17 year old Callie is at her lowest point. Alone and depressed most of the summer, she feels fat and ugly-and school starts Monday. Her mother Michelle is about to have a baby, and won't tell anyone who the father is. The reality TV show that Michel...
By Friday Michelle felt a lot better. Edouard and Callie had convinced her that the honest thing for her to do was to continue to tell the lie. Michelle was not afraid of the truth, but Callie really wanted to be the mother, and Edouard really wanted to continue on the show as they were. Thursday night she had her first night of peaceful sleep in, actually,she didn't know how long.
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Today, Michelle and Edouard were at a yoga-based physical and emotional therapy session with Nashon and Linda, who both suffered emotional disorders, and Mark and Paula, the addicted-to-adultery twosome. The Fat Chance producers liked to combine teams on symbiotic challenges, and this, they must have figured, would be good for these three couples, who needed to learn both relaxation and discipline. They had come, with a taping crew, to the large, shiny-floored aerobics room at Fitness Plus, and at the moment they were attempting a position and state of mind known as Half Moon.
As Michelle swung her leg around, her foot grazed Linda's protruding, sweatpants- covered bottom. "Sorry," Michelle whispered.
Linda wobbled dramatically, tried to hold her position, and collapsed, stifling a sob. She sprang up and ran out of the studio. Michelle was stunned. The cast and crew watched through the glass wall as Linda walked head down past the forest of exercise machines in the main room of the fitness center. Nashon bumped past Michelle, muttering. "Thanks so much, lady."
Michelle looked at Jock automatically for an explanation, or a chance to defend herself. They all looked at Jock in reaction to everything now. That's the way the camera wants it, they had learned. "I only..."
Jock's eyes were on Donna and the cameraman with the super mini, who had taken off after Linda and Nashon. But the main cam remained in the aerobics room.
"She's OCD." Paula's accusing eyes glared pointlessly at Michelle, and the camera swung to her. "She's been working on letting herself be, touched, you know?"
Jock walked toward Michelle, a look of concern on his face. "You knew that, right?"
She knew they were all pushing her for some kind of indignant response. That's what they always wanted from her—to give somebody hell. But Michelle wasn't going to bite today. Let them get their phony drama elsewhere. How about trampy Paula in her skintight leotard and cleavage? Not me today, Michelle muttered to herself, and let the negative emotion pass out her chakra or whatever into the atmosphere. "Yeah," she said. "I'm sorry."
Edouard, standing next to her, looked at Jock and lifted his meaty arms in the classic gesture of innocence. "She didn't mean anything"
Michelle flexed her shoulders, then crouched down and assumed the starting position they had been working on.
The instructor took this cue. "All right, let's begin again."
***
As they left the aerobics room at the end of the yoga session, Edouard touched her arm. "I've got an idea."
"I'm listening."
They walked under the row of silent televisions that the bikers and walkers and elliptical sliders always strove toward, but never reached. Edouard clutched both ends of the towel that hung around his neck. "You could, like go super sorry, go apologize to Linda."
"Go sorry? Like put on a hugely fake emotion and wait for Gary and Javier to get into position, action, roll 'em? You mean like that?"
Edouard winced. "Okay, okay. You got me. Keep it real. You're right."
"No. You are right. Where did she go?" Of course he was right. Making moments out of the mundane was her job now. And apologizing would not be phony, because she liked Linda and she did feel bad that she'd been a little carelessabout her space.
Near the racquetball courts, five or six men in Phoenix FD tee shirts stood or sat watching a game through the glass wall of a court. One of them glanced at Michelle, and did a double take. He had a neat but sort of brushy mustache and goatee, and after the double take, Michelle realized it was Boomer. The original. The deliverer. Michelle felt a little fizz of mixed emotions—fear, joy, attraction, shame.
He waved, and Michelle slowed down. Edouard trudged toward the entrance, oblivious. She almost called to him, automatically, but Edouard wouldn't know the fireman, and in fact, it would be better if no one did. This big beautiful guy could blow the whole thing for her, with just about anything he said. He obviously remembered her, so she had to speak to him.
Quickly looking around as if someone called her, Michelle saw no one from the cast and crew anywhere near. "Hi!"Michelle gave him a bright smile. "Remember me?"
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