A Beginning at the End Page 13

  “Hello, and welcome to Love Solutions—where the solution is you.” The bar’s noise level didn’t change beyond its mix of low murmurs, so the hostess clapped her hands, and the few staff members around her did the same.

  “I don’t need a Love Solution—I need whatever happy pills she’s taking,” the woman next to Rob said.

  He turned and surveyed her up and down; her dark brown skin was complemented by thick red lipstick and a modest but flattering black dress that rose to her collarbone while showing off athletic legs. He took in a deep breath and reminded himself that he was here to be socially normal. “I think she’s used more than her two free drink tickets.”

  The woman smiled, an inviting type of smile with warmth and grace, the kind that Rob didn’t see much, or maybe he just hadn’t noticed. “I would too if I had to organize this. It’s like a middle school dance where no one talks to anyone. A great sociology study, at the very least.”

  Rob leaned in to take a sneak peek at the woman’s name tag—Zoe, it said. “We’re all just animals trapped in a cage. With free drinks.”

  “And at least there are free drinks. I think I need about ten more to get through this.”

  “See, that’s why the host’s so happy. She’s probably getting a cut of the bar sales.”

  “Ah. Good call. You’re pretty smart...” Zoe angled to see the name tag on his shirt. “Rob.”

  “Okay, people,” the excitable host said, clapping her hands again. “Find a table and we’ll start the rotation. One guy, one girl, one table, okay?”

  “Thanks...” Rob paused, pretending to look at her name tag. “Zoe.” He inhaled sharply while he considered the next thing to say. “Shall we?”

  “Sure. First impressions of this mess and each other.”

  Rob slid onto the tall stool across from Zoe. She was tall—much taller than Elena—and the light glowed off her dress’s subtle shimmer.

  Maybe this whole excursion wasn’t just for the Family Stability Board.

  The hostess clapped her hands one more time—how raw did they get after every event? She shouted above everyone. “Okay, folks, your seven minutes start now. Go!”

  “Where to start, huh? Just tell me about yourself.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I won’t bite.”

  “Okay, I’m Rob Donelly,” he said with a nod. “I’m thirty-one, I work at PodStar Technologies. I, um, help us stay connected to other Metros. And pull headlines from those regions. Mostly.”

  “Employed. And you must have a Residence License. Good start.” Zoe’s laugh rose over the other talking couples; it rang out with audible fireworks, releasing all of the tension Rob stored up in his shoulders. “What did you do during quarantine?”

  “Pretty much the same thing. Helped keep the networks up, fixed people’s laptops. Kinda sucked when you couldn’t order new parts. You?”

  “I tapped into my waitressing days from college. Not much need for a tax lawyer during quarantine. So, tell me more, Rob the IT analyst.”

  “I have a daughter. She’s seven, and her name is Sunny. And...uh...” The blank slate reappeared, stealing any other possibly interesting items about Rob; he became “the guy with the kid” despite all his attempts to be more than that. “Oh, and I’m a baseball fan. My whole life. Can’t wait for it to start up again. And I used to go hiking and camping a lot, but I don’t anymore, although I really should again. I should take Sunny.” He blew out a sigh, followed by a quick laugh. “That was tough.”

  “You did great. I don’t know about baseball, though. Too slow for me. I’m a hockey girl, grew up in Boston. Live and die with the Bruins.” The joy suddenly disappeared from Zoe’s face, everything falling to neutral. “I shouldn’t say that, huh?”

  “What?”

  “Live and die with sports. That’s silly. We have a new definition of life and death now.” She bit down on her lip, leaving a tiny hint of lipstick on her front teeth. “I’m being a buzzkill. Go on.”

  “Oh. Well, um, that’s basically it. How about you?”

  “So, I’m Zoe. Zoe Reynolds. I’m thirty-four, I work as a tax attorney, which is as exciting as it sounds. Too many new laws to learn, Residence Licenses and everything. Always need a lawyer, even after the world ends, right? And I’ll just say it. I returned from Reclaimed six months ago.”

  That was a first. Rob never heard of anyone coming back to a Metro. “Wow. Really?”

  “I didn’t see anything scary. No Fourth Path cult–type stuff. It just wasn’t for me. Living out there. It’s too quiet. I need to feel like I’m in society, you know?”

  “Well.” Rob straightened up and tried his most charming smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’ll always be a Boston girl, it’s too bad New England is struggling to rebuild. That last winter storm really reset reconstruction. Still, I think I could live in San Francisco forever. It’s beautiful here.”

  “Yeah. We like it. Even now, there’s so much for Sunny to see and do. Do you have children?” Even before he finished his question, Rob knew it was the absolute wrong thing to say. He might as well have asked, “So, which family members of yours died during the End of the World?”

  “One.” Everything about Zoe fell, from her eyes to her posture to the air around her. “I had one. My son.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, no. It’s okay. We all have this, right?” Her hand covered her mouth, and lines formed around her eyes as they shut, tears leaking out each side. “I thought I could do this.”

  “Zoe, it’s fine. We’re all going through it. I have to meet the Family Stability—”

  “I’m sorry.” She stood up, reached over, and clasped his hands. “I’m sorry I wasted your time, Rob. I hope you find what you’re looking for. I’m just not ready.”

  Rob slouched over, rubbing his temples, while Zoe bolted out the door and disappeared. The host, who must have lost her excitability away from the spotlight, came over. “Don’t feel bad,” she said, “this happens all the time.”

  “I bet.”

  “Here. For your troubles.”

  Rob stared at the slip of paper. “A free drink ticket?”

  “Oh. I think I’ve got more to hand out over there. Hang tight, we’ll be switching tables in—” she looked down at her watch “—two minutes and thirty-four seconds.”

  “Sure,” he said, taking a sip. Two more people left, one woman and one man, both wearing Zoe’s pained expression.

  Dating was hard enough before PASD. Factor in the scars of five billion dead people? Rob took another drink and cursed the odds.

  * * *

  “Okay, people,” the host said, doing her hand-clap, “you’ve got ten minutes to write down who you’d like to connect with. And if they’d like to connect with you, then we’ve got a match—and that’s your Love Solution!”

  Rob pulled the sheets out of his packet: three pieces of paper, one form for names, one for a feedback survey, and one advertisement for Love Solutions: New Year’s Eve party. Staff members delivered golf pencils for everyone, and he stared at the two-columned sheet—the left side for the name of the person, the right side for optional notes about what made them so darn wonderful.

  Rob reviewed the past hour, trying to remember what, if anything, stood out about the four women he’d met besides Zoe. Hallie presented herself as a nature girl, living at her estate dorm rather than get a Residence License; she offered a stern lecture about why people needed to quit their frivolous jobs and join the 30 or 40 percent of Metro population working at the urban farms. Maxine seemed like Krista without the snark, handing out business cards and talking about possible contacts across various Metros, from thriving ones like Portland to struggling ones like Minneapolis. Roberta explained the great international government conspiracy behind MGS strain 140-85, even breaking down
her supposed hidden meaning for the virus’s full name (“multi-generational syndrome, one-hundred-forty-day half-life, eighty-five percent kill rate”) and why governments would possibly want to unleash it (“all the governments are participating in Project Preservation, which absorbs the unclaimed funds from casualties to reset the world’s finances”). And Maria jumped over the border into religious zealot; Rob respected people’s faiths, but the idea of “worshipping Jesus” as a favorite hobby and “team Jesus” as a favorite sports team didn’t quite work for him, though he gave her credit for keeping religion when so many others had lost it.

  He scrawled two big Xs on either column, though the thought of noting Zoe’s name crossed his mind. She was, after all, beautiful and genuine and smart—well, he assumed smart since the only people he knew who went to law school were pretty smart. But her scars tied her down, holding her so tight that even a few sentences were too much.

  He should know, after all. He’d felt that way a handful of weeks ago. But today, he understood a tad clearer; even if he took a few small steps forward, the rest of the world might not be so willing.

  “Maybe some other time, Zoe,” Rob said, jabbing the sheet with one final dot before leaving it at his table. He took a few papers to prove he went.

  One mission accomplished.

  From the Online Encyclopedia page on MoJo:

  Though MoJo was primarily marketed toward preteen and teen audiences, several notable controversies made her occasional tabloid fodder:

  In March 2017, MoJo left her hotel with a backup dancer the night before a show at Toronto’s Air Canada Centre. Cell phone footage captures her apparently inebriated and dancing within a circle of flames caused by burning several backpacks and T-shirts with her image on them.

  In December 2018, MoJo gave mostly one-word answers during a pre-show press conference. Reporters noted that she appeared “hazy” and “glassy-eyed” during the event. For the last set of questions, her answer each time was “ask my dad.”

  In April 2019, two months before her final show, MoJo was asked if she was worried about the emerging flu epidemic. She answered, “At least I won’t have to wear this shit anymore.” One day later, she apologized for an “inappropriate and insensitive joke” in a press release.

  Chapter Twenty

  Moira

  Despite standing in the bathroom, Moira heard the familiar click of the front door opening. She shut the blow dryer off even with her damp hair still pressing against her ears and neck, and leaned into the small hallway.

  Frank offered a quiet greeting. Then Krista said hello.

  Then a third voice. A little girl?

  Moira closed her eyes, focusing on the voices.

  “I’m watching her for a friend. She’s cool,” Krista said.

  Moira positioned the weight of her feet equally to keep her steady, as if she was back in a deteriorating building with questionable structure. It was instinct now, it would always be instinct whenever she shifted her mind into scanning and listening. The afternoon sun came through the apartment’s windows down the hall, and as she opened her eyes, it took several seconds to adjust. However, even though he was out of view, Moira could picture Frank’s every gesture and pose as his quiet words filtered her way.

  “I heard you were bringing a helper today,” Frank said. From the squeak of the floorboards, and sound of footsteps, he must have motioned them in. “Moira’s just finishing her shower.” Then the sound of a bag slapping on the kitchen table. A light bag, so probably the one from the little girl. A squeak came, the familiar sound of the kitchen chair, the one on the back left that always made that noise when anyone sat in it, then the sound of unzipping. “So,” his voice now a few levels above a whisper, “Moira asked me today about scheduling a civil ceremony. Did you talk to her about this?”

  “Not specifically, no.”

  “Didn’t it seem a bit...out of nowhere to you?”

  Krista took in a breath. The girl remained quiet. “Brides freak out at times. I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. Sometimes it’s because they have cold feet, and sometimes it’s because they have unresolved issues.” Her tone remained even. Steady, professional. “I mean, PASD affects everyone these days.”

  “I’m not getting any of that from her, though.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “She said she thought it would be good for tax and insurance reasons. The newlywed tax credit, I think they’re trying to drive the economy with it. She’d mentioned the other day moving the date up, and now this.” He hesitated, and Moira practically saw his bushy brows forming nearly a single line. “This is all so sudden. It’s completely out of character. I’m worried about her.”

  “Well, we’ll talk about it. She asked me to explain options.”

  “Yeah,” Frank replied, his voice going even quieter. “Don’t tell her what I said, all right?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m great at keeping secrets.”

  “Right. Okay.” Frank sighed, probably arm up and hand rubbing the back of his head. “I’ll go get her.” The swish of his pants legs meant that he was coming this way.

  Before Moira ducked back into the bathroom, she picked up Krista’s voice, though it was quieter. “Subtle,” she said to the girl. “Do you know what subtle means?”

  “No.”

  “Like, um, sneaky.”

  “Oh. Sneaky. Got it.”

  Moira didn’t have time to ponder what this meant before Frank turned the corner. She stood in front of the mirror and grabbed the hand towel, rumpling it as if she were in miduse. “Are they here?” she called out before poking her head out into the hallway. “Oh! God, you scared me,” she said at Frank’s proximity.

  “Sorry about that. Krista’s here. And she brought company. You all right?”

  “Sure. One sec.”

  She let Frank get halfway down the hallway before following him, keeping an even trail behind. Both Krista and the girl looked up at him by the time she’d turned the corner, Krista still standing and the girl at the table, unpacking a Ziploc of crayons and a coloring book. Her parents or guardians or Krista or whoever must have gotten it from the new Benicia distribution center. They had pre-MGS manufactured electronics and furniture, why not coloring books? The girl sat quietly, the colors in front of her all neatly sketched within the lines of a bear wearing a hat and pants. Thankfully, the coloring book was of pre-pandemic cartoon characters and not a MoJo one.

  Moira’s dad hadn’t been shy about merchandising money all those years ago.

  “Thanks for chatting on such short notice.” Moira came out of the dim hallway barefoot in jeans and a tank top. “I wanted to talk with both of you about—” A sudden squeal cut her off.

  “MoJo!”

  The blood drained from Moira’s face and her heart began to pound so intensely that it might have ripped out of her chest. She blinked and told herself to steady her composure. Fortunately, both Krista and Frank now looked at the girl rather than her.

  Moira tried to read Krista’s face, but it remained inscrutable.

  “Oh!” The girl’s voice dropped to a whisper, hand over mouth at Krista, her words quiet enough that Frank probably missed them. Moira, though, had taught herself to tune in when people whispered about her. She’d picked those skills up years before the End of the World. “I mean, it’s MoJo. She looks like MoJo. She has the same line on her cheek.”

  The scar. She saw the scar.

  A tiny laugh came out as Krista knelt down, getting to Sunny’s height. She whispered something inaudible to the girl, then pulled back. “We’re here to work, remember?”

  “MoJo?” Frank said. “That singer in the news?” He squinted, then looked at his fiancée sideways. “Heh, I guess there’s some resemblance.”

  “Frank, you don’t even know what she looks like,” Moira bit out. Frank’s stunne
d expression showed that her forceful tone let her anxieties get the best of her.

  “Sorry for the outburst,” Krista said, her tone calm and words coming out a little slower than normal. This must have been where her professional experience came into the mix. PASD, the past, dead spouses, all of that had to interfere with emotions at family gatherings, even corporate events. Probably the first time teen pop stars came up, though. “Well, let’s talk about civil ceremonies. The pros and cons. Moira, this is Sunny. She’s my helper for the day.”

  “Sunny...” Moira said, her voice fading away, but her eyes darting back and forth. The name registered. Seconds later, her mind connected the face with the photo on Rob’s desk. “You’re...Rob’s daughter?” She noticed Krista watching her with a sudden inquisitiveness. Sunny nodded her reply, an enthusiastic bob that made her black hair shake up and down. “I’ve heard about you. Her dad works at PodStar,” she said to Frank.

  “Small world,” Frank said with a chuckle that came out a little too forced, probably trying to reset the mood in his own way.

  “Hi, Sunny,” Moira said, shaking out of her stupor to also come down to Sunny’s eye level. “My name is Moira. And this is Frank. You’re helping us talk about our wedding, right?”

  “Are you MoJo?” she whispered. “Can you sing ‘Love This World’? I know all the words.”

  “Sunny,” Krista started, slight exasperation getting into her tone.

  “Hey, maybe we should pretend and turn you in,” Frank said. “We’d be rich.” This time, it was Moira’s turn for a forced chuckle. Her whole body was tense, and she let out short, subtle breaths, trying to relax one part at a time. “You should have been a pop star.” Frank stepped behind her, giving a squeeze on the shoulder. It was probably meant to be joking, affectionate. But given the state of everything, Moira had to contain her overland instincts to elbow anyone who approached her from behind, then follow it up with a turn and a kick to the crotch. “You have a great voice. I don’t know why you don’t sing more.”