Further Down the Spiral - July 1999
"It's too big, it won't fit. I told you this would be painful, but you've got a one-track mind."
I leaned back in my chair, not ready to give up yet. "I can't stop now, I'm close. It's right in front of me, if I could just..."
Aaron cut me off. "It's not happening with your internet connection. You're trying to download a full disk image, almost a gig, over a 56k connection. The server will keep timing out... Hell, I'm surprised you can connect at all."
Two weeks of searching online for Perfect Wife Inc. and this was all I had. A ghost... or to be more specific a.ghost disk image file. I had no idea what the hell it was or how I could open it. That's why Aaron, my old debate club partner and class 'hacker,' was on the phone with me.
"Are you sure you can't just come over and walk me through this in person? I can't talk and browse; my house only has one line." I glanced down at the notes I'd made so far and already knew I was lost. "How do I even install the FTP? Just bike over here."
"No can do, good buddy." I heard Aaron typing away while he talked. "House arrest. You know that."
He was exaggerating, but not by much. After accessing some teacher's personal documents on the school network, he'd been suspended and grounded. Aaron didn't even walk at graduation; he got his diploma mailed after some community service.
"So how do I download it? Can you do it for me? I could swing by and pick it up..." I was desperate.
"Nope. You're going to need a T1 line if you want to snag that baby."
"And where do I find one of those?"
"Not in Bedford. We're not wired for fiber. Closest one is..." He stopped typing. "Hey, aren't you going to State this fall?"
Over the last few weeks, while I was doing my online research, Naomi was gathering intel on her mother. She was still too freaked out by the whole situation to straight up ask her mom, so she'd started spending quality time with Junko. I'd been concerned it would seem out of character, blowing her chance at keeping a low profile, but Naomi was insistent.
"Ryan, she asks me to go with her to the salon every day," Naomi had explained over the phone when we'd been discussing our plans. "I never thought I'd be glad she didn't get the hint after the thousandth time. And if I so much as hint at wanting to go shopping, she's got her purse out and the car running."
I was glad to finally spent some time with her in person. We'd mostly been talking over the phone, though with all the time I was trying to eke out with the modem, our communication had been uncomfortably sparse this last week.
I was picking up Naomi at her house. It was a 90-minute drive to State, but it seemed like our only shot at getting that file. My parents' car was a manual, so Naomi would be riding shotgun both ways. I nervously put the transmission in neutral and rolled down the driver's side window, letting in the cool morning breeze. I stared off into the sky, blue and cloudless.
"Heeey Brian!"
I didn't even recognize the voice at first. Across the lawn, I saw someone waving from the front door of Naomi's house.
"Ok, mom! Love ya!" The figure ducked back in and emerged with a picnic basket. She crossed the lawn toward the car. Her white and red floral sundress was shifting slightly with the breeze, still clinging to her figure in all the right spots.
Was this some friend of Naomi's who'd decided to tag along? My brain still wasn't catching up to what I was seeing. I got out of the car to meet this bubbly, tanned girl.
It wasn't until she reached the curb, just feet away from me, that I realized who was greeting me.
"N-Naomi?" My shock did nothing to temper her enthusiasm.
"Oh, Ryan!" She ran right over, throwing her arms around me. The picnic basket's wicker scratched across my back, catching my shirt.
"Oops!" She immediately began checking the fabric for snags. "I'm so sorry! I've been such a silly klutz lately!"
"Naomi." I gently grabbed both her hands, trying to get her focus.
"Yes, Ryan?" She looked up at me, squinting in the sun. Her smile was wide, with just a hint of the normal old smirk that had been her trademark throughout high school. Her makeup and hair were impeccable; no goth-heavy eyeliner, no streak of blue dye. She looked like she'd stepped out of an Abercrombie poster.
"You look... really different?" I said, still drinking her in.
"Aww, do you like?" She pulled back slightly, still holding my hands, and spun side to side. "My mom and I went shopping this week. I know it's not what I normally wear, but if I've got to go undercover, I might as well have some fun! Right?!"
She giggled and leaned in for a kiss. I swear to god, she pulled up her right heel slightly when our lips touched like some giddy school girl swooning.
"Are you feeling alright?" I pulled back slightly, confused and concerned about this new attitude and look. Was this the Perfect Wife program? It seemed impossible that she could have changed so radically with just that one viewing.
"Oh..." Naomi bit her lip and looked down, genuinely crestfallen at my lack of enthusiasm. "You don't like it? I thought I'd look pretty for you."
"No, no, god, no," I stammered. "You look amazing! It's just really, really different. I didn't even recognize you when you first came outside."
"Really? You think I look amazing?" I nodded in response, and Naomi giggled and clapped. "Yay! I hoped you'd like it!"
"But... are you feeling like yourself?" I picked up the picnic basket and opened the passenger door for her. Whatever was in there smelled delicious. "Did you... did you bake?"
"Well, of course, silly!" she said, sliding into the car and smoothing out her dress to avoid wrinkles. "You've been so, so helpful these last few weeks! Doing all the hard work, being so thoughtful and caring! The least I could do is make some cookies for my strong, smart boyfriend!"
"Right..." I closed her door, set the basket in the back seat and got behind the wheel. I know I should have pushed the issue, tried to argue against her gleeful acceptance... but this was too much to process rationally. I didn't know where to begin, so I just started driving.
Naomi was more than happy to fill the silence. Over the next ninety minutes, she gushed over what she'd been up to since I'd last seen her.
She talked about her new outfits. How her mother had given her a new credit card, which they'd almost maxed out their first afternoon at the mall. Naomi breathlessly listed off all the stores they'd visited, as if each one had been a religious experience. Her mecca was now Victoria's Secret and she'd been converted to the church of Hollister.
She talked about her new gym routine, how her mother had bought her all new workout clothes, and how cute she looked in them.
"It kinda bothered me at first how many guys were checking me out, but my mother said I'd get used to it. And, yeah, it's kinda cool that so many guys think I'm hot, right?" She caught herself, suddenly concerned that she'd said something out of line. For a brief moment, I hoped she'd realized how out of character this all was.
"Oh, oh..." she whispered. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the horrified look on her face.
"Oh... Ryan." She put her hand lightly on my shoulder. "I didn't mean..."
I sighed, prematurely, in relieved anticipation of the revelation I thought was at hand.
"I mean, like, I just want you to think I'm hot. I would never want you to think I cared more about some random hottie at the gym!" She was close to tears, searching for words. "I just like looking sexy, but, it's... like... well, I like knowing I'll look good for you. Ya know?"
I exhaled. Naomi hung on my silence with bated patience, holding for my answer, my forgiveness.
