“Really?” Shonna asked.
“Absolutely,” Steve said.
“We should totally do that, Scarlett.”
We talked some more and then I remembered to ask Jake about a place to get tattoos. He recommended the place we’d passed and asked what we planned to get.
“I was thinking about getting a butterfly because I’m in the process of reinventing myself and starting over. But now that we’ve traveled Route 66 I’d like to see if the artist could work that into the tattoo somewhere.”
“That’s a great idea, Scarlett,” Jake said.
“You didn’t tell me about the Route 66 part,” Shonna said. “But I like it.”
“What about you, Shonna?” Steve asked.
Shonna pointed to the underside of her wrist. “Carpe Diem right there.”
Steve nodded. “Nice.”
The waiter arrived with our dishes and the food looked amazing. We’d taken Steve’s recommendation and ordered spaghetti tossed with bottarga, pistachio and bread crumbs. I figured I’d try something new and I wasn’t disappointed.
Before we left, we enjoyed an after-dinner drink.
“I’m so glad you messaged me,” Jake said. “It’s been great seeing you again.”
I told them about moving and my plans to open a boutique and coffee shop. “So you guys can visit anytime you want.”
“Maybe we should visit for the store opening,” Steve suggested.
“That would be great, but it won’t be for a while.”
“That just gives us more time to save for the trip. Besides, Jake promised to show me his hometown and this would be the perfect opportunity.”
On the road back to our hotel, Shonna and I couldn’t stop talking about Jake and Steve.
“Who would’ve guessed?” Shonna asked.
I shook my head. “Never in a million years. But they seem perfect for each other. And so happy. And they’re both gorgeous.”
Shonna sighed. “Yeah, too bad they hit for the other team.”
The next day, we went to the tattoo shop and discovered it didn’t take walk-ins.
“I’m just going to wait until I get home,” I said. “There’s a place not far from me that I heard good things about.”
“Okay, but pinkie swear you won’t back out.”
I held out my pinkie and Shonna held out hers. Just like we did when we were kids.
Chapter 22
“I can’t believe we’re going to be fifty next year,” Shonna complained while driving to Carmel. “Those twentysomethings with their perfect bodies make me feel like a sack of potatoes – lumps and bulges everywhere.”
“I hear you, but we know time is the great equalizer. Those twentysomethings will have their own cellulite and love handles to contend with some day and they’ll know how it feels being looked at with pity by kids half their age.”
“True. And payback is hell. But I hate my Grandma-wave-goodbye arms.”
“Your what?”
“The way my upper arms jiggle when I wave. And the fact that I suddenly need my reading glasses more often.”
“There have to be good things about turning fifty,” I said. “I mean, sex gets better with age, right?”
“Wrong! I thought we had this discussion. When the plumbing works, it’s great. When it doesn’t, it stinks. Maybe you should add getting laid to your list.”
I slapped Shonna’s shoulder. “Stop it!”
I opened the notepad app on my phone. “Okay. I’ll take notes. What’s good about turning the big five 0?”
“If you’re through menopause, you don’t have to worry about getting pregnant,” Shonna said, “and you’re freer between the sheets.”
I typed Don’t worry about pregnancy. Feel freer during sex.
“Kid-free. More me time.” I typed.
“Except for morons like me who put off starting a family,” Shonna said.
“More disposable income. We can spend hours online buying random stuff we don’t need, but want.”
Shonna sighed. “Again, for some.”
“Here’s one. AARP discount.”
“This isn’t helping me,” Shonna said.
“You get to wear a red hat and feather boa.”
Shonna turned on the radio. “That’s it. No more.”
I laughed. And closed the app on my phone.
We listened to a playlist of eighties music I’d made.
“Man, there were some really good artists in the eighties,” I said. “Whitney. Michael Jackson. Prince.”
“I can’t believe they’re all gone,” Shonna said. “We’ve lost so many great artists.”
“It makes me realize that no one gets through life without some trial. Everyone is fighting a battle of some kind. You just might not know it.”
By the time we pulled into Carmel, we’d exhausted a number of topics, including homemade face packs, the horrors of hot flashes, whether it was okay for me to become a cougar and date a guy a lot younger (for the record, Shonna said yes and I said no), the beauty of Botox and my obsession with all things pink.
The streets were crowded with cars and people, but I spotted a space on the right and Shonna was able to snag it.
“Look at this,” she said. “They knew we were coming.”
The tree-lined streets of Carmel were loaded with boutiques. We strolled along Ocean Avenue, slipping in and out of shops filled with jewelry, antiques, fashions and more.
Art galleries, wine-tasting rooms, fine restaurants – Carmel had it all.
“I could totally spend a week here,” Shonna said.
I looked up at the store we were about to enter. “I’m glad we decided to stop.” We’d planned to go straight to Monterey, but Steve and Jake had suggested we stop here and I was glad we had. They were right. It was a charming place with its stone-paved alleyways, uneven sidewalks and tree-lined streets.
Meandering down a side street, Shonna almost fell but steadied herself. “I’m so glad I wore sneakers.”
I laughed. “Well, the city does have a High Heel Ordinance.”
“You’re joking.”
I held up my phone. “No, I read it online. Apparently, no heels over two inches are permitted on the sidewalks without a license from City Hall. No citations have ever been issued, though.” I laughed.
Weighed down with bags, we headed toward our car.
“I want my shop to be just like these. Unique. Cozy. A place where people come in to shop and find something unexpected.”
“I wish I lived closer so I could help. Building the boutique from the ground up will be so much fun.”
When we left Carmel, we decided to take Highway 1, which hugs the California coast, to Monterey. The rugged, windy road offered breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean. We ended our night with dinner and drinks at the hotel bar. The next morning, we hit Cannery Row, soaking in a bit of history, before heading to San Francisco, our final destination.
Shonna pulled out her selfie stick and we took a photo standing in front of an old sardine canning factory on the waterfront street.
“I have to send this to my mom,” Shonna said. “She loves sardines!”
I scanned the area. “I love how new life has been given to these old buildings. They didn’t just tear them down, but reinvented them, turning them into hotels, shops and restaurants.”
“Sort of sounds like what you want to do with your new place.”
“Exactly. I want to reinvent something old and turn it into something new, but honor its past.”
I couldn’t help thinking I was also reinventing myself. I was learning to embrace change, even when it arrived with its companions, Fear and Uncertainty. And I’d realized that passion was what got me out of bed in the morning. It’s what made me love every moment of every day. And I needed to follow that passion, no matter how rugged or rocky the road.
We spent our time in San Francisco exploring the hilly city,
tucked between the Pacific Ocean and San Francisco Bay. We stayed across from Union Square in a historic hotel, which put us in the middle of the action. We walked up Lombard Street, strolled across the iconic Golden Gate Bridge, road a cable car, visited the colorful Victorian houses and, of course, took a selfie on the corner of Haight and Asbury streets.
After visiting Fisherman’s Wharf, we thought we’d ride the cable car back up the hill to the hotel, but the line was so long we decided to walk. And what a walk it was! Hills, hills and more hills.
“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about working out,” I told Shonna.
She sighed. “I’m sweating and you know how much I hate sweating.”
“But just think,” I reasoned. “The more calories you burn, the more you can drink when we get back to the hotel.”
“You do have a point.”
Walking back to our hotel was grueling. I thought my legs were going to fall off. “I’m definitely going to feel this in my calves tomorrow.”
Neither of us spoke the last few blocks. It took all of our energy to put one foot in front of the other. When we finally made it back, we headed straight for the room to rest and shower.
Later that night at the hotel bar, Shonna asked what my favorite part of the trip had been.
“I’d have to say spending time with you. We haven’t spent this much time together since we were in high school. We need to do this more often. Maybe take a trip once a year. It doesn’t have to be a road trip, but we should go somewhere, even if it’s only for a few days. Just the two of us. No kids and no husbands. Just us.”
Shonna held up her glass. “I’ll toast to that.”
“What about you? Any favorite parts?”
Shonna bit her lower lip. “I loved it all. The small towns. The kitschy roadside attractions, like the Gemini Giant in Wilmington, Illinois and the Giant Milk Bottle in Oklahoma City. It was just plain fun. And I missed the kids and Roger more than I thought I would. It’s good to be going home.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I’m ready to get back and work on my dream. If anything, I’m re-energized and more determined to succeed. I realize life is full of opportunities, but I’m often so busy fast forwarding through life that I never stop to see them. I’m trying to change that.”
It was hard saying goodbye to Shonna at the airport. We were boarding different flights going in different directions, but I knew we’d remember this road trip forever. I pulled out my list and crossed off Take a road trip with my bestie.
Chapter 23
“You look fantastic!” Renee said when I walked into the gym.
“Thanks. I feel fantastic. It was a great trip but I’m glad to be home.”
Surprisingly, I hadn’t gained any weight. In fact, I’d actually lost a few pounds. Going back to work was a little rough, but I didn’t mind returning to the gym. I’d missed Renee and I’d started to feel comfortable in a place I never thought I would.
“I was just about to take the cycle class. Want to join me?” Renee asked.
“Are you crazy? I could never keep up.” I walked by the cycling room on my way to my locker. Those people were maniacs on bikes.
Renee waved her arm. “Oh, come on. Try something new. Just do what you can. No one is going to notice or care.”
“But I don’t have cycle shoes.”
“No worries. A lot of people wear sneakers. If you like the class and decide to cycle routinely, then I’d suggest buying a pair of cycle shoes so you can clip in. The ride is so much smoother. But for now, your sneakers will do.”
I knew I was making excuses, and I knew Renee knew I was making excuses, and then I thought, why not? Renee was right. I shouldn’t let fear or insecurity stop me from trying new things. I realized that, at the end of my life, I didn’t want to say I should have. Or could have or might have. The trip had taught me that it’s never too late for old dreams to come true and it’s never too late to make new dreams. What an awful life it would be it there were no dreams at all.
So I stashed my gym bag in my locker, grabbed my water bottle and sweat towel and followed Renee to the cycle class. Renee helped me adjust the height of the handlebars and seat and gave me a quick tutorial on proper posture. A woman sitting on the bike to my right introduced herself. “I’m Devyn. Don’t worry. Just do what you can. We’ve all been where you are.”
I breathed in deeply. “Thanks.”
The instructor, noticing someone new was taking the class, welcomed me into the fold. Forty-five minutes later, I was drenched in sweat and more tired than I’d ever been after exercising. There were times throughout the workout when I couldn’t keep up and just had to sit and pedal, but at least I didn’t stop.
Renee wiped the sweat off her face with a small towel. “So, what did you think?”
“That was intense!”
Renee laughed. “Peter is one of the tougher instructors, but I love his class because I know I’m always going to get a great workout.”
Peter walked over and introduced himself. He looked to be about my age, maybe a little older, with curly dark hair and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. “You did well. I hope you come back and don’t get frustrated. Most of the people in this class have been cycling for years.”
I smiled. “Thanks. It was definitely a tough workout.” I pointed to my purple T-shirt, which was so wet I knew I’d be able to wring it out.
Later that night, I called Tory to tell her about the cycle class.
“Wow, Mom. Good for you. I tried a cycle class with Betsy, my sorority sister, in college and it just about killed me. Do you think you’ll do it again?”
“I think so. Maybe once a week. It was a good cardio workout, but man, did that seat hurt my crotch!”
Tory laughed. “Betsy wore padded bicycle shorts and, when I took the class, I noticed some of the riders used gel seat covers for extra padding.”
“Gel seat covers?”
“Yeah, you can buy them at a sporting goods store or bike shop. It’s basically a padded cover that fits over the bike seat. It helps protect your pelvic floor. You might be sore tomorrow.”
“I felt like I was bouncing in the seat a lot,” I explained.
“You probably need to turn up the resistance. That should help with the bouncing.”
“That’s what Peter said.”
“Who’s Peter?”
“The instructor. He told me to turn up the resistance and smooth out my pedal strokes.”
“Listen to him. Especially if it’s something you’re going to continue doing.”
Tory was right about my being sore the next day. When I woke up I felt as if I’d been beaten. My groin hurt. My calves hurt. My butt hurt. Even my feet hurt. I guess that’s why so many people wear cycling shoes. I’d noticed my feet bent over the pedals when I rode in the standing position. If I’d had cycling shoes, that wouldn’t have happened. I’d have to price them to see if they were within my budget. Funny how little things, like the right shoes, can make all the difference in the world.
Pulling into the parking lot at the tattoo shop, I watched as a young guy walked out in jeans and a tight tee, which showcased his bulging, tattooed biceps. I walked inside and a young guy with dreadlocks down to his shoulders looked up. “Hi, I’m Bryce. How can I help you?”
I scanned the wall behind him, which was covered in photos of tattoos. “I’d like to get a tattoo.”
“Your first?”
I nodded.
He smiled. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’d like a butterfly. Do you have a catalog I could look at?”
“Absolutely! Let me show you some that I did.”
Bryce opened a notebook full of photos and flipped to the butterfly section.
“Where are you thinking you’d like to get it?”
“I thought between my shoulder blades, but I’ve been rethinking that. I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable if the tattoo could be se
en when wearing certain dresses. So I think I’m leaning more toward my hip. That way no one will know it’s there, unless I tell them, of course.”
Bryce explained the tattoo process and we agreed he would work on a design for me that was small and subtle. Some of the designs he showed me were bright and bold, and I wanted something a little more delicate and muted.
“And if there’s a way, could you try to incorporate the number sixty-six in the design?”
Bryce nodded. “Sure, I’ll try. I take it that number’s special to you?”
“Yes, I just returned from a Route 66 road trip with my bestie. It’d be great if you could somehow work that number into the artwork.”
“What’s your email address?” Bryce asked. “I’ll get to work on this right away and email you the design. If there’s something you don’t like or want to change, let me know. When you’re satisfied with the design, then we can set up a time to do it.”
I couldn’t wait to call Shonna and tell her about the tattoo consultation.
“So, how did you find this guy?” Shonna asked.
“He came recommended by Renee, the girl who trains me at the gym. He did one on her lower back several years ago and he’s also done work for her friends.”
“And you’re sticking with the butterfly?”
“Yes, definitely. I think it symbolizes transition and I’m definitely in transition, recreating myself both physically and mentally. It’s perfect. And I asked him to work in the number sixty-six. I can’t wait to see what he comes up with.”
No sooner had I ended my call with Shonna than Tory called. She was crying and I could only make out a few words: Dad. Cancer. David. My heart started to race. “Tory, what are you saying? I can’t understand you.”
“Dad called. He has cancer.”
My hand flew to my chest and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
“I just got off the phone with him,” Tory cried. “He said it’s no big deal but I don’t believe him.”
I waited to speak, wanting to give Tory all the time she needed. “What kind?” I asked.
“Colon.”
“Does David know?”
A Year of Second Chances Page 15
