“Hey, Candy. It’s Lena.”
“Lena! How are you?” Her usually peppy voice dripped with sympathy, swelling the lump in my throat. This would be much easier if she just pretended my life wasn’t falling apart.
“I’m fine. I promised I’d call when I got in so... I’m here. How are things at the studio?”
The studio didn’t really worry me; it practically ran itself these days. Candace was a fantastic office manager, not to mention instructor, and this wasn’t the first time I’d left the studio in her capable hands while I visited the island.
“Same. Busy. We always get that little bump during Easter break.”
“Every year.”
An awkward silence fell over the line filled with our mutual disdain for the next inevitable topic. I inhaled deeply, puffed out my cheeks, and blew the air out long and slow through pursed lips.
“Did he drop it off?”
“Yup.” Venom filled Candy’s clipped reply. She didn’t like him any more than I did.
Okay, not true. I liked him less.
“It’s over then,” I whispered, the words a mere shadow of my wonder and relief.
“It is. I checked the papers myself to make sure he signed everything correctly—I don’t trust that man, Lena—but they’re all in order. I put them in the safe.”
And just like that, my marriage was over. I’d filed for divorce months ago, but it had never felt final. Not until now. Those papers released his half of the studio back to me, the last vestige of a string of bad decisions excised from my life. The final tie was broken. Broken like his promises. Broken like my faith in men. Broken like my heart.
A million tiny paper cuts of conflicting emotions attacked my insides, slicing at different angles to destroy the remnants of my shattered spirit. The lump returned, choking me, this time a combination of relief, failure, and frustration.
I massaged my throat and released a shuddering breath. “Thanks, Candy. I’m... I’m glad it’s finally over.” I fidgeted with the fringe of the couch throw to distract myself from the harsh realities of the conversation. It didn’t work. “I never have to see him again.” I should have been overjoyed, but the words came out resigned and defeated.
“This is a good thing, Lena. You know this. That relationship turned toxic years ago. He strung you along, not letting go of the studio. And for what? Just to mess with you, if you ask me. Asshole.”
I huffed. Candy never swore, but made an exception when talking about my ex.
And he really was an asshole. A lying, cheating, manipulative asshole.
“It’s just... It’s just a lot right now. All at once.”
“I know. It is. But a wise yoga instructor once told me, ‘the only way out is through.’”
I snorted at my former student throwing my words back at me. “I didn’t make that up, you know.”
“It’s no less true.”
“You’re not wrong.” I paused. As difficult as it was for me to take a step back, I had no choice. “Look, Candy, I don’t know how long I’m going to be down here. There’s so much to sort out with the house...”
“Don’t worry. Take all the time you need. The schedule is staffed for the next three months with subs available. I’ve got the business side of things covered, and new instructor training doesn’t start for two months. There’s no rush to get back.”
A fresh sting flared in my chest, her words lemon juice squeezed over all those paper cuts. Apart from the studio, Candy, and a handful of devoted students, there wasn’t anything left for me in Charleston. My marriage was over. We’d sold the house in the divorce. He’d won most of our friends. And if my own studio didn’t need me...
I knew that wasn’t what Candy meant. She was trying to give me space, be supportive, but her words landed hard for all the simple truth they contained.
“No, you’re right; there’s no rush. Call me if you need anything, and I’ll let you know my plans in a couple days. If I come up with a plan.”
“Whenever you’re ready. I’m here for ya, babe.”
“Thanks, Candy,” I said, relieved that the peppiness had returned to her voice. I needed some normal.
“I got you, Lena. Take care.”
