That was just the beginning. Now it was September and faking it had become almost second nature. The fridge was stocked with green juices, Stuart had changed all the lightbulbs to ones that mimicked rays of real sunlight, and the bedside table was laden with self-help books about coping and parenting with MS. They’d replaced the couch in the open-plan kitchen-living room with a queen-size bed where Mandy spent all her time. Teddy had started playing and reading to himself on the bed so he could be near her. Stuart bought fancy organic frozen meals at Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s. The three of them ate dinner and watched movies in the bed. It was nice. But Stuart thought she was deteriorating. He was alarmed. He kept reminding her to call the doctor to set up “another round of tests,” maybe get a second opinion. Pretty soon Mandy was going to have to decide whether to continue faking it, or pretend to try some new vitamins or experimental drug and make a miraculous recovery.

The thing was, she’d already gotten so used to pretending, it had become real. The idea of attempting to do anything—walk to the corner deli for toilet paper, open the mail, pay the bills, attend to the Blind Mice fan page, shop online for new clothes for Teddy—just seemed exhausting. She had always been the “responsible adult” in their marriage, the one who made sure the bills and taxes were paid and filed, Teddy’s shots up-to-date, Stu’s fan mail in order. Now she used Post-its for toilet paper until Stu brought home more. The bills stacked up under the bed, unopened, and the late fees accumulated. The fans continued to post adoring stupid shit whether anyone responded or not. And when Stu took Ted for his checkup, even Dr. Goldberg said Ted’s short pants looked fine with long socks.

Besides, she liked it. She liked pretending to have MS and staying in bed. It didn’t feel like she was doing nothing. It felt like she was doing something earned and deserved. She was resting.

Breathless, Peaches returned from Key Food. “They didn’t have Pantene, but Suave is just as good.” She set down a plastic shopping bag containing three bottles of conditioner, a family-size box of Cheez-Its, and two cans of Dr Pepper. “I’m afraid you’re going to smell like coconuts for a while. Sorry, it was the only white conditioner they had.” She cracked open one of the cans and offered it to him. “I got us a snack too. I couldn’t resist.”

Stuart put the soda can down on top of her desk. He hadn’t moved from her swivel chair since she’d left. Knowing he was infested with lice had immobilized him. He watched her tear open the box of Cheez-Its.