“Why did you bring me here?” she said, her eyes wet with tears.
“Maybe it will make you feel better, even just for a few minutes,” said Avery.
“Feel better? Feel better?! Avery! I’m never going to feel better. TIM DIED. HE DIED.”
Hannah collapsed onto a bench and put her head in her hands.
They sat next to her for a long time, watching their breath. Dani knew better than to touch Hannah or to respond too quickly. Sometimes you just needed the truth to linger between you, even if it felt awkward. Even if there were no silver linings.
Hannah finally looked up and locked her blue eyes on Dani’s face. “Who do I have to look beautiful for?”
Dani sighed and Avery scooted closer.
“You’re so young, Hannah, you have so much life ahead of you,” Avery said.
“Oh my God, would you stop?” Hannah shouted, then shook her head. “Don’t talk to me about my life. You have no idea. You weren’t there,” she said, turning to Avery. “You were never there when I needed you. Tim was gone all last year, and you left me over and over again. And now what? You just want to pretend like nothing’s changed? You know nothing about my life.”
Dani was shocked at the anger in Hannah’s voice, but in a way, she was also grateful. At least now she could speak her mind without having to tiptoe around everyone, being polite and charming. Death would do that, Dani realized. It would make you speak the truth, even if it was ugly.
Avery’s face, rather than looking hurt and defensive, fell in shame and sorrow.
“You’re right. Hannah, I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I really did. I let you down. I know that now.” Avery turned to look at Dani, as though Hannah’s anger confirmed her fear that their relationship was beyond repair. “I love you, Hannah. You know I love you.”
“What are you feeling?” Dani said, putting a hand on Hannah’s shoulder to calm her. “Explain it to us.”
Hannah grabbed her cross necklace, pulled at it, digging a line in her skin that turned red, as if she wanted to rip it off.
“This wasn’t how it was supposed to be,” she said. “We did everything right. We . . . we did everything we were supposed to do. We waited to have sex until we were married. We went to church. And read the Bible and prayed together. We trusted . . . that . . . God would take care of us. And now . . . what was that even worth?” Looking up to Dani, Hannah’s eyes were full of tears. “Take me home. Please. I don’t want to do this. I don’t have a reason to be beautiful anymore.”
“Then do it for you,” said Avery. Crouching down in front of Hannah, she put both hands on Hannah’s knees. “Be beautiful just for you.”
“You have millions of guys lining up for you all the time. I had one. One. And I lost him.”
“You think that’s it?” Avery sighed. “I just want to come here to look beautiful for all my thousands of boyfriends?”
“Millions,” Dani corrected.
“Hannah.” Avery sat down again on the bench. “I haven’t told you this because I didn’t think it was the right time. But Noah and I broke up. It turns out he was engaged.”
That seemed to shock Hannah into sitting up straight. She wiped her nose with her gloved hand. “What? You’re kidding. He met your parents!”
“I have never been in love like you and Tim. After everything that happened—I wanted to hate him, but the longer you two were together, the more I realized that I didn’t hate him, I hated that I couldn’t find what you had. You don’t think that makes me want to crawl in a hole and never come out? What y’all had . . . it was . . .”
“Once in a lifetime,” Dani said.
They sat outside for a few moments in silence. Hannah shivered and put her scarf back on.
“I’ll wax my eyebrows off, okay?” Avery suggested. “Or . . . I’ll shave my head. Do you want me to? You know I’ll do it.”
Hannah rolled her eyes.
“I’d pay to see that,” Dani offered, digging in her purse for cash. “Here’s a twenty for Avery going all GI Jane.”
“Tell me what I can do. It won’t make you feel better,” Avery said to Hannah. “But maybe it will make you smile. Name it. I’ll do it.”
“You know she will,” Dani said, laughing.
Hannah sat up straight. “Dye your hair.”
“You want me to dye my hair?” Avery repeated.
Hannah nodded. “We should all do it.”
“All right. You heard the girl,” Dani said. Her voice was full of competitive excitement. “Let’s move before she changes her mind. Hair dye it is.”
DANI SWIVELED BACK and forth in a chair, wearing a black cape snapped around her neck. All three girls faced away from the mirror: Hannah and Avery’s heads had been painted in wet, colored goop. Dani’s head was covered in aluminum foil. Underneath the wrap, the dye had grown warm and itchy on her scalp. The hairdresser promised it wouldn’t do too much permanent damage to Dani’s already bone-dry hair, but she honestly didn’t care. Hannah was smiling—she’d chosen the colors, keeping her choices a secret from Avery and Dani.
“Just tell me,” Avery begged Hannah. “What color did you choose? Please say it’s red. I’ve always wanted to be a redhead.”
Hannah smirked, then nodded to the stylists standing in front of them. For the first time since Tim had died, Dani thought she saw a faint glimpse of something like joy in Hannah’s eyes. She knew they were all at the end of their ropes, but at least they were hanging on together.
After washing and styling their hair, the stylists waited for their cue from Hannah.
“All right, turn us around,” Hannah said. “On the count of three.”
“Oh great,” Avery moaned. “Here we go.”
“One . . . two . . . three!”
HANNAH WALKED OUT of the salon with voluminous hair the color of roasted chestnuts. Dani followed with hair cropped short and bleached platinum. Trailing them, Avery hid behind black sunglasses and a mop of raven-black hair. She looked like a celebrity after a particularly rough night at the club, pulling a hoodie up over her head.
“My head is a white Brillo pad,” Dani joked.
“At least you don’t look like a witch,” Avery shouted. “Sorry, Hannah. You know it’s true. You screwed me on purpose.”
When they reached Avery’s car, Hannah turned around and looked at her friends.
“You guys look ridiculous.” As her chin began to quiver, she laughed. “And I absolutely love you for it.”
Begin Again
One Month Later
January 2007
38
Winter 2007 // Fort Bragg, North Carolina
Avery Adams was pretty sure that yoga was bullshit. But then again, if she’d learned anything in the last year of her life, it’s that you can’t judge a book by its cover—or by willowy women who stand in a doorway and welcome you with their soft voices, braided hair, and lavender scent.
After spending fifteen minutes on the floor of a closet with Wendy Bennett, Avery had decided that she couldn’t simply go on with her life as if nothing had happened. As if Tim hadn’t died and Noah hadn’t cheated. Michelle Jenkins recommended Mona Anderson, a counselor who lived in Fayetteville and practiced out of her home—just a couch and a chair and several built-in bookcases, full of titles like Inside Out, Shattered Dreams, and On the Road to Recovery. The first time she’d walked in, claustrophobia had overtaken Avery, and it took everything inside her to stop herself from turning around and leaving. Mona had white hair cropped short, and was so petite, Avery thought she might crush the woman just by speaking. She’d tried to shock Mona, telling her every sexual escapade she’d had since age fourteen. But when she’d finished, Mona hadn’t flinched. She’d simply looked at Avery and said, “That’s all very interesting. But I’d rather start at the beginning. Tell me about your parents.”
“My parents?” Avery had said, incredulous. “What do they have to do with this?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Mona said. “B
ut I’d like to find out.”
With Mona’s guidance, Avery realized that from a young age, her parents had taught her to run—both literally and figuratively. Her father, unable to connect with his sons, had begun to resent his daughter’s success. Her mother, unable to receive the intimacy she’d needed from her husband, had detached, leaving Avery with a void that she’d filled with anything she could. She’d run to win everyone’s approval. She’d run to find a place in the center of their eyes. But you can’t outrun yourself. The emotions you’ve got, you’ve got. And ignoring her problems had only led to greater problems. Yoga had been Mona’s idea, too—because it was a “practice,” not a sport.
“Practice for what?” Avery had asked at her most recent session.
“Practice at being with yourself,” Mona had answered. “Practice for standing still.”
Though she was resistant to the idea, Avery prided herself on being the kind of person that would try just about anything once. What was the worst that could happen?
THE MORNING OF Avery’s first yoga class, she stopped at the post exchange for a smoothie. Dani had mailed her a new iPod for her birthday, and she wanted to buy an adapter for her new car. The shiny black crossover SUV was the largest purchase she’d ever made, and she’d driven off the lot in tears. She hated saying goodbye to her rusty old Honda Civic but loved that she’d followed Mona’s advice.
“You don’t need permission to be an adult,” Mona had said earlier that morning. “If you need a new car, you can buy yourself a car.”
When Avery complained that she didn’t have enough money, Mona waved her off.
“You have a stable job. You can finance the car and make payments, just like the rest of us.” Mona had paused, seeing the look of surprise on Avery’s face. “You can go today.”
The post exchange, or PX, was like a military minimall, complete with name-brand clothing, a Clinique makeup counter, and an electronics section full of the latest gadgets, all tax-free, of course. Avery picked up the adapter, went through the checkout line, and was waiting at Smoothie King for her drink when the sliding glass doors of the PX entrance opened and Noah walked inside.
Avery’s stomach sank. Her hands grew sweaty, her breath shallow. Had he seen her? Did she want him to?
He’d shaved his beard, but other than that, Noah Candross looked as he always had. He was dressed in a form-fitting gray T-shirt and jeans, since it was Saturday afternoon. He removed his sunglasses and looked right at her. She didn’t have time to decide whether to run toward him or away, because as soon as he saw her, he began moving toward her.
Avery took her drink from the teenager behind the counter and tried to open a straw. The first buckled against the counter, breaking as it released from its paper skin. She grabbed another but fumbled again. Why was she shaking? How did his presence have such power over her body? Noah was standing there, beside her, but she didn’t want to look at him. He reached for her trembling arm.
“Don’t,” Avery said, her voice even and sure. Her arm moved out from under his hand. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” Even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew they were a lie. She had so many things to say to him.
“Avery . . . ,” he began, looking back at the interested teen behind the Smoothie King counter. “Lower your voice—”
“Does your fiancée know that we went to California? Does she know you met my friends? My family?”
“It’s not what you—”
“It’s not what I think? What is it then?”
Silence. Noah lowered his chin and shook his head—it was the first time she’d ever seen remorse on his face. “I told you, you weren’t in the plans.”
“Oh my God, you and your plans,” Avery said, letting the tears come to her eyes. “You made me into a cheater. And a fool. But you know what? Those days are over. So thank you. Thank you for opening my eyes. I just pray that your fiancée sees the light before she marries you.”
Noah held his hands up to his temples. “If you would just listen to me,” he said, his voice suddenly loud and defiant. “I need . . . I need my uniforms back, okay? I think I left two of them at your house.”
Avery blinked twice, and then started laughing the way you laugh when it’s two in the morning and you’re so ridiculously tired that everything sounds like the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “No,” said Avery. “You need help, okay? I don’t have anything for you. Go home to your fiancée, Noah. And please don’t talk to me again. If you see me, just keep walking.”
With that, she turned to the teenager and pointed her Styrofoam cup toward Noah’s shocked face. “He’s gonna pay for this one.”
SHE ARRIVED AT her yoga class fifteen minutes later, her limbs still shaking with adrenaline. A stream of lithe women walked through the door with rolled-up mats tucked under their arms. Avery watched from her car, slurping the cold smoothie into her mouth, shivering. Finally, she turned off the engine and walked inside. The instructor, a woman half Avery’s height with a long brunette braid running down her back, pointed Avery to the center of the room.
“So you can see me,” the teacher said.
And so I can fall flat on my face in front of everyone, Avery wanted to reply. But instead, she smiled, sat down with her legs crossed in front of her, and tried to breathe.
Much to her surprise, she felt an immediate resistance to the simple task of sitting. Her legs wanted to move. She wanted to bolt out the door and call Hannah and rehash everything she’d just said to Noah and the shocked expression she’d left on his face. She wanted to leave this place and go back to her office to accomplish the hundreds of tasks that she’d left undone over the holidays. Her unit had started SRP paperwork, in preparation for their upcoming deployment. Before Tim had died, Avery couldn’t wait to get her turn overseas. But now, the prospect of getting on a C-130 for Iraq terrified her more than she wanted to admit. Noah’s face interrupted her thoughts about work. She pushed that away, only to immediately feel overwhelmed by a deluge of things she needed to get done before her trip with Dani and Hannah. They’d decided to spend a week together in February, a last hurrah, before they all parted ways again. She’d thought about the trip, then realized all this yoga wasn’t going to help her get the beach body she wanted.
“Breathe in, and breathe out,” the instructor said. “Keep your eyes closed.”
Avery opened one eye and peered around at the rest of the class. Most of her classmates were older women, sitting with their eyes closed, breathing, looking perfectly at peace. She had no idea how they were doing it. Maybe they were faking. Maybe inside their minds, they were fighting battles, too. After all, you don’t have to be in the Army to be in the middle of a war. She had no combat patch to show for it, but she’d fought tooth and nail in the last few months to reclaim her life. Her sanity. Her dignity.
“The voice in your head will try and defeat you, before you’ve even started,” the yoga instructor said. “If you feel an itch, instead of scratching it, try and welcome it and let it be there with you. It’s just your body after all. The itch will eventually go away.”
Avery took a breath and closed her eyes.
“In the same way, if you have a thought—even a negative thought—just let it come,” the instructor continued. “Your work. Your relationships. All those demands you’ve put on yourself? Let those come to your mind. Welcome them, don’t resist them. We spend so much of our lives in a state of resistance. Why don’t you release your grip? Welcome the discomfort. Welcome the distraction. Thank it for reminding you that you are alive. And then let it go.”
Avery tried welcoming the part of her body that wanted to run. The part of her that was hurting, and the part that was healing. The part that still wanted Noah to love her, and the part that had told him never to speak to her again. Both were real. Both mattered. The first was a girl with desires, the second was a girl content, even if those desires went unfulfilled.
This was the work her counselor wanted h
er to do. To stop running.
To breathe. Forgive. And live.
39
Winter 2007 // London, England
I don’t understand.”
Laura Klein sat behind her desk in the same black dress she’d worn every day since Dani had started working in her office. A clump of eyeliner had gathered in the corner of each of her eyes, making her look tired and unkempt. And for the first time since she’d made the decision to have this conversation, Dani felt guilty.
They’d never spoken about Dani’s extended absence. But as soon as Dani had returned, Laura had come to rely on her more and more to carry her professional weight whenever an unforeseen personal obstacle arose. In the divorce, Laura had received full custody of her children, and a week earlier, her older son had come down with the flu. The week before that, she’d had parent-teacher conferences. Dani didn’t mind holding down the fort in Laura’s absence—she certainly didn’t send any e-mails to HR about it. But now, the shock and awe on Laura’s face betrayed an insecurity that Dani had always assumed was there but never expected to see this clearly.
“You take two weeks off for your friend’s . . .”
“Funeral,” Dani reminded her.
“Funeral. And Webb still gave you another two weeks off for Christmas.” Laura Klein laughed nervously. “I mean really. What else do you want? If this is about the whole Gelhomme bonus . . . I don’t know what—”
“What bonus?”
“That’s not what this was about?” Laura continued. “I assumed Webb told you, seeing as you two are so . . . chummy.”
“Told me what?”
“The online Gelhomme ads worked so well, they increased their digital advertising budget by ten percent. So there was a bonus. A commission. I’ll split it with you, if that’s what this is about.”
“That’s not what this is about,” Dani said. In all honesty, she didn’t care. Money didn’t change the facts.
“Truly, I don’t understand,” her boss said again. She was beginning to sound like a plebe at West Point. “The sky is the limit for you here. You make more money than anyone at your level. We both know Webb is priming you to replace me someday. And you’re . . . you’re really good at your job. I don’t understand why you would walk away from all of that.”
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