Page 36 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?

SEVENTEEN

Soft Pants Required

S ome days passed without much notice. Some days embedded themselves in Max’s memory for all the right reasons, happy and full of joyful exchanges. And then, there were the days that fucking ate her alive. That had been yesterday.

Max slammed her locker shut, the metallic clang echoing through the nearly empty gym. Good . She rolled her shoulders back, forcing herself to focus on the weight of her own body instead of the weight of everything else.

Rachel’s tear-streaked face. Ella’s trembling hands pulling away. The way the world seemed to tilt on its axis in a matter of seconds. Not that she was innocent, or a victim. That part made it worse.

She exhaled sharply, yanking her wraps tight around her knuckles.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Today.

Two nights ago, she had Ella’s laughter in her ear, warm fingers tracing absent patterns on her skin. And now, she wasn’t sure if she had her at all.

But, of course, that wasn’t the last of it. Earlier in the day, she’d accompanied her mother to her doctor’s appointment, where her family’s future had rested in the hands of an oncologist with a clipboard. Max hadn’t been ready for that, either.

“We’re going to do what we can to get ahead of this thing, Mayumi.

” Dr. Rivera scratched his head, a gesture that was so commonplace.

It reminded her that these doctors were just human beings, who might be able to help and might not.

She swallowed, ignoring the slight nausea that peeked its head in now and then.

Her mother nodded. “I’ll do whatever you say, Carlos.

You know that I have a great deal of respect for you,” her mother said with a wave of her hand.

Max only caught that it was trembling when she placed it back in her lap.

Apparently, the two were acquainted through a professional organization of physicians in the area.

They had a shorthand and spoke medical jargon that was sometimes over Max’s head.

She did her best to take notes and keep up, knowing her primary role was to provide moral support and serve as a second pair of ears.

“I think our best move is to move forward with chemo,” Dr. Rivera said. “The sooner, the better. We’ll see how you respond after six weeks, and go from there.”

Her mother nodded and offered a wobbly smile—another example of her vulnerability.

“Either way, everything will be okay, right? I’ve lived a good life.

” Max didn’t like the sound of those words, but she was also coming to understand that there was no right or wrong way to cope with fear, and if this was her mother’s method, she’d support her.

“Well, let’s get you many more good years.

” He covered her hand with his, gave it a squeeze, and rolled back to his screen to put in the order.

The clickety-clack of the keyboard echoing in the stark exam room had plucked every anxious nerve ending Max had like she was a tightly strung guitar.

She pulled her focus away and instead passed her mom a smile, absorbing the small one she sent back.

All these hours later, the punching bag swayed gently in front of Max, waiting.

Max didn’t.

Her first strike sent a satisfying shock up her arm.

She closed her eyes and experienced the much-needed discomfort.

Somehow, it helped. The second came harder, the third harder still.

The rhythm took over, demanding more force, more focus, more of her breath until she didn’t have space for anything else.

Not for the guilt or the ache. Not for the impossible unknowns hanging over her like a storm about to break.

Fists met leather, over and over, until her muscles screamed and the burn in her lungs reminded her she was still here. Still fighting.

Still standing.

“You haven’t been in here for a while. I’d say I missed you, but I can’t stand a big head.”

Max smiled through her recovery. Amanda. Their workout times apparently still coincided, even though Max had been missing hers lately. She straightened, giving Amanda a chance to see her face.

The smile fell away. “Oh, fuck. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Max said. “Always. Why?”

“You are not. Don’t bullshit me. I’ve known you since Jesus was in junior high school.

” She placed a hand on her hip, her trim and spray-tanned midsection on display as always.

In a new twist, Max barely noticed, and she certainly didn’t check her out the way she might have in the past, which meant she really wasn’t herself.

Or was it a reach to think that she was simply a new version of herself?

There was before Ella and after, a phenomenon she was still getting used to.

“Fine. I had a crap week and it’s likely to continue.”

“What happened?”

Max began to unwrap her hands. “Oh, we’re doing a deep dive today?” Their relationship was built on flirting, teasing, and an occasional actual conversation.

“Yes,” Amanda said without budging an inch. “What you don’t seem to get about me is that I give the best advice in the history of the fucking gym.”

Max looked up, arched a brow, and surveyed the gym for those she’d beaten out. “You think highly of your ability.”

“Listen to me carefully,” Amanda said, taking a seat along the wall and pulling a knee to her chest. “I don’t think. I know.”

Amanda, as always, was a force. And maybe Max could benefit from the insight of someone on the outside looking in. Perspective was a valuable commodity, and perhaps she’d lost hers.

“My mom is sick. It’s cancer.”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“And my personal life is crumbling like a condemned building. That’s probably where I could use a little wisdom.”

“Perfect. Tell me more.”

“There’s this woman who’s moved to town, and I’ve developed this,” she searched for the words that fit, “crush.”

“Mhmm. I’m waiting for more, because crush sounds so incredibly innocuous, and what I just witnessed cross your face was anything but.”

“Fine. She’s different. I feel differently than I have in the past, but I didn’t get the chance even to figure out what that might mean because she’s best friends with my ex.”

Amanda’s mouth fell open. “She’s best friends with Rachel?”

“I forgot that you know her.”

“Everyone in this community knows everyone. I bought her a martini once because she’s pretty.”

“She’s definitely that.”

Amanda paused. “This isn’t going to go well, Max.”

“Now you’re with me.”

Amanda ruminated on the information and took a swig from her water bottle. “Rachel knows?”

“As of yesterday. She saw us kissing.”

“Oh, fuck. This is a sophisticated sapphic soap opera in the making.” She stood. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

“Listening. What am I gonna do?”

“Very little. Be responsive if she reaches out, but give the two of them their space to work through the friendship. It’s not about you right now. It’s about them. She’ll get to you in time.”

“And if she doesn’t? If I never hear from her again?”

“Better to have loved and lost?”

Max sighed. “I don’t know that I subscribe to that theory, given what I’m feeling right now.” She eyed the bag. “Maybe I should hit more things.”

“Only if I can watch.” Amanda held up her hands. “Kidding. Your attention is spoken for, and I respect you for it. I’m also here if you want to talk it out some more. You have my number.”

Max turned. “You really think less is more?”

“Right now, I do.”

She exhaled, swallowing the pill. “I hear you.”

When she got home an hour later, she allowed herself to check her phone, something she’d forbidden herself from doing every five minutes. Nothing from Ella. Max set the phone on the counter and stared at it like she could will a message into existence.

She braced her hands against the cool surface, exhaling slowly. The house felt too quiet, her thoughts too loud. She grabbed a glass of water and took a long sip, then clapped her hands a couple of times, as if physically resetting the vibes in the room might help.

One day at a time.

One hour at a time, if that’s what it took.

She pushed off the counter and headed for the shower, letting the night wash over her.

The Weepers were meeting that night, and Ella wouldn’t be there.

That was hard, but necessary, at least for now.

She and Max had exchanged messages only twice since the porch debacle.

In the first, Max had asked if she was okay and if there was anything she could do.

In the second, she said she’d hoped to see Ella at book club and inquired if she’d be there.

Ella had answered both texts as politely as possible, but gave very little of herself, which Max had picked up on.

As the days passed, she began to truly feel the loss of Max in her life. “It was the right thing to do,” she said quietly to herself as she made a quick sandwich between work sessions.

Even if she missed the way Max’s laughter could pull her out of the heaviest moods.

Even if she missed the warmth of her hand resting casually on Ella’s knee, like she belonged there.

Even if she missed the late-night conversations that stretched until dawn, where Max saw through all of her walls and made her feel understood in a way no one else ever had.

Even if she missed her.

“I lost my job,” Rachel said, dropping her Prada bag on the kitchen counter with a decided thump.

“What?” The two of them hadn’t done a lot of talking in the last few days. They exchanged pleasantries, but kept their interactions at surface level for Rachel’s comfort. But this was different. This was life stuff that demanded an immediate pause to the new dynamic.

Her face was blank. “My director of sales is bringing in her niece, who is moving here after graduating from design school in Paris. I’m not making this up.”

“This is exactly the kind of romance novel victim status I thought we’d sidestepped.”