“You carry dog treats.”
“I carry a range of solutions.”
I closed the studio doors and checked my phone. There were three voice messages from my sister, two class questions, one promotional email, and a banking alert informing me that my checking balance had fallen below the number I had selected as a warning threshold. I opened the app. The balance was not catastrophic. It was simply the financial equivalent of someone standing behind me and clearing their throat.
My rent had gone out. My car insurance was due Friday. Gloria still refused to let me repay the full amount she had loaned me after the transmission disaster, but that did not mean I had forgotten it. At the bottom of the screen, my savings account displayed enough to cover most of the Advanced Endurance Coaching Certification deposit if I emptied the emergency fund and pretended car repairs had become ahistorical concept. The deposit deadline was eight weeks away. The money existed in the technical sense. So did rent. I locked my phone.
“Looking at your retirement plan?”
Rose leaned against the studio doorway, drinking tea from a metal tumbler. Rose Graham always looked composed, even at seven in the morning. Her auburn hair sat in a smooth bob at her jaw, her dark athletic jacket had no visible wrinkles, and her expression suggested she had already identified three choices I was making incorrectly.
“My retirement plan is to become emotionally indispensable to my niece.”
“Lola is eight.”
“That gives me time.”
“You should aim for financial stability.”
“Less charming.”
Rose glanced toward Janine, who was leaving the gym with a smile. “Good class?”
“Carol threatened me with equipment.”
“So, yes.”
We walked toward the staff room. Rose worked as Iron & Ivy’s physical therapist, which meant she spent her days repairing the damage people did to themselves and her breaks explaining why pain was not a sign of character development. She had been explaining variations of that concept to me for two years.
“Did you pay the certification deposit?” she asked.
“I’m considering several funding models.”
“That means no.”
“One model involves winning the lottery.”
“Have you purchased a ticket?”
“No.”
“Strong model.”
I opened the staff room refrigerator. Inside were four meal-prep containers, six energy drinks, a birthday cake missing its center, and a plastic bag labeled BLAKE’S KALE—DO NOT TOUCH. I took a yogurt from the top shelf.
Rose sat at the small table. “I can loan you the deposit.”
“No. I still owe Gloria.”
“She told you not to worry about it.”
“Gloria thinks coupons are a personality and responsibility is recreation. Her judgment is compromised.”
Rose watched me peel back the yogurt lid.
“What?” I asked.
“You want the certification.”
