by Debra Lynch
What choice did I have? Was it my fault that Dennis was lonely? No. Was it my fault that he decided to latch onto me? No. Was it my fault that he had footage of me shoplifting? Yes.
“Yeah. All right.”
He touched my shoulder with his bony fingers, and I flinched, frightening thoughts of harming Dennis clouding my consciousness. How dare he feel confident enough to touch me? “Nice to meet you.”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Get home safe.”
As I watched Dennis walk away, I wanted to run after him, grab his head and slam it against one of the concrete buildings in our quaint seaside town. Rein yourself in, Rachel. No way was I ready to lose everything I’d worked so hard to build.
When I got home, the first thing I did was transfer the photo of the letter opener to my laptop. I opened Google images and dragged the picture into the search bar. Three mouse clicks later, eBay announced my fate.
The limited-edition letter opener was one of fifty in existence. Designed by a father and son team who’d worked for Hermes and Píerre Cardin, it boasted a starting bid of $1,800. A flush of adrenaline tingled through my body. I scanned through the information about the duo’s legendary design career and how they’d reached the top at a coveted Italian art exhibit. They received four gold medals for their work, blah, blah, blah.
No, no, no! God damn it! Dennis had me, and he fucking knew it. My vision jerked to the side table, which held several knickknacks—candles, a bowl filled with sea glass, a decorative container housing ocean treasures. I jumped to standing and strode over. Heart pounding, I lifted the goldfish bowl brimming with seashells. Hoisting the heavy container over my head, I hurled it onto the polished wooden floor with a scream. “Fucking hell!” Seashells scattered against the hard surface, and the glass bowl shattered into a hundred deadly shards. My breathing came in sharp rasps. “No!” I’d screwed up. Damn it, I’d messed up bad.
Dennis could turn me in, and then where would I be? Defending myself with high-priced attorneys, my name plastered all over the Internet, my reputation shot. I imagined the worst-case scenario, and this was not a stretch given the way California judges were cracking down these days.
I’d end up in prison. Good luck starting a YouTube channel there.
My jaw clenched as I tried to stop the tears, but they came anyway. Boy, did they come—harder than El Niño. I timed myself. I allowed myself to cry for three whole minutes. Then I had to get on with it just like always. I sucked in a deep breath, angrily grabbed my broom and dustpan along with the shop-vac, and cleaned up the mess, all the while cogitating on my thieving ways.
The words of one of my therapists rang through my mind. Kleptomania isn’t a moral issue, and it’s not your fault. It gives you pleasure, doesn’t it?
I shuddered remembering the way the quack’s eyes had glazed over when he said It gives you pleasure. It reminded me of the way Dennis leered at me. The disgusting thought made me want to break something else. Luckily I’ve worked with better mental health professionals since then.
They’ve put me through cognitive behavior therapy, desensitization therapy, and behavior modification therapy. All meant to help me overcome what they called “repressed emotions” that led to my disorder.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let some of those shrinks go through what I did when I was nine and then tell me about the success of their “diminishing kleptomaniac symptoms” or whatever bullshit terms they wanted to use to make me feel I wasn’t alone.
Truth was, I was alone. Kleptomania is an extremely rare condition. The clinically depressed’s got nothing on us lucky folks who steal things.
I try to joke about my weaknesses, and I sure can talk a good game, just ask my doctors.
And it’s not like I was anything like my loser mother who left Daddy and me when I was only three, never to be heard from again because of her love affair with heroin.
But, Jesus, I don’t want to be this way. Just look at the trouble it got me into.
I brushed a stray hair out of my face as I swept. I’ve worked hard to be a decent human being and my therapist seemed to think I was getting better.
Damn it. This was not going at all the way I’d planned. I had to come up with a way to overcome this slight setback. That’s all it was. And I was good at solutions. Yep, just call me Ms. Rachel-Solution-Goodman.
That night as I ruminated on my plan to retrieve the thumb drive and get a hold of his computer—screw whatever the therapist may have thought—a text came through from Dennis.
Looking forward to getting to know you! it said with not one, not two, but three emojis. A smiley face with heart eyes, a heart with an arrow through it, and another one with two hearts.
My throat closed up.
Freaking freakshow.
Three
The day after the incident with Dennis, Levi and I set up the video equipment in my home studio like always. I’d barely slept because Dennis texted all through the long dark night with schmaltzy texts about how much he liked me, how he’d protect me, and how lucky I was we’d met. What was it kids from the 80s said? Gag me with a spoon. And it’s not like I could even disable my ringer at night. What if Madeline needed me?
“Our last show brought in two hundred new subscribers,” Levi said. He reached up for a high five, and we slapped heartily. “Maybe one of these days I’ll be rich and famous like you and can afford a place on the beach,” he joked.
“You, my friend, can try all you want but the viewers want this hot body and have from the start.” I licked my finger and placed it on my yoga-short-clad butt cheek, making a singeing sound. “Hot, hot, hot.”
He bumped hips with me. “And smart, too.”
The situation with Dennis weighed on my mind, but Levi was great for me. We liked to joke around, and that’s part of what made our chemistry work so well on camera.
But then Levi grew sober. He held my shoulders and swallowed as he looked me in the eye. “You’re all those things. Smart and good looking.”
I turned my head. “Stop. You’re embarrassing me.” I showed the world what I wanted them to see—a happy, attractive female yogi—one who hid behind Lululemon, artfully applied makeup, and camera filters. My voice grew thick. “You’re so upbeat, always looking at the positive side. I love that about you.” I gazed at him through blurred eyes. One day I’d be able to accept a good man like Levi into my life. But not until I got past the trauma of what happened to Daddy. I closed my eyes and held a hand to my churning stomach.
Levi shook his head. “Why do you always have to be so tough?”
I shrugged. “Guess I’ve seen too many things.”
“Pessimistic much?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Any time you want to talk, I’m a good listener.”
I gave him a crooked smile and changed the subject. “Better get to it. Madeline will be here any minute.”
As I busied myself with the camera, my phone buzzed a text alert from Madeline. Five minutes out.
Levi read the note over my shoulder and said, “I’ll help her in.”
“Let’s go.”
A few minutes later, Madeline’s Uber—a black Lincoln Navigator—rounded the corner and there she was, waving wildly from the passenger seat. She looked so kitschy, and I had to laugh at her hot pink heart-shaped sunglasses. Madeline could get away with the most outlandish of colors and outfits because of her larger than life personality.
The SUV came to a stop, and Levi’s face broke into a grin as he trotted to the vehicle and swung the door open. “Hey, beautiful.”
Madeline’s eyebrows rose. She whipped off the eyewear and gave Levi an exaggerated once over before letting out a wolf whistle. Her hard-earned laugh lines crinkled in amusement before she spoke. “Well will you look at this handsome man. You must be from Tennessee. ‘Cause you’re the only ten I see.”
Levi broke into laughter. “If only I had half your beauty, I’d sell it on eBay and be a millionaire.”
S
he waved him away. “Oh go on. And on … and on.”
Madeline’s gaze traveled over my skimpy yoga top and tight shorts. “Lawdy, precious. What kind of outfit you wearing? You’re gonna have old and new-monia dressed like that.”
I leaned in to give her a kiss. “I love you too, Mads.”
The Uber driver delivered her wheelchair to the passenger side, and Levi’s muscular biceps flexed as he gripped Madeline to ease her into the chair. “Ready?”
“Honey, I was born ready. Just don’t let go. This is the most action I’m getting all week.”
Levi hoisted Madeline into her wheelchair, wheeled her inside, and the three of us settled into the video recording studio.
Levi fussed over Madeline. I didn’t deserve a great man like Levi in my life, but here he was. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
Her red-lipsticked smile curved up. “Well bless your pea-pickin’ little heart. That’d be great. Just none of that green drink you two like.” She held her nose. “That stuff’s enough to gag a maggot.”
“Sparkling apple cider?” Levi said.
“Perfect. Just add a little extra sugar, will you precious?”
Levi prepared Madeline’s drink, and I freshened her makeup. “You could use a bit of powder,” I said. “So you don’t look oily on camera.”
“Honey, at my age I’ll take all the moisturizing I can get. Keeps the wrinkles away.”
My throat constricted as I smoothed powder over her skin. Being around Madeline always lifted the depression and darkness that threatened to overtake my soul. And if there was ever a day I needed cheering up, this was it. Every time I thought of Dennis with his slimy hand on my arm, I wanted to hurl.
Madeline had been there for me over the years and was one of the few people in the world who knew my heart—including the horrors that lived there—and loved me anyway. Madeline, with her sense of humor and down-home wit, had a way about her that made people open up.
She’d certainly saved me with her no-nonsense attitude by brushing her hands together and getting down to the business of taking care of what needed to be done. With her encouragement, we’d sit down and make lists. Anything wrong in my life, Madeline had the answer in black and white as we’d work through our goals and check off our accomplishments.
Then she’d encourage me to get on with the business of enjoying life. With her positive attitude, she helped me to see that life could be happy. Quit acting miserable like you’re a cat getting baptized.
I was still working on the “life is good” part.
Once I dealt with Dennis and the shoplifting fiasco, I’d be—how would Madeline say it?—happy as all get out.
I watched for Levi out of the corner of my eye as he made his way into the room. I couldn’t talk to anyone about Dennis. Well, maybe my attorney.
Levi handed Madeline her drink, and she took a long sip. “Ah. Goes down sweet as honey.” Her eyebrows rose as she checked him out yet again. “Just like you.”
Chuckling, he took his place in front of the camera and glanced at the script. “Okay you two, here’s the agenda. Today we’ll introduce our special guest.” He winked at Madeline. “You’ll demonstrate the chair yoga moves we practiced. Rachel and I will show the viewers how to do tree pose, we’ll talk about the Sawdust Festival, then move along to our review of the new kombucha bar.”
My throat grew dry at his mention of the kombucha bar. I wanted to tell Levi about what had happened with Dennis—all of it—but no way was I ready. I would confess. Eventually. Tomorrow. Okay, maybe next week. Definitely the week after. Right now, we had a live show to perform.
He glanced at the script again. “And we’ll end with the teaser for the special, right?”
“Right.”
“Ready Madeline?” Levi said.
She gave him a thumbs up.
We took our places in front of the camera and counted down. “Welcome to The Namasté Getaway! I’m Rachel Goodman.”
“And I’m Levi Swift.”
Get ready to get away because we’re into namasté.” We bumped fists and started the show.
“Hey all you yogis out there in YouTube land,” Levi said. “Today, we have a special treat.”
I smiled at my partner. “That’s right, Levi.”
“I could not be more pleased to introduce you to Rachel’s one and only Aunt Madeline. And let me tell you after you meet this feisty ball of fire, you’ll be inspired to take up chair yoga.”
Levi wheeled Madeline into the frame of the camera, next to the chair we’d set up for the sequence.
Madeline grinned wide and waved both hands at the camera. “Hey, y’all!” Tears welled behind my eyes. Here she was helping Levi and me with the show, putting her own life in the middle of my messed up wreck of an existence and doing it with a smile.
I swallowed and spoke my carefully rehearsed lines. “Many of you out there know that I lived in foster care after my daddy died.” I flicked my gaze to Madeline, and she gave me an encouraging smile. “Madeline rescued me from the system. And I want to say thank you. Everyone should be so lucky to have a cheerleader like Madeline in their life.”
Madeline gripped my hand. “Bless the good Lord, child. You wasn’t an easy one, that’s for sure.” She looked at the camera. “This child was too big for her britches. But I love her. And I’m so happy to be here.”
Levi placed a hand on Madeline’s shoulder. “Today, this lovely lady will show you all how to get down with your chair yoga moves.” His face grew solemn as he recited the intro we’d agreed upon. “Madeline suffers from a rare degenerative muscular disorder and—”
Madeline held up a hand. “I ain’t suffering, hon.” She clutched her heart. “Especially not now that I’m here with you.”
“Let’s just say that your legs are—”
“About as useless as a screen door on a submarine,” she interrupted.
“Madeline has the best sense of humor,” I said, trying to rescue Levi. “Don’t all Southerners? My lovely aunt is from—”
“The deep South,” she said. “Where sushi’s still called bait.”
Even with the lack of sleep from Dennis’s texts and the specter of a felony hanging over my head, I bent over, cracking up in laughter. Inviting Madeline on the show was one of Levi’s strokes of genius, and I could see the delighted subscriber comments now.
“And we don’t care if you’re from South Central or South Africa,” I said. “Once you practice these chair yoga moves you’re going to be—”
“Grinnin’ like a possum eating a sweet tater,” Madeline finished.
Levi smiled and went into presentation mode. “So here’s how it works. Chair yoga is a practice where anyone can modify yoga poses right at home. All you need is a stable chair. If for some reason you can’t stand or your mobility’s not the best, you can still perform these killer moves right along with us.” He held out a hand to Madeline. “Okay, sexy. Let’s get to it.”
Levi helped her into the chair, and we narrated as Madeline demonstrated several chair yoga postures.
First Cat-Cow Stretch, “Dang that feels good,” then Chair Forward Bend, “Land sakes. All the blood’s rushing to my head,” and ended with Reverse Warrior, where her left arm came down her left leg, and she lifted her right arm up to the ceiling on an inhale. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”
After much levity that I knew the viewers would eat up, we ended Madeline’s sequence. She brushed the hair out of her face and said, “That was fun. Whew! That’s all this old lady wrote!”
We thanked Madeline, and Levi told the audience we’d be back in three minutes.
While we took our sponsor break, Levi gave Madeline a kiss on the cheek. “I knew you’d rock.” He helped her back into the wheelchair.
I excused myself for a bathroom break and checked my phone. Several texts came through from Dennis—more sentimental crap about fate and kismet and how lucky it was we’d met. I itched to respond with a snarky comment. But I didn�
��t. I would deal with Dennis later.
Levi and I continued the show by demonstrating various hilarious attempts at getting into tree pose. Levi caught me just in time as I toppled out of the balancing posture. I caught Levi as he accidentally, on purpose, made a big show of flailing his arms and grabbing for me. Then we cut to the both of us sitting on my impressive deck overlooking the glittering ocean while Madeline watched off camera.
Levi placed a warm hand on my arm, his green eyes gazing into mine. “So Rachel, want to tell all our viewers what we have in store for next month? Because they will not want to miss it.”
I batted my eyelashes and addressed the audience. “I sure do. And I cannot wait to get this special episode party started. Can you believe that Levi and I have been doing the show together for five years?”
“Has it really been that long?”
“It has.” I pasted on a smile, trying to wrestle with the negative thoughts popping in my mind—thoughts like if Dennis were to turn me in, all those years of hard work would go right down the drain. I’d lose my viewers along with my best friend.
But we had a show to record, so I drove the cheerless thoughts into the background. I tucked my legs underneath me and gave the audience an earnest gaze. “Levi and I have been working our little yoga tushies off to bring you a special anniversary edition episode commemorating our time together.”
Levi gazed into the camera with his bottle-green eyes that drove the chicks wild. “Rachel and I are so thrilled to bring you this special edition broadcast that we’re working after hours. The woman never lets me sleep.”
“That’s right, Levi.”
“It’ll be a day in the life of your humble yogis. And I don’t mind telling you we’ll have a ton of outtakes.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Not the one of me spitting out my green juice?”
“Maybe. All I know is you won’t want to miss this upcoming special edition because we’ll have all the inside, behind-the-scenes footage you guys have been waiting for.”
I gave Levi a playful shove in the chest. “Does everybody get to see you with your shirt off?”