Balancing Acts (30 page)

“We're going to be rich!” exclaimed Julian, dancing around as George and Michael skittered across the floor.

“I wouldn't go that far,” said Charlie. “Now, let's eat!”

“Wait! One more thing!” said Naomi. “The website!”

She turned on her laptop. “Okay, here it is,” she said, as it came up on the screen. “Now remember, this is just a first draft. Sabine and I are more than happy to go back to the drawing board if you absolutely hate it.”

She walked them through the site, clicking through the links one by one.
Ooh
s and
ah
s filled the room. When she was done, she faced them.

“Naomi, the website is perfection,” cooed Felicity. “It is perfectly Prana.”

“It really is,” said Charlie. “From the pictures to the copy to the clean, open layout—”

“It's genius,” said Bess. “Truly beautiful.”

“You like it?” asked Naomi, beaming. “Really?”

“Really,” said Julian. “I think I need to give you a hug.”

“And Sabine, the copy is incredible. Warm, funny, open. . .” said Charlie. “Just like you.”

Sabine beamed. “I'm so glad you like it.”

“And the way you wrote about my products!” added Felicity. “I might need to hire you full-time.”

“I can launch the site right now, if you like,” said Naomi.

“Really?” asked Charlie. She looked at Felicity and Julian, who gave their nod of approval.

“Wait, wait, get the champagne!” said Bess. Sabine grabbed a bottle and prepared to uncork it.

“Okay, Naomi—one, two, three!” As Naomi officially launched the site, the champagne cork went flying, the bubbles erupting in a torrent of frothy white.

“L'chaim!” yelled Sabine.

To life.

W
here are you goingggg?” whined Zach, as Sabine crept out of bed as stealthily as she could. He reached out to pull her back in. She submitted, relishing the warmth of his bare chest against her cheek as she snuggled in for one last hug.

“I told you, I'm going to Prospect Park today to see Charlie, Bess, and Naomi. Do you listen to me?”

“What?” teased Zach, pretending he hadn't heard her.

“Very funny.” She squeezed him. “I'll be back later this afternoon.”

“Didn't you just see them yesterday for class?”

“I did, but this is different. This is a park picnic. Bess organized it. I think she has something big to tell us or something.”

“Maybe you're all on the cover of
People
magazine or some shit.
Surprise! I wrote a tell-all about each and every one of you! But it's super nice, so don't be mad.
” Zach had never really gotten onboard with Bess after her initial article about them all. He thought that she had been out of line.

“Zach, don't be a dick.” Sabine rolled out of bed and surveyed herself in the mirror. To shower or not to shower, that was the question. She took a closer look and gave herself some props. Her abs were definitely tighter.
Thanks, yoga.
After the women had ended their Basics class, they had decided to return to Charlie's open class on Saturday afternoons. The double whammy of Bess's article and the Prana website had increased the student population very respectably. Sometimes, the class was so crowded that the most they could hope for was an inch between yoga mats.

No shower,
thought Sabine. It was the middle of June and she would be sweating like a hog in the park anyway. A little deodorant and a hat to keep the sun off her face would do the trick. Sabine had always been a sun worshipper, but lately, her face was telling the tale. She had a weird sun spot situation happening on her upper lip that bared too close a resemblance to a mustache. Her reckless tanning days were over.

“See you later, babe,” she whispered in his ear. He smiled and mumbled good-bye. Sabine shoved her hat in her bag and trotted out of the apartment, praying that the subway gods would be kind to her.

N
oah, slow down!” yelled Naomi. He was in front of her on his bike, his long legs pedaling at the speed of light. She had bought them both bikes in May, and they had been having a blast on the weekends, taking the Brooklyn streets by storm. Their first few rides had been unbearably tense for Naomi—between her worries about her own balance and Noah's tendency to show off, she was constantly afraid that one of them would break their neck, despite their first-rate helmets. Over time however, she had eased up. Noah was a natural and she, well. . .exercise held new meaning for her now. Having that kind of positive control over her body—to really appreciate the fact that her brain was telling her legs to peddle and that's exactly what they were doing—was reassuring. Noah slowed his pace and she eased up beside him. He looked over and reached out to touch her arm.

“Careful!” she teased. His cast had come off months ago, but she wasn't taking any chances. He stuck out his tongue at her. “Race!” she shrieked, taking off in front of him toward the park entrance.

“There's Dad!” yelled Noah, passing her. She smiled. Gene was waiting for them, his own bike resting on his kickstand beside him.

“Easy, Lance Armstrong,” he said, as Noah circled him like a shark. Noah stopped his bike and jumped off it, enveloping Gene in a bear hug. Naomi marveled at her lack of jealousy at seeing Noah so ecstatic. The past months had been amazing for her in terms of relinquishing her grip on him. Gene had really proved himself, too—making himself available whenever she needed his help, with no complaints. “Hey, Naomi,” he said.

“Hey, Gene. Thanks for coming today. I should be done in a couple hours or so.”

“No sweat. Who's going to your picnic?”

“My yoga ladies. We're taking it out of the studio for a change. We haven't really caught up in a while, so it'll be good to see them.”

“Very cool. We'll meet you back at the house around four or so, if that's okay. I thought I might take Noah over to the Brooklyn Museum.”

“Sweet!” Noah enthused. “I like that place.”

“Perfect,” said Naomi. “You guys have fun. I love you, Noah. Be good!”

“I love you, too, Mom.” He hopped off his bike to hug her and let it crash to the ground, despite Naomi's constant reminding him to take better care of it. She shook off her annoyance.
Boys will be boys.
She hugged him back, waved, and took off, anxious to find out Bess's news.

I
dunno, what do you want to do tonight?” asked Charlie into her phone. The sun felt amazing on her bare shoulders. June in New York could make you forget about the interminable winter in just an instant. This was that instant.

“Maybe I should cook you dinner,” answered Mario. “Something delicious. We can eat outside on my deck.” Mario was a lucky man. A Brooklyn apartment with a deck was the equivalent of winning the lottery as far as Charlie was concerned.

“That sounds good. I have to teach two classes in the late afternoon, but I could be showered and at your place by seven thirty or so.” Mario lived very close to Prana and, consequently, very close to her. Geographic compatibility was only one of the many reasons they were enjoying each other. As promised, Charlie had gone to see his band play soon after the infamous Neil run-in at the deli, and the rest had been history. She even had him trying yoga.

“
Bueno
,” he answered. “Have a good time with the girls. Can't wait to feed you later.”

Charlie laughed. “Okay, Mario, see you soon.” She picked up her pace, noticing the distinctive feel of sweat beginning to bead up on her brow.

B
ess rearranged her blanket for what felt like the ninety-seventh time. She had brought some fruit, cheese, tuna salad, and some crackers. Surveying her spread, her stomach growled. She wanted to eat, but her nerves were off the charts. She wondered how Charlie, Naomi, and Sabine would react to her news.

“Bessss!” yelled Sabine, approaching her on the grass. “Hello, mysterious vixen!” she said, hugging Bess in greeting. “Tell me first, before anyone gets here. I won't let on.”

“No way, lady,” Bess replied. “Besides, it's not that big of a deal. I think I might have blown it a bit out of proportion.” Actually, it was that big of a deal, maybe the biggest deal of Bess's life thus far, but she was embarrassed by how much she had played it up. “How are you?”

“Well, I just left Zach at home. . .and am loving this weather! Isn't it amazzzzinggg?”

“It really is. Feeling sunbeams is a top-five sensation.”

“Shit, I almost forgot,” said Sabine. She pulled her hat out of her bag. “Protection,” she announced, plopping it on her head.

“Wow, look at you!” said Naomi, walking her bike up and laying it beside them on the green lawn. “You look like a Palm Beach diva!”

“Through and through!” answered Sabine. She stood up to hug Naomi.

“Hey, Bess!” Naomi sat down and hugged her as well. “It's great to see you.”

“Not covered up in huge jackets,” added Bess. “In tank tops, no less.”

“And may I just say that we are all looking
tres jolie
,” observed Naomi. “Yoga is treating us right.”

“Holla!” replied Sabine.

“Are you guys hungry?” asked Bess. “I brought some snacks.”

“Ooh, I'll have some fruit,” said Naomi. She picked a pineapple chunk out of the bowl. “Yum.”

“Hey, ladies!” said Charlie, jogging over to the blanket. “Sorry I'm late.”

“Could Mario not bear to have you leave him?” teased Naomi. “A hundred bucks says he wanted to make you some bacon and eggs for breakfast.”

“Very funny,” replied Charlie, in between kissing them all on their respective cheeks. “For your information, I stayed at home last night.”

“Really? How come?” asked Sabine.

“I'm organizing a retreat! I'm so excited about it. One of Julian's friends is the manager of this gorgeous hotel down in Puerto Vallarta, and she is pumped about getting a yoga retreat package started. She's asked Julian and me to sign on as the official instructors.”

“Get out of here!” shrieked Naomi. “That is awesome! Puerto Vallarta is supposed to be incredible.”

“When is it?” asked Bess.

“It's right before Thanksgiving. Wednesday to Wednesday.”

“That is too perfect,” said Sabine. “You cleanse your body and your mind right before diving into a tryptophan coma. I like it.”

“You know, I could get you guys a discount if you were interested,” said Charlie, with a sly smile. “I already asked her if I could hook up a few star pupils, and she was amenable to twenty-five percent off the package price.”

“No way!” said Naomi. “Oh wow, how lovely would that be? Yoga in Mexico!? In November?”

“It would be even cheaper for me,” said Bess. She was so nervous to reveal her “big secret” but this segue was ingenious.

“How so?” asked Charlie, slicing off a piece of cheese.

“I'm moving to LA!” replied Bess.

“Wait, what!?” said Sabine. “You're moving out there to be with Dan?! Bess, that's so exciting!” She jumped up to hug her.

“It is exciting!” agreed Naomi. “But what about your job? What are you going to do?” Naomi paused. “Look at me, Ms. Buzzkill. Sorry, Bess.”

“Oh no, are you kidding me? Of course you should ask that question. I'm equally excited about that as I am about the Dan factor.”

“Holy shit, what are you going to be doing?” asked Sabine.

“Writing for the Style section of the
LA Times
,” Bess answered. “I know, it's not exactly war-torn Bosnia, but I've been told that the position has legs. A year or two there, with a couple of freelance projects under my belt, and I'm in pretty good shape. It's a great foot in the door situation.”

“I'd say that you were in excellent shape,” said Sabine. “Bess, I am so happy for you! This is huge news!”

“It really is,” agreed Charlie. “How did you decide to just go for it?”

“You know, I think it was just a gradual process,” she answered. “I started to open up my mind to the idea of moving there and then slowly but surely, it became less of a sacrifice and more of an opportunity. Plus, I'm actually excited to be closer to my parents. I never thought those words would come out of my mouth, but there they are.”

“I think that this is going to be fantastic for you,” said Naomi. “For both of you. And by the way, I am really into this Puerto Vallarta retreat idea. I think we should do it.”

“Look at you, Miss Moneybags!” teased Sabine. “How are you feeling by the way?”

“Good, good. I'm still thinking about the medication and, in the meantime, reaching out to whomever I can talk to. I'm also doing acupuncture and have modified all the fun out of my diet. I feel good, I think.”

“And your doctor is okay with your not being on the meds?” asked Bess.

“I mean, he's not jumping for joy about it, but he can't make me take them, you know? I'm getting another MRI in a month, to see what's cooking in my brain, and we'll take it from there. After my negative spinal tap, I just couldn't get on board with the meds so soon. It felt so rushed and panicky to me. At least, most days I think that. Other days I think that my fondness for denial is going to bite me in the ass.” She sighed heavily. “Oh, it's so boring! Honestly, I'm sick of talking about it. But thank you, guys, for asking.”

“How's business?” asked Charlie.

“You would not believe how much shit I have going on right now. Ever since the Prana website, it has been gangbusters.”

“Naomi, that's terrific!” said Bess. “What are you working on?”

“Well, one of Felicity's friends was really impressed by my work for her hair products. She's one of these super-mom, Park Slope bloggers.” The group collectively groaned. The stereotype was all too true. Brooklyn's sidewalks were overrun with that very cliché—clog-wearing moms pushing their gigantic strollers and nibbling their gluten-free, dairy-free, everything remotely tasty-free energy bars.

Naomi laughed. “She's not so bad, really. I mean, she practices what she preaches at least. She designs this eco-friendly clothing line for kids. Really cool stuff, actually. I mean, Noah wouldn't be caught dead in it, but that's just because he's taking fashion tips from his rock-star daddy as of late.” She grinned and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, she needs a website, so she called me. It's going live this week with photos I took of her kids in the clothes.”

“Naomi, I am psyched for you,” said Bess. “I'm sure her site is going to draw loads of traffic.”

“And then who knows where you'll go!” said Sabine. “You're about to blow up.”

Naomi smiled. “Thanks, guys. I'm pretty excited about it.” She took a swig of her water. “Sabine, how's your writing class going?”

“It's going pretty well, I have to say. Just meeting with other writers once a week, critiquing and being critiqued. . .it feels good. And with someone else cracking the deadline whip, I actually listen.”

“No more tweezing breaks?” asked Bess.

“No! I'm a focused machine. Don't they look thicker, by the way?” She furrowed her brow in an attempt to show her brows off.

“They do!” Charlie replied, examining them close-up. “I like 'em. Very sophisticated.”

“French woman drinking a cappuccino and smoking a cigarette in some combination of navy and black sophisticated?”

“Exactly,” answered Charlie.