Friendful was a powerful app. It could connect mothers from all over the world, allow them to give advice and, most importantly, distract Karen from memories of a particular wavy-haired temptress.

She wrote a post about her children’s angry behaviour and received a wide array of suggestions, from herbal tea to fresh pee. One mother believed Karen’s children had autism and that she should try calming essential oils. That option certainly seemed more beneficial than drinking human waste, so Karen asked for details. The mother sent a link to her work Friendful page, where she advertised the essential oils from a company called WonderLiving.

Karen grinned. Wow, a person with her own business was going out of her way to help a stranger like her! 

The page included many posts with the hashtag #girlpharaoh accompanying essential oils, which the page claimed to be based on Ancient Egyptian medicine and made with “all-natural ingredients”. The oil blends all had strange names like Ankh, for healing, and Scribe, for increased intelligence. The calming oil Karen wanted was called Amulet, a little turquoise bottle filled with honey and frankincense, among other ingredients. Karen bought a dozen bottles immediately.

The words #girlpharaoh stuck with her, so she read more posts even after buying what she wanted, trying to understand the meaning. Over half of the posts were not about the actual oils but about working for the business. The mother claimed to be making bank with this side hustle and encouraged other women to join her downline. During the following weekend, there was going to be a seminar for people who wanted to join the business.

Seeing this opportunity, one thought entered Karen’s head. 

No more worrying about the price of bananas.

On the day of the seminar, Karen found herself in a conference room full of middle-aged women with similar haircuts to hers, mixed in with some college-aged women and one lone man. The walls were covered with shiny gold curtains, possibly to make the business look prestigious. The neatly-placed rows of fifty chairs were almost full and filling fast. At the end of the room was a slightly-raised stage, flanked by two standing posters showing a smiling thirty-something woman.

Karen took a cookie from the craft table and scanned the room for a free chair. Finding none, she stood against the left wall and began taking little bites out of her cookie.

The same woman from the posters walked up onto the stage with a cordless microphone. After testing the mic, she gazed at the audience with glimmering eyes.

‘You know, I was a lot like all of you when I was younger.’ Her voice was commanding but soothing. ‘So eager to do something with my life. I could have just done a 9 to 5 job and tried to make a living out of that. How many of you work those kinds of jobs? Raise your hand.’

Most of the room raised their hand. The woman continued. ‘I wanted something more, and I knew I had to do it the right way. I was determined not only to make a little cash but also to empower women. That’s what WonderLiving is all about. How do we do this?’

The projector screen behind the woman lit up and displayed a business structure chart. ‘This is network marketing. Now, I know it looks like a pyramid…’ the audience laughed, Karen included. ‘...But if you look closer, it’s a tier system, and anyone can rise through the ranks. You’ll start off in the Farmer Tier and, if you make enough commission, you can become a Craftswoman, then a Warrior, a Noble and finally a Pharaoh. We at WonderLiving are all about lifting women up and letting them be their own bosses. You choose the hours, how much product you sell and who you sell to. You can even choose to make this a side hustle to make a little passive income while you work elsewhere. It’s all up to you.’

Karen beamed at this idea. The slide changed to a stock photo of a smiling group of women. ‘In joining WonderLiving, you also get to become a member of a welcoming community of women who treat each other like family. These are your fellow Girl Pharaohs.’

Before the woman could finish her speech, Karen had already taken her pen out to sign up.

She bought 99 dollars’ worth of products and headed home. The items arrived a week later. She set up a Friendful page for her business and waited for customers to start pouring in. 

They did no such thing.

She started recommending her products to people on the mum groups and got a couple of people interested, though not enough to pay back the startup cost. She expanded the scope of people she contacted to her friends on Friendful, most of whom didn’t reply.

Over the next few weeks, Karen didn’t speak to Frema when she shopped, even when Frema waved at her. It didn’t take long for Frema to give up. An idea popped into Karen’s head when she heard a shopper complain to another about having trouble sleeping.

‘Oh, have you tried the Sarcophagus oil from WonderLiving? It’s perfect for that kind of thing.’ A blush adorned Karen’s cheeks. ‘Sorry, I overheard you and wanted to help someone struggling. We women have to stick together, you know?’

The shopper smiled with a raised eyebrow. ‘I’ll look it up.’

Karen’s heart jumped up and down at this little victory. She was so excited she forgot to tell her about her Friendful business page.

Every weekend she went shopping, she brought a few bottles of essential oils to the supermarket to conveniently have on hand whenever a shopper had a problem.

‘Oh, you have trouble concentrating? You should try Scribe. I’ve got a couple of Scribe oils if you want to buy a couple from me. They’re real cheap.’

‘Oh, your husband’s struggling with indigestion? That’s awful! Has he tried the essential oil Oasis? It has peppermint in it, which aids with digestion.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry your son has cancer. I hear the Ankh essential oil is great for that.’

By the time she uttered that last suggestion, Frema had noticed what she was doing and took her aside.

‘What are you doing in my supermarket?’

It took a while for Karen to gather her thoughts when faced with Frema’s beauty. ‘I-I-It’s not your supermarket. You don’t own your own business like me.’

‘Good for you. You still can’t sell things here.’

Karen held the oil bottle in her hand close to her chest. ‘Why not? I’m helping people who need me.’

‘If you try and shill your products here, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’ Frema crossed her arms and stared down at Karen.

‘But I’m a customer! I have every right to be here!’ To demonstrate this, Karen took a packet of chips from the shelf and plopped it into her almost empty trolley. She had been in the shopping centre for more than an hour.

‘Not if you’re bothering the other customers.’

‘At least I’m not trying to date them!’

Frema blinked. ‘What does that have to do with… Look, I’m sorry about that day. I got caught up in the fun of the day and I thought you liked me too. I shouldn’t have assumed that and I should have been more careful not to misread the situation. Can we at least stay friends? I’m content with that so long as you don’t try to sell things in this store.’

‘Why would I want to stay friends with a lesbian?’ Karen asked that question a little too loud. As customers turned their heads, Frema and Karen shared a blush. Frema’s eyebrows met up high and her lips parted ever so slightly as she took in Karen’s words. She then looked down.

‘Well, if that’s how you really feel, I’ll leave you alone.’ Her voice was deep and quiet. ‘Just leave my customers alone.’

Karen shoved her oil bottles back in her handbag and stomped away with a huff, until she realised she still had shopping to do. She gingerly walked back to her trolley and pushed it down the aisle with her nose turned up.

Anger brewed within her gut, slowly rising as she thought of Frema and her stupid gorgeous face and her dumb adorable laugh and her infuriatingly endearing spontaneity. She then remembered the hurt look on Frema’s face from moments before. She wondered if she herself would have that face if someone found out about her own attraction.

Heads turned again when Karen held her arm out on the shelf as she walked forward, knocking everything to the floor.

‘Out!’ Frema shouted.

Upon her arrival home, Kyle asked Karen if she could get him a game he wanted for his birthday, which would take place in two weeks. Karen didn’t answer, storming off to her room and slamming the door shut.

On the WonderLiving website, she bought more inventory. She was going to afford that game for Kyle. She made a habit of buying more items every day. Her fellow Girl Pharaohs on Friendful always emphasised the importance of buying lots of products. According to them, if someone didn’t make money from this business opportunity, they simply hadn’t worked hard enough.

The day she planned on buying Kyle’s present, a week before his birthday, she checked her bank account and saw she didn’t have enough to buy a single game. A labyrinth of dark thoughts weaved into her mind as she held her phone with trembling hands.

She asked the WonderLiving page on Friendful if anyone was also struggling to make back the money they spent on products. The Girl Pharaohs on the page told her to network with more people.

As desperation ate at her, Karen searched Friendful for Frema and read through her public posts. She had posted a picture the previous day with a thermometer in her mouth. The caption read, ‘The flu’s a bitch.’

Karen didn’t send a friend request but did send a message.

Hey girl!

I saw you’re feeling a little under the weather. I know just the thing to help with your symptoms. You should try the Ankh essential oil from WonderLiving! It’s made of all-natural ingredients and it has incredible healing properties!

I also have a great business opportunity for you. I don’t know how much you make managing the supermarket, but I’m sure it’s not much. I know you and you deserve more. You’re so smart and I would love to have you as part of my team. 

At first, Frema left Karen on read. By the end of the day, however, Frema made her thoughts known.

You must have nerves of steel if you think you can try to sell me the crap that got you kicked out. I thought maybe you were going to message an apology but no, you had to turn it into a money-making opportunity for you. Screw you. I’ve been so patient with you but now I’ve given up. No more trying to reason with you or keep any friendship with you. I’m done.

Karen dropped the phone on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She was stuck in a frustrating limbo, miserable enough to want to cry but not enough to actually do it.