Maya awakes with a gasp.
[TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: briefly hinted-at domestic abuse]
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Last one, I promise! To be honest, Maya only came to me the week before I made this blog. After I realised I hadn’t really gone into Dale Coba Jr.’s personal life a whole lot, I went back to this transcript I’d written for a Stepford tourism video that is actually a Coba Technique instructional video in disguise if you keep watching after a certain length of time. I had the idea that he’d recorded his first attempts to try and improve on his methods, and the woman featured in those recordings is the one I’ve written about here.
This one’s a little different because Rachel isn’t in it lmao, but I kinda liked the idea of this little series starting and ending with Maria, even though she’s by no means the first or the last Stepford Wife that Rachel goes to see. And I think that the Wives deserve a chance to talk to each other about something other than cooking, cleaning and pleasing their husbands abductors lol
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Maya, The First
Somebody crashes into Mrs Coba’s side, sending her tumbling to her knees on the kerb.
“Holy shit, I’m so sorry!” Mrs Miller yelps, still dragging a suitcase behind her. “Let me help you up.”
She holds out a hand to Mrs Coba, who takes it cautiously then lets out a yelp as she’s pulled back to her feet. “Hey, I’ve heard about you,” Mrs Miller says, studying her face for a moment. “You’re the first one, aren’t you?”
“Oh! Mrs Miller, I didn’t expect to see you out this late,” Mrs Coba exhales, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s such a beautiful night, don’t you think?”
Mrs Miller turns to look up at the night sky, stars twinkling like diamonds on deep blue velvet. “Yep, it sure is,” she smiles. She reaches out to link arms with Mrs Coba, who can’t help but blush and look away with a shy smile. “Call me Maria. Maria Schiavone.”
“Nice to meet you, Maria,” says Mrs Coba, finally lifting her head to look back at Mrs Miller – no, Maria Schiavone’s face. “My name’s Jean. Jean Coba. My husband runs the Men’s Association, and I think he’s at a meeting now but he didn’t say what time he’d be back. Where are we going, by the way?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m heading back to New York,” Maria grins. “The station’s just down this way. Will you walk with me? I’ve never really liked walking home in the dark.”
Arm in arm, the two women stroll leisurely along the beaten path up towards the train station. Every now and then Maria looks over at Mrs Coba, almost expectantly, but she can’t quite figure out why. Isn’t there something she’s supposed to remember? No matter how much Mrs Coba tries to wrack her brain, she can’t quite figure out what it is. No matter – she’s sure it’ll come to her eventually. “Hey, it’s no pressure,” Maria finally says, as if she’s been reading Mrs Coba’s mind. “When you remember, I’ll be here.”
———
Maya’s cheek still stung from the impact of Dale Coba Jr.’s palm by the time he was done shining the flashlight in her face.
Maya awakes with a gasp.
She looks around anxiously, finding herself lying across a bench in a train station waiting area, surrounded by several other sleeping women, some wearing frilly floral print dresses, others swamped in oversized clothing, a few still wide awake and watching over their young children cautiously. Just then, Maya realises she must have fallen asleep with her head on one woman’s lap, and she sits upright to reach out for the woman, gently jostling her shoulder in an attempt to wake her.
“Hey,” she whispers. “What is this place?”
The woman stirs gradually, eyelids twitching before slowly blinking awake, and she lifts her head with some effort, then turns to face Maya with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Is the train here yet?” she yawns.
“No, I don’t think—” Maya starts, before the realisation hits her like a ten ton truck. “… Oh my god. Are we getting out?”
The woman pulls her close with a smile, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I know,” she says quietly, gently. “I said I’d be here, didn’t I?”
God. All this time, Maya was sure she’d live and die in Stepford, buried under a name that’d been forced onto her, next to a man who’d only ever looked at her with condescension and disdain while she slaved for him over a stove. She knows it’s too late to go back to the life she’d had before, to move in with her boyfriend after graduation, but what else can she do? For all she knows her parents could have had a funeral for her years ago. How can she possibly return to a world that’s passed her by? Is it even worth trying at all?
“Hey, it’s okay,” the woman next to her is saying, her voice gently pulling Maya back from her train of thought. “We’re finally leaving this stupid fucking town, and we never have to go back.”
Forcing herself to let go of her apprehension and disbelief, Maya slowly turns to face the woman, then lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m… I’m Maya Kraszewski,” she finally says, then adds with a chuckle, “Fuck, it feels so good to say that out loud.”
“Nice to finally meet you, Maya,” her new friend smiles, offering her hand for Maya to shake it. “Maria Schiavone, Greenwich Village born and raised. I’m gonna head back to New York, look for a women’s shelter, maybe start over. How about you?”
“I… I don’t really know,” says Maya, her voice tinged with regret. “I’ve been here so long I almost forgot who I was. And I don’t know if I can go back.”
Maria’s expression turns somber, her brown eyes flickering down to the ground for a second, before she looks back at Maya with a soft exhale. “I know what that’s like,” she replies with a gentle squeeze of Maya’s hand. “We can stick together if you like, maybe figure something out along the way.”
“Thanks,” Maya smiles. “I’d like that.”
Together they sit in comfortable silence, under the buzzing fluorescent lights of the station house, a mutual feeling of hope and possibility shared between the two of them, no matter how fragile it may seem. It’s at that moment Maya realises that even though she might never be able to go back to how things were, before she was kidnapped and taken to Stepford, she can still be herself again, whoever that may be. And she has all the time in the world to figure that out.
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