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That still sounds a little creepy. Nope, we’re never talking about that.
The ladies urge Declan and me to extend our legs until our feet are hanging over the end of the footrest thing. Like a well-choreographed dance, they smooth cream on the bottoms of our feet, making us both startle, then, gripping our ankles tightly in one hand, they pick up a cheese grater. I have just enough time to wonder what the hell those are for, when they run them over our feet.
Listen, anyone would be surprised by that. I mean, why the hell would someone look at a cheese grater and think man, I should use that on my feet.
So maybe I scream at a pitch only audible to dogs. And maybe I slide out of my chair a bit. But I handle it a fuck of a lot better than Declan does.
When that grater touches his feet, it's like an electrical shock runs through his body. His yell comes from deep in his stomach.
And then, he levitates.
There's no other word for it. He’s in the air, then suddenly, he’s sitting in the foot water bowl. Well...squirming and yelling. Flailing, too, trying to get out. The poor woman is sitting there, stunned, Declan's legs spread on either side of her, beads of water dripping down her face.
Laughter echoes through the small space, partially at my scream but mainly because there's a 240-pound man stuck in a little bowl of water. My chuckles turn into belly laughs, watching Declan squirm. Maybe that's why I wasn't prepared for it. I mean, there's a man flailing around right beside her. How does she keep going?
But Florence is a woman on a mission, and with an even tighter grip on my ankle, she runs the grater over my foot again.
Over my shriek and the barrel roll I do, trying to loosen her grip, I hear Janey’s breathless laughter and Bree's hysterical voice.
"This...this is the b-best pedicure of my life."
18
JANEY
Is this what preschool teachers feel like? This mixture of affection, hilarity, and bone-deep exhaustion? As we pile onto the elevator to head upstairs, the men loaded down with bags and packages...and one pair of soaked sweatpants, I decide it must be. The men are talking about their favorite cookies, seemingly unfazed by the day while I’m relying on the elevator wall to hold me up.
This family is not for the weak, that's for sure. I feel like I've run a marathon. How are they still so energetic? Even Bree seems to have more stamina than I do. I lean closer to her and whisper, ”How are we still upright? I swear we've walked twenty miles today? And you seem fine."
She smiles, a hint of tiredness to it. "I have a pretty physical job. I work in a rehab center as a physiotherapist, so I'm used to heavy lifting. And I play softball in the summer, and I'm in this indoor soccer league too. I like to stay busy."
"My goodness. I really am a slouch. I go to the gym sometimes, but I've never been very good at sports."
She shrugs. “Maybe you just haven't found the right fit. Some of the leagues I play in are rec leagues, so they're not that competitive. The softball league, especially, is mostly about drinking and trash-talking the other teams. It's a lot of fun."
"Trash talking?"
She snorts out a laugh. "A lot of 'yo mamma' jokes, a lot of joking about the size of their equipment. Anything to make each other laugh, honestly."
"Size of their equipment," I say dumbly. Then I get it. "Right. Co-ed I'm guessing? And you play with them?"
Her eyes sharpen on mine. "I can't tell if you're doubting me, or yourself?"
Heat rises in my cheeks. "Mostly myself. I didn't love gym in high school. The boys were ...not very nice."
She nods and lowers her voice. "I know exactly what you mean. I dealt with a lot of the same crap in high school. The kids were awful. The boys, especially. They found so many things to pick on, but their favorite was my weight. After my parents died and I moved in with Cara, I needed sports. I needed to exert myself and focus on something other than how sad I was. And after losing my parents, I didn't give a shit about what the boys at my new school said."
"Were they still awful?"
"Funny enough, no. Looking back, I think I went into that school with a 'don't give a fuck' attitude that worked for me. Or, I was just hurting so badly that anything negative just bounced off of me. Either way, it was a weird kind of relief." Of course, it would be. No more taunts, no more being grabbed, no more mean looks. It would be an incredible relief.
"And once you started, you never stopped."
"No, I was pretty good at softball, so I played in College. And I joined teams at whatever job I was at. I'm even in a curling league."
I stare at her blankly for a minute, honestly, not sure I know what that is. "Wait...with the brooms and the rocks?"
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Bree straightens up, and murmurs. "Yep, brooms and rocks. There's a ton of drinking in that one too. By the last end, a lot of my coworkers are tipping over.” She winks and grins at me. “And not because they’re on the ice.”
