Chapter 23
23
I make it to SoulCycle with ten minutes to spare. The girl at the front desk recognizes me and signs me in without asking. She hands me a pair of cycling shoes and tells me to enjoy my class. The dimly lit walls of the studio are decorated with inspirational messages telling me I’m a warrior legend and to believe in myself. I strap into the bike Chloe had booked, which happens to be in the front row. Glancing over my shoulder, I realize everyone will be able to see me. I’ve never taken a spin class before. What if I make a fool of myself?
“Chloe!” It’s Lily Schmidt, the Belladonna who exchanged the boy with Down syndrome for the neurotypical Thai girl.
“Lily!” It feels good to know her name. We do the weird cheek-kiss thing before she straps in next to me.
“It was so nice to see you last night. Hope you’re not too hungover.”
“Oh, I didn’t drink.”
She arches her brow. “Seriously?”
I remember all the alcohol in Chloe’s fridge. Maybe the Belladonnas knew about the tendencies Chloe hid from her clean-girl feed. “I’m thinking of going sober for a bit,” I say, hoping to clear any confusion. “After Julie’s death, I don’t want to fall into bad habits.”
She places both hands over her heart. “That’s admirable. It takes a lot of courage.”
I smile from her words even though she reacted to a lie.
“Good morning, everyone! Are you ready to sweat?” Sophia gallops into the room and everyone quiets their conversations. She’s dressed in a matching neon-green gym set, the dim lights accentuating her cut abs and rippling thigh muscles. She hops on her bike and starts the class. Neon lights flash like we’re at a rave. The music is a medley of upbeat #girlboss songs that reverberate straight into my chest. Beyoncé, Katy Perry, Christina Aguilera, the like.
Indoor cycling is harder than I thought it would be. I’m out of breath within the first five minutes, but then Sophia yells, “We’re closing out on our warm-up, beautiful people. Get ready for our first climb!”
My heart monitor says I’m clocking in at 175 beats per minute, and this is only the warm-up ?
I’m winded as we start our climb, pushing our resistance up several levels, legs aching. Lily glances at my bike display, clearly making sure she’s going a bit faster and harder than me. When we start something called a Tabata, I think I’m about to pass out. Not enough air can enter my lungs. I’m heaving. Bile swims up my stomach, heart hurling against my chest, wanting to break my ribs. I slow down even though everyone else is pedaling for their lives, pushing their legs with the beat of the music. I start wondering if cardio classes are the elite’s answer to self-harm.
As I reach to turn down my resistance, Sophia’s eyes lock on mine.
“I want to see everyone push their limits this morning. Your body can do more than you think! It’s by powering through these difficulties, breaking through our physical fatigue, that we can build resiliency and excellence!” She’s staring at me so hard my classmates turn in my direction. A rush of pure embarrassment kicks my chest. The dose of group shame forces my hands off the resistance knob and I begin pedaling again even though I can’t feel my legs.
“Show your mind who’s boss!” Sophia shouts. “On the count of three, I want you all to scream ‘ I can do it! ’ One. Two. Three!”
Shouts course through the room. “I can do it!”
“I-I can do it!” I join in, breathless.
Sophia points a finger in the air, drenched in glistening sweat. “Now push! Push! Push! ”
I push, even though my muscles are screaming to stop.
By the end of the class, I’m clipping in and out of death. I have become sweat. My pores, Niagara Falls. There’s a puddle on the hardwood floor below me. I see the strobing afterlife; it smells like sweat and sounds like pop music. It is hell.
Lily pats me on the back, her hand sliding off my slick skin. She has a gloating expression, like she just whooped me in a competition. Which she did. “Good ride.”
I nod because I have zero breath in my lungs.
“But I guess a few weeks off the bike can really do a number on us.”
“Huh?” I mumble, almost vomiting.
Her gaze lands on my stomach. An inch of my belly fat has rolled over the top seam of my leggings. I sit straighter, suddenly hyperaware of my own body, the circumference of my waist, the lack of definition in my abs, the flab in my arms. Can she tell that something is off? That I’m a different person? I can edit my body in photos, but I can’t alter reality.
I desperately change the subject. “Hey, about that trip in June—”
Her Apple Watch lights up. “Gotta drop Wendy off at school. See you next week!” She waves to Sophia and jogs out of the class. How does she have so much energy? Either way, I’m glad she didn’t say anything more. Her abrupt exit saved me from having to spin more lies.
I’m fumbling with the pedals, trying to unclip myself, when Sophia helps me out. She’s glowing. An oiled Greek goddess that crushed a triathlon, ready to be immortalized in marble.
“You okay? I noticed you weren’t keeping up like you usually do.” I cringe and try to take some calming breaths while simultaneously sucking in my stomach. Thankfully, she’s not staring at my body like Lily.
While trying to dig up an excuse, I push back my sweaty ponytail. It whips droplets of sweat across the floor. “I guess there’s stuff on my mind.” My aunt trying to reach me even though she should think I’m dead, my sister dying, identity theft… lies upon lies upon lies. “Julie” is all I say.
“Ah. I should have figured.” She shakes her head sympathetically. “I still remember the grief from when I broke my arm right before the Olympics. One wrong step during a yacht party and…” She blows a long breath. “I holed myself up in my room for months, depressed. I’m glad you’re getting to this step of recovery faster than I did. Today’s sweat and pain is good for you. Exercise is the best way to deliver dopamine to our brains.”
Though my situation isn’t quite the same, I get what she’s saying. During those brief moments of strenuous exercise, I didn’t think about my issues one bit—mostly because the stinging lactic acid in my muscles overwhelmed any possibility of thought. But hey, nothing about Chloe or my aunt for a solid forty minutes. That’s something, right?
“Thanks for your encouragement.” I smile. “And the affirmations.”
“The affirmations are all thanks to Bella Marie.” She tips her head to the ceiling with a soft smile. “When I first got to know her after my accident, she gave me a jar full of them, handwritten, and asked me to read one every day until the jar was empty. She had written a whole year’s worth of affirmations for me. It was”—she sighs and shakes her head—“ so special. If it wasn’t for Bella Marie, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”
I wonder if Bella Marie did similar acts of kindness for Chloe, if she’ll ever do one for me.
“I have to head out to a brand event,” she says. “But if you ever need to take your mind off things, come in for another class. We’re always here.”
I think I’m starting to understand why Chloe works out every day.
I’m sticky and exhausted but I feel good inside. Like I’ve accomplished something, even though I technically traveled nowhere. I’m revitalized as I walk out of the studio, the dusty New York air whipping in my face: a pleasant mix of trash, car exhaust, and coffee. I take a photo in front of the SoulCycle logo looking sweaty, body steaming into the winter morning, and post it to my stories. Always time for some @SoulCycle. Shout-out to my favorite instructor @sophchambers, you rock! Remember, unleash your inner warrior. #strong #beautiful
As I walk—yes, walk—back to my apartment, I watch the reactions flood in. A follower replies: you are such an inspiration. you help me get through my day. I send them a heart and reply: You have so much strength within! Don’t discount yourself! They flood me with more love.
I understand why Chloe invested so much time and energy into her following now. It bolsters me, empowers me. I didn’t know how good it could feel to have a community of supportive fans at my fingertips. How much I’ve desired it. One tap and the world floods me with love. I feel like a god.
Iz replies to my story: Looking good girl.
Angelique also replies: You are so beautiful. We should cycle together sometime!
In fact, all of the Belladonnas reply, complimenting my body, my work ethic. I grin, elated that I finally have a group of friends who support me. By the time I’m back at my apartment, I know I can conquer anything. I pick up my phone from the floor to dial my aunt back.
I can do anything I put my mind to. I am a boss. A warrior legend.