Sure, but what are Bobby’s supporters going to do? Buy more shoes to make up for the loss in sales from the boycotts?
Her next message comes in a second later:
Is Bobby taking this seriously?
Nick starts to compose a response when yet another message comes through.
Have Sales do two things: 1. Check the big box contracts (most likely to be affected) to see if they can return merchandise at their discretion. Pay particular attention to the force majeure and morality clauses. 2. Push for made-for items in the next quarter (e.g. Alma Boots for Nordstrom), even exclusive colors would work, this way they won’t be able to return anything.
Nick chews on the inside of his mouth. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of the big box stores being able to return items. Surely, Alma Boots’ contracts don’t allow for that? Still, it’s worth checking. Alice is usually right about these things.
Before he can shoot Doug an email, another message from Alice flashes on his screen.
Did Bobby green-light personalization?
It’s a no-go, Nick writes back. Alice will be disappointed, but better she knows about it now.
FFS. It’s like Bobby wants the company to file for bankruptcy.
His brother absolutely does not want Alma Boots to go bankrupt, but Nick isn’t about to get into a discussion with Alice about this. Not now. He’s eager to go home, to put up Halloween decorations with his daughter. That’s what Alice should be doing right now: making memories with Allegra. Nick is envious of all her free time, and resentful of the fact that she doesn’t seem to take advantage of it. For a stay-at-home mom, she does very little mothering.
It hasn’t always been this way. When Alice was pregnant with Allegra, she’d been eager to be a mother. A little stunned, too—they’d both been shocked to find out she was pregnant—but undeniably happy. She was looking forward to doting on her babies. To giving the love she was never able to receive. Nick had been the one who had been terrified, not because he didn’t love the idea of fatherhood (he did!) but because of the curse. The relief he felt when Allegra turned out not to be a twin was rivaled only by the relief he felt when his mom told him that Gina was only having one baby after all. Tish felt the same way. She denied it, but Nick knows his mother.
Everyone in his family is terrified of the curse. And with good reason.
The Dewar Curse killed his Uncle Michael and his Great-Uncle David, neither of whom he’d met. Growing up, Nick had heard the townspeople whisper that, if the curse had its way, either him or Bobby would die before they had children of their own. It explained why Tish watched Nick and Bobby like a hawk. When Nick announced that he was taking a year off to travel the world, she’d nearly had a fit. As that year turned into a decade, Nick grew used to her soft sighs whenever he called to let her know that he was safe. Nick is certain that the day he moved back to Alma had been one of the happiest of his mother’s life.
Little does Tish know that the curse has already struck him.
Much like the flu virus or cancer cells, the curse has mutated. It has kept him alive, biologically speaking. But it has killed him on the inside, stripped him of his ability to feel pleasure or love. Nick feels dead. He has ever since Pearl left him.
And he deserves it, too. He committed the very worst of betrayals—Bobby is his brother, his twin. It is a fitting punishment, not being able to feel joy.
The exception: his daughter. For some reason, Nick had gotten a pass when Allegra was born. In her presence, he is alive. He is filled with love. Whether this is an oversight or an act of compassion on the curse’s part, he does not know.
He does a good job at hiding his malaise. On the outside, Nick is carefree, fun. Fun is his specialty. He’s generous with his time and with his smiles. People look at him—young, athletic, wealthy—and his life—beautiful wife, adorable daughter, great job—and think: that man is lucky. They are wrong.
Nick Dewar is a cursed man.
Twenty-Five
Zofia
Tuesday, October 1st
Dr. Woodward wants to know how Zofia is handling the coverage of the Alma Boots scandal on TV. That is how Dr. Woodward phrases it: the Alma Boots scandal. Given that Dr. Woodward isn’t prone to drama, Zofia infers that Dr. Woodward is merely repeating the term embraced by the media. Zofia takes out her blue notebook and writes I don’t watch TV, which is something that Dr. Woodward would know if he had been paying attention. Zofia has filled quite a few pages of her orange notebook with her reasons for disliking TV. Now, Dr. Woodward reads Zofia’s answer and chuckles, which is confusing to Zofia since she hasn’t made a joke. Dr. Woodward asks Zofia if she’s read anything about the Alma Boots scandal and then posits that such readings might be upsetting to Zofia. The answer is yes on both counts, but Zofia chooses to stay silent. Since she stopped speaking, fifteen months ago, Zofia has developed the rather impressive ability to withstand uncomfortable silences. She shouldn’t even call them that anymore, since she seldom finds silence to be uncomfortable. Sounds, on the other hand, bother her immensely, which is part of the reason why she doesn’t watch TV.
Interview with Karen Park and Lauren Park—mother and daughter
Karen: Member of
