Page 83 of Plays Well With Others

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THE LIFE DOCTOR

Rachel

That woman I just walked past on the street, the one chatting on her phone about her yoga class?

Does she know I’m having the time of my life?

What about that mom with the stroller I’m cruising by on Fillmore?

Can she sense that the woman strolling past her—me—is fueled by sunshine, the best dates ever, and oh, a bunch of mind-blowing orgasms?

I want to spread my arms and twirl in a field of flowers as I belt out a tune.

Climb every big dick, chase every O…

It’ll be a chart-topper, I’m sure. Everyone should have a date at the farmers’ market, a night of toe-curling sex, and a morning where you can just be yourself with another person. In fact, that gives me an idea.

As I walk, I tap out another text.

Rachel: Hey! We could add Life Doctor to our doctor resumes. The Life Doctors prescribe…a date with your best friend and red-hot sex too.

Carter: I’ll take that medicine. Oh, wait—I am.

I’ll take another several doses of it. Who knew girlfriend lessons would be likethis? I’d thought I’d go to dating school and do some research on a distant, faraway romantic future for when I’m ready to dip my toes into the shark-infested dating waters. Instead, the professor is giving me special attention, and I like the extra credit very much.

So much that it’s changing me. It’s making me see myself in new ways. I see others through a new lens too.

Like…now.

I turn on the corner of Fillmore Street, onto the block of Haven Spa. I’m a little nervous heading into enemy territory, but I’ve got to do this. I have to take this important step. I’m clutching a gift, completely unsure of how it’ll be received.

Taking a fueling breath, I march up the block, open the door to Haven Spa, and hope for the best. The thing about gifts is you don’t know if they’ll be wanted. But sometimes, you need to give them anyway, even if they might backfire.

I really hope this doesn’t backfire.

At the front desk, a pair of placid-looking women in matching lavender balloon pants look up in sync. A small fountain set on a stone table gurgles. A Zen garden sits next to it. Birds chirp overhead, but not actual birds. A soundtrack. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Ava sailed out here with hummingbirds perched on her shoulders.

“Good morning. May I help you?” one of the lavender twins asks.

I kick my nerves to the curb, then I stride right up to the counter. “Good morning. You look lovely today. Is Ava here?”

“I am.”

The serene voice of the wife of the man who thinks I’m a bitch greets me. I swivel around and there she is, floating from, I don’t know, a session in the hydro pool where she probably glided in on a giant conch.

Chin up. Say it like you mean it.“I just wanted to say thank you, Ava,” I begin, holding tight the gift I brought for her—brownies with peanut butter swirl. I baked them last night, before I saw Carter. I was going to bring all these to Fable as a thanks for being, well, for being Fable. But I squirreled some away in a Tupperware dish this morning for this purpose. “And to let you know I am feeling all the good vibes now. So here’s a gift.”

Whether I agree with the way she spoke to me or not doesn’t matter. I was rude to a customer, and it had a boomerang effect. I need to do better for me. I need to be the kind of person I want to be. That’s the kind of person who apologizes. Who takes responsibility for her mistakes.

With hopeful hands, I offer her the dish.

Head tilted, she stares at it, like it’s as much a curiosity as I am. She says nothing. Maybe I wasn’t clear enough? Apologetic enough? I hasten to fill the silence with a deeper explanation. “And you were right. I wasn’t happy. I took that out on your husband, and by extension, you,” I add, my gut churning with worry. Holy smokes, this be-a-better-person stuff is hard. Especially since she’s so unreadable. But turning my attitude around can’t only be about me. It has to be about others. How I treat them. “But I’m working to be happier. And I’m trying to feel all the vibes, all the goodness, all the energy.”

She hums, still giving little away in her expression, but she takes the brownie container. “Thank you, but I should let you know, for the sake of transparency, that I don’t eat brownies.”

Um, why are you taking them then?

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