At 14, she checked out Shel Silverstein’s “The Giving Tree” from the library near her house in Kingsgate. She read about the tree who gave everything until there was nothing left. Someone told her the story was about unconditional love. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean. Libraries used to be her favorite place. There wasn’t a library in The Community. They gave people a skewed perception of romance and interfered with participants’ natural inclinations. Couldn’t extract what she already read, though.

      A rotary phone sat in the middle of the metal table. Eliza hadn’t seen one since early childhood, and even then, it was a relic shoved into the back of her mother’s closet. Her mom let her take it out and pretend to make important calls to places only the phone could go. Mars, Narnia, the place where the dead went, Queens. The technology was flaccid and useless, and yet there it was. Beige, bland, benign.

    The whole room looked different. The muted chill reminded Eliza of those cop shows her mom had loved. Mom would laugh at the parallels if she were alive. All that was missing was a stale cup of coffee and a grizzled detective with shaky hands who had seen too much.

      A red light popped on above the mirrored wall.           

Eliza picked away at her thumb, leaving a raw patch. She smiled at the nearly bleeding flesh knowing how much Spencer would hate it. Outside, a cluster of footsteps clacked louder and louder down the fluorescent-lit hallway. The door creaked open and three men in matching Argyle sweater-vests entered, each a different color: Green, Maroon, Yellow. The sweaters were hideous. Were they a uniform? Eliza had never been interviewed by a team before, so she couldn’t be certain.

     “How are you today?” Maroon said.

     “Fine, I guess.”

     The Sweaters nodded, heads tilted, brows furrowed in well-rehearsed synchronicity. Eliza barely looked up. She was too busy studying the piece of metal peeling off the table like sunburned skin. For such a carefully cultivated room, it was an odd oversight.

     “Considering you have made the choice to terminate your relationship, I’d say ‘fine’ isn’t a descriptive enough answer for the situation we find ourselves in,” said Yellow.

      “And it’s also your fourth relationship since you joined us four years ago,” said Green.

    “Four and four doesn’t sound bad to me,” Eliza said, “I definitely went through a whole shebang more people in that time during my 20s.”

       It was a joke, so Eliza laughed.

      The Sweaters did not laugh.

    Eliza stopped and picked at her thumb again. Her stomach hurt. She knew what came next. 

     The Infraction System was supposed to root out inappropriate matches and provide a clearer picture of member weaknesses. What constituted an infraction could be loosely defined depending on who was writing it, though.

     Consider Eliza’s first.

Match 1: Tyler

Relationship Length: 1.8 weeks

     He required that his partner be willing to do anal sex on a regular basis. Four times a week was preferable. Eliza had refused, considering it excessive. This was the only infraction he logged in his termination report. It was also the only one she logged. Though, thinking back on it,  she probably could’ve thought of more.

   Eliza made to pull the list she had carefully curated from her pants pocket, but it wasn’t there. She patted herself down, searched the floor. Then she remembered: her jacket. It had been in her jacket and her jacket was outside. Once you went into the room, you couldn’t leave until the interview was over. She kicked herself for the complacency, feeling a clammy wetness spread across her palms. She wiped her hands on her pants and tried to remember everything she’d written down. All the bullet points, dates, and examples.

     She had been certain, that’s what mattered.

    “I uhh… wasn’t happy.”

   “We’re gonna need something more substantial,” said Maroon. “It helps us with The System, you know that.”

    “Especially with four terminations,” said Green.

  “Okay,” said Eliza, “Let’s take some of the judgment down a couple notches, shall we?”

    “I can see what he meant about how combative she can be,” said Yellow.

    “Excuse me?”

    “Doesn’t seem to listen all that well, either.”

     She had never been scrutinized like this before. There had been a couch, tea, a discussion.

     “We’d like you to take a look at this list provided from feedback you gave The System, as well as witnesses and Spencer, himself.”

     It was a fairly long list, but the highlights went like this:

1.     Over 6’4

2.     Nice smile

3.     Larger than average penis

4.     Bought Eliza flowers twice

5.     Never got so drunk he puked on Eliza

6.     Told her she was beautiful on a regular basis

7.     Cuddler

8.     Looked very nice together

9.     Made a point to ask personal questions about the things she likes

10.  Punched a guy who disrespected Eliza at the bar

11.  Paid for most of her drinks (which got very expensive)

12.  Cooked dinners involving her favorite foods

13.  Took her dancing that one time for her birthday, even though he is not a good dancer

14.  Had all his hair

15.  Texted on a regular basis

16.  Has a college degree

17.  Very charming

     “There’s a mistake,” she said, tapping the paper. “He didn’t say I was beautiful, he said I was hot.”

    Green, Maroon and Yellow checked their papers in perfect unison, flowing back up just the same.

     “Not sure I see the difference,” said Green.

     “There is.”

      “Using the colloquial term ‘hot’ is synonymous with ‘beautiful.’ They both function as a complimentary description of physicality.”

    “You wouldn’t tell my dad you think I’m hot, you’d tell him you think I’m beautiful.”

     “I don’t understand. Your father is dead,” said Yellow, “I wouldn’t tell him anything at all.”

      She wanted to throw the phone at Yellow.

     “It’s called nuance.”

     The Sweaters said nothing. They didn’t seem pleased with the diversion. Eliza’s annoyance came out in a too aggressive sigh. The Sweaters gave her a diminishing glance, a nervous glance, and a fearful glance. She fixed her face and quieted her tone.

     “He wasn’t nice to me.”

      These were words they could understand. The meeting proceeded.

    “He punched a guy who was rude to you while you were playing pool, that sounds pretty nice,” said Maroon.

     “That’s not exactly how it happened.”

     “So chivalrous,” said Green to Yellow

     “Really defended her honor,” Yellow to Maroon.

     “And you really are a shitty pool player,” Maroon to Eliza.

     “Ok, that’s not necessary, guys.”

      Brrrrrrrring, brrrrrrrring!

    Eliza jumped at the shrill sound erupting from the ancient phone. The interruption didn’t surprise The Sweaters at all, though, eyes fixed on her, hands clasped, saccharine smiles not meeting their eyes.

     Maroon answered.

    “Yes? She is.” He held the phone out to Eliza. “It’s Spencer, he’d like to talk to you.”

     Nausea spiked through her. She shook her head.

     “Maybe later,” he said.

     The Sweaters didn’t take their eyes off her. The implications of the rotary phone were no longer benign.

      “What was that?”

    “He just wants to talk to you. It’s an option we use for cases such as yours.”

     What kind of case was hers?

   The decision to come to The Community had solely been Eliza’s. Everything she’d heard made it sound rigid, but it was a place of comfort she had no chance of affording back home. It was easy to earn points and buy goods here. Here, where the food was uncontaminated and natural. Where she could see doctors, get medication, and have root canals. Where things weren’t perfect, but her service meant she was provided for.

      “I don’t want to talk to him.”

     “Why not?”

     Eliza thought about her words, carefully, as she had so many times in the past year.

     “He’s not nice to me.”

     “You said that before.”

     “Is that not enough?”

     “No.”

     “He called me a ‘bitch.’”

     “Were you being a bitch?”

     “This is ridiculous.”

    “How so?” asked Green, “Our job is to prompt you to consider a different perspective.”

     “Yeah, his perspective.”

     “And what’s wrong with that? You have chosen to end the relationship when he doesn’t want to. Seeing as he is the stronger candidate between the two of you, you must understand our confusion,” said Green.

     “The rules of The Community are very clear. Provide us with concrete reasons that you have initiated a termination,” said Maroon.

      “Did he ever steal from you?” asked Yellow.

      “No, not that I’m aware of.”

     “You said he wasn’t nice: did he ever hit you?” asked Green.

     “Well, no, but he did a lot of other really shitty things to me.”

     “Were these ‘shitty things’ physically violent?”

     “Well, no, but they were bad.”

      The Sweaters frowned. They despised ambiguity.

      “Did you submit a record of these infractions?” said Yellow.

      She knew they already knew the answer.

     “No … but they happened.”

     The Sweaters exchanged a look with one another. Eliza couldn’t quite name it.

      “The system is here for you to use it,” said Green.

      “I know.”

    “If you won’t use it, what else are we supposed to think except that it didn’t happen?”

     “It taints the research when you don’t follow protocols,” said Green.

     “How can we be sure she’s not being vindictive?” said Yellow.

     “I’m not a liar.”

     Eliza had, in fact, faked hundreds of orgasms, told her mom she’d be spending the night at a friend’s house when she was actually going to a club in Seattle, pretended to be British while flirting with a man at a bar for no apparent reason, said she spoke fluent French in a job application when she barely passed it in high school, called herself 5’6 when she was only 5’4, went by Eliza when that was actually her middle name and not once, but twice pretended it was her birthday for a free breakfast at Denny’s.

   That was her before life, though. In her new life, hadn’t she done everything she could to fit into The Community? She filled out her surveys honestly, not hiding the worst parts of herself so she could be matched appropriately within the algorithm. Eliza wanted to be there. She knew how lucky she was.

     The phone rang again. Yellow answered.

     “Hello? Yes, she is.”

     He extended the receiver toward Eliza.

     “It’s Spencer, would you like to talk to him?”

     “No, I don’t want to talk to him!”

   “No need to become hysterical, it was just a question,” said Yellow, hanging up the phone.

Match #2: Shane 

Relationship length: 6 months

     They had similar taste in books, senses of humor and were generally compatible in all the ways a couple should be. Being adopted as a child seemed to make him extra compassionate. For most of the relationship, he was a caring and loyal partner. Five months in, he decided he couldn’t really commit to one person. Not physically, at least. If Eliza would agree to bring other girls in, though, he thought it could work. No big deal, he said. She tried it for a while, she even told him she loved him, but in the end, it wasn’t for her. He terminated it and she felt silly because who falls in love during a threesome? It wasn’t protocol and it tainted the research. That’s how she logged it.

    Logging in and allowing others into the most private parts of her relationships was a difficult aspect of The System. Putting their mutual failings into something so tangible felt like a betrayal. When she sat at her computer every night for her daily log, Spencer behind her, there wasn’t much she could say. And some things just couldn’t be written down. At least not for her.

      Green opened the larger file and spread some pages out.

     “Let’s discuss the infractions Spencer provided.”

     He slid a couple sheets toward her, but there were many, many more in front of him:

1.     Eliza drinks a lot and is drunk often

2.     Turns down sex when she “isn’t feeling well,” but seems to be feeling         fine until the act is requested

3.     Misuses words she doesn’t understand the meaning to

4.     Has many guy friends that seem to be attracted to her

5.     Just annoying in general sometimes

6.   Refused to wear an outfit picked out for a work function and was dressed inappropriately, embarrassing Spencer

7.     Threw a drink in his face and called him an asshole and liar

8.     Weight fluctuates too frequently

9.     Suspects she went home with someone at some point

10.   Is generally combative

11.  Didn’t answer multiple texts when he would try to rectify situations during argumentative periods

12.  Not smart

13.  Not enough blowjobs during the month of June

14.  Makes excuses and places blame when she is obviously at fault

15.  Has terrible taste in music and restaurants

16.  Picks at her thumb skin constantly and it’s gross

17.  Cries easily and frequently

      Eliza flipped the list back at them, unable to read anymore.

     “This is bullshit,” she said.

     “Again, Eliza, you’ll have to be more specific than that.”

     “This is just... it’s… it’s mean.”

     “A very astute observation,” said Maroon, exchanging a smirk with the others.

   She dug deeper into the growing patch on her thumb, her nail blossoming with red.

     “Did you call him an asshole and a liar?”

     “Yes, but only because he called me a ‘drunk whore.’”

     The Sweaters scanned another document.

     “I don’t see any record of that,” said Yellow.

     “I didn’t log it.”

     “Then there really isn’t anything here for us to go on, is there?”

    It had been three months into their relationship when the evening in question had occurred.

     She was drinking a tequila soda, he a gin and soda. The girl he’d been flirting with was blond and Spencer touched her necklace when asking her a question, leaning in very close to her ear, hand still at her clavicle. Eliza slipped out of the bar, not wanting to deal with it and he didn’t come after her. She wanted to log the incident, but he still had her laptop that night.

      “The matter was private.”

     “Privacy is not the point of this place,” said Green.

Match #3: Jonah

Relationship Length: 2.4 years

    Jonah was smart and funny. Tone deaf but loved to sing karaoke and willingly laughed at how bad he sounded. Had a sweet disposition. He scratched her back when she was sick and helped her quit smoking. When she got pregnant unexpectedly, he was so excited it made her excited. He bought the tiniest little baseball onesie, which Eliza found hilarious since Jonah was so horribly uncoordinated physical activity was always a near miss of a hospital visit. Boy or girl, their child would be the ball player he never could be. When she lost the baby, though, things changed in a way she hadn’t foreseen. The silence that divided them to opposite sides of their previously warm bed left a stillness she eventually realized was insurmountable. When he terminated the relationship four months later, he said there were no hard feelings. These things just happen.

      Eliza wanted to say something but thought it might be best to pick her words more carefully. It was true she could be rash at times. She used to think it was one of her more charming quirks. She rubbed her hands on her pants, back and forth, the sweat now flowing from every pore of her body. Eliza wondered if they could smell it in the cramped room. The burning, sharp pain in her stomach was even more pronounced than it had been when she first arrived.

      “I’m not a bad person,” she said.

      Her voice caught in her throat and her cheeks flushed.

     “Have you had anything to drink today, Eliza?”

   The question was unfair. To come there without a little liquid courage would’ve been impossible.

     “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” she said.

    “We think it has a lot to do with much of what we’ve been discussing,” said Maroon.

      Eliza took a deep breath. She had to remain calm.

      “I didn’t do the things he said I did.”

      “Are you sure?”

     She had been when she wrote it, remembering every tiny detail of the humiliating things he had said and done to diminish her when no one else was around. She painstakingly scribbled in her cramped handwriting until her arm ached, afraid if she stopped, she’d forget. Sure, she drank, but no more than anyone else. She had never done most of what he claimed. Definitely not. No.

      But he had done things.

  “It’s only fair to let you know you are in jeopardy of losing your membership,” said Maroon.

   Green and Yellow nodded. Eliza’s stomach twisted and dropped. Her hands gripped the edge of the table so hard the piece of metal dug into her palm.

     “The Community only works as hard as you are willing to work. And at your age your options are becoming limited,” said Yellow.

      The others agreed.

    “If this one also fails you will have to start over outside again,” said Maroon.

    “You were in very bad shape when you first arrived—do you remember?”

She did.

     “We gave you a job, a home, food and companionship,” said Green.

     “Would be a shame to waste that investment,” said Yellow.

     “It’s up to you, but we are giving you the option to make this right. And so is Spencer. He is graciously allowing you another chance, despite this long list of infractions.”

     “It’s very generous of him, considering,” said Green.

     She glanced once more at the pages, the black ink infesting every line, over and over and over. The crease between her eyes deepened and her nail ripped the cuticle of her opposite thumb completely off, blood drowning the jagged edges. Her eyes dropped, finally catching the damage she’d been doing. Her head shook back and forth in tiny trembles. It was a disgusting habit.

      “Why does he even want me back?”

      “Because he loves you.”

Match #4: Spencer

Relationship Length: 1 year

     On Eliza’s final night with Spencer, they had gone to a very nice dinner at an Italian restaurant he chose. He ordered his favorite chianti, something expensive that tasted like prosciutto-wrapped figs. He refilled Eliza’s glass to the very top, laughing about how much money the bottle was, but how worth it a 1998 Chianti of that caliber was. Eliza nodded as she took another sip giddily. After dinner, they danced in the living room to Spencer’s favorite band until their clothes came off and she did all his favorite things. He told her he loved her four times, hand gripped roughly in her hair, eyes closed so he couldn’t see the blankness in hers. She didn’t come, but that was fine, she made all the right sounds at all the right times. When he fell asleep on the rug, his head cradled by her wool sweater, Eliza tiptoed to the bedroom, packed a small bag, found her laptop in his closet, walked to a friend’s apartment, and filed her termination request.                           

     She had been certain.

She had once been a girl who climbed trees and never asked for anything, just the comfort of the leaves and apples and the earth and sky. She didn’t remember becoming the stump.

Then the phone rang.