I got the feeling she was shocked that I didn’t know about gut environment and basic elements in diet. It wasn’t general knowledge, but Shellsea tended to act like it was, especially between the two of us. I picked gloomily at my kale and micro green salad as I thought about what she had just said. When it started to sink in, I looked up and nodded thoughtfully before staring back down at my salad in disappointment. All I wanted was a nice juicy steak and not some bowl of healthy plants that looked like they were plucked out of a field.
It made me think Shellsea had even more of a point. I shouldn’t want steak; I should want the salad.
I stuffed a forkful of salad into my mouth, telling myself I didn’t need a steak. Steak is an indulgence and everything needs to be in moderation. I told myself as I stared at my bowl of green leafy vegetables with depression.
There was a clatter from a falling plate at the table next to us and my mind went back to the ‘conversation’ I was having with Shellsea. I realized I had been nodding the whole time while slowly munching on a bite of kale. I hadn’t even been paying attention to a word she was saying.
Shellsea’s smile was brimming in an almost frightening manner. "I'll bring over my mother tomorrow!"
I had no clue how long I had been spaced out and I missed a whole chunk of the conversation. What had I just agreed to?
"Wait, your mom is coming?"
Shellsea looked at me like I was a crazy person. "That's funny, Mira. I mean the mother for the kombucha."
My eyes widened. I didn’t know what exactly the ‘mother of a kombucha’ was, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t anything I wanted to try. I had already had the regular kombucha, now I had to have the mother of kombucha. I could already feel my stomach wrenching.
“Oh,” I muttered.
I was thoroughly unconvinced with the whole thing, but I didn’t have it in me to take back whatever agreement I had just made by accident. Besides, it had to be good for me, right? I told myself that once I got my diet and “gut environment,” sorted out, then I would find inner peace for sure. And since inner peace was ultimately what I was after, I was willing to take the tough road until I reached the path of peace.
Shellsea cheerfully sorted out the trash, recycling, and compost on her tray. Then she stood up and dropped everything in the appropriate dispenser. She kissed the air next to my cheek and trotted off, leaving me alone so I could continue convincing myself this would be good for me.
Despite knowing better, I opened up my laptop the second I got home. I wanted to find out what exactly a “kombucha mother” was. As soon as the images loaded up, I nearly vomited on the keyboard. It looked beyond disgusting—the exact kind of thing I wanted to keep out of my body.
This road to peacefulness and Zen wasn’t looking very peaceful at all.
"Wait, you're firing me?" The doe-eyed physical therapist said with shock.
She had wavy brown hair pinned back in two small braids and a flowing skirt with flowers embroidered along the hemline. She was cute, but she wasn’t working out. I slid off her table and stood up. At least she had the good sense to turn away as I pulled on my pants.
I sighed, reached into my wallet and winced a little from the lingering pain around my shoulder. I peeled out a few bills. The rustling of the money got her to turn around and look at me. Her eyes lit up. Of course seeing the crisp bills in my hands caught her attention—it gets everyone’s attention.
"Severance pay, sweetheart. It's not working out,” I told her before I shoved the money into her hands.
The young doe-eyed girl nodded. Although the edges of her mouth were turned down, her eyes shined as she counted the money. Then she stuffed the bills into her far-too-sheer sports bra top. At first I liked her so-called ‘uniform’, but now I was over and done with her.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Montgomery," she simpered. "I wish you speedy healing."
Money talks. It’s practically a fact of life. Look at how quickly she changed her tune. Now that she had extra money in hand she wasn’t trying to convince me that she could treat my injury with herbs and chakra oils or whatever she called it.
I rolled my eyes and walked out to my car before she had a chance to say anything else. The last thing I wanted to deal with was hearing some lame excuse come out of her painted red lips in an effort to squeeze more money out of me. I knew I shouldn’t have been driving even though my torn rotator cuff was mostly healed up, but I was damn tired of not doing anything for myself.
I let out a long sigh as my phone started to ring.
“Axel,” my manager, Larry, yelled. He always talked like he was trying to get me to hear him over a wood chipper or something. “How did the session go?”
“I’m not going back to her,” I told him plainly.
Larry let out an audible and exaggerated sigh. He was obviously frustrated. I knew what was coming; he was going to try smoothing over everything in an effort to get me to go back to the therapist, but it wasn’t going to happen.
“Look, Axel, come on. I’m gonna level with you on this, okay? I’m running out of qualified sports therapists in the area. You can’t just, you know, do this sort of thing. It’s not like finding a taco stand or sandwich shop. There’s only so many therapists you can go to. You’re, well, you know who you are and what it means to get that cuff fixed. I can’t just be, you know, sendin’ you to any old therapist. J- just give her another–”
"Find someone else," I cut him off. Larry was starting to stammer and say things that nobody wanted to hear, especially me. "Doesn't matter the cost." I knew how this worked and I was lucky enough to be able to throw money where it needed to be thrown.
Larry sighed and stayed quiet for a minute too long. I quickly glanced at the screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. I knew Larry was either thinking up some sort of chit-chat I had no interest listening to, or he had already given in and was doing the research on the next therapist.
“Well… there’s a therapist out in the suburban wastelands. It’s a bit of a commute, but she does come highly recommended. Says she’s got great training, experience, understanding of what to do, gifted hands etcetera.”
“I like the sound of that,” I said, a small but satisfied smile curling up the corner of my lips. I knew if I didn’t give into Larry’s ramblings right off the bat I could usually get what I wanted. Even though Larry was a good manager, he could sometimes be a lazy son of a bitch.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. I knew he was annoyed, but I didn’t really care– it’s his to care, not mine. That’s what I paid for.
“What are you waiting for then? Book it,” I said before ending the call just as I was pulling up to the driveway of my house. The business day was over, at least for me. Everything else could be taken care of later. The most important thing was waiting for me at home.
I pulled up to my house and put the car in park, wincing at the pain in my bad shoulder. Just as I closed the car door behind me, the front door of the house flew open and the love of my life stood there waiting for me. I quickly grabbed my duffle bag out of the trunk and headed toward the front door.
She was beautiful in the late summer sun, blue eyes glittering with a wide smile that took my breath away. She was bouncing up and down and waving to me. My heart beat so fast I could hear it. I just wanted to have her in my arms.
It seemed like she was on the same page as me and couldn’t stand waiting any longer. She came flying out towards me with a shriek.
"Daddy!"
Little Molly slammed into my bad shoulder, making me wince, but I couldn’t care less. No amount of pain in the world could stop me from loving every second of her excitement. I carried her happily into the house anyway, pushing past the pain. Once inside, I set her down and crouched to be level with the most gorgeous blue eyes I had ever seen. I ran my hand through her dark brown hair and took in her smile, flashing a wide grin of my own.
“Guess what?” I squished her face between my two big hands before pulling a presen
t out of the duffel bag I had placed on the floor. I gave her a new doll, which made her shriek with pure joy and immediately discard the one she had in her hand.
I laughed at how quick she was to toss her old toy aside. I kissed her on the cheek before standing up and pulling my cell phone out of my pocket to take a picture of her playing with her new doll. I snapped a few photos before deciding to record a snippet of her dancing in a circle with the toy. I smiled as I watched her, not only because nothing filled my heart more than seeing the light of my life shine so brightly, but also because she had no clue I had already bought a wardrobe for her new doll. That would only send her ecstatic happiness skyrocketing.
Molly stood up and hugged my leg, making my heart jump into my throat at the feeling of her little hands clutching at me. She pulled the doll over to the couch and climbed up to sit with crisscross legs and continue to play.
Janice, the nanny, was standing right next to the couch with arms crossed and a small smile on her face.
“Hello, Mr. Montgomery,” she greeted me, but I barely acknowledged her with a nod.
My eyes were fixated on Molly and my mind was too focused on her to properly greet Janice. I kind of blew past her in favor of tickling my daughter, who was now carefully sitting her new dolly beside her on the couch. Janice was used to that sort of treatment so she left the room and silently headed upstairs.
She didn’t take it personally. I’m sure she found it endearing to see just how enamored ‘The Axe’ was with his three-year-old daughter. She would come back down in about a half an hour to start dinner and let me have my personal time with Molly.
There was no doubt in my mind that if you pay people the right amount, they do what you want. Janice never asked for much and she didn’t take things personally. She knew this was a job. I was glad she and Molly had forged a bond. After all, I wouldn’t want Molly to feel like some stranger was raising her. But, at the end of the day, Janice knew when it was time to step aside and I appreciated that she knew her place.
I certainly paid her enough for it.
After I tickled Molly into a giggling fit, I pulled her onto my lap and watched her play with her new toy. She continued to coo and murmur nonsensical sounds. I had long given up trying to understand the conversations she had with her toys and imaginary friends. I leaned back and smiled.
“Honey,” I muttered after a few more minutes. “What did you and Janice do today?”
Molly hopped off my lap and landed with a bounce on the comfortable couch cushions, still clutching the doll. I laughed because I knew there was no taking away that toy now. Molly pointed to a little arts and crafts project on the coffee table. I didn’t have to ask which was hers, but she delighted in telling me anyway. Who was I to deny anything that made her cute little face light up?
She reached forward as she pointed at the picture and I instinctively swung my arm out to make sure she didn’t topple off the edge of the couch.
She wasn’t going to let up so I picked her up and set her down on the floor. She walked over and continued to talk about her little project. It looked like they did finger painting, but I couldn’t be sure. Arts and crafts were never a strong suit of mine. It was moments like these that made me happy that Molly had Janice around. She didn’t have much of a mother figure so I was thankful for what she did have.
In other words, I was even more grateful I had the money to keep Janice around for my daughter. With a smile on my face, I listened to what Molly had to say about her painting as I grabbed it to take a closer look. Molly squealed in delight and I immediately picked her up and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose.
My shoulder ached from picking her up, but I just pushed it to the back of my head and ignored it.
I was lying in the center of my office floor, trying to clear my mind and focus on my breath. I was practicing a deep breathing technique that Shellsea recommended. It was supposed to help me to clear my mind and reach a ‘point of serenity.’
According to Shellsea it would help me better navigate my daily duties, but right now I was having trouble ignoring the rumbling in my stomach. I knew it was hunger, but I tried to convince myself it was my inner weakness trying to get me indulge in things I didn’t need. Everything in moderation!
This is stupid. I thought, but then immediately shushed myself. I’ll never reach inner peace if I keep questioning everything. Then I realized I was overthinking everything. That’s what I tended to do when I didn’t check myself.
My mind drifted towards the cancellation I had earlier. I had one and only one client scheduled for the day, but got a call for a last-minute cancellation. My stomach knotted up and I knew it wasn’t just from hunger. I shushed myself again and shut my eyes, willing myself to focus on my breathing and a blank picture in my mind. I drew in another breath and exhaled.
This wasn’t the day this plan of mine was going to work out. Inner peace? There wasn’t anything peaceful about my innards at all.
My office phone rang. I practically lunged for it. I was happy for the interruption. My failed attempt at meditation was causing more stress than it should have. That was kind of the opposite of what it was supposed to do.
“Miranda Bach, massage therapist,” I answered with my best professional voice.
“I was told you specialize in sports massage,” the man on the other end of the line practically yelled gruffly. I was used to dealing with disgruntled agents, managers, and spoiled athletes, so his tone didn’t bother me. I barely even registered it.
“I do,” I responded as I checked my reflection in the mirror.
I was trying to listen to the man on the other end, but he was pretty much rambling and none of it was anything I hadn’t heard before. I leaned in closer to the mirror and wondered if I really did look a little more peaceful.
Maybe the meditation worked? I mouthed the question at the mirror. Or maybe I was just trying to convince myself I had actually achieved tranquility. I probably just wanted to believe I had. I zoned out a bit as the guy went on and on over the phone.
He probably needed tranquil meditation more than I did. I could only imagine how much spittle coated the mouthpiece of his phone.
When he finally paused to suck in a gasping breath, I took advantage of the silence, "Yes, I have extensive experience working on rotator cuff injuries.”
“That’s great, I need absolute assurance professional discretion is guaranteed. I can’t have—”
“Yes, of course professional discretion is guaranteed. I would be happy to take him on as a regular client.”
“Can you fit him in soon? If he can’t fit in soon I—”
“Yes, actually, I had a cancellation and would be happy to see him if he can make it in the next hour." It felt like I was reciting a speech at that point, but I knew exactly what kinds of answers managers like him were looking for. Dealing with panic stricken agents was just part of the job.
The man sounded relieved and kept going on about this and that so I checked myself in the mirror again, this time turning to the side and wondering if the new gut-friendly diet Shellsea recommended was actually doing anything for the bloating I had noticed. Just as I wondered if the ‘diet’ was actually causing my bloating, I heard the man say something that caught me by surprise. There was no way I heard him correctly.
"I'm sorry,” I interrupted. “What did you say your client's name was?"
"Axel Montgomery."
Panic.
My stomach felt worse than the moment the kombucha hit me. The very name sent a flood of angst throughout my body, fueled by teenage memories.
I suddenly felt like I was being unwillingly thrust into a time machine and shoved to the past. Sure, maybe I was too young to go to high school at the same time as him, but his shadow of fame and notoriety still loomed over the school by the time I went.
Axel Montgomery was my brother's best friend when I was growing up.
He was the walking embodiment of MAN during my late-blooming puberty y
ears. He was always working out in our basement and playing shirtless backyard football with Zak. It was too much for my teenage hormone ridden body to deal with. He was my fantasy. To be fair, he was every girls fantasy. But I was the only girl that had him in my house twenty-four seven. I both loved and hated him being around so much when I was younger. He had always teased me; sometimes to the point of tears. But still, that never stopped me from fantasizing about him.
I gulped. I couldn’t believe my ears.
“Is that a problem?”
The man on the other end sounded slightly frazzled, but mostly impatient. He brought me back to the present. I was glad to be out of my little teenage flashback to the basement and all the other moments that shaped me as a blossoming young woman. I cleared my throat and shook my head, eyes wide and staring at my reflection in the mirror.
“Hello-o-o,” the man said obnoxiously on the other end.
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