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Authors: Jeanne Ray
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small bite off the edge of a cherry Danish and then picked up the tray. There she saw the twenty-dollar bill that someone in the group had left for her. After checking the door over her shoulder to make sure it wasn’t a test, she plucked the money up and put it in the pocket of her uniform. She then went around the circle and picked up all the Kleenex off the carpet one by one before pushing her cart back out of the room. After a few minutes of waiting, someone finally got up and shut the door behind her.
“At least she didn’t stack the chairs,” someone said.
“Or vacuum.”
Once we were alone again it felt as if some of our energy had left us. We were all thinking the same thing—that none of us was quite as invisible as that girl.
“Lila?” Jo Ellen said.
Mrs. Robinson sighed. “No, nothing else.”
“But wait,” I said, confused by what seemed to me to be a key point. “This is Clover again. There are people out there who know that we’re invisible? I mean, it isn’t a secret?”
“Absolutely not. The only time it’s a secret is when we make it a secret out of shame or fear of rejection,” a voice said, sounding like she was reading off part of the invisible women manifesto. “Plenty of people know we’re there and they just continue to ignore us. They say we make them uncomfortable. They say they don’t know how to deal with us. We don’t fit in the system. Nobody talks about us.”
We sat in silence with that one for a good long time. We were gone and no one missed us and none of us knew what to say.
“Next order of business,” Jo Ellen said finally, trying to steer the meeting away from the topic, which had caused a good bit of sniffling in the circle. “Rosemary, do you have a medical report?”
Rosemary cleared her throat to pull herself together. “I’ve been calling Dexter-White every day. I actually got through to a senior chemist on Thursday, a total fluke. He agreed to meet me next week in the shampoo section of the Cheltenham Target at noon.”
The group made a collective sound that was somewhere between hopefulness and pleasure, half ooohhh and half aaahhh . Only Rosemary was unimpressed by the news. “We’ll see if he shows,” she said.
“Dexter-White the pharmaceutical company?” I asked. “In Philadelphia?”
“One and the same,” Rosemary said.
“What do they have to do with this?”
“Everything in the world,” Alice said. “Assuming you’re taking Premacore hormone replacement therapy, and Ostafoss calcium supplement, and Singsall antidepressant, all Dexter-White drugs.”
“It’s that exact combination for all of us,” Rosemary said.
“Plus we’ve all tried Botox at least once, but we don’t know if that has anything to do with it.”
I had done this to myself? Someone had done this to me? Someone knew this was happening and still continued to do it to other women? “I’m assuming—”
“We’ve all stopped taking the pills,” Jo Ellen said. “We’re invisible, not stupid.”
“It’s a perfectly reasonable question,” Mrs. Robinson said in my defense. “You don’t need to be short.”
“I’ve been looking at maps of Philadelphia,” Rosemary said. “I think I’ve figured out how to get from the airport to the Target using public transportation.”
“Couldn’t you just take a taxi?” I asked. “Wear a coat and a hat. You can get a cab.”
“True,” Laura Worthington said. “But then you can’t get on the plane.”
“Anyway, I’d like someone to come with me, preferably someone with medical connections who knows how to ask questions.”
The room fell quiet. No one seemed interested in flying to Philly. I had a husband and a brother who were doctors, and, even though it seemed like an impossibly long time ago, I had once been a reporter. “I’ll do it,” I said finally.
“Up and back in a day,” Rosemary said, her voice sounding both happy and relieved. “No one’s even going to notice you’re
“At least she didn’t stack the chairs,” someone said.
“Or vacuum.”
Once we were alone again it felt as if some of our energy had left us. We were all thinking the same thing—that none of us was quite as invisible as that girl.
“Lila?” Jo Ellen said.
Mrs. Robinson sighed. “No, nothing else.”
“But wait,” I said, confused by what seemed to me to be a key point. “This is Clover again. There are people out there who know that we’re invisible? I mean, it isn’t a secret?”
“Absolutely not. The only time it’s a secret is when we make it a secret out of shame or fear of rejection,” a voice said, sounding like she was reading off part of the invisible women manifesto. “Plenty of people know we’re there and they just continue to ignore us. They say we make them uncomfortable. They say they don’t know how to deal with us. We don’t fit in the system. Nobody talks about us.”
We sat in silence with that one for a good long time. We were gone and no one missed us and none of us knew what to say.
“Next order of business,” Jo Ellen said finally, trying to steer the meeting away from the topic, which had caused a good bit of sniffling in the circle. “Rosemary, do you have a medical report?”
Rosemary cleared her throat to pull herself together. “I’ve been calling Dexter-White every day. I actually got through to a senior chemist on Thursday, a total fluke. He agreed to meet me next week in the shampoo section of the Cheltenham Target at noon.”
The group made a collective sound that was somewhere between hopefulness and pleasure, half ooohhh and half aaahhh . Only Rosemary was unimpressed by the news. “We’ll see if he shows,” she said.
“Dexter-White the pharmaceutical company?” I asked. “In Philadelphia?”
“One and the same,” Rosemary said.
“What do they have to do with this?”
“Everything in the world,” Alice said. “Assuming you’re taking Premacore hormone replacement therapy, and Ostafoss calcium supplement, and Singsall antidepressant, all Dexter-White drugs.”
“It’s that exact combination for all of us,” Rosemary said.
“Plus we’ve all tried Botox at least once, but we don’t know if that has anything to do with it.”
I had done this to myself? Someone had done this to me? Someone knew this was happening and still continued to do it to other women? “I’m assuming—”
“We’ve all stopped taking the pills,” Jo Ellen said. “We’re invisible, not stupid.”
“It’s a perfectly reasonable question,” Mrs. Robinson said in my defense. “You don’t need to be short.”
“I’ve been looking at maps of Philadelphia,” Rosemary said. “I think I’ve figured out how to get from the airport to the Target using public transportation.”
“Couldn’t you just take a taxi?” I asked. “Wear a coat and a hat. You can get a cab.”
“True,” Laura Worthington said. “But then you can’t get on the plane.”
“Anyway, I’d like someone to come with me, preferably someone with medical connections who knows how to ask questions.”
The room fell quiet. No one seemed interested in flying to Philly. I had a husband and a brother who were doctors, and, even though it seemed like an impossibly long time ago, I had once been a reporter. “I’ll do it,” I said finally.
“Up and back in a day,” Rosemary said, her voice sounding both happy and relieved. “No one’s even going to notice you’re
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