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Chapter 3The next two nights, Jan starred in a dramatic remake of Monday, except without the friends, the bar or the bathmat. The days weren’t so hard, she had her hangovers to nurse and the sounds of people out and about kept her distracted, but the nights...
She spent each night alone in her apartment polishing off the rest of the amaretto Lisa had left her, along with several gallons of vodka. She spared glasses by drinking straight from the bottle and saved time by dragging her comforter into the bathroom and making up a bed for herself next to the toilet. She put her back to the wall and imagined someone was spooning her. When Lisa stopped by Thursday morning to check on her, Jan had finally hit rock bottom. She realized that a weekend of crying was bad, but replacing dating with drinking was pathetic. Her only accomplishment was that she had not once drunk-dialed, drunk-texted, or even drunk-emailed the ex. Since the no-dating ban forbade calling Mike with the ulterior motive of manipulating a reunion, Jan had not been tempted to contact him. The first words out of Lisa’s mouth that morning when Jan opened the door were, “Oh my god are you all right?” Jan sarcastically replied, “Good morning, Lisa. It’s nice to see you too.” Jan was in a foul mood. She had woken up on the wrong side of the bathroom floor. Her back ached from sleeping on the hard tile and her head was pounding from a hangover. She was definitely not in the mood for company. “I’m sorry, but you look awful. Are you sure you’re okay?” Lisa was studying Jan intently with the eyes of a medical student. She seemed to be considering calling 911. “I’m fine.” Jan wasn’t fine. She knew it, Lisa knew it, even the bathroom floor knew it. Lisa took a moment to formulate a response, then asked, “Should I get you a blanket or something? Maybe help you back to bed? You look exhausted.” “The comforter’s in the bathroom,” Jan replied without thinking. She flopped down onto her couch. The blanket would be a nice change. The leather couch was mighty cold. Lisa gave her a strange look and went to fetch the blanket. A shriek of terror emitted from the bathroom. An animated Lisa came running out moments later as if being chased by a creditor. She was carrying Jan’s pillow and comforter bundled up in a ball. “Have you been sleeping in the bathroom?” Lisa asked with wide-eyed concern. “Maybe,” Jan said. The conversation went downhill from there. Lisa threw the bundle dramatically at Jan’s feet, threatened to call an emergency intervention, and insisted that Jan at the very least get out of the house. Jan was pleased that she had finally found something to shock Lisa out of her usual reticence. Lisa’s performance was eerily similar to the reaction she had gotten from Juan the day before. Jan figured hysterics were going around like the flu. As Lisa ranted and raved, Jan replayed the ordeal in her mind to distract her from herself from the lecture. Jan hadn’t bothered to make her appearance presentable before yesterday’s class. She knew she looked horrible. Her hair was limp and lifeless under her hat. She couldn’t make herself put on makeup. Her teeth felt filmy and gross. It had been a week since she’d used a whitening strip. Without all the primping, Jan had made it to class on time. She had slumped into her seat next to Juan while foregoing her usual false optimism and had sat quietly as if on autopilot throughout the day. Anytime Juan asked how she was doing, she mumbled something unintelligible. He finally cornered her after class and demanded to know why she was acting so unlike herself. She told him that he was worrying over nothing and walked past him. Juan played with his hands for a moment and then, in a last-ditch effort to reach out to her, invited Jan over to “hang out and talk.” Jan’s usual experience with being invited over to a guy’s house to “hang out” usually involved anything but talking. She had been too numb to fake regret and had just mumbled, “No, thanks.” At that point Juan had given up. Her awareness was brought back to the present when she noticed Lisa was holding a Starbucks thermos. She knew instantly what Lisa was going to say next. As predicted, she announced that she was dragging Jan to meet Nichole for their weekly “chick chat” (Lisa's term) at the nearby Starbucks. Even though there was a Starbucks on campus, they preferred to go to the one on the corner of College Avenue and Lindo Paseo because there was less of a chance to run into people they didn’t like. Jan didn’t like anyone at the moment. She refused to go. Her adamant refusal fell on deaf ears. Lisa again threatened an intervention. The threat of more people invading Jan’s home changed her mind. “The next best thing to an intervention is coffee,” Lisa said before insisting Jan put on something that wasn't black. “Why?” Jan wailed like an infant. “Why can’t I wear what I want?” Lisa stood over Jan with her arms folded and a stubborn look on her face. Jan had never seen Lisa so determined. She offered a compromise of gray pants, a gray shirt, and the black hat to hide her hair. She went into her bedroom to change, dragging her comforter back into the bathroom on her way. Lisa made a face. “Must you wear that hat?” Jan had returned to the living room. She glanced at her hat in a bronze wall mirror. It did look a little worse for wear. Jan retorted, “Do you have a better idea?” “Not really,” Lisa admitted ushering Jan out the door. By the time they had reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the parking lot, Jan had begun to feel better. The fresh air and promise of caffeine was starting to wear down her self-pity. Against her wishes, Jan began an ascent out of her funk. She made Lisa go back upstairs so she could change into a bright blue shirt and ditch the hat. Vowing to call her stylist as soon as she got home, Jan humbly asked Lisa to help French braid her hair. Lisa did a horrible job, but it was the thought that counted. As they walked to the coffee shop, Jan itched to ask what exactly had happened on Monday night. Her mental pictures of the evening were stained with rum and amaretto. She vaguely remembered Nichole handing her off to Lisa and a little of the trip home. She hoped she hadn’t said anything horrible to Becki. With any luck she would never see her or her “boyfriend” again. “Hey, Jan!” Someone was calling her name. Startled, Jan searched for the source of the voice. “Jan, over here.” Oh, no! She grabbed Lisa's arm to steady herself. Lisa followed her gaze and saw the source of Jan's distress. Sitting next to Nichole at one of the tables outside of Starbucks, and waving like a woman overboard, was Becki. She got up and Jan grimaced. Becki looked bright and cheery in a pink sweat suit that went out of style years ago. Nichole smiled wickedly and rubbed her temples. Jan could see she was wearing her extra-dark hangover sunglasses. “What is she doing here?” Jan hissed, not referring to Nichole. Becki was already bouncing toward them. “If she hugs me again I swear to God I’ll… oomph.” Becki had thrown her arms around Jan and squeezed the air from her. She can sure move fast for a human buffalo, thought Jan. It wasn’t that Becki was that overweight; it was Jan’s intense dislike of her that made her unwanted presence appear enormous. Lisa giggled, then turned her attention to the ground and tucked one foot behind an ankle like a naughty kid. Becki hugged Lisa next then bounded back to the table. “Come on, you two,” she called over her shoulder. Jan refused to budge until she got an explanation. “What… how…” she sputtered. Lisa quietly spilled the details of how Nichole had let slip the existence of their Starbucks ritual last Monday night. She confessed that she hadn’t been able to bear the longing in Becki's face and had invited her to join them. Lisa reminded Jan that Becki was new to San Diego and didn’t have any friends. Jan snorted. She considered making a break for her apartment and going back to sleep in her bathroom. If Nichole hadn’t been there, Jan may have indeed turned around. The unspoken promise of solidarity and caffeine convinced her to step forward. She went inside to order; Lisa stayed outside with the girls. She usually made coffee at home and brought it with her in a Starbucks thermos. When Jan got to the table with a soy chai latte, Becki’s muffin-filled mouth was beaming at her again. Jan recoiled slightly. Nichole hadn’t yet gotten the chance to moan hello when Becki asked if Jan had talked to her ex-boyfriend recently. Jan got set to pounce over the table and strangle her. Just as Jan’s rear left her seat, Nichole’s hand made contact with her shoulder and shoved her back down. Jan snarled at Nichole but stayed in her seat. The sound seemed to hurt Nichole’s ears. Becki and Lisa blinked at them both in confusion. It had happened so fast, neither of them was sure they had seen anything at all. Jan sniped, “I am never talking to him, or any other male for that matter, ever again.” Nichole cut off Becki’s inevitable twenty-one questions and painfully explained Jan’s new anti-dating position. Poor Becki screwed up her face in consternation as if Nichole were a quantum physicist trying to explain entanglement to a four-year-old who spoke English as a second language. After several retellings, Becki seemed to grasp the basics. She was speechless. “Okay, so what are you going to do on holidays if you don't have a boyfriend?” Lisa asked. “Don't tell me you're going to spend every Christmas and Thanksgiving break with your parents.” Lisa had listened to Jan’s bitching often enough to know that the last place Jan wanted to be was within twenty miles of her mother, especially during the holidays. Jan hadn’t thought that far ahead. She said the first thing that came to mind. “I'm considering traveling abroad,” she relayed with confidence that fleeing the country was a reasonable solution. “If I'm in a place where I'm not force-fed holiday cheer, I probably won't even remember holidays exist.” “Uh-huh. I'm pretty sure Christmas at least is widely celebrated across the world. And what about Valentine's Day?” “Hallmark holiday. Doesn't count,” Jan said dismissively. “Holidays with significant others are too stressful anyway. It'll actually be refreshing not having to worry about Valentine's plans, birthdays, anniversaries, coordinating two Thanksgiving dinners, and simultaneous Christmas celebrations. And I'll save a ton of money on gifts.” Becki asked, “Won't you get lonely, sleeping by yourself every night?” She sounded a little nervous. I bet she's afraid of the dark, Jan thought. “No. It's nice having the bed to myself again,” Jan lied. “Though I guess someone may want to stay over some time. Do booty calls usually spend the night?” “No,” said Nichole automatically. “Look on the bright side, you certainly have enough birth control pills, just in case.” Nichole and Jan always went together to refill their prescriptions for Ortho Tri-Cyclen Lo so neither of them would forget. Jan’s face turned a delicate shade of pink. She surveyed the crowd. Apparently, contraception was a normal topic of discussion outside of Starbucks, she thought, relieved to notice that no one had looked up when Nichole mentioned birth control. “You could give them to charity,” Nichole suggested blandly. Jan wasn’t sure if this was meant as a joke. Perhaps Nichole was insinuating that she was charity. Jan admitted that she wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Sell them on eBay,” Becki suggested excitedly. Jan felt it would be bad karma to discourage what was probably the closest thing to a good idea Becki could have, but the opportunity to make herself feel superior was too tempting. “I'm pretty sure the FDA or someone watches out for that kinda thing,” Jan replied, smiling condescendingly at Becki before taking a sip of her latte. “I don't know, Jan,” said Nichole conspiratorially. “How do those kids in Montana and all those farm states get pills without a Planned Parenthood around?” “Maybe they take secret road trips to Mexico or something,” Becki squealed, nearly falling out of her chair with delight at the possibility of uncovering a secret. Jan said, “I guess they probably do take a tractor to the closest city and buy up as much as they can.” Becki looked a little deflated now that Jan had stolen her thunder and turned her idea into a semi-rational theory. Jan didn't notice. Lisa did. “I'm sure some people do go to Mexico for stuff like that. It's probably a lot cheaper and easier to come by.” Becki beamed. Jan and Nichole scrunched up their faces. Jan stuck her tongue out. “Ick. Why would anyone want to go to Mexico?” “Except maybe Cancun for spring break,” said Nichole. “Or Costa Rica,” said Becki, to which even Lisa rolled her eyes. Jan was not a cat person. She found cats’ neurotic behavior, in which one minute they were cold and aloof, and another needy and purring, oddly disturbing. And yet on her lap was an orange tabby cat that made Garfield look anorexic. It was purring contently and prodding her thighs. The cat had immediately pounced on her lap as soon as she had sat down on their favorite stool in Lisa’s apartment. Jan tried to make her feelings clear to Lisa's cat, Reminder, but in normal cat-like fashion he had pretended not to understand.
Reminder had been a gift from Lisa's less-than-intelligent ex-boyfriend, a gift that had been politely refused but Lisa had gotten stuck with anyway. Apparently, cats weren’t returnable without a receipt. The tabby was supposed to be a reminder of her boyfriend’s affections, but instead had reminded Lisa how much she preferred being single. “Would you like something to drink?” Lisa called from the kitchen, which in the studio apartment was actually part of the same “living room” Jan was sitting in. “Do you have any Smart water?” “No,” Lisa replied. A concerned look came over her face. “You do know it's called Smart water because Glaceau adds electrolytes, right? Not because it makes you smarter?” “Of course,” Jan lied. “It tastes better,” she added, which was true. “Not as good as coffee,” countered Lisa as she washed her empty Starbucks thermos in the sink. Lisa lived on coffee. Jan had gotten Lisa a coffee mug for her twenty-second birthday that read, “Smart girls finish first” on the front and “We can cheat and not get caught” on the back. When Jan had presented Lisa with the mug, the birthday girl had seemed a little put off by the implication that her healthy grade point average could be a symptom of cheating. She had gotten over it, sort of. “I'll take some juice if you have any,” said Jan, trying in vain to push Reminder off her lap. Alas, poor Jan had only two hands, while the cat had four paws and twenty-two claws. Her attempts at nudging him off produced only pain as Reminder dug his claws deeper into her legs and hissed. Jan finally gave up, at which point, Reminder jumped down and walked into the kitchen. I hate that cat! Reminder moseyed over to Lisa and affectionately rubbed his body against her legs, purring louder than the motor on a classic V12 Jaguar. Lisa bent over to give him a quick pet and was rewarded with kitty kisses on the back of her hand. Jan tried not to puke. She suspected that Reminder was deliberately trying to drive her insane to keep her away from his precious owner. The painful little scratches he inflicted upon her were all part of his master plan. Lisa asked, “So what's this project you need help with anyway?” Jan had manipulated Lisa into helping her with homework instead of meeting with her study group at the library. “Just some stupid anatomy stuff.” Jan had stopped by her apartment on the way home from Starbucks and grabbed her assignment. “I have to name bones and muscles and label their origin and insertion points,” Jan continued as she put the papers on the counter. “They gave me a packet of diagrams to fill in and tons of reading to do.” “Hmm... and you didn't do the reading, right?” Lisa guessed, handing Jan a glass of pomegranate juice before heading back into the kitchen to make herself more coffee. Jan replied meekly, “I tried to, but this week's been kind of rough on me.” She adopted a poor-me look. It worked. Lisa was terrified that Jan would become suicidal if she wasn't sufficiently coddled. “Okay, so how much is there left to do?” Lisa crossed her arms and began tapping the counter impatiently, irritated with the speed of her coffee machine. “Well... all of it,” said Jan. “They only assigned it last Friday, a freaking week before the project was due. That's really unfair, don't you think? Especially for something as boring, I mean difficult, as anatomy.” Jan batted her eyelashes adoringly. Somehow an eyelash got loose and fell into her right eye. Jan began to blink frantically to flush it out. Lisa’s attention was riveted on her machine. “Not really,” said Lisa under her breath, “I can’t remember the last time I had a week to finish a project.” The coffee machine beeped and Lisa eagerly pulled the pot off the burner. She opened her cupboard and appeared to be reaching for a plain coffee mug when she glanced at Jan and grabbed the infamous birthday mug instead. Lisa poured herself some free-trade hazelnut coffee. “Aah,” she sighed. She sunk back against the counter top and let out another coffee-induced sigh of contentment. Jan was grateful that Lisa was not on one of her anti-coffee crusades, which always left her tired, irritable, and of no use to Jan. Anti-something crusades were common for Lisa. She was a diehard health nut and a part-time vegetarian who exercised regularly, ate fruits and vegetables regularly, and unintentionally made everyone else feel like pigs—regularly. Coffee was her Achilles heel and the part of her Jan liked best, besides her brain. Lisa turned to Jan with an expression of puzzlement. “If you don’t have an interest in anatomy, why are you becoming a massage therapist?” “Anatomy isn't that big a part of massage. You have to learn it, but then you can pretty much forget it. As long as you don’t jam your elbow into people's ribs they’ll be happy.” “I think you need to know a little bit more about human anatomy then where the ribs are so you can avoid them.” Jan shrugged. “Anyway, a little anatomy is better than taking two science classes at State.” She was referring to the minimum requirement for a non-science degree. “Besides, massage is actually really fun, and easier than most things. It's nice not to have to rely on my brain all the time.” Lisa almost chocked on her coffee. Jan was too caught up in her semi-rehearsed speech to notice. “And it'll be really easy to get a job when I graduate,” Jan said, remembering some convenient, if questionable, facts she had read on the Internet. “Did you know it’s predicted that seventy percent of women won’t be able to find a job in their field within six months of graduation? Ten percent won’t be able to find a job at all. My school has a ninety percent success rate for students finding work after they graduate. Even my mother can respect that logic.” Uh-oh, thought Jan, tensing slightly. I shouldn't have mentioned Mother. Lisa responded on cue, “I really think you should tell your mother you quit college.” Jan winced. Lisa seemed to believe that the financial support Jan received from her parents entitled them to know everything that went on in her life. Jan suspected this was because Lisa was jealous. Her parents were unable to help with tuition. When her little sister had gotten sick she had needed constant care. Her mother had to quit her teaching job, leaving the family to survive off her father’s meager salary. They had accrued a lot of debt over the years. Then there were the funerals to pay for. The year that Jan and Nichole had taken off to travel, Lisa had spent working in an emergency room as a registrar and patient account representative to save money for school. At the end of the year, Grossmont College was the best school she could afford. She had to continue working part-time while taking classes full-time at Grossmont to be able to afford the transfer to State. With her savings and the financial aid package SDSU offered her, Jan figured Lisa was managing, but she had never asked. “I will tell her soon,” Jan snapped. “Though just so you know I put all the money the school refunded me into a savings account. I'm not using a penny of it for my massage classes.” Lisa appeared mollified. “I think it’s great you’re taking responsibility for your education.” Jan knew Lisa meant financial responsibility but nodded anyway. What Lisa didn't know, and Jan wasn't saying, was that her dad had agreed to pay for massage school. He opted to let Jan tell her mother when she was ready about dropping out of State. The refunded money was being saved until then. Jan's parents, thankfully, kept separate bank accounts and lived separate lives. Her mother was consumed completely with running her law firm. Her father was content playing tennis and avoiding responsibility. He said he was allergic to stress. Lisa interrupted Jan’s thoughts. “You told your dad though, right?” “Of course,” Jan said. “He, at least, is sane. Besides, how else would I get him to pay for school?” It took a few seconds for Jan to realize that she had let her secret slip. Lisa grabbed Jan's assignment off the counter, marched over to her desk (which was in her “bedroom”), and started filling in the diagrams. This gave her something to do other than murdering Jan, which would traumatize her cat. Jan wasn't fazed. She knew Lisa would have found out eventually and it wasn't like she was doing anything wrong. She shrugged her shoulders and looked around for something to occupy her attention. Reminder, ready for round two, hissed and sprung toward her. As soon as Lisa finished the project she forced Jan to look over it in an effort to make her learn something. She then semi-politely kicked Jan out, saying she needed to hurry or she would miss her study group. Having nothing to do for the next twenty something hours, Jan went back to her apartment to put something on the painful little reminders the cat had etched into her lap. As she located a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, she briefly considered getting Lisa the Cat Caps she saw at the grocery store as an early Christmas present. They were supposed to go over cats' claws to keep them from scratching. As the peroxide burned and fizzed, Jan made a mental note to pick some up at her first opportunity. That done, Jan moved into the living room, dropping her comforter back on her bed as she passed by, and flopped down on her La-Z-Girl chair. She turned on the TV and was quite upset to find nothing appealing on for anyone over the age of twelve at 3 p.m. in the afternoon. She tried instead to amuse herself with her computer, but none of her buddies were signed on to chat and she didn't have any new emails. She briefly considered catching up on her magazine reading (too nice a day), going to the beach (too cold), going to the mall (too far), and finally calling the ex (Hell no!). Jan sighed. Having exhausted all the things she normally did when she was bored, Jan considered going back to bed. I need a hobby, she decided instead. She called Lisa, who had just walked into the library and had been reaching to turn her cell off. Jan explained her predicament. “Join a gym,” Lisa whispered and hung up, embarrassed. Jan was perturbed at Lisa for hanging up on her and did not call her back to ask which gym she should join. State’s gym was for students and faculty only, so she couldn't work out there. She pictured all out-of-date, rusty and possibly dangerous equipment and thought maybe it was better this way. Everybody knew state schools were scandalously underfunded. She walked over to her desk and searched online for nearby gyms. She found several places downtown, but decided that was too risky. Her parents lived on Coronado Island, only a bridge's length away, and her mother's law firm was downtown. What if Jan was seen by one of her parents' friends or her mother's employees? It might get back that Jan had joined a gym downtown. Her mother would want to know why Jan wasn't using her school's gym instead. Somehow, the old exercise equipment rationale didn't seem like something her mother would buy. Jan was at a loss as to what to do next. So, she did what she thought every woman over eighteen does when faced with a problem she couldn't solve easily, she called Daddy. “Mr. Weston's phone,” announced the frosty, borderline bitchy voice of her dad's personal assistant, Ms. Black. Jan's dad had once told her that Ms. Black was happily married to a Mr. Black, but considered “Mrs.” to be an outdated and anti-feminist title. In the background, Jan could hear the sounds of golf clubs hitting their targets, men yelling “fore” and a few swear words mixed in for good measure. Jan assumed her father had taken a break from tennis to visit the driving range. Jan had met Ms. Black only once on a “take your daughter to work” day. Her mother had offered to take her to the firm, but Jan had been too intimidated. She had instead been treated to six hours of watching her dad win several tennis matches. Ms. Black had spent the day yawning, filing her nails, and reading a trashy romance novel with one ankle tucked ladylike behind the other. Jan had marveled at how clean the woman was able to keep her black suit and how her hair had stayed done up in a conservative bun without falling one millimeter out of place. Jan envied the tasteful gold earrings she wore, but mostly she was jealous that this strange older woman got to spend so much time with her father. Jan didn’t understand then why her father needed a personal assistant when he didn’t do anything. His grandparents had left him enough money to afford such a luxury. She knew now that her father had hired a trophy personal assistant. Ms. Black was a status symbol, conspicuous consumption on its most biological level. Jan pulled her mind back to the present and said, “This is Jan, Ms. Black. Can I speak to my father, please?” Something about Ms. Black always made Jan feel the need to be formal. “One moment, please. I'll see if he's available.” Jan balked. Available? For his own daughter? Jan was miffed but not surprised. Her dad treated her like a tennis buddy, glad to hear from her, certainly willing to help when needed, but never overcome with joy when she called. “Hey, Jan.” Her dad came on the line. Not honey, not sweetheart, not apple of my eye. Her dad always called her “Jan” except for a brief time when Jan was eleven and getting to be a pretty good little tennis player: then, she was “sport.” “Hey, Dad,” Jan answered with false enthusiasm. She forced herself to smile, hoping what her mother said about smiles conveying happiness through a phone line was true, even if they were both using wireless phones. She hated sounding depressed when she spoke to her father. It made her unhappier when he didn't notice. “Um, I have a question for you.” Her father laughed. “I'm guessing you're not wondering how the stock market's doing, eh?” She wasn't offended. Her dad was just teasing. He didn't have a clue about the stock market either. Besides, it was her mother who thought she was an airhead. “Actually, I've decided to join a gym and I was hoping you could suggest one.” And pay for it, Jan added silently. It wasn't silent enough. “And pay for it, right?” Her dad laughed again. It was a kind laugh, though. Jan's dad was super laid-back and generally found humor in everything. He never actually insulted anybody, which people found endearing. But before Jan could answer, he continued, “Just go to the country club. They have a fitness center and we already have a family membership.” She had forgotten about the family membership. He had upgraded from a single membership when Jan had shown an interest in tennis. The sixth-grade class catch, Bobby, had started taking lessons and suddenly Jan decided tennis was her calling. She found herself loving the challenge tennis presented, so much she didn’t notice when Bobby moved on to fencing. However, Jan’s interest had lasted about five minutes after her father heard she was getting pretty good and had started critiquing her every move. She knew he meant well, but after he had ignored her for the better part of her life she didn’t know how to tell him he was hurting her feelings. “Really, does mom ever use the club?” Jan inquired slyly. Chuckle. “No way. She says the people there are too pretentious for her.” Jan was happy to hear someone else laughing at her mother for once, even if that wasn’t exactly what he was doing. She was even happier to discover a place where she wouldn't run into her mother. “But hey, I've got to go. Lots to do today. Bye, Jan.” Click. “Thanks, Dad,” Jan said, knowing he had hung up already. Maybe someday her dad would stay on the line long enough to hear her say goodbye. The Coronado Country Club was très chic. One did not simply rush over to the country club as one would to a grocery store or an outlet mall. One had to prepare. It was a rule that everyone must be impeccably groomed, impeccably dressed, and impeccably perfect to even park there. Jan was none of those things so she sat down on her couch, turned the TV back on, and called her stylist, Raven. Raven, at least, wouldn't hang up on her. Click here to read Chapter 4 |
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