by Emily Schultz

It was the year that my fat friends got thin and my thin friends got fat, my parents stopped giving me money when I visited, and my girlfriend Erika ceased to kiss me on the mouth in the mornings. It was the year an exploding gun factory killed thirty, an exploding pipeline killed one hundred and an exploding star halfway across the universe became the farthest known object ever visible to the naked eye. Between headlines of explosions, there was also the collapse of the economy. It was the year the government would need to recall—issue a retraction—on absolutely everything. I remember where I was when I heard the news. I remember little else, but that I do recollect, so clearly. Across my computer screen: FDA demands recall for 2008—all 365 days.

After clicking on the caption and reading the item, I glanced around the office. No one else seemed in shock. I was about to lean into my neighbour’s cubicle, when my line rang. It was Erika. She didn’t even identify herself, just blurted:

“Have you seen it? It’s crazy!”

“Are you sure it’s real?” I felt like the screen was flickering before my eyes. I re-scanned the article. “I thought maybe it was a scam story, the sources are kind of vague, aren’t they?”

“What do you mean?” she hissed. “It’s Associated Press.” Then she said, “Wait, I’ve got it here, on the CNN web page too: ‘Entire Year Gets the Boot.’ Um, BBC: ‘UK Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) involved in recall.’” There was a pause, the frenetic clicks of typing as she searched online, then she said, “And the CBC: ‘Health Canada supports full-year recall.’ How do you recall an entire year? What does this mean, James?” With each news bit, her voice pitched higher and I could hear her hysteria, knew she was tearing up. My palms turned into water and I set my paper carry-out coffee cup on the desk before it could slip from my grasp. I felt my chin, as if gripping it would clear my mind. I numbly rubbed at the spot I’d missed shaving.

Emily Schultz’s forthcoming novel, Heaven is Small, will be published in May 2009 by House of Anansi Press. She was a finalist for the Trillium Book Award for Poetry for her debut collection, Songs for the Dancing Chicken. She lives in Toronto, where she teaches creative writing and edits Joyland.ca, which the CBC has called “the go-to spot for readers seeking the best voices in short fiction.”