Chapter 35 Charleigh
Charleigh
Charleigh twists her hair into a ponytail, then drags a hand towel across the back of her neck.
The sound of sneakers squeaking chirps all around her; she and Kathleen just finished up a match of racquetball at the Boat House. Charleigh won every game, of course; she’s ruthless on the court.
They stumble from the glass container, paw their keys out of the rectangle box outside the court.
“Daiquiri?” Kathleen lifts an eyebrow at Charleigh.
“Sure, why not.”
They head upstairs to the lounge, pry open the door. On the TV set hanging above the bar, MTV plays a Paula Abdul video, “Straight Up,” and Charleigh, who, just an hour before was admiring her own figure in the locker room mirror, eyes Abdul’s body with jealousy.
“Strawberry daiquiri for me,” she says.
“And I’ll have a pina colada,” Kathleen tweets.
As the blender whirs, Charleigh’s eyes land on a flyer taped to the far wall. Pressure builds in her chest as she squints to read it. It says SWIFT’S APOTHECARY across the top. She can’t make out the rest.
“Be right back.” She hops from her barstool, saunters over to scrutinize.
Swift’s Apothecary
Have You Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’?
Join us for an afternoon workshop on fertility, femininity, attraction, and more! Learn how natural botanicals can help put the spice back in your marriage! $10/person. Organic sack lunch included.
This Saturday, July 7, 3 p.m.
123 Seven Pines Road
903-555-1212
All the tabs but one are torn from the bottom of the sheet. Charleigh leans in, rips it from the flyer, jams it in her pocket. She doesn’t know why she took it; she has no interest in going to it, obviously, but then, if everyone else is going, she doesn’t want to be left out.
Ugh, that family, and ugh, that woman.
“Charleigh! Drinks are up!” Kathleen raises her pina colada, shakes it.
“You going to this hootenanny?” Charleigh asks, fishing the wad of paper out.
“Yeah. It’s this Saturday. We’re all going. Didn’t Monica tell you?” Kathleen’s eyes shine with innocence. She can be so naive sometimes.
Of course, Monica didn’t fucking tell me, Charleigh thinks to herself but doesn’t say out loud.
“Nah, she didn’t. Probably because she knows I’m not interested.
That family is weird as hell. I mean, I get that,” she says, scooting her stool closer to Kathleen’s and lowering her voice (Kathleen loves a good dish session), “she wants to bang the husband and all—”
Kathleen snorts, sweeping a sheet of her glossy hair over her shoulder. “She does not.”
“Does, too. You see the way she was pawing at him at the fish fry.”
“I mean, he is so sexy. I’d do ’im.” Kathleen smirks.
“You’d never cheat on Kyle—”
“Ha! You don’t think he cheats on me?”
“I didn’t say that…but—”
“Well, that’s why I wanna go to this thing. I’ve been using her oils, and they work. Kyle is frisky as he’s ever been. But Abigail told Monica that she wants to introduce even more stuff, something called a jade egg—”
In that instant, Paula Abdul’s video ends, and the words yoni egg ring out across the room, prompting stares.
“That’s so fucking gross.”
“No it’s not. And she’s gonna go into all the Kegel stuff, how to make your, you know”—Kathleen motions down to her pelvic area—“tighten back up after childbirth.”
“You’re gonna make me choke to death on my daiquiri if you keep this nasty talk up.”
“Don’t act like you’re above it, Charleigh. We all need to do what we can to keep our men happy. And this goes beyond our men. She’s promising to wake the divine feminine in all of us.”
“What does that even mean?” Charleigh howls.
This clearly stumps Kathleen. She gazes down in her glass, stirs her straw through her frozen drink. “I don’t know,” she says, her voice small. “But I’m going to find out.”