Arabella tried to formulate words but nothing came out of her mouth.
"Arabella?"
She swallowed hard.
"Ah, am I overwhelming you?"
"I'm whelmed, but not overwhelmed," she replied, but failed to get a chuckle.
"I don't understand."
"A little overwhelmed," Arabella replied in a small voice. She picked up a yellow smiley-face stress ball and started squeezing.
"I can do that sometimes. Oh, Arabella, darling, I can feel tension radiating from you. Breathe deep, Arabella. Come on, with me now."
Arabella obediently inhaled, sneezed, and, oh gosh, passed a tiny bit of gas. Oh God, had Maxine heard that?
"Ah . . . toxins! I knew it! They must go! Go-oooo! Breathe in . . . breathe out. Better, now?"
"Yes," Arabella said, but her voice sounded like a croak because she was trying so very hard not to laugh. She tended to have fits of giggles at the worst times.
"Are you sure you're at one with the universe, Arabella? You don't seem like you're at one with the flow of change. First you must be at one with yourself before you can be one with the universe and then all that is."
What the hell? "I'm pretty sure I'm at one with myself," Arabella said.
"Ah, a start. Now, on to the next level of oneness."
"I . . . uh, sure, you mean like being super chill, right? I've been at one with, like, that universe whatever thing." Hadn't she? Yeah, maybe she had been at one with a bottle of wine, which happened to be last night. And she could sure use a glass of chardonnay the size of her head right about now. She gave the ball another hard squeeze.
" ‘Super chill'? I suppose that's one way of putting it. So, are we on the same divine wavelength?"
"I don't know. How long is your wave?"
"Excuse me?"
Arabella cringed. Wow, note to self. Maxine has no sense of humor. No, they were not on the same page or the same wavelength, or remotely in the same universe. Not even close. "Um, well . . . I guess I understand what you're saying." She didn't have a clue. Sometimes she felt as if living in California was like living on another planet and she was an alien. Growing up in the Midwest hadn't prepared her for this Zen stuff.
"Good, good." Maxine drew the words out in a near whisper. "You're with me, then. I feel we're finally getting somewhere. Are you with me?"
"It's a lot to swallow. . . . I mean digest." Arabella bit her bottom lip.
"Sure . . . sure," Maxine said. Arabella wondered why the guru felt the need to repeat her words so often. "Give the suggestions some time to sink deeply into your soul."
What does that even mean? "Okay," Arabella said, but the only sinking she felt was the sensation in the pit of her stomach.
"Well, I have a sold-out seminar to present in just a bit so I must do some deep meditation to prepare. It was so lovely chatting with you. I hope you experience peace and wellness for the rest of your afternoon."
"I will, as soon as it's wine o'clock."
"Pardon?"
Oh . . . shit. "Nine o'clock. My . . . uh, bedtime." Wincing, Arabella almost laughed. "You know . . . early to bed, early to rise . . . the early bird gets the worm." Pressing her lips together, she tried hard not to laugh, although laughing and crying were engaged in a tough tug-of-war at the moment.
"Ah, yes, yes, excellent. Rest is such a vital part of complete wellness," Maxine continued, droning on and on so slowly that Arabella actually started to feel drowsy. "Have you been drinking the corn-silk tea three times a day like I suggested?"
"I haven't found any yet." Not that she'd looked.
"I'll have my assistant send you some. I have my own brand. It's quite delicious."
"You don't-"
"Oh, I want to have you in tip-top mental shape. We have a lot of work to accomplish. This is going to be spectacular, don't you agree?"
"I think we need-"
"Well, I'm off!" Maxine added with a surprising burst of volume, startling Arabella into emitting a little squeak.
"Okay . . ." After ending the call, Arabella stared at the phone, wondering how Maxine managed to control the entire conversation. She tossed the stress ball and it hit the wall with a solid whack. "Corn-silk tea? Is that really a thing?" She put the phone down and cradled her head in her hands. "Oh . . . I can't do this. I have to do this."
Arabella leaned back in the buttery soft leather chair and tried to hold herself together. At this point one would think she would be used to life smacking her upside the head, but optimism always seemed to trump caution where Arabella's brain was concerned. "Everyone loves to dance," she mumbled defensively to herself. While she was open to incorporating meditation and at least some holistic health remedies into her programs, she wasn't ready to completely change her entire brand. "And fitness should be fun," she grumbled, wishing she'd been more direct in her conversation with Maxine. But she had to tread carefully. Arabella had found out early in her dealings with Maxine that the popular health guru got her yoga pants in a twist real quick if you dared to disagree with her.