Sweet Dreams
Page 17
On Saturday, Wendy had talked me into trying a session and I told her I probably shouldn’t unless I had a day off. Luckily (to Wendy’s way of thinking) one of the boot camps was on Tuesday.
Today. My day off.
I thought during the session I was going to throw up. Then later during the session I thought I was going to die. I didn’t do either and I’d survived and kept myself standing and breathing all through Wendy taking me to her and Tyler’s condo to make me a protein shake which consisted of organic Greek yogurt, a banana, a tablespoon of peanut butter, a squeeze of honey, a dash of milk, a bunch of ice cubes and a scoop of protein powder.
The protein shake was delicious and the best part of my morning.
But at that moment lying facedown on my bed, I was pretty sure I was going to die.
Regardless, I was on Day Eight in Carnal and, notwithstanding boot camp torture, I knew I’d made the right decision.
* * * * *
After my first day working with Tate at Bubba’s, Jim-Billy took me to dinner at the diner where he spent an hour entertaining me. I hadn’t laughed so much or so hard in so long I forgot how good the pain felt when your belly hurt deep down just from laughing. Jim-Billy’s eyes often strayed to my chest area but I could forgive that because all the rest of the time he was darned funny and definitely sweet.
After he walked me to the hotel, I entered to find my room had undergone a mini-transformation. There was a six drawer dresser on the wall by the door and my clothes that had been folded and stacked on the built-in dresser were gone and I found they’d been moved into the new dresser. On top of the standing dresser was a vase of fresh flowers. On top of the built-in there was an electric kettle, two huge coffee mugs with colorful swirls on them sitting next to a matching sugar bowl and a creamer with a jar of instant coffee next to that and two teaspoons. There were also two, brightly striped tea towels in colors that matched the cups and the sugar bowl was filled. A mini fridge sat beside the mug paraphernalia on the built-in and when I looked inside I saw there was a jug of milk, a bottle of cheap champagne and a note that read:
Welcome home, Betty and Ned.
PS: We already had the dresser and we weren’t using it.
Reading it, I walked backwards, clutching the note in my hand, until my knees hit the bed.
I sat down and burst into tears.
* * * * *
The next day I got up early, got ready to face the day and went to have coffee with Betty.
By the time I made it to her, she’d had her breakfast and opened up so I sat in reception with her while we sipped and chatted. Then I went to my car and drove it to the mechanics at the other end of town and learned very quickly what Tate was talking about the day before.
Carnal was definitely a small town and because of that, it would make it hard to avoid him.
I learned this because Tate was in the massive forecourt of the mechanics, standing by his Harley and talking to a man that was nearly as tall as him but older and softer with long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail and he sported a beer belly. The gray-haired man was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and a black leather vest with a bunch of patches on it. Tate was wearing jeans, his boots and another tight, long-sleeved t-shirt, not a Henley this time and it was navy blue.
I ignored Tate, parked, got out and started walking to the door with a sign over it that said “Office”.
I had long since had a strict personal edict that there was never a time when you were allowed to look bad. Of course, when I was in denial that my marriage was collapsing and I was ignoring the signs, I started to put on weight but I never quit doing my hair and putting on at least light makeup and a decent outfit before going out anywhere, even if it was a quick stop at the grocery store. Then I overheard two friends talking, I confronted Brad with what I heard them say, he came clean about Hayley and that he wanted out and I spent two months eating everything that was edible and dragging around town like the sorry-ass Tate thought I was.
One morning, I’d found I was out of coffeecake and since I ate half of one most mornings for breakfast, I got in my car in my pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt and went to the grocery store. I was on a mission for coffeecake but the minute I walked into the store I saw Brad, dressed in a suit and ready to go to the office, and Hayley, slim and perfect and wearing a fashionable, figure-skimming dress and high heels, all of this flashing toned legs and arms and her pert bottom. They were standing and waiting for drinks at the chain coffee booth at the front of the store. They looked perfect together and they were smiling at each other about something, clearly in their own little happy world bubble.
And I was in my pajamas, I hadn’t washed my hair in three days and I knew I intended to go to work without doing my hair, putting on makeup or ironing my clothes.
I didn’t get the coffeecake. I rushed back to my car, went home and took a shower, shaved my legs for the first time in forever, did my hair, ironed my clothes and made it to work with just seconds to spare.
I also vowed never to let myself sink that low again. Not for losing my beautiful Brad to the perfect Hayley, not for anything.
Unfortunately, I didn’t stop eating but at least it was something.
That day, in Carnal, at the mechanics, even though it was my day off, I still put on a to-the-knee jeans skirt that was a muted shade of red, a red that was just a bit off rust and my mushroom-colored, knit top that was one of the few articles of clothing that I’d bought in semi-recent times (which was to say, over a year ago) that Brad commented on, telling me I looked good in it (before he led me to our bed and took it off). It fit well, even a bit tight, had an empire seam under my br**sts, a shelf bra that worked wonders against gravity, a deep vee that exposed just above a hint of cle**age and it was sleeveless. I’d parted my hair to the side, plaited it in soft French braids down both sides and secured it at the back with a big, oval tortoiseshell clip. I’d put in medium-hoop silver earrings that had a row of red beads dangling from the bottom and a wide, stretchy bracelet that was also beaded in different shades of red and brown. I’d also put on my brown sandals that had a short, but cute, heel that I thought did wonders for my calves, crisscross thin straps at the toe and a matching wraparound strap at the ankle.
I was lucky in one respect, I might be carrying extra weight but my legs and calves were impervious. Even slightly heavy, they were so well formed, they always looked good – this I got from my mother’s side of the family, bless her.
I started toward the office and didn’t make it when three men emerged from one of the two big, double bays in which there were a bunch of cars and bikes being worked on.
Today. My day off.
I thought during the session I was going to throw up. Then later during the session I thought I was going to die. I didn’t do either and I’d survived and kept myself standing and breathing all through Wendy taking me to her and Tyler’s condo to make me a protein shake which consisted of organic Greek yogurt, a banana, a tablespoon of peanut butter, a squeeze of honey, a dash of milk, a bunch of ice cubes and a scoop of protein powder.
The protein shake was delicious and the best part of my morning.
But at that moment lying facedown on my bed, I was pretty sure I was going to die.
Regardless, I was on Day Eight in Carnal and, notwithstanding boot camp torture, I knew I’d made the right decision.
* * * * *
After my first day working with Tate at Bubba’s, Jim-Billy took me to dinner at the diner where he spent an hour entertaining me. I hadn’t laughed so much or so hard in so long I forgot how good the pain felt when your belly hurt deep down just from laughing. Jim-Billy’s eyes often strayed to my chest area but I could forgive that because all the rest of the time he was darned funny and definitely sweet.
After he walked me to the hotel, I entered to find my room had undergone a mini-transformation. There was a six drawer dresser on the wall by the door and my clothes that had been folded and stacked on the built-in dresser were gone and I found they’d been moved into the new dresser. On top of the standing dresser was a vase of fresh flowers. On top of the built-in there was an electric kettle, two huge coffee mugs with colorful swirls on them sitting next to a matching sugar bowl and a creamer with a jar of instant coffee next to that and two teaspoons. There were also two, brightly striped tea towels in colors that matched the cups and the sugar bowl was filled. A mini fridge sat beside the mug paraphernalia on the built-in and when I looked inside I saw there was a jug of milk, a bottle of cheap champagne and a note that read:
Welcome home, Betty and Ned.
PS: We already had the dresser and we weren’t using it.
Reading it, I walked backwards, clutching the note in my hand, until my knees hit the bed.
I sat down and burst into tears.
* * * * *
The next day I got up early, got ready to face the day and went to have coffee with Betty.
By the time I made it to her, she’d had her breakfast and opened up so I sat in reception with her while we sipped and chatted. Then I went to my car and drove it to the mechanics at the other end of town and learned very quickly what Tate was talking about the day before.
Carnal was definitely a small town and because of that, it would make it hard to avoid him.
I learned this because Tate was in the massive forecourt of the mechanics, standing by his Harley and talking to a man that was nearly as tall as him but older and softer with long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail and he sported a beer belly. The gray-haired man was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt and a black leather vest with a bunch of patches on it. Tate was wearing jeans, his boots and another tight, long-sleeved t-shirt, not a Henley this time and it was navy blue.
I ignored Tate, parked, got out and started walking to the door with a sign over it that said “Office”.
I had long since had a strict personal edict that there was never a time when you were allowed to look bad. Of course, when I was in denial that my marriage was collapsing and I was ignoring the signs, I started to put on weight but I never quit doing my hair and putting on at least light makeup and a decent outfit before going out anywhere, even if it was a quick stop at the grocery store. Then I overheard two friends talking, I confronted Brad with what I heard them say, he came clean about Hayley and that he wanted out and I spent two months eating everything that was edible and dragging around town like the sorry-ass Tate thought I was.
One morning, I’d found I was out of coffeecake and since I ate half of one most mornings for breakfast, I got in my car in my pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt and went to the grocery store. I was on a mission for coffeecake but the minute I walked into the store I saw Brad, dressed in a suit and ready to go to the office, and Hayley, slim and perfect and wearing a fashionable, figure-skimming dress and high heels, all of this flashing toned legs and arms and her pert bottom. They were standing and waiting for drinks at the chain coffee booth at the front of the store. They looked perfect together and they were smiling at each other about something, clearly in their own little happy world bubble.
And I was in my pajamas, I hadn’t washed my hair in three days and I knew I intended to go to work without doing my hair, putting on makeup or ironing my clothes.
I didn’t get the coffeecake. I rushed back to my car, went home and took a shower, shaved my legs for the first time in forever, did my hair, ironed my clothes and made it to work with just seconds to spare.
I also vowed never to let myself sink that low again. Not for losing my beautiful Brad to the perfect Hayley, not for anything.
Unfortunately, I didn’t stop eating but at least it was something.
That day, in Carnal, at the mechanics, even though it was my day off, I still put on a to-the-knee jeans skirt that was a muted shade of red, a red that was just a bit off rust and my mushroom-colored, knit top that was one of the few articles of clothing that I’d bought in semi-recent times (which was to say, over a year ago) that Brad commented on, telling me I looked good in it (before he led me to our bed and took it off). It fit well, even a bit tight, had an empire seam under my br**sts, a shelf bra that worked wonders against gravity, a deep vee that exposed just above a hint of cle**age and it was sleeveless. I’d parted my hair to the side, plaited it in soft French braids down both sides and secured it at the back with a big, oval tortoiseshell clip. I’d put in medium-hoop silver earrings that had a row of red beads dangling from the bottom and a wide, stretchy bracelet that was also beaded in different shades of red and brown. I’d also put on my brown sandals that had a short, but cute, heel that I thought did wonders for my calves, crisscross thin straps at the toe and a matching wraparound strap at the ankle.
I was lucky in one respect, I might be carrying extra weight but my legs and calves were impervious. Even slightly heavy, they were so well formed, they always looked good – this I got from my mother’s side of the family, bless her.
I started toward the office and didn’t make it when three men emerged from one of the two big, double bays in which there were a bunch of cars and bikes being worked on.
