blinks to me, “Excuse me, Lexi?”
Zoe starts whistling, and pops the entire fourth donut hole in her mouth, eyes attempting innocence but instead looking more like Beeker from the Muppets.
Samantha’s perfected skill is lying to cover my ass. Or my big mouth. “It’s about time we were heading home, Lexi was saying. We were just saying to each other that we’re starving and these are so good but not good for us.”
Zoe pops the final donut hole in without having swallowed the other yet, eyes more huge.
Cora stares at her, then scans our faces, eyes sharpening. “It was good seeing you girls. Been a while.”
Zoe looks at me, chewing dramatically. Poor thing is terrified I’m going to be mean right here at church, our sanctuary.
I’d never do that.
She’s being silly.
Samantha says, “Bye Cora, have a nice evening.”
“It’s not even noon.”
“Afternoon then.”
Peach pumps and matching power-suit exit and we turn to each other, triangle reformed.
“Oh Lexi!”
My head turns in slow motion. “Hmm?”
Cora waves at my hair. “I liked it better straight.”
Conversations suspend as members of the congregation glance between us, curious.
“Don’t do it,” Zoe begs me with her mouth not yet empty, “Please don’t!” chewing fast.
Sam warns, “Careful Lexi!”
I listen to them long enough to ignore them. “Cora, I liked your hair better when it was absent from my sight.”
Her eyes narrow and she hisses, “You Cockers! Every single one of you!”
No need for the woman to elucidate her meaning — hatred and jealousy transparent to anyone watching. Especially us. We know her story well, and it’s just plain sad.
So I turn away from her.
Sammy closes her eyes and sighs.
Zoe shouts, “Don’t try to talk to us then if you can’t be an honest, nice person with good intentions!!!”
Sam and I stare at her — Zo has never yelled at anyone before!
The rarity even flusters made-of-iron Cora Williamson who spins in a lost circle before hastily rushing away from the highly interested post-Mass crowd.
Samantha whispers, “Wow Zoe, that was amazing.”
I give her a huge hug, and find her shaking. “You okay?”
“She just made me so mad!”
I embrace her tighter, whispering in her ear, “You did good, Zo, you did good!”
“I yelled outside of church!”
I pull back and hold her eyes. “You stood up for our whole family.”
She nods, tears hovering.
I take her right hand and Sammy takes her left, squeezing it with a proud, “Let’s go home.”
Over my shoulder I call back, “Show’s over! But we’ll be here next week! Tip your waitstaff!” and earn a lot more laughter than I'd expected.
I doubt Cora will be back here.
Remembering my conversation with Gage, I smile to myself, yep, do what makes you feel good. Not a bad philosophy.
My smile fades though at the memory of my one-night stand. No phone numbers exchanged. No promises to see each other. Just one solitary amazing night.
Does that make me feel good?
Chapter Ten
LEXI
Kept company by the calming scent of lavender, sandalwood and eucalyptus, I’m deep in the quarter financials of Om This yoga studios, owned by my cousin’s wife, Paige Cocker — one super laid-back boss.
Gabriel’s merely a silent partner who helped her expand with the awareness that she’d be paying it back — and she has — since he knows nothing about running anything except his legs away from fans screaming his name.
I’m listening to one of his songs right now on my hits-playlist via earbuds. Can’t interrupt the Yin Stretch class taking place in one of Paige’s warmly-lit rooms of bamboo flooring.
It’s not just for them that I’m listening to this.
There’s music playing on the other side of that wall to my right so relaxing I fall asleep whenever I hear it.
Snoozing is not at all conducive to number crunching and problem solving so I can ensure we rise out of the red and remain in the black. I’m here to support Paige’s dream, even though it’s not my own, because I believe in her.
I haven’t found my dream yet. It might be just to support others. Who knows? I’m perfectly happy where I am, surrounded by boxes of candles, a stack of new and colorful rubber mats ready to supplement the ones we have ready for newcomers who don’t know to bring them.
A yoga studio isn’t always the most profitable enterprise. You’re relying on people overcoming their own innate resistance to bettering themselves and that’s a bitch of a struggle. They’ve gotta squeeze into workout clothes, climb in their car, and get over here.
After every single class we hear the same announcements: “I’m