Page 74 of Fun at Parties
She exhales, breathing static into the phone. “I’m pregnant, Quinn.”
The earth drops out from under me. “Holy shit,” I say, and I’m sobbing before I even realize it. Nate whips his head around, looking alarmed. “Congratulations. I’m so happy! How are you? How is Tim? Oh my god. Tell me everything.”
“I still can’t believe it.” Her voice is shaking. “We did another embryo transfer a couple months ago, when Tim was in town. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just couldn’t talk about it out loud until I knew which way it was going to go. It’s early, obviously, but we’ve never made it this far.”
I grab a couple napkins from our latest bag of rest stop junk food and wipe away the tears and snot. “I wish I were there. When I get back, I’ll make it up to you. If you have morning sickness, I’ll feed you ginger and hold your hair back and—oh, wait, Tim probably wants to do all that stuff. Is he moving back right away? I can start looking for a new place whenever you want.” My stomach dips at the thought.
“There’s more,” Michelle says. “And this is the hard part.”
I freeze. “The hard part?”
“I sat down with Tracy and HR this week.Multipletimes. I told them how I want to handle the next seven months, and maternity leave, and after that. I figured we wouldn’t see eye to eye, given what the company’s become.”
“Don’t say that.” I bounce my knee and rub at a smudge on the window, too antsy to sit still. “It’s only been six months since they changed things. Everyone still needs to adjust. It’ll get better.”
“I think it’s going to getworse, Quinn. It’s gone downhill so fast, and they’re obviously encouraging Tracy to do more of her power-trip thing where she tries to dictate how we teach and act andexist, and I’ve had enough.”
I bite my lip. “So how did the meetings go?”
“Not great. She pushed back on everything I asked for and questioned my commitment to the brand.” Silence stretches over us, from here to L.A., and I realize what’s coming right before it lands: “I told her I’m done. I quit.”
I gasp. Nate’s head snaps around again, more alarmed this time.
“It felt so good. Now I can enjoy my maternity leave without her passive-aggressive bullshit dragging me down. I won’t have to rush to get back in CycleLove shape, and I can figure out what to do next when I’m ready. Tim likes his job, so…I’m moving to Connecticut.”
It feels like she’s just added fifty pounds of weight to the barbell in my stomach.Connecticut.
I’m going to be alone in L.A.
“Wow. Well, I’m happy for you, if it’s what you want,” I say feebly. Michelle is entering a new phase of life, and her priorities are shifting, and that’s fine. It’sfine.
I rub my aching chest. She’s right that there are some less-than-healthy dynamics in our workplace. Tracy’sannoying obsession with her taste in shirts, for example. It reminds me of the always-looking-over-your-shoulder culture of Jolee, where Mom critiqued minor word choices in her downline’s social media posts and often questioned why they and their spouses still had day jobs and how many hours a day they were dedicating to the cause. Overall, I think CycleLove is a great thing for our riders. But when it comes to us—the instructors—there’s more toxicity than I ever let myself consider.
I can’t afford to dwell on it, though, and Iamhappy for Michelle. “Sorry, I’m just surprised! I really am glad that you feel good about your decision.”
“Quinn.”
I squeeze my eyes shut to keep a fresh round of tears at bay.
“I hate the idea of abandoning you. That’s been the main reason I’ve hung on so long. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but I have to say it at least once—I really think you should consider leaving too,” she goes on. “I’ll help, I know so many people in New York if you want—”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine.” Even if I wasn’t, I don’t have the same choices she does. Michelle has a spouse with health insurance and a great job, and two decades of smart financial decisions behind her. I don’t have any of that.
And now I won’t even have her. When I go back, I’m going to be completely alone. No,worsethan alone, because Caleb will be there, along with the tight-knit group of instructors who’ve always been his friends, and mine only by association.
I’ll just have to start over. Make more of an effort with the others, get to know everyone, the way I should’ve from the beginning. CycleLove is supposed to be a community, after all. That’s why we have weekly happy hours and quarterly retreats. I wonder if anyone’s looking for a roommate. If not, I’ll be scrambling to find a half-decent place with a stranger.
After we hang up, I duck my chin to the side for privacy until I can jam a stopper into my feelings. “Well, that was a surprise,” I say with as much brightness as I can muster. My smile trembles. Inside me is red, and I can’t make it dissipate or turn green no matter how deeply I breathe.
He squeezes my forearm. “What’s wrong?”
His sweetness is like adding baking soda to vinegar. It makes everything spill over. I lean over the console and bury my face in his shoulder. My tears soak the faded cotton of his T-shirt.
“Is Michelle okay?”
“Yes,” I say eventually, when I can get the words out. “She’s great. Pregnant, in fact. But she also quit. She’s leaving CycleLove.”
“Ah. And that makes you feel…”
