This time I do smack him with my notebook. “Back on track. Now. This discussion has gone on for way toolong.”
Half an hour goes by and we’re still not any closer to settling on an idea. Pages of potential hashtags litter the table in front of me, while Aaron wheels himself around the room in his chair. I’d tell him to sit still, but I’m just as close to losing my mind as he is. I’ve yanked at my hair in frustration so many times I feel like I must have pulled half of itout.
“Okay, let’s regroup,” I say, for what feels like the thousandth time. “What’s the central message we’re trying to getacross?”
“That wearing nice underwear makes you feel good, and every woman deserves to feel good for her own sake,” drones Aaron, his head thrown back over the top of his chair. Without warning, he jumps up and punches the air. “Wait, that’s it! Let go with #wearingniceunderwearmakesyoufeelgoodandeverywomandeservestofeelgoodforherownsake! It’s so catchy and easy toremember!”
He laughs at his own joke while I cover my face and let out a groan. “Meu Deus. Of all people, I had to get stuck with you.” I uncover my eyes and glance at the clock. “We have ten minutes left in this room and less than three weeks left on this project, and we haven’t even picked out our sloganyet.”
“Okay,” replies Aaron, in his getting-down-to-business voice, “our real ‘a-ha!’ moment here is when women realize we’re trying to promote that feeling they get when they put on their favourite bra. We want them to connect that sexy, powerful vibe with our brand. We need a hashtag that doesthat.”
I tug my lip between my teeth, narrowing my eyes in concentration. There’s an idea right in front of me I can’t quite get a hold of, like I’m swinging a bat at a piñata that stays just out of reach. Aaron starts to say something but I shush him, bringing my fingers up to my temples and squeezing until I hit the piñata in my mind with a satisfyingthud.
“#Favouritebrafeeling.”
I put my hands down and look up to find Aaron staring at me. I know we’re both thinking the same thing: this is it. The idea encompasses everything we’re trying to say, but it’s simple enough to be catchy. On top of that, it’s relatable. It’s something I can see people talking about, and in the advertising world, buzz is always your bestfriend.
“Damn, Peaches,” Aaron says. “That’sgood.”
* * *
Iholdup the strike pads, alternating my right and left arms as Alice mirrors the movements with her punches. The room echoes with battle cries as everyone around us performs the same partnerdrill.
“Fuck you, Subway!” Alice shouts. “Fuck you, Mr. I Ordered Whole Grain Not Honey Oat! Fuck you, Mrs. These Peppers Are Slimy! They. Are. Not. Slimy.” She matches each word with a punch, throwing them faster and faster as I pick up myspeed.
Coach Kelsey blows her whistle and I drop the pads. Alice bends over and props her hands on her thighs,panting.
“Bad day at work?” Iquestion.
“The worst,” she replies between heavybreaths.
We make our way over for the cool-downstretches.
“Do you want to go for after-class smoothies and forget all about it?” Iask.
Alice shakes her head. “Ice cream. The only thing that will make me forget about this day is icecream.”
Leaving it at that, we finish up the cool-down with the rest of the class and take our showers. All freshened up, I swing my locker closed and ask Alice if she’d like to come over for the evening and demolish a tub of Ben and Jerry’s each. I’ve been so caught up in schoolwork and my marketing jobs that I’m feeling the need for some sugary stress relief aswell.
Alice practically bounds out of the building at my suggestion, hopping into my car with a shout of “Hell yes!” while I’m still halfway across the parking lot. I join her inside and drive us over to the nearest grocery store, where we stock up on cookie dough and chocolate cherry before heading to myapartment.
Some wall shaking and moans from Sofia’s room let us know that she and Nicholas are home, but Alice has been here often enough that I don’t feel the need to apologize for the bangfest that’s going on. She plops down on the couch and demands that I get her aspoon.
“You sure this is just about work?” I ask, handing her one and then joining her on the couch with a spoon of myown.
“Yeah, mostly,” she answers. “It was just really shitty today and it made me really upset and kind of scared about my future, you know? The advertising world is so hard to break into. I don’t want to end up spending all this money on school and still find myself asking people if they’d like to ‘make that a combo’ for the rest of mylife.”
I may be five years older than Alice, but half the things she said still apply to me, too. Sometimes I feel like the pressure I put on myself to succeed in this industry is enough to knock meover.
“Hey,” I answer, nudging her shoulder with mine. “This is where I give you some wise advice learned during the several years of life experience I have that you don’t. Sometimes you just have to let go. I mean, work as hard as you can. Do everything that’s in your power, but accept that not everything is. Save your energy and worry for the things you can actuallychange.”
She nods, leaning over to nuzzle her head against my shoulder. “Thank you, wise friend,” she murmurs, and then breaks the poignancy of the moment by pulling away and shoving the most massive scoop of ice cream I’ve ever seen into her mouth with onegulp.
“Holy shit, Alice!” I exclaim. “Did you just unhinge your jaw? How did you get that inthere?”
She gives me a sly grin. “Lots of guys find themselves asking me that,too.”
We both start cracking up, our snorts turning into full on laugh attacks when Sofia chooses that moment to let out a particularly loud “Nossa! Sim!SIM!”
