Read Online Dedication by Emma McLaughlin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emma McLaughlin
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deflecting us from my auxiliary celebrity status.
“Timmy,” she smiles tenderly as she ruffles his hair. “Yeah, I’m meeting Craig here to do the family gifts. Our last year.” She looks up at me. “We’re getting d-i-v-o-r-c-e-d. I’m shedding Shapiro.”
“Oh, God, I am really sorry to hear that,” I say, sad our class is already joining the ranks of the didn’t-make-its.
“Thank you,” she reaches out and touches my shoulder. “But it’s for the best for all of us.” She shifts Timmy to her other hip, her flexing thigh muscles visible through the spandex.
I admire her serenity. “You look fantastic.”
“There you are,” Laura calls, swaying over with Mick balanced on her boots. “Hey you!” she greets Jeanine as she lifts Mick to the floor, sending him darting back to the table. They exchange a truncated half-hug over Timmy and Laura’s pending Number Three.
“Are you doing the poses at home?” Jeanine places her palm solidly on Laura’s belly. Not tentatively, the way I do it.
“I try! I do.” Laura mugs embarrassment. “When the boys nap.” She turns to me. “Jeanine teaches prenatal yoga.”
“I’m so impressed,” I marvel.
She bounces Timmy back up to her waist, turning intently to me. “You have to take a class with me. I teach a whole roster at Yoga H’om up there.” She points to the escalators. “Just past the Sunglass Hut. You have to come. You’ll thank me, seriously.”
“That would be great.” I nod.
“So your folks’ house sold?”
“Yeah, it did,” practical stranger who knew before I did. “They’re pulling up stakes and heading south.”
“Yeah, Anne and I toured it when it was on the market. We’re looking for a three bedroom. It’s a beautiful space, really good positioning. But the energy.” She waves her free hand, her face darkening. “Completely congested. And your old room, wow—the whole place needs to be smudged.”
I look down to see ketchup smeared on my thumb. Laura pulls a napkin from her pocket and puts it into my hands. “We’ve really gotta boogie.” She shrugs apologetically.
Jeanine nods knowingly. “You’re here to see him, huh?”
“Him?” I crumple the red-streaked paper, trying to signal to Mom with my pinky at my hip to bring the car around.
“Jake.”
“Yup.” I exhale.
“Babe.” She puts a palm on my trapezius, pushing Mom’s coat open to give me a brisk three-stroke swipe. “Let it go. God! Yoga would be so good for you! Your whole aura is starving for it. You have got to take that on when you get home—where do you live?”
“Charleston.”
“Wow, he really did a number on you.”
“No, no.” I look to Laura, my smile faltering. “I just hate living in the cold.”
“Cold is a state of mind, babe.” She stares squarely, making no motion to let us leave, signaling she is just beginning her list of what my aura is starving for.
I lean over and give her a quick kiss. “Great to see you, Jeanine.”
“I teach tomorrow. Get the schedule from Laura. Yoga saved my life.”
“Definitely!” I wave good-bye. Glancing back I see them wend their way to a blond guy waiting at a table with two overstuffed Target bags and my gaze pinballs from the burgeoning beer paunch to the sun-damaged forehead to the utility belt to the duck boots to the Us Weekly with Jake on the cover he’s flipping through. I tuck my head down and take Laura’s elbow, darting us out of Craig’s visual range. “That is why I will only meet you behind closed doors. Everyone here is talking about the pathetic girl who got ditched by the rockstar—which I’m only known as in a forty-mile radius of that Pretzel Time.” I point up at the hot-pink sign as we pass.
“Okay, everyone here is talking about their Christmas lists, for starters. And I hate to burst your reclusive bubble, but we are a far-flung group. Right now Jason Mosely is probably thinking about how pathetic you are as he tends to his hydroponic
“Timmy,” she smiles tenderly as she ruffles his hair. “Yeah, I’m meeting Craig here to do the family gifts. Our last year.” She looks up at me. “We’re getting d-i-v-o-r-c-e-d. I’m shedding Shapiro.”
“Oh, God, I am really sorry to hear that,” I say, sad our class is already joining the ranks of the didn’t-make-its.
“Thank you,” she reaches out and touches my shoulder. “But it’s for the best for all of us.” She shifts Timmy to her other hip, her flexing thigh muscles visible through the spandex.
I admire her serenity. “You look fantastic.”
“There you are,” Laura calls, swaying over with Mick balanced on her boots. “Hey you!” she greets Jeanine as she lifts Mick to the floor, sending him darting back to the table. They exchange a truncated half-hug over Timmy and Laura’s pending Number Three.
“Are you doing the poses at home?” Jeanine places her palm solidly on Laura’s belly. Not tentatively, the way I do it.
“I try! I do.” Laura mugs embarrassment. “When the boys nap.” She turns to me. “Jeanine teaches prenatal yoga.”
“I’m so impressed,” I marvel.
She bounces Timmy back up to her waist, turning intently to me. “You have to take a class with me. I teach a whole roster at Yoga H’om up there.” She points to the escalators. “Just past the Sunglass Hut. You have to come. You’ll thank me, seriously.”
“That would be great.” I nod.
“So your folks’ house sold?”
“Yeah, it did,” practical stranger who knew before I did. “They’re pulling up stakes and heading south.”
“Yeah, Anne and I toured it when it was on the market. We’re looking for a three bedroom. It’s a beautiful space, really good positioning. But the energy.” She waves her free hand, her face darkening. “Completely congested. And your old room, wow—the whole place needs to be smudged.”
I look down to see ketchup smeared on my thumb. Laura pulls a napkin from her pocket and puts it into my hands. “We’ve really gotta boogie.” She shrugs apologetically.
Jeanine nods knowingly. “You’re here to see him, huh?”
“Him?” I crumple the red-streaked paper, trying to signal to Mom with my pinky at my hip to bring the car around.
“Jake.”
“Yup.” I exhale.
“Babe.” She puts a palm on my trapezius, pushing Mom’s coat open to give me a brisk three-stroke swipe. “Let it go. God! Yoga would be so good for you! Your whole aura is starving for it. You have got to take that on when you get home—where do you live?”
“Charleston.”
“Wow, he really did a number on you.”
“No, no.” I look to Laura, my smile faltering. “I just hate living in the cold.”
“Cold is a state of mind, babe.” She stares squarely, making no motion to let us leave, signaling she is just beginning her list of what my aura is starving for.
I lean over and give her a quick kiss. “Great to see you, Jeanine.”
“I teach tomorrow. Get the schedule from Laura. Yoga saved my life.”
“Definitely!” I wave good-bye. Glancing back I see them wend their way to a blond guy waiting at a table with two overstuffed Target bags and my gaze pinballs from the burgeoning beer paunch to the sun-damaged forehead to the utility belt to the duck boots to the Us Weekly with Jake on the cover he’s flipping through. I tuck my head down and take Laura’s elbow, darting us out of Craig’s visual range. “That is why I will only meet you behind closed doors. Everyone here is talking about the pathetic girl who got ditched by the rockstar—which I’m only known as in a forty-mile radius of that Pretzel Time.” I point up at the hot-pink sign as we pass.
“Okay, everyone here is talking about their Christmas lists, for starters. And I hate to burst your reclusive bubble, but we are a far-flung group. Right now Jason Mosely is probably thinking about how pathetic you are as he tends to his hydroponic
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