“Vultures build their nests in dark cavities, like caves, abandoned buildings, stumps, and hollow trees,” James told Willa during the drive to school, in answer to her question about whether he went to the bathroom before they left the house.
“Interesting,” she said, watching the boys hop out of the car.
It was, actually. This factoid helped explain why, ever since the fight with Pete, the Depression Vulture no longer perched on top of Willa’s head and instead lived deep within it.
She could feel its claws on the inside of her skull now, so much so that it seemed inconceivable she’d be able to do much more than provide a rote recitation of the coaching script at FitFams during the day’s classes.
But then she saw Lauren. Wearing a man’s XL T-shirt that grazed her belly, she sat on the reception bench alone, clutching her purse to her chest with one hand and picking invisible lint from her spandex pants with the other. She was trying not to look at the loud, lithe women who strode into the studio and tossed their bags into the cubbies.
“Seriously, Dana. You look amaaaahzing,” said Taylor, snapping her gum, which she always chewed in class. She’d told Willa, during one of their many long talks in the studio, that gum helped her breathe better, raised her heart rate, and allowed her to burn more calories. For Willa, it was an annoyance, not because of the sound but because her First Aid/CPR training had lapsed two years before, which meant she didn’t really remember how to do the Heimlich Maneuver.
“Oh my God, Taylor, I am so fat,” said Dana, who was 5’9” and probably 120 pounds.
“Oh my God, you are so not,” Taylor said. “Willa, tell her she is not fat.”
Yeah, no, I’m not going to do that. “You look strong and healthy,” Willa said.
“See, that’s code for ‘fat,’” Dana said. Taylor gave her a light punch in the shoulder and looked to Willa for a reaction, but she just didn’t have it in her to gin one up.
As Willa announced the five-minute warning, Lauren tucked her purse into a corner of the reception bench, then clipped in to a machine in the second row. During the warm-up, she moved like she was walking through waist-high oatmeal with a boulder strapped to her back.
That’s how Willa felt inside. Did Lauren feel that way too?
I deserve it, Willa thought. She doesn’t.
Willa suddenly found herself going off-script, the words tumbling out.
“We all have challenges in our lives, right? Things that seem insurmountable. Things that make us feel beaten down, maybe even worthless,” Willa said, standing in front of Lauren’s machine and looking at her while speaking to the class on the mic. “I know how that feels. I really, really do.”
There was recognition in Lauren’s eyes when they met Willa’s.
“You can do this. No, don’t shake your head at me. I am serious. Do not feel intimidated. You are strong, you are powerful, and I believe in you,” Willa said. “Believe in yourself. You can do this.”
She walked to the side of Lauren’s machine.
“I know about the negative voices in your head. The ones that tell you that you aren’t worthy, or important, or good,” Willa said. “You need to tell those voices to shut the fuck up.”
A small smile from Lauren. Taylor and Dana laughed and then looked almost wounded when Willa didn’t reward them with a smile.
They can handle it, Willa thought.
“I am serious,” Willa said. “Those voices — they lie. They don’t know you. They don’t know how great you are, how special, how worthy. You need to replace those voices with one that tells it like it really is.”
Then Willa turned and put both hands on one of Lauren’s handlebars.
“And if you can’t find a voice inside you to do that, then you can have mine,” Willa said.
She returned to the podium.
“Listen to me: You are strong, you are powerful, and I believe in you,” Willa told the class. “Believe in yourself. You got this.”
Lauren’s pace picked up. Dana and Taylor looked at Willa with an odd mix of longing and anger, like die-hard Justin Bieber fans who’d waited all night to see him but never got the chance.
At the end of any given class, it was time for validation: parking and personal. The front-row clients typically besieged Willa for both. The second-row clients more often focused on getting their tickets stamped and getting out of there.
This time, Willa changed the routine and went straight to Lauren, who was filling her water bottle at the fountain.
“How are you doing?” Willa asked.
“So much better now,” Lauren said. “Honestly. You said exactly what I needed to hear. I don’t know if it’s something they teach you, but … I don’t know … just, thank you.”
“I meant every word,” Willa said, genuinely. “You are awesome.”
“Thank you,” Lauren blushed. “I’ll definitely be back.”
“That’s great,” Willa said, ignoring the little voice inside her head that said she should exploit the situation by selling Lauren on an unlimited membership. Shut up, corporate.
She headed to the reception desk to stamp parking tickets. As Taylor and Dana approached and handed over their stubs, they spoke only to each other, then left without saying goodbye.
Huh, weird, Willa thought.
Lauren was the last in line. Still smiling, she reached her hand into her bag for her parking ticket, then froze. Her face fell. She slowly pulled her hand out and examined her thumb and pointer finger. They were sticky and … neon green?
“What is it?” Willa asked, concerned, and coming around the desk to see.
“No. No, I …”
Before Lauren tore out of the studio, Willa was able to catch a quick glimpse of what was inside the purse.
It was a gob of chewed gum.
Way to go, Willa!!