Chapter 27
Celeste
Bowling has never been my strong suit since I’m the gutter ball queen, but when the folks from my anger management class decided to get together for a social outing, I couldn’t refuse. Phyllis approved heartily when she heard us all talking about it after our last class.
“Bonding through sports and games is a fantastic way to work through anger, it’s a wonderful idea,” she encouraged.
“I’d like you all to talk about what you’ve learned without me looming over you, there might be things you’ll discover in a different setting.
Please bring your thoughts to the next session. ”
So now here I am, enjoying a beer with some mozzarella sticks, and chatting with the rest of the class while we play a couple of half assed games of bowling.
This unlikely, ragtag, completely disparate group of people becoming friends is not something I ever saw coming.
We can relate to each other in ways not many other people can, and it makes me feel not so useless and alone.
The bowling alley isn’t crowded, and we’re off to the far end, well away from the two other groups playing right now. There is something so satisfying about hearing the snap of the ball hitting the pins against a backdrop of nineties grunge bands.
“Have you all survived your one on one meetings with Phyllis?” asks Maya, who is probably my favorite of the group.
“Mine was last week, and it went better than I thought it would,” says Aiden.
“She didn’t sit there judging me for trashing my office, even though she very well could have.
My big takeaway she gave me is that I need friends I can actually talk to on a deeper level, beyond sports and shit talk, to help process my emotions.
My wife leaving me had me feeling so much shame and regret that it all became a powder keg.
She described it as allowing the pressure from my anger to slowly release through confiding instead of letting it become an explosion by bottling things up. ”
I nod in understanding.
“She’s right. Until I started confiding in my sister, and now my husband, there was so much built up in me. It’s so incredibly hard to open yourself up like that, but it’s worth it,” I tell him.
“I think a lot of anger and frustration comes from not feeling understood, or seen, so having someone who gets you helps,” chimes in Zoey, the other woman in our group of seven, and we all murmur our agreement.
Chris rejoins us after throwing his ball, and he’s clearly the ringer since it’s his second strike of the night.
We all give him a high five since we are just bowling for fun.
My score is currently five and my competitive ass doesn’t really care.
I’m relaxed, enjoying having these people to commiserate with.
“If it means keeping a decent relationship with my ex-wife and my kids, I’ll do it.
Hell, if I had done that sooner, maybe I’d still have a wife,” Aiden says brokenly.
There’s a lot of sorrow mixed with determination in his statement, and I hope he’s able to keep doing the work.
All of us encourage him, and promise to support him.
We all start talking about the what ifs in our respective situations.
What if I had just left the bar the night that asshole wouldn’t leave me alone?
What if Chris hadn’t spilled hot coffee on himself when he was in a rush to work, causing him to get extreme road rage when someone cut him off that resulted in an altercation?
Then we turn the conversation toward how to stop it from happening again.
Zoey favors breathing exercises and meditation.
Another guy from the group, Tyler, has gotten into MMA as a productive outlet for his aggression.
Both Maya and I love having our pets to help calm us down.
She’s adopted a cat since I met her in that first class that she and her son are obsessed with.
The night continues like that, all of us trading stories and learning from each other.
We’re a diverse collection of messy and imperfect people, but are trying hard to navigate our way to becoming better.
I can see the changes in us over the past couple of months that give me hope we’ll all be ok, and we’ll also have a lot to talk about with Phyllis in our next session.
A few days later, I open the doors to my non-profit space, and take in the blank canvas.
Signing the lease not long after I looked at it was exhilarating, like I was signing a contract for the fresh start I want to give other women.
There is definitely a long road ahead, though.
Obtaining the proper business permits, tax documents, having it legally incorporated, and getting the space ready for actual use will take a lot of time.
I also have to interview staff, including two more directors, since there legally has to be three for a non-profit in New Jersey.
It doesn’t scare me, I’m so ready to put in the work to make this place everything I’ve dreamed about.
At least the website is up and running, although not live or advertised yet, with links to all of the resources I could find.
It took me weeks and so much research to do it, but I’m very happy with how it turned out.
The main page is easy to navigate, the aesthetic is bright and simple, and the menu of resources is fairly extensive.
All of the marketing and aesthetics from the website are going to translate here.
I’ve had a logo made up that will be made into a sign out front, the same as it sits in pride of place on the website.
The crisp color scheme of white, baby blue, and dove grey on the website is going to be mirrored here with the colored accents against a white backdrop.
Fresh Start Initiatives, Inc. is going to hopefully help so many women like me.
The money situation is becoming more and more solid.
My diner paychecks and big tips have helped tremendously, but getting approved for the grant from our municipality has been the biggest win in hitting the ground running to get this brick and mortar place ready.
There have also been a lot of tremendously generous donations from people who have connected with the non-profit through social media.
Right now, I’m overwhelmed as I stare at a space strewn with boxes of career advice pamphlets, sample resumes, canned and shelf stable food donations, and clothes. Gage, Carlo, and Carlo’s youngest sister Anita file in after me as I hold the door for them, each of them laden with a box.
Anita is a fashion designer who just released her own line in collaboration with the boutique she works in.
She looks every bit the part in her mauve boatneck cashmere sweater, skinny black pants, and kitten heel mules.
Her long dark hair is slicked back in a high ponytail.
When Carlo told her about my non-profit, she immediately and wonderfully said she would donate a ton of her designs for the cause.
Since Tania is becoming closer and closer to Carlo’s family, she’s brought me into the fold, too.
I had told her today is completely casual and comfortable, so I was flabbergasted when I picked her up earlier and saw what she’s wearing.
“Sweetie, this is comfy and casual for me,” she said with a wink.
“It’s true,” Carlo groaned from next to her in the back seat. “She thinks yoga pants should be illegal.”
“Not illegal,” she protested. “I just don’t like how I look in them at all,” she went on with a sniff.
I could do nothing but shake my head and laugh.
“Love you anyway, even if you hate my yoga pants,” I had teased her, like an older sister would normally tease a younger sister. She’s just a couple of years younger than me. Getting closer to her and the rest of the women in our friend group has been a whole new experience that I’m cherishing.
Me, Tania, Lyra, Gina, Lucia, Anita, Rosa, and Daniella made quite the posse at the eighties themed club just north of us when we all went out for a girls night a couple of days ago.
Dressed in neon colors with big bows and fingerless gloves, drinking fishbowl cosmos, dancing our asses off to Madonna, it was girlhood at its finest.
“We’re all going to be sisters!” we’d shouted in unison, arms around each other in a joyful huddle.
It’s true, too. Lyra has all but been officially adopted by the crew through Taran being Carlo’s best friend, Gina is basically Lyra’s sister, Tania is very likely going to become their official sister-in-law, which then brings me into the family.
If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be gaining six sisters, and three brothers in Wayne, Carlo, and Taran, I would have laughed my ass off in their face.
I’ve not only found the most incredible husband in Gage, but I’ve also gained the big, loving family I’ve always craved.
My bio parents may not have chosen me, but these people have.
This tight knit crew made up of both blood and found family has welcomed me as if they’ve known me forever, and it means absolutely everything.
The sounds of Carlo and Anita bickering bring me back to the present.
“You can’t just hang the clothes all willy nilly, they need to be sorted by season and color,” Anita is hissing at him, grabbing a few blazers and dresses off of the rack and putting them where she wants them.
“I just want to get them out of the boxes so that they don’t wrinkle too much, you can sort them,” Carlo protests.
The dynamic between the two youngest Hernandez siblings is actually hilarious, and I kind of love it. It’s the loving bickering that is so different from the screaming matches and brawls I knew growing up.
“I’ll get them sorted, you two have done so much already,” I intervene. Anita waves me off and begins hanging things the way she sees fit. Her self-satisfied nod at her work when it’s all to her liking makes me chuckle, I love her passion for clothes.