nothing there.

None of that was important. What was important was her job at Future Renewal. She loved the company, her boss, and her coworkers, especially Crina. The two of them had some kind of special connection that neither of them could name. If asked, either of them would recall meeting each other on the first day of work at Future Renewal, nothing else.

As a receptionist at the Chicago office of Future Renewal, visitors, especially men, would remark on how pretty she was and how her English had a faint accent. They'd ask where she was from, and she would smile and deflect.

"I'd tell you, but it would violate my non-disclosure agreement," she'd smile.

Her giggle would disarm and end the line of questioning. It was true that it was in the non-disclosure agreement she signed, but it was also true that Nadia couldn't remember where she came from, nor did she care.

One day, Nadia's supervisor asked her to report to an office for an interview. A woman sat waiting, not much older than Nadia, a hand reaching out to straighten Nadia's collar before she'd even sat down. She asked Nadia to sit in a chair and asked her a series of questions off of an iPad. "What makes you happy? What makes you sad?" the interviewer asked. After a few questions, the two of them were laughing, trading stories like old friends.

Another side of the room had a seamless photo background, and a couple of soft lights. The interviewer asked Nadia to take off all her clothes, smile, stand in front of the camera, and rotate 360 degrees. She asked her to try some yoga poses she'd learned, with the camera watching.

As with any request at Future Renewal, Nadia loved the warmth that spread beneath her ribs every time she got to do her job well. Holding herself to a higher standard was easy when she loved her job and the company she worked for.

After the interview she sensed that she was about to take another big step forward in her career. Crina had done the interview a week earlier and was transferred two days later. Charlene moved into Crina's bedroom; Nadia welcomed her and thought nothing of the change.

Two days after her own interview, she was on a private jet flying to California, to a town she'd never heard of, Atherton. New roommates, a new assignment in file management, and a lingering excitement about her next job.

Late in the day, her new supervisor appeared and asked her to follow. She led Nadia into a small room and asked her to undress and put on a hospital gown printed with bright colored flowers. Barefoot, she walked into a large circular room that looked and felt soft, even the floor beneath her feet was comfortably warm.

The supervisor guided her up onto a bed and held her hand lightly as two other people placed a helmet over her head.

"Think of the happiest moment in your childhood," the supervisor's soothing voice said.

Obligingly, Nadia closed her eyes and remembered a trip outside Bucharest to her grandmother's house, her brother Baga next to her, the warmth of the sun on her face, two ducks with four young ducklings paddling across a pond, sunlit sparkles. Nadia remembered and remembered until she no longer could.