“I was just like you,” she continues. “I found myself in a really tough spot. And I have full confidence that dedicating myself to practicing self-care is what turned the tide and led me to the life I am supposed to lead.”
I don’t roll my eyes. But it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Like, I’m pretty sure I popped a blood vessel or pulled a muscle not rolling my eyes. Because whatever kind of self-care she’s shilling is definitely not the kind I need.
I mean, I’m not sure what it is I need, because almost all of it makes me roll my eyes like this: the oils, the meditation lady who talks like Bane from Batman after sucking on some helium, the sound baths that seem to entail just lying there and pretending you like the way a gong sounds. Except for the yoga lady with the cute dog. I like her. I think she could be my white-lady best friend. I wish I was with her right now.
“Just consider it,” Bethany says softly, pressing her business card across the table.
Balanced With Bethanyis written in loopy teal script (so, I would have been right about the Subaru), and under her website and socials, it reads,Guiding you on your self-care journey with the I LUV ME method!
I am not going to consider it.
—
Later, I’ve secured Pearl andher butterfly habitat (which really ended up being more of a gaudy butterfly McMansion) in the back seat, and I’m trying to figure out if it’s considered littering to toss this business card on the lawn. The back says it’s 100 percent recycled paper, so it’ll just…absorb into the grass, right? Recycled is the same as biodegradable…I think.
“You should steer clear, Mavis.” The urgent voice makes me jump, and the business card falls from my hand onto the asphalt.
I squint in the darkness to see Ruth, the PTA mom and essential oils girlboss, gesturing to me from across the street. Her waving hand is at her hip, as if she’s trying to be discreet, and she’s illuminated only by the dim, eerie overhead light in her car. Her daughter, Ryleigh, is in the back seat, already deep into a video on her tablet.
“Um…excuse me? Did Trisha send you as one of her goons, because she already tried to intimidate me this afternoon, and it’s not—”
“Shhh!” Her eyes dart back and forth, looking out for…I don’t know. Trisha hiding in the bushes? And then she scampers across the street, apparently determining the coast is clear.
I shoot an uneasy glance at Pearl through the window, and all that’s missing is the popcorn—she’s riveted.
“Not Trisha,” Ruth says, arriving in a cloud of patchouli. “Bethany.Don’t let her try and trap you. Her whole ‘self-care business’ ”—she makes air quotes—“is shady. It didn’t go the way she says it did.”
“What didn’t go…” I stop myself because I don’t care. I’m not trying to be involved in any drama with these moms. Especially Ruth, who I’m pretty sure gets her entire life force from the parents’ Facebook group and gossip at the school gate. “It doesn’t even matter, because I told her I’m not interested.”
“Good. You have terrible judgment, Mavis, but you actually made the right call there.”
“Ooooh-kay, well, good night, Ru—”
“I don’t care what she says,” she spits out, twisting open a roller bottle that has somehow appeared in her hands. “Bethany’s self-care method had nothing to do with her cancer going into remission.”
I put my hand on the door handle, ready to flee. But that stops me. “What? Cancer?”
“She had stage four breast cancer. She didn’t tell you?” Ruth fixes me with a skeptical look as she aggressively rolls oil on both of her wrists. “She tells everyone. That’s her whole sales pitch—and it’s not right!”
Bethany had cancer? I replay our entire interaction in my head and some of the comments she made have new meaning—the “little break,” the “tough spot.” Even her desperation to sell me on her coaching takes on a new meaning if she’s only recently in remission. It was probably hard to stay in the traditional workforce when going through an illness so huge and life altering, and maybe this venture brought her a sense of purpose, something to hold on to.
And her daughter, Dakota. My chest gets tight thinking of her. I wasn’t even two when my mom died due to the exact same kind of cancer. I still feel the pain of that loss now, but I can’t imagine how scary it must have been for her to be old enough to know what’s going on, to have to prepare to say goodbye. What a blessing it is for her mom to evenbeat the Clover Scouts meeting. Yeah, it was annoying that she was trying to recruit me for her MLM, but…god, Iwaskind of an asshole. I mean, I don’t want anything to do with the I LUV ME method, that hasn’t changed…I just maybe shouldn’t have judged her so quickly.
“She never told me her self-care method cured her cancer,” I say to Ruth, who’s now rolling her concoction on the back of her neck.
Bethany didn’t tell me that…did she? No, she definitely didn’t. I’d remember that.
“Good, because self-care didn’t cure her cancer.”
“Glad you cleared that up. Now, I really—”
“The essential oils did.”
“Oh my GOD, Ruth!”
She throws her hands up. “I know you’re close-minded tonatural health solutions.” She says that with the same tone asI know you like to feed Pearl trash off the floororI know you like to set forest fires for fun. “But I need to set the record straight. She may have left Agape Essentials to start her own thing—totally screwing over her upline, I might add—but that doesn’t mean she gets to tell these fairy tales around town.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re mad she left the—the…oil pyramid you recruited her to? So now you don’t make any more money off of her?”