Page 11 of Big Pitch Energy

To avoid falling down another rabbit hole, I stalked out of my office, grabbed the broom, and started sweeping the studio floor with excess vigor. Eventually, the repetitive motion helped calm my racing thoughts.

I’d just finished when the bell above the door jingled. I looked up to see Liz walking into the studio, carrying a small glass container.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She smiled, warm and bright. “I brought you some chicken cacciatore Sam made last night. He might be struggling with his fastball, but his cooking is still major league.”

I felt heat creep into my cheeks. Did she somehow know I'd just spent hours researching her son?

“That's so sweet, Liz. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

I took the container from her. She looked at me expectantly, like she was waiting for me to eat it right now. I hesitated for a second before propping the broom against the wall.

“I could use a break,” I said.

We walked to the small break room at the back of the studio. I popped it into the microwave while Liz settled at the table.

“Can I get you a drink?” I opened the small refrigerator in the corner. “I have water, peach tea, or orange juice.”

“Peach tea sounds perfect.”

I grabbed one for her and a bottle of water for myself.

“So,” she began as I handed it to her, “Sam's been awfully quiet about his session with you.”

The microwave beeped, and I welcomed the excuse to ignore her comment. I opened the door and carefully pulled out the container, the bottom warm against my palms. As I fully peeled off the lid, a rush of steam escaped, carrying the mouthwatering scent through the room.

I grabbed a fork from the drawer, then crossed the room and settled into the chair across from Liz, the comforting scent curling around us like a warm hug.

“This smells amazing,” I said, taking a bite. The flavors burst on my tongue…perfectly seasoned chicken, tangy tomato sauce, and a nice hint of garlic and wine. “Oh my God, Liz! This is incredible.”

She smiled, looking pleased.

“I taught him the basics, but he's perfected his own version over the years.” I took another bite. “About the session…”

I twisted the cap off the water bottle and took a drink. More as a way to collect my thoughts than because I was actually thirsty. The cool water gave me a second to steady myself, to decide what I was going to say next without letting too much show.

“I really can't discuss the details,” I said. “It wouldn't be professional.”

“But I'm his mother.” She gestured toward the Reiki room. “And he's coming back for another session on Friday, right? He must have gotten something out of it.”

I nodded, swallowing another delicious mouthful.

Obviously Sam told her that, so I felt comfortable confirming.

“He is coming back, yes.”

Liz leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“He looked different last night.” I shoved the last forkful of chicken into my mouth to avoid having to answer. “That's normal, though, isn't it? When energy shifts?”

Her eyes were shrewd, studying my face. I focused on keeping my expression neutral as I finished chewing and swallowed.

“Everyone responds differently to energy work,” I said carefully, making sure to keep my answer general, steering clear of anything specific about Sam. “Some people feel immediate effects, others take time to process.”

“Hmm.” Liz sat back in her chair. “Well, I'm just glad he's trying something new. Sam's always been so traditional about his training. All weights and statistics and physical therapy. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but sometimes you need to heal more than just the body.”

I nodded, standing to wash the now-empty bowl. If she only knew how many of those statistics I'd memorized in the last two hours.

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