Free Pushing Upward by Andrea Adler Page A

temple, where we could relax and pause … for more than a few seconds.
    I spotted my friend as she stepped out of her broken-down Volvo. I was so happy to see her and her atrocious batik pants. Now with blonde hair instead of auburn, still brittle from all the perms, and the rest of her without question a few pounds heavier. We hugged like we hadn’t seen each other in centuries, and began to circle the lake. I was bursting to tell her the news.
    â€œI now have my own acting coach, my own physical trainer, a roof over my head, and enough chicken soup to nurse me through a hundred and fifty colds. I mean, who would have thought—”
    â€œIt’s great you have this support,” she broke in, replying in a way that seemed mysteriously distant … and jittery.
    I looked at her. “What’s up with you?”
    â€œNothing. I’m okay,” she said nervously. “Just moving through some stuff.” She popped two sticks of spearmint gum into her mouth and took out a small rubber ball that she fisted and started to squeeze.
    â€œWhat happened to your hand?”
    â€œI sprained my arm on a slide at a kids’ party the other day.” She paused. “That’s only part of it. The guy who hosted the party started making moves on me. I told him I had a boyfriend, just to get him off my back. But he wouldn’t stop. So I split. Anyway, the doctor told me to use this ball to strengthen my wrist and my arm …”
    â€œDid you tell the agency?”
    â€œI tried. They don’t want to make waves. He’s a ‘substantial client.’”
    â€œWhat a bunch of hard-asses! Rachel, maybe the universe is telling you it’s time for a change.”
    â€œI’ve been thinking about it.” She nodded thoughtfully, looking out at the lake while scuffing her sandal in the dust of the path.
    â€œYa know,” she said slowly, “the thing is, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life.”
    Rachel’s face was turned away from me. But I could feel the knot in her throat, the holding back of tears. She was serious, and vulnerable, in a way I’d never seen her before.
    â€œLook …” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry … I’m just a mess right now.” She ran her fingers through her fragile blonde hair. “My life just doesn’t seem to have any direction. I’m not going anywhere. And to be honest, I don’t have any idea where I want to go.”
    A light breeze blew wisps of hair across her face, and I reached out and tucked the strands behind her ear.
    â€œRachel,” I asked her gently, “what is it you really want to do?”
    She started walking again, opened her arms wide. “I have no fucking idea!”
    I tried to catch up with her. “You have so many great qualities. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re creative. You’ve got great insight. You’ve pulled my butt out of fires more times than I can count. Look, I can’t tell you what to do, but I do know that you can do anything you put your heart into.”
    I stopped walking, and looked at her intently. “But right now, you have to get out of this job. It’s dangerous. Hell, topless waitressing would be safer. At least you could get free food and a good workout.”
    â€œFood is the last thing I need,” Rachel remarked, with a slight grin.
    â€œTell me about it. I have more chicken soup than I know what to do with. Emma has me exercising so much, though, I can’t keep any weight on.”
    â€œYou’re burning up calories. What do you expect? Your body’s screaming for nutrients.”
    â€œI have no idea what to eat—and I’m supposed to be cooking,” I admitted.
    â€œMe neither. We never learned. The only difference between you and me is … I digest my food—which is why I’ve gained ten pounds. You … get rid of it! Food