Chapter 24 #2
“I still can’t believe it.” Her voice is shaking. “We did another embryo transfer a couple months ago, when Tim was in town. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just couldn’t talk about it out loud until I knew which way it was going to go. It’s early, obviously, but we’ve never made it this far.”
I grab a couple napkins from our latest bag of rest stop junk food and wipe away the tears and snot.
“I wish I were there. When I get back, I’ll make it up to you.
If you have morning sickness, I’ll feed you ginger and hold your hair back and—oh, wait, Tim probably wants to do all that stuff.
Is he moving back right away? I can start looking for a new place whenever you want. ” My stomach dips at the thought.
“There’s more,” Michelle says. “And this is the hard part.”
I freeze. “The hard part?”
“I sat down with Tracy and HR this week. Multiple times. I told them how I want to handle the next seven months, and maternity leave, and after that. I figured we wouldn’t see eye to eye, given what the company’s become.”
“Don’t say that.” I bounce my knee and rub at a smudge on the window, too antsy to sit still. “It’s only been six months since they changed things. Everyone still needs to adjust. It’ll get better.”
“I think it’s going to get worse , Quinn. It’s gone downhill so fast, and they’re obviously encouraging Tracy to do more of her power-trip thing where she tries to dictate how we teach and act and exist , and I’ve had enough.”
I bite my lip. “So how did the meetings go?”
“Not great. She pushed back on everything I asked for and questioned my commitment to the brand.” Silence stretches over us, from here to L.A., and I realize what’s coming right before it lands: “I told her I’m done. I quit.”
I gasp. Nate’s head snaps around again, more alarmed this time.
“It felt so good. Now I can enjoy my maternity leave without her passive-aggressive bullshit dragging me down. I won’t have to rush to get back in CycleLove shape, and I can figure out what to do next when I’m ready. Tim likes his job, so…I’m moving to Connecticut.”
It feels like she’s just added fifty pounds of weight to the barbell in my stomach. Connecticut.
I’m going to be alone in L.A.
“Wow. Well, I’m happy for you, if it’s what you want,” I say feebly. Michelle is entering a new phase of life, and her priorities are shifting, and that’s fine. It’s fine .
I rub my aching chest. She’s right that there are some less-than-healthy dynamics in our workplace.
Tracy’s annoying obsession with her taste in shirts, for example.
It reminds me of the always-looking-over-your-shoulder culture of Jolee, where Mom critiqued minor word choices in her downline’s social media posts and often questioned why they and their spouses still had day jobs and how many hours a day they were dedicating to the cause.
Overall, I think CycleLove is a great thing for our riders.
But when it comes to us—the instructors—there’s more toxicity than I ever let myself consider.
I can’t afford to dwell on it, though, and I am happy for Michelle. “Sorry, I’m just surprised! I really am glad that you feel good about your decision.”
“Quinn.”
I squeeze my eyes shut to keep a fresh round of tears at bay.
“I hate the idea of abandoning you. That’s been the main reason I’ve hung on so long. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but I have to say it at least once—I really think you should consider leaving too,” she goes on. “I’ll help, I know so many people in New York if you want—”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine.” Even if I wasn’t, I don’t have the same choices she does. Michelle has a spouse with health insurance and a great job, and two decades of smart financial decisions behind her. I don’t have any of that.
And now I won’t even have her. When I go back, I’m going to be completely alone. No, worse than alone, because Caleb will be there, along with the tight-knit group of instructors who’ve always been his friends, and mine only by association.
I’ll just have to start over. Make more of an effort with the others, get to know everyone, the way I should’ve from the beginning.
CycleLove is supposed to be a community, after all.
That’s why we have weekly happy hours and quarterly retreats.
I wonder if anyone’s looking for a roommate.
If not, I’ll be scrambling to find a half-decent place with a stranger.
After we hang up, I duck my chin to the side for privacy until I can jam a stopper into my feelings. “Well, that was a surprise,” I say with as much brightness as I can muster. My smile trembles. Inside me is red, and I can’t make it dissipate or turn green no matter how deeply I breathe.
He squeezes my forearm. “What’s wrong?”
His sweetness is like adding baking soda to vinegar. It makes everything spill over. I lean over the console and bury my face in his shoulder. My tears soak the faded cotton of his T-shirt.
“Is Michelle okay?”
“Yes,” I say eventually, when I can get the words out. “She’s great. Pregnant, in fact. But she also quit. She’s leaving CycleLove.”
“Ah. And that makes you feel…”
“Overwhelmed, I guess.” I sniff and wipe my eyes. “She’s all I have in L.A., and now I’m going to lose her just like I’m losing Bailey.”
He frowns. “You told me things have been weird between you and Bailey. But what do you mean, you’re losing her?”
I swallow. The glow of the taillights in front of us turns blurry. “We’re not as close as we used to be. I guess it was inevitable with me moving, but at first we were good at being long-distance friends. It wasn’t the same as before, obviously, but it was working. And then…I don’t know.
“We never used to be those people who say ‘Let’s get together’ but don’t mean it.
Whose lives have become so different that the only thing we have to talk about is old memories and people we both used to know.
She forgot I hate smells , for god’s sake.
And I know it’s mostly my fault, which is why I’m going to the party. I need to fix it before it’s too late.”
Nate rubs my arm with featherlight strokes. “You will. You’ve been friends for so long, and you guys have one of those freakish mind-reader bonds.”
“I don’t know how she’s going to react when I tell her what happened between us.”
His hand stops. “You’re going to tell her about us?”
“Do you not want me to?”
“No, no, I just didn’t know what the plan was.”
“I don’t have a plan.” I shrug. “But I know I need to be honest with her when we get home, especially about the big things.”
He lifts my hand and kisses it. When I look up at him, there’s a faint smile on his face.
“Are you making that face because I called you a ‘big thing’?”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he says. “But no. I just liked that you called Seapoint home.”
I rack my brain until I realize what he’s talking about: I know I need to be honest with her when we get home. My shoulders stiffen. “I was talking about the East Coast, generally. That’s home.”
“Okay.” The smile doesn’t go away.
My insides are winding into a French braid at the significance of my verbal slip. “Don’t you ever feel that way about Logan? Obviously you guys are…not on the same page right now.”
He squints at the road, which is lined on both sides by tall grass. “What, you mean the fact that he’s acting like he’s a fugitive and I’m the law? Yeah, I guess you could say we’re not on the same page.”
“If he’s going to be your business partner, you’ll need to rely on him.
” Logan has always been flighty, but the way he’s behaved over the past couple weeks is on another level.
It’s hard to imagine him training new counselors or remembering to pay the electric bill.
I mean, his response to his current problems was to stick his phone in the mail and gallivant across the country.
“I think it might settle him. He’s smart, and he works hard when he decides to focus on something,” he says. “And regardless, there’s no way his parents will make a deal with me without him.”
I wish he believed in himself a little more. He’s come a long way, but the Forresters would be lucky to leave the camp in his hands, and he needs to understand that.
“Challenge time,” I say.
“Oh, really? And you’re challenging me?”
“It’s only fair,” I say. “You went last time.”
He shrugs. “I’m prepared to be an open book with you, Quinn. Go for it.”
“Okay.” I rub my hands together. “Your challenge is to tell me what you’re going to say to Logan. Talk to me like I’m him. Don’t stop until you see a license plate from a state that touches an ocean.”
“Great. Awesome. Love it.” His voice is saturated with sarcasm. “Hi, Logan.”
“Hey, man,” I say. “Having a good trip?”
“It could use a little less cherry rum, but otherwise, yeah. Incredible trip.” He gives me a soft look, and my stomach flips.
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“First Cove.” He licks his bottom lip nervously. “It’s hard to believe it’s been almost twenty-five years since our first summer there. You dropped a spider down my shirt, I threw your hat over the fence, and we were best friends.”
“I remember.” I’ve never heard this story before, but I can picture it in my head.
“Being a camper was great, and I liked working as a counselor when we got older. But after what happened with my dad, First Cove became my favorite place in the world. Your family took me in and gave me a place I always wanted to be even when life sucked, and that was priceless.
“We could’ve lost touch after you moved to Austin. That happens to a lot of people. But between playing Madden online way too often and hanging out when we can, I’m glad we’ve been able to stay closer than most.”
“Even when I did The Beach House ?” I ask.
“Even then,” he says. “It’s always been reassuring to know that no matter what changes, I have one friend who’s not there for a particular reason, other than the fact that he always has been. Seapoint and First Cove gave us that.”
“Are you sure that’s enough?” I rip off the soggy half of the napkin in my hand and stuff it into the empty soda cup currently serving as our trash receptacle. The question is more me than Logan, but I can’t resist.
He pauses. The truck in front of us changes lanes. “I just think we all go through phases where we’re busy or we withdraw or we make bad life decisions for a while. When you have a long history with a friend, you’re more likely to stick it out until the phase is over.”
“Hmm.” If I’ve been in a phase—a combination of busyness and withdrawal and bad life decisions—it’s sure been a long one. The question is whether Bailey is willing to stick it out, or if I’ve already been demoted from best friend to old friend.
Nate keeps one hand on the wheel and gesticulates with the other.
“I just think you and I know First Cove better than anyone. Definitely better than anyone corporate. If we move back to Seapoint and run it together, we can give kids what we had. Using our own vision this time. Don’t you want something that’s yours ? ”
Yes, I think. Myself, for one.
Fortunately, that thought is quickly replaced with a different one: that even though it’s dark, even though Nate is just a silhouette, he’s so attractive right now.
Hot, yes, but also passionate. I love his enthusiasm for First Cove.
I wish I could see it in action once he’s running the place.
If only First Cove were located in Santa Monica instead of Seapoint, so he could go back to L.A. with me and fulfill his dream there.
No, go back home with me. Because that’s what L.A. is, and I can’t let myself forget it.