Next to the pink envelopes was a stack of white legal-sized envelopes, all securely sealed and with premade address labels affixed. Those were the letters she wrote twice a week, without fail, to Kristen, but could not find the courage or forgiveness to send. Just looking at them made her eyes well with tears, which infuriated her. What did she have to cry about?
Unfortunately, of late, Lorna had noticed that she often felt like crying and couldn’t say why. It was weird and stupid, and sheoperated under the assumption that if she ignored it, it would go away like that mysterious bump on her neck did.
But it was also weird and stupid to write letters to her sister she never sent. She avoided her father’s calls as best she could, and when she couldn’t, she kept them unpardonably short. Her attempts at humor made her sound like a psychopath sometimes, and the worst part of all was that she didn’t know why she did any of it.
She didn’t know why she was so closed off to the world. But she’d built and fortified a super-max bomb shelter in her that even she couldn’t penetrate. The only thing she knew for sure was that living in a bomb shelter could get pretty lonely. Sometimes she really wanted to force open the door and have a look at whatever it was she was hiding from. Or missing. But mostly, she felt too scared to face it.
She looked down at her dog. “Come on, Agnes,” she said, and started for the kitchen. She got some kibble for Agnes and a snack pack of Nutter Butter cookies for herself. As she stood there munching the cookies over the sink, she looked again at the stack of letters.
She turned away from them. A bone-deep weariness settled over her.
Maybe she would do this wellness thing. She didn’t put much stock in things like that, but then again, she’d never actually tried it. She did not like to do things that made her uncomfortable. But wasn’t she always telling her team to open their minds to the many possible roads to sales? Maybe she needed to open her mind to the many possible roads to wellness.
It wasn’t as if she really had a choice at this point. She needed her job if she was going to buy this house. Sure, she could find another job, but she’d put so much time and effort into Driskill. She deserved the promotion. And she didn’t want to start over.
She polished off the last Nutter Butter and fetched her phone. She retrieved the papers Beverly had so gleefully shoved in her hand as she walked out the door this afternoon and called the number to schedule her first appointment.
Hello, Kristen—
Today I almost got myself fired because of a letter I wrote to you. Figures. Apparently, I push the team too hard to make our goals. Well, guess what? I have to push if I am ever going to buy back Nana’s house, which we lost because of you. Happy now? And don’t hand me Mom’s old argument that it wasn’t your fault but the fault of society and a lack of affordable health care. We all know it was you. You promised. You promised and promised and promised and you never did live up to your promises and now I have to go to a wellness thing. Thanks a lot.
PS: Saw there is a hurricane headed your way. I hope you have those hurricane windows everyone talks about.
Chapter 3Lorna Now
The bodhi tao bliss retreat and spa was one of those swank West Austin places, set on lush acreage on the banks of Lake Austin. In other words, it was for rich people. There were cabins for long-term residents of the program (Lorna wondered how long anyone would want to be part of the program. One month? Three months? A year?), all on the water, all with little patios, the length of a fishing line from the shore. There were activities like paddleboarding, yoga, and nature walks. Gentle music drifted through the trees from the same apparatus that provided the soft lighting, following people wherever they went. And a scent that Lorna found cloying—incense—smothered any other natural smells.
People wandered around in slide-on sandals and those plush white bathrobes that had made her angry when they bid the job. Servers milled about with trays of orange juice and green cleanses. The whole thing was so Austin that Lorna couldn’t help but grit her teeth.
She’d worn trousers and a smart jacket to her first appointment because she was a professional. And a wee bit insecure. She certainly wasn’t the type to show up at the grocery store or pharmacy in denim shorts, and she wasn’t the type to wearleggings to a place like this. But she was the only one dressed in this manner—everyone else was wearing loungewear. Everyone was way too casual these days.
The young woman behind the counter was all smiles and soft white linen. She had inky-black hair that hung down her back in a silky tail. Her skin, Lorna couldn’t help noticing, was flawless. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “You’re Lorna Lott?”
Obviously. She had just given the woman her driver’s license and paperwork. “Yes.”
“Purrrfect,” the girl said. Her name tag said Xandra, which Lorna guessed she’d spent her entire life spelling for baristas, who still got it wrong. She might have attempted a joke about the woman’s name but, given her recent history, thought it better to remain silent.
“If you will come this way,” Xandra said, and began to walk down a hall. “Did you bring a change of clothes?”
“What?” The first signs of panic erupted on Lorna’s scalp in the form of aggressive tingling. “Was I supposed to?”
“Not necessarily. Some people like to change into something comfy.”
Comfy? No one said prepare to be comfy!she silently screamed.
Xandra opened the door to a stark white room. White beanbags were scattered about the floor, and a few white chairs were arranged around small white writing desks. The room smelled of incense, and classical guitar music was playing faintly in the background, the sound competing with the trickle of a small water feature running in the corner. Lorna stepped into the room as a dark slash across this otherwise snowy landscape.King Kong strikes again.
She turned back to Xandra. “I think there must be some mistake. I am here for the wellness program.”
“Yes, we have you down for that. This is where we start theprogram. There are a few intake questions we need you to answer.” She handed Lorna an iPad. It was white.
Lorna handed it back. “I already did that over the phone.”
Xandra handed the iPad back to her again. “That was the initial intake. This is the more in-depth one.”
Lorna slowly, reluctantly held on to the iPad. She’d thought the initial interview was invasive enough, asking her height and weight and if she was on any medications. Why did anyone need to know that?
“Have a seat wherever you feel most comfortable and fill it out. Your concierge will be in to fetch you for the morning meditation in about thirty minutes.”
