Page 29 of Body

She gets up and goes to the side table to grab her keys.

“I have rehearsal.” Her smile drops into a frown. “Are you going to be okay?” She looks at me worriedly.

“Ria, I’m fine. I’ve been through worse,” I remind her with a wink.

She grins. “I’ll be home this evening. Make me dinner?Por Favor?” The woman is a glutton for my meals.

“Yes, of course. I’ll make dinner. I need to invite Bree and Kat over, too. Thanks to Phillip, they were blowing up my phone yesterday, and they’ll want the details.”

She throws on a cardigan and nods while pulling her thick, dark hair into a knot on the top of her head. “I’ll be home at seven. I expect my women to be loaded with vino and ready to grub when I return.”

Maria is a riot. She always refers to the girls as “my women.” It’s an endearing quality that makes me feel needed.

She’s out the door in a flash and I’m back to being alone with my thoughts. I decide to take a shower and unpack. I check in with Taye and confirm that I’ll be at work tomorrow at ten. After working the weekend and dealing with the attack, I’m taking a little time for myself. Besides, I need to file for a new license. I’ve already cancelled my cards and notified the bank. Such a mess. When will my life feel like it’s back to being mine?

Chapter 8

Bree arrives first. The woman is striking. I’m always shocked by her beauty. Her long blonde hair hangs like a golden sheet down her back almost touching her bottom. Her eyes are cerulean blue that instantly remind me of Chase’s ocean eyes. Like any true Californian girl, her skin is sun-kissed and glowing. Bree’s wearing yoga pants and a knit tank top. Even in her work attire, she’s all tight muscles and lean curves. At five foot two, she’s the smallest of all of us, but her strength makes up for her tiny frame. Her pouty lips turn into a wide smile, and I grab her into a hug.

“Gigi, you had me so worried,” she whispers against my ear. The smell of rich incense permeates her hair.

“I’m okay, I promise.”

She nods and continues to hug me. Her hands encircle my waist. “You look like shit,” she says lightening the heavy moment. I turn and lead her in. “And your ass is getting big. You haven’t come to class in a whole week. You owe me three days this week,” she admonishes.

Bree is committed to keeping us all fit and flexible. She believes that toning the body and mind is the cure-all for any ailment. She’s our resident new ager from the tips of her pink painted toes to the top of her golden locks.

“I haven’t gained a pound so shut up!” I warn jokingly.

“Suit yourself,” she says in mock horror, “If you want Chase to see your sagging ass.

“You bitch!” I scold, and we both laugh.

The doorbell rings again, and I run to open it.

Kathleen is a vision. Her curly blonde hair is a halo around her face, reaching just past her shoulders. She slides her hand through it to remove it from her eyes. She’s wearing a long, flowing skirt in summery orange hues. Several necklaces in varying lengths hang from a long swanlike neck. Her caramel brown eyes gleam as she takes me in. Dozens of bangle bracelets tinkle as she pulls me into her arms.

“Oh Gigi, you gave us one heck of a scare,” she reprimands.

“I know, but, Kat, I’m okay. Really.” She kisses the side of my hairline and grabs my hand to squeeze it.

We enter the kitchen hand in hand. Bree is already sneaking bites of the salad I’ve prepared. She plops a cherry tomato in her mouth. “What? I haven’t eaten all day. And unlike you flabby bitches, I work out all day long!”

We all laugh. “Actually, Kat has been killing it in the studio,” Bree amends. “I saw you almost every day last week. I’m proud, girlie.”

Kat beams. “Unlike Gigi, I have to work hard to keep my girlish figure. The long nights in the theatre hunched over a sewing machine are killing my back.” She brings her hand to her slim hips and stretches her back. “The yoga is almost a requirement. And it’s not like I have a man to go home to.” She sighs.

Kat and Bree have been going through a dry spell with men and complain about it often. I giggle and they both look at me waiting.

I tell them what they want to know about Chase and the happenings in Chicago. By the time Hurricane Maria crashes into the kitchen, they are fully up to date and on their second glass of wine. I left out some of the ultra-embarrassing parts, like him getting me off in the middle of a restaurant. Some things are sacred and these girls would never let me live it down if they knew the finer details.

We sit at our quaint kitchen table in mismatched chairs. Maria and I couldn’t agree on a table so we refurbished a table we found at a yard sale and scouted out individual, unique chairs to go with it. The four of us always sit in the chair we’ve designated “our” chair. I’m sitting with one knee up on my wooden teal chair. It has cutouts and grooves in the wood where mustard yellow tones peek through the grain. It has rounded swirling arms that I can rest my palms on perfectly. It’s just my size and fits me like a glove.

Maria sits on her deep blue wooden chair with little red flowers indented into every surface. Kat is sitting crossed legged in the oak chair with rich browns and purple lines cutting through the wood in natural swirls. Bree is sitting in lotus position in the lone dark red wooden chair. It has incredibly cool dark brown knots in the wood from the original tree it was cut from. All unique, just like my girls.

They each laugh and talk over one another. I watch them in complete contentment. I am so blessed to have them in my life. I don’t know where I would be without them. After losing my mother, the only family I had, and the hell I survived with Justin, their constant presence in my life is a true gift.

“Gigi, what are you thinking about?” Kat asks then eats a forkful of lasagna.

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