“I THINK YOU’RE probably the most sick, ugly, hateful person in the entire world,” said Jillian. “And so now I’m going to spend the rest of my energy letting God and Jesus know how much I hate you and how horrible you are and how much you deserve to suffer. You help me and you use it as a way to mock me? You do that and call yourself a Christian and think you won’t suffer the eternal fire for the crime of blasphemy?”

“Jillian, this is absurd. I’m hanging up. I’m going to hang up,” said Elena.

“I hope I die soon so I can tell God everything you’ve ever done to me,” Jillian screamed.

Elena hung up the phone.

“OH, GOD, you’re so lucky, you know?” said Megan, leaning in towards Carrie and smiling.

“I guess so,” said Carrie.

“I mean, you’re just so lucky that you get to turn your passion and your art into something commercial. You know, something you can make money off of.”

“Yeah, I love my job,” said Carrie.

Megan’s eyes flashed and she smiled wider. Amanda looked into that face and was frightened. She saw demons there. She saw through that smile and saw the poison in the eyes. Maybe it was the reflection of the tiki torches. Amanda drank from her beer and fumbled for a cigarette.

“It’s just so nice to see an artist make money off of their passion. Kind of makes us all feel like it’s not so hopeless after all,” said Megan.

Did Megan’s sentence trail off into a whisper, or was Amanda just transfixed by what she thought she saw in that expression?

“I have to go get another beer,” said Anthea. Megan straightened up. She had been hunched towards Carrie and grinning.

“Yeah, I kind of have to piss,” said Megan. She turned to smile at Amanda. The girls left. Carrie and Amanda looked confused.

ELENA WAS STANDING, suddenly feeling creepy. She walked around her house to make sure all of her doors were locked. She put the safety stopper locks on the windows and called her husband to ask if he would come home. She went to the kitchen and leaned against the counter and put her hand to her mouth and shook. She did not shake for remorse. She shook for rage and fear for her personal safety. She imagined Jillian breaking into her house. Elena would decapitate her if she tried anything. She glanced at the knife drawer.

MEGAN TOSSED her empty into a trashcan and walked up the back porch steps. She had that kind of feeling that should probably be embarrassing, but is too overwhelming at the time to be embarrassing. That kind of studly, cinematic feeling that comes after a massive, psychic unburdening.