Unscripted (27 page)

I pick up the receiver. “Hello, stalker.”

“Hi! I’m leaving for the party soon, I wanted to see if you’ve changed your mind.”

“Nope.”

“Come on! What are you doing?”

I look around. I’m hard-pressed to come up with a believable lie. “I’m making hot chocolate.”

“Perfect. Take a shower, throw on some clothes and let’s go. This will be so good for you.”

“Nance,” I say as I blow into my cup. “I love you but this sounds like torture. Sticking my feet in some water and watching the toxins pour out? Your goddess friends were lovely, but it’s not my scene, not to mention it sounds like total bullshit.”

“This is a different crowd, no group hugs I promise. Look, who knows if it works? I’ve heard amazing stories. Why not give it a try? I’m paying. What do you have to lose? Plus, I guarantee there will be cute guys there.”

“What, so I try to flirt as black goo is oozing out of my feet? No thanks.”

“Please? They’ll have good food there, what were you going to eat for dinner?”

I take a mental inventory of my fridge.
Most likely toast.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Look, worst case scenario, you rest your feet in warm water for thirty minutes and meet some new people.”

Ugh, I can feel it. She’s wearing me down. The secret is not to let her know or she’ll go in for the kill.

“Best case scenario, you lose some nasty toxins and meet some
amazing new
people.”

“I, hmm, uh.”
No! Don’t show weakness.

“Come on. We can grab frozen yogurt on the way home,” Nancy cajoles. “With chocolate sprinkles.”

“Okay fine. I need forty-five minutes.”

“Yay! I’ll drive.”

“But I reserve the right of departure if it’s terrible,” I say as I walk into my bedroom.

“Fine, but you have to give it at least an hour.”

“One hour.”

“And a half.”

“Don’t push it. See you soon.”

“Bye!”

Well, I only have myself to blame.

An hour later, Nancy and I are heading down Pacific Avenue toward her friend Isabelle’s place in Marina del Rey.

“Look, C&O Trattoria is down there,” I say longingly as we pass Washington Boulevard.

“Very funny.”

“Garlic rolls…”

“Good try, we’re almost there.”

The temperature is hovering around a perfect seventy degrees and there’s a nice breeze coming from the ocean. Maybe it’s good that I came tonight. I shouldn’t be so closed-minded. But I won’t confess that to Nancy now that we’re neighbors and she has an all-access pass to me.

Nancy’s friend lives in a cheery yellow-and-white two-story condo just one block from the beach. As we walk toward the front door, a chorus of hellos greets us from the balcony.

Inside is quite a departure from other beach houses I’ve seen. The walls are covered in rich Chinese tapestries, and the furniture is an odd mix of modern and antique, but it somehow works. The room is very atmospheric, lit only by candlelight, muted lamps and the light from the fireplace.

“Hey, darlin’,” Isabelle says to Nancy as she gives her a hug. Not surprisingly, Isabelle is stunningly beautiful. Her sleek black hair is parted simply in the middle and hangs like a curtain over her shoulders. She has vivid blue cat-shaped eyes, and thick black eyelashes. Why are all of Nancy’s friends gorgeous? Sometimes I hate L.A.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she says warmly to me as she kisses my cheek.

“Thanks for having me,” I reply. “I can’t wait to give this a try.”

“I must confess, at first I wasn’t entirely convinced,” Isabelle says as she looks around conspiratorially. “But I’ve been doing the footbath once a week for five months and haven’t been sick a day since.”

Hmm, I’d wager that her supplements, cleanses, massages, yoga and organic eating has more to do with that than a footbath.

Stop. You are open-minded Abby tonight.

“So how does this work?” Nancy asks.

“Tarina will be here soon, she’s bringing four footbaths,” Isabelle says as she waves over a magnificent piece of man-meat. He has piercing green eyes and curly sun-kissed locks that dangle over his ears. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a white T-shirt that accentuates his very tanned, muscular arms.

Drool. Will-Schmill.

Man-meat kisses Nancy hello as Isabelle introduces him to me. His name is Ty. And of course, he’s her husband.
Hate her.

“I was just telling the girls about the footbaths.” Isabelle tucks a lock of hair behind Ty’s beautiful ear. “Each session lasts for thirty minutes and costs forty-five dollars. Tarina is giving us a discount since there are twelve of us.”

First of all: Tarina? Made-up name, or birth? Secondly: Forty-five dollars? What’s the un-discounted rate?

“Fantastic,” says Nancy.

“Help yourself to some little nibbles, and we have a selection of ayurvedic tonics in the kitchen.” Isabelle points to a meager spread of vegetables, cheese cubes and whole-wheat crackers.

Oh man.
We are going to the C&O for some heavy-duty pasta after this.

“And of course, for those who prefer a cocktail, there’s wine and beer as well,” says Ty.

“Which,” Isabelle continues, “I suppose is a bit antithetical to the whole detox process, but if we’re having a cleansing party, we need something to cleanse, don’t we?”

Bah.
Fine. I like her.

“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Nancy whispers as we head over to the dining room table.

“Good Lord. Did he bring friends?” I ask, looking around. I see some women wearing maxi dresses but no other hot guys. There’s a group milling about on the balcony, but I can’t make out any of their faces.

“I hope so. Izzy said there would be at least four single guys here.” Nancy glances covertly around the room.

“Let’s hope the other women don’t all look like Isabelle,” I say as I place a carrot and stick of celery on my plate along with a dollop of spinach dip.

“Yeah, if that’s the case, we’re screwed.” Nancy pops a square of cheese in her mouth.

That’s one of the things I love about Nancy: Just when I think she’s going to hit me with a dose of Pollyanna, she makes a crack like that.

“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about?” Nancy nudges.

“No, and even if Will and Lisa aren’t together, I think he too is destined for the Isabelles of the world.”

Nancy puts her plate down and takes my arm. I can tell by the look on her face that I’ve awakened Pollyanna. “Don’t say things like that. Will would be lucky to have you.”

“What? You just agreed with me two seconds ago that neither of us would have a shot in hell with any of the guys here. What’s the difference?”

“That comment was based on tonight only. Yes, if I am standing in a room full of Isabelles, based on first impressions alone, the men won’t gravitate to me tonight.”

“Nance, you’re beautiful…”

Nancy laughs. “We’re talking in circles. My point is, if I were to talk, really talk to any of these men, they would realize how absolutely fabulous I am and blow all of these women off. But I realize that may be difficult in this setting. And what I’m saying is, now that Will knows you, how could he resist?”

“You’re so sweet,” I say as I hug her.
He’s resisting all right.

A short time later Tarina arrives and gives everyone a hug hello. Judging by the weathered smile lines around her eyes, I’d say she’s in her mid-fifties. Her black hair is held together by one of those leather ponytail holders from the 1970s, and she’s wearing a multilayered colorful skirt and a blue velvet vest with gold buttons the size of quarters.

Isabelle and Tarina decide the best place to set up is in the living room, right in front of the balcony, so the breeze can help clear the smell.

The smell?

The few stragglers left on the balcony have all come in and are mingling about, munching on appetizers and watching Tarina with suspicious curiosity.

Tarina takes out four plastic square containers from her oversized bag and fills them up with warm water. As she makes trips back and forth from the kitchen, Ty and Isabelle bring four chairs in from the dining room and set them up in a row, facing the balcony.

Tarina then removes four metal boxes from her other bag and plugs them into two extension cords. They’re about the size of a cigar box, painted silver and blue with a white keypad. Attached to each box is a small, rectangular object that Tarina calls an “array.” After
Tarina places an array into each container of water, she wipes her hands on her skirt and turns to the crowd.

“So. Has anyone ever done this before?”

The majority of the people shake their heads no.

“Great!” she says, rubbing her hands together. “Footbath virgins. I love it.”

Ew.

“The way it works is simple. You place your feet in the water, it’s nice and warm, I add a little salt, next thing you know, positive and negative ions are drawing out the toxins from your feet, and voilà, we have toxin soup!”

Polite laughs circle the room.

“I’ve seen it help people with chronic pain, parasites, liver issues, kidney issues, skin problems, I could go on and on. You just have to see it to believe it. Now, I wouldn’t normally recommend mixing this with alcohol, but this is a party after all. If you come to me for private sessions, it will be clear liquids only, I’m sorry to say.”

Like vodka?

“So, I need four volunteers,” Tarina continues as she steps closer to our group. “Don’t let all of the cords scare you. I’ve never electrocuted anyone. At least, not yet. Who’s game?”

We all laugh dutifully and wait for the first victim to volunteer.

I feel Nancy’s hand on my arm. “We’ll do it!”

Nancy.
I shouldn’t be surprised, or annoyed. As I stated before, I only have myself to blame here. We take our seats and remove our shoes. Nancy is grinning and squirming. I sort of want to push her off the chair.

Two more women take the chairs next to us (a couple of Isabelles, by the way). The men are over by the table, glancing surreptitiously at us as they fill their plates with food.

At Tarina’s request, we place our feet in the water. She then places a large bowl full of salt on each of our laps, to ground us, she explains. Nancy nods as if she understands completely. I guarantee she has no idea what this woman is prattling on about.

Tarina instructs us to place our hands in the bowl of salt. Interesting. Once I get over the fact it’s congregating beneath my nails, and itching my wrists, I have to admit it feels kind of nice. Cool and relaxing. She walks over to each of us and shifts the salt, covering our hands completely. Tarina then tosses a pinch of salt into each of the baths, walks over to the boxes and punches something into the keypads. I guess it’s beginning because there are little bubbles coming out of the rectangular thing.

“How is everyone feeling?” she asks.

“Relaxed. Wonderful, my feet are tingly,” says Nancy as she flexes her right foot.

Hmm, I don’t feel anything. Except of course, now that I’ve lost the use of my hands, my nose is itching like crazy.

Tarina looks to me. “Fine, relaxed,” I say. “Well, my nose is a little itchy.”

The Isabelles laugh and Nancy gives me a displeased look.

“Well, it’s driving me crazy,” I whisper to her in my defense.

“Don’t focus on the itch. Focus on the toxins pouring out of your body,” Tarina says as she roughly rubs my nose with a tissue.

Ah, relief.

I look down at the water. The bubbles have now turned an iced-tea-brown, which is overtaking the clear water like an oil spill. Gross. I peer over at everyone else’s water, and it’s all brown like mine. What? We have the same toxins? Not likely.

“I find this process is most effective when people have a release,” Tarina says as she shuffles the salt around in my bowl. “Each of you should share a negative emotion that you would like to release.”

Of fucking course.
This time I glare at Nancy. She smiles innocently at me. Yeah, I get to blame her as well, now. I avoid Tarina’s gaze and look to the Isabelles. I’m not sharing jack.

I glance down at my water. The brown is now morphing into a bright orange and there are spots of green wafting about. My stomach turns slightly. I look over at Nancy. Her water is still brown, but there are aggressive patches of yellow trying to take over. Weird.

“Think of something that has been troubling you lately,” Tarina prods. “What are your fears? Your insecurities? What are you missing in life?”

What am I not missing? I shift uncomfortably in my chair. I am not going to let this woman get to me. No more pity party.

Isabelle #1 raises her hand and says she’d like to go first.
Fine, lady, you can take my turn too.

“I’ve been living my life out of fear lately. I think…I think I stay in bad situations too long because I’m afraid of the alternative.” She straightens her back. “I want to learn to embrace change and take my power back.”

“I release my fear of…” Tarina leads.

“I release my fear of change.” She smiles.

“Good job.” Tarina gently pats Isabelle #1 on the back.

“Hey, what are those little floating bits?” Isabelle #2 asks.

Tarina inspects the water. “Heavy metals,” she answers authoritatively. “What about you? What would you like to release?”

“Can someone else go next?” Isabelle #2 asks shyly.

By now the remaining eight have gathered around, peering into the water curiously. I look at Nancy since it’s not going to be me.

Nancy flexes her knee and looks around self-consciously. “I’d like to release my fear of change as well.”

Ha! Total cop out.

I glare meaningfully at Isabelle #2. I’m not budging. And apparently, neither is she. She looks down at her water, seemingly mesmerized by the alleged heavy metals. I do the same. My water is now chocolate-brown, mixed with greasy-looking patches of green. And my ankles are stained with a light brown circle. It’s revolting. I want to get my feet out of this water.

I look up and Tarina is looking at me expectantly.

Jesus. Just get it over with. You’d like to release your fear. Just say it and move on.

“I’d like to release…”
my insecurity, my hopelessness, my fear of the future, my loneliness, my self-doubt, my self-pity. Will.

Tears begin to sting my eyes. I can’t believe this. No. No. No.
Do not cry, you big baby.
What is with me? Why do I always want to cry at the most inopportune times?

“Abby?” Nancy asks, looking concerned.

I shake my head, begging silently for a minute to pull it together.

Suddenly Tarina is standing behind me, her hands making circles on my back. “Let it out. It’s okay. You’re with friends here.”

Oh my God, hippie woman, stop touching me.
Tears start streaming helplessly down my cheeks.

Mother f’er.

I unconsciously yank my hands out of the salt bowl and wipe angrily at my face. I can feel the sticky clumps of salt peppering my cheeks.

I’m actually crying. Crying in a room full of beautiful strangers, with my feet stuck in some disgusting pool of sludge.

“Let it out,” Tarina pushes. “I release…”

“We should go,” Nancy says, looking around. “Can we get towels?”

“She’s close to a breakthrough,” Tarina says in a tight voice.

“Yeah, I’d really like to go. I think I’m detoxed enough.” I pull my feet out of the water, holding them precariously close to the floor.

Acknowledging defeat, Tarina brings a pitcher of water to us and pours it over our stained feet. I grab Isabelle’s proffered towel and quickly dry myself. I glance at the group; they look incredibly uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact with me.

I should be embarrassed. Mortified. But I’m not. Sure, I want to get the hell out of here and boil my feet to get the funk off, but I don’t feel that bad. It’s actually sort of tragically funny.

In a blur, Nancy pulls out her purse and hands Tarina a check. We say quick goodbyes to everyone and dash out the door.