The Friends We Keep

She counted to one hundred, patting her hand against her thigh between each number, stretching out the length of time, as she usually did. Jairus hung in to about forty-seven, then he started flagging. By eighty, he was flat on his back.

The class continued. He did his best to keep up. Leg circles were easy for him, although he didn’t have much control. The open leg rocker was more difficult and toward the end, he went over on his side.

Several of the women giggled. A couple called out advice. Nicole had to give him points. He tried hard and he didn’t complain.

He also had a pretty decent body. He hadn’t been lying about working out. She could see he had muscles and endurance. Just not the right kind for what they were doing here.

About twenty minutes into the class, the students seemed to forget he was there. Conversation flowed—it was the usual discussion of husbands, kids and bosses. Jairus didn’t join in, which surprised her. She was sure he would want to offer advice.

“Teaser,” she said toward the end of the class. She glanced at him. “You should sit this one out.”

He looked at the other women. They all lay on their backs, their arms extended up over their heads. As she gave the count, they rose gracefully into a V, toes pointed, arms straight.

“Good idea,” he muttered as he collapsed onto the mat.

She held in a smile. Class wrapped up quickly with a few stretches. Everyone applauded when it was over and got to their feet.

Jairus moved a little more slowly. A couple of the women spoke to him before leaving. When he was the only one left, he stood and hobbled over to her small desk.

He was sweating just a little. She would like to think he was nervous, but knew it was a lot more about the workout.

“You teach a great class,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“It’s hard.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

He ran his fingers through his damp hair. “Look, this is my last shot. If you say no, I’m done. I’m not interested in being some weird-ass stalker guy. I like you. I’d like to get to know you better. You’re interesting and that’s important to me.”

“Plus you haven’t been getting any lately.”

He winced. “Did you have to bring that up?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not easy.”

“That’s true.” She studied him. “I like that you don’t go to prostitutes.”

“I hope you like more than that because otherwise, you need to work on your standards.”

That made her laugh.

She thought about what Shannon and Gabby had said to her about hiding. She thought about how long it had been since she and Eric had split up. She thought about how Jairus had been a trouper in her class. He’d made a real effort. That had to be worth something.

“Dinner?” he asked.

“Dinner.”

*

Hayley pulled a dress off the rack and studied it. Spending money on something as ridiculous as clothes bugged her, but she needed a few things for herself. Her clothes were all so threadbare. It didn’t take much for a seam to rip. In the past week, she’d had two skirts and a shirt fall apart in the wash. She’d been careful to throw them out before Rob saw. He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t just go to a department store, like everyone else. Even a discount one. He believed if they needed something, they should get it. For him, it was only money. For her, wasteful spending might mean the difference between having a baby and not.

“Great selection this time,” Nicole said from the other side of the rack. “Did you see this one?”

She held up a simple blue wrap dress. The knit material would wear like iron and the subtle pattern meant stains would be less noticeable.

“Love,” Hayley said, walking around the end of the long rack.

It was lunchtime and she and Nicole were spending their precious hour at the local thrift store. The Goodwill was bigger, with a better selection, but too far to go to on a lunch break.

She’d dressed for their outing in a tank top and shorts, so it was easy to pull on the dress and wait for Nicole to react.

“Looks great,” her friend said. “Nice color. And hey, five bucks. You can’t beat that.”

Hayley went over to the large mirror on the wall and studied herself. She was too thin and pale. She still looked sick. She hadn’t had a period since her last miscarriage, so she wasn’t ovulating. Dr. Pearce had warned her that all the hormones would mess things up and she’d been right.

It was going to get better, Hayley promised herself. Once she got the hundred thousand dollars she needed for the treatment in Switzerland, she would get pregnant and stay pregnant. Then she would have a baby. Everything would be worth it after that.

Nicole walked over with another dress. A simple, sleeveless, red sheath made of a quality woven cotton.

“With a black sweater, it could be perfect,” she said. “Seven dollars. Still a steal.”