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‘What does that mean? Is that why you can’t get pregnant?’
‘Not sure, but I’ll need another test in two months. If they’re still high, she might send me for a scan,’ Gina explained.
‘A scan? Of what?’
‘Some gland in the brain.’
‘The brain! What’s that got to do with fertility?’ Marvin scoffed.
‘It’s what makes the hormone. She said sometimes the gland is enlarged, but high prolactin can also result from stress or exercise, so it might be nothing.’ Gina bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t said that last bit.
‘Ah! Exercise. I knew you spent too much time at the gym. But, stress ... what have you got to be stressed about!’ It wasn’t a question. ‘You’ve got a good job – which you don’t even need by the way – we’ve got enough to live on with my job. We’ve got a nice apartment close to work, and you’ve got me. It must be the strenuous exercise,’ he reasoned. ‘You better cut back, or better yet, give it up for a couple of months until the next test.’
Gina had said she didn’t want to stop attending the gym, but Marvin had gone on and on about making sacrifices, and that if she was going to get pregnant she’d have to cut back on her strict regimes anyway. If Marvin had his way, she’d be barefoot, pregnant, and serving up gourmet Italian meals at his beck and call. Like his mother, minus the pregnant bit.
Liz moved closer and Gina regained her focus on the present moment. ‘At the first meeting, Gina, you said you were feeling dissatisfied with your life.’ Liz threaded her fingers together. She looked every bit the competent lawyer about to cross examine her witness. ‘What I’d like you to do ismake a list of everything that’s bothering you. Next to each item, write down what you would like instead. You can also prioritise the items and gradually work through each one, creating a plan of action to make positive changes in those areas.’
‘Sure, I can do that.’ Gina smiled. She loved writing lists and having a systemised plan to follow.
‘If you have any trouble, send me an email or give my office a call and I’ll help you with it.’
‘Thanks, Liz, I will.’ She wouldn’t. Gina liked to do things on her own. She’d schedule a reminder into her phone to start the list tomorrow on her lunch break.
Miranda fidgetedin her chair while waiting for her turn in the Hot Seat, running her fingertips over the smooth gloss of her French-polished fingernails. Wendy took centre stage next. She joked about having done something she hadn’t done in a long time, and showed off her flashy vision board, covered with images of the perfect female body. She also said she’d gone on a detox program, but gave up after three days due to intense sugar cravings. ‘Lose Weight Fast, the box said. Well, I lost it but it sure as hell found me again!’
Miranda giggled. She had a story to tell about that detox kit too.
Wendy was advised to consult a nutritionist, plan some healthy meals, and keep a food diary. ‘Focus on being healthy and nourishing your body for now, rather than just losing weight,’ Liz advised.
Miranda listened intently during Rebecca’s Hot Seat. She was given similar advice, as well as tools to help her copewith stress. ‘Meditate? I can’t even sit still in front of the television!’ Rebecca reluctantly accepted Liz’s recommendation of a guided visualisation audio to try. She was also to keep a diary to report her daily stress levels.
‘Miranda, your turn.’ Liz looked at her with an encouraging smile.
She smiled back and virtually leapt from her chair, hoping ten minutes would be enough time to talk about everything. ‘Wow, what a month,’ she said. ‘The day after the first meeting, I bought a book that tells you how to find your ideal man. I was embarrassed, but It’s really good, although itcouldgo into more detail, but anyway...’ Her hands moved about like they had their own form of sign language or a mind of their own, and it was hard for her to talk without their participation. That would be like watching a movie with your eyes closed. ‘The book says to make a list of all the qualities you want in a partner. How fun! I’m going to do that as soon as I finish the book. I might also set up an online dating profile, though it’s a bit scary putting myself out there. But, well, Iamon a mission. Oh, and I had the most embarrassing thing happen at the bookstore...’ Miranda covered her face as she shook her head. She talked about the bag-breaking incident and came up briefly for air. ‘And, here is my vision board – Ta da!’ She gave a flourished wave of her hand in front of the board, and some glitter sprinkled to the floor. ‘Oops, sorry Liz. I went a bit overboard decorating it!’
Miranda had started her board the day after Trisha’s wedding. She’d sat on the living room floor with all the fabulous pictures she’d cut out, and a big bowl of potato chips – her reward for sticking with the detox. The three days she’d lasted on the program seemed like three weeks. Ithadworked, mind you, allowing thebridesmaid dress to fit without rupturing, and her TrimTummy briefs were now her most prized possession.
But, she’d never do the detox again. Pedro from work had to nudge her a few times to bring her back to Earth, when people at reception waited to be served and she stood there waning and staring into space. The day of the wedding had been fun, and she’d allowed herself a small champagne while getting ready, to help Trisha celebrate. When Miranda got out of the limousine at the church, she promptly fainted, falling half into the limo and half on the sidewalk before being lifted up by the photographer. The limo driver gave her a sip of water, and the photographer gave her some mints, bringing her blood sugar up to detectable levels. At the wedding reception, Trisha ensured that Miranda had a plate full of food, scolding her for following a strict diet and saying, ‘Why didn’t you tell me the dress was too tight?’ Miranda tried her best to look dignified while eating, but found it a struggle. The slow cooked duck leg with tender vegetables and beetroot relish wasabsolutely divine!
When the time had come for Trisha to throw the bouquet, there were only two single women standing at the ready; Miranda, and Trisha’s widowed grandmother, Glenys, who was more feisty than frail. She looked like a tennis player waiting in readiness to receive the ball, alternating her stance from one stocky leg to the other, preparing to spring in whichever direction the bouquet flew. ‘You’ve got the rest of your life ahead of you, young lady,’ she said to Miranda. ‘But me?’ Fierce determination tightened the woman’s gaze on the target. Trisha winked at Miranda before turning and throwing the poor bunch of flowers that’d been painstakingly arranged by the florist, over her shoulder. As if in slow motion, Glenys raised her arms and heaved her aged bodysideways towards Miranda, who wobbled on her heels. Glenys caught the bouquet with one hand and Miranda gracefully stepped away and clapped for her as the lucky woman jiggled the bouquet above her head in victory.
Liz nodded and smiled as Miranda spoke non-stop. ‘Since the wedding I’ve been looking for a new roommate, but haven’t found anyone decent, so I’m going to look for a cheaper place to rent.’ Miranda checked her watch, now up to minute seven of her allocated ten.How did the time go so fast?
Rebecca suddenly appeared in front of her with a business card. ‘We have some great places for lease right now, call my office and I’ll get one of my agents to arrange an inspection.’
Miranda leaned back a little at the invasion of personal space, away from Rebecca’s determined stare, but accepted the card and thanked her.
‘Miranda,’ Liz said. ‘I’d like you to write a list of what you’re looking for in a place to live, and as your book suggested, what you’re looking for in a man, also. Achieving goals starts with clarifying exactly what it is that you want.’
‘Sure.’ Miranda nodded with enthusiasm, her dangly earrings tickling the sides of her neck.This woman has a thing for lists. Ooh! I could decorate the lists with glitter! Hmm... I think I have a thing for glitter.
‘I wish I’d written a list like that before I married my bastard of a husband,’ Cass blurted, surprisingly loud considering her quiet nature at the first meeting. As if realising the inconsistency, her cheeks flushed pink.
Gina Longwood cleared her throat and leaned forward in her chair. She poured a stream of water from the carafe into her glass, but her hand trembled and it missed, a smallpuddle spilling on the table. Strange, as Gina was so cautious and measured in her movements. Miranda thought it more likely that she herself would be the one to spill water on account of her flamboyant hands. Once, she’d even whacked a colleague in the face accidentally during a lively discussion about the very rude sales assistant in a nearby boutique. Said colleague now knew to stand at least a metre away when Miranda was on a roll.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Gina plucked a tissue from her bag and mopped up the spill.
‘That’s okay, it’s only water,’ Liz said with a flick of her hand.
