The Hot Flash Club Read Free Page B

him her age, either, and most days she felt that somehow she actually
was
younger than sixty. Her lush red hair, curling past her shoulders, her large blue eyes accentuated by violet shadow, her vegetarian diet, her twenty-year abstinence from cigarettes and booze, her naturally slender, lithe body—the package fooled everyone else, and the mirror fooled her, too.
    But days like today, when the March wind blew bitterly, and the sky was shrouded with gray, when her knees creaked in protest as she ran, and her entire body yearned for a nap, just a little catnap—days like today made her feel
ancient
.
    She walked back to her car. As she fastened her seat belt, the gremlins who still hid deep in the recesses of her brain tempted her with visions of NoDoz, or anything she could buy over the counter that would provide her with the energy to work one more hour.
    Shrugging back the demons, Shirley unscrewed the lid from her Thermos and poured herself a cup of Lemon Lift tea, which she drank as she drove.
    Her next client was shy, nervous, clever Julie Martin. Julie spent her entire life in her house with the curtains drawn so that no light would streak the radiant machines that had become her family and her friends. Julie played the stock market. Julie
lived
to play the stock market. At all times she had two computers buzzing, and two televisions, one tuned to CNN, one to CNBC. A millionaire several times over, she lived an austere life.
    Shirley let herself into the house with a key, stepped into the living room, and found Julie tapping away on her computer.
    “Hi, Julie,” she called out.
    Julie didn’t turn her head. “Just a minute, Shirl.” Shirley removed her coat and went into the downstairs bathroom to tug off the T-shirt she wore for jogging and slip into her white jacket. With everyone else, her appearance had to be exactly right, but Julie never noticed that sort of thing. Shirley thought Julie probably wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what color Shirley’s hair was, and few could miss Shirley’s hair, long, curly, and blazing red like Bonnie Raitt’s.
    Julie’s own hair was stringy and lank. Clad in sweatpants and a wrinkled flannel shirt, Julie was still tapping away when Shirley went back to the living room. Shirley turned off the televisions and one computer, opened the drapes, and let the evening’s blue light fill the room.
    “All right,” Shirley said. “Time to unplug yourself.” Standing behind the other woman, she put her hands on her thin shoulders. “Tense today.”
    “I just need to finish—”
    “That can wait,” Shirley insisted. “Turn it off. Now, Julie.”
    “I don’t want to.”
    “Turn off your computer, hon, or I’ll have to.”
    Julie typed a few instructions, and the screen went dark. “It’s been an awful day. The stock market—”
    “Sssh,” Shirley said. “Bend your head. I’m going to do Reiki on you.”
    Dutifully, Julie obeyed. Shirley put both hands on the woman’s skull and concentrated. She was channeling the energy of the universe into this skittish, lonely woman, so she thought of healthy animals and their spirits. Swans gliding. Cows standing trancelike in the sun. Horses running like silk. Dolphins leaping in the sea.
    Beneath her hands, Julie’s shoulders relaxed. Her wood-like neck warmed and softened. Shirley sighed with pleasure; she had no children of her own, and Shirley felt very motherly toward this eccentric young woman.
    “Now,” Shirley said, softly, “let’s do some stretches.” A year ago a combination of mild illnesses had sent Julie to a doctor. She ached all over, all the time, she was often dizzy, often depressed. Often frightened. She cried a lot. She believed she was dying of a life-threatening disease. After a thorough physical and scores of lab tests, the doctor asked Julie to tell him about her daily life, then recommended that she begin regular exercise, perhaps yoga, and find a personal trainer and a masseuse.
    Julie was