“This is her place. I was supposed to check in on it while she was away, but I’ve been subletting it to finance my herbal endeavors. Great Aunt Ida’s been at a yoga retreat in Tibet for the last ten years. My family wasn’t even sure if she was still alive,” the still prostrate man explained.
“Wow,” Libby uttered. “That must be quite a relief.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Great Aunt Ida feels the same way, too. That’s the reason for the movers. I have to put her stuff back and remove yours. You know, restore the balance,” the man mused.
What she wouldn’t give to know the peace of a restored sense of balance!
She watched as the men set a rainbow-colored rocking chair next to the sofa, then looked around the space as karma dealt her another blow. She ran her hands down her face. “Can I have a few days to get my stuff together?”
The guy cracked open a bloodshot eye and checked his watch. “Sorry, Libby, Aunt Ida landed at the airport. She should be here any minute.”
“Any minute!” she shrieked.
“Yep, that construct of time is a tricky dude,” Hash Pants replied. “And there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?” she asked, hardly able to believe that this was it.
No new fitness venture, no money for her brothers, and now, she was minutes away from being homeless.
“The moving guys got most of your stuff, but they didn’t want to touch your…devices.”
She glanced in the tiny kitchen. They must have already gotten her toaster and blender. “Which devices?”
Hash Pants propped himself up onto his elbow. “The devices on your bed. And by the way, that’s one hell of a collection. You must go through batteries like a maniac.”
Her stomach dropped as heat rose to her cheeks.
Just when she thought this day couldn’t get any worse, she remembered what she’d left on her bed.
She swished past a mover lumbering by with a coatrack, then skidded to a stop at the entrance to her bedroom.
If a human being could melt into a pool of complete and utter humiliation, she would have done it.
There, in their vibrating glory, were sixteen, that’s right, sixteen vibrators spread across her bed.
Before she’d left for the meeting with the Tri-Derricks, in a fit of frantic energy, she’d tried them out, only to confirm that yes, her O was still on hiatus. Then, for reasons she could only blame on having an acute case of lady blue balls, she organized the vibrators from largest to smallest.
Laid out in every color of the rainbow, the presentation reminded her of the glass cases in the Museum of Nature and Science, with species of beetles and butterflies pinned side by side to compare the insect’s traits and varying characteristics.
What traits did these sex toys share?
In the last seventy-five days, not one had gotten close to getting her off.
She scrambled to her bed, opened her yoga bag, and chucked the vibrators into her tote.
“It’s an impressive collection, lady.”
She looked over her shoulder as one of the movers nodded in appreciation, and humiliation tore through her body. But there was no time to waste. She grabbed a suitcase from under the bed and threw in her laptop, her passport, and important papers before sprinkling in her crystals and as much clothing as she could manage, along with her toothbrush and a few other toiletries.
“Libby, you’ve got to go! Be the donkey and get your ass across the pass.”
“What are you talking about?”
This guy really needed to lay off his product.
“Now, leave now! My aunt Ida texted. Her cab is five minutes away,” Hash Pants shrieked, entering the paranoia phase of his altered state.
She nodded, dragging the near-bursting bag through the apartment as her phone’s alarm chimed. She nearly forgot. She had a restorative yoga class to teach.
With her bag of vibrators and her suitcase stuffed to the gills, she dragged the lopsided luggage down the stairs.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
As she worked her way to the first floor, each thump and thud elicited a jolting pang of anger laced with regret straight through her heart. Her brothers. Her dreams. It had gotten flushed down the toilet. She shouldn’t have thrown psychic shade on the Tri-Derrick bro. And karma sure didn’t wait around to deliver the colossal cosmic blowback.
She tossed her bag into the Buick’s trunk as the moving truck pulled out and grumbled down the street. She rested her head against the side of the car as a pair of headlights illuminated the road.
“Just make it to your class. You’ll figure something out for the twins,” she whispered as the headlights nearly blinded her. She shielded her eyes as a flowing form came toward her. Was it an angel, a spirit? Was it the karma police coming to drop another catastrophe in her lap?
“You need to do something about that,” came a woman’s purring voice.
Libby released a heavy sigh. “I’ll move my car,” she said, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“No, not the car,” the woman answered, her bracelets clinking as she gestured. “That rage. By Buddha, your aura is positively crimson.”
Libby stared at the woman. With a slim build, flowing white hair, and several giant crystals hanging from her neck, it was as if she’d bumped into a mystic. And then a tingle traveled down her spine, followed by an urge—a strange call to action. “Who are you?” she asked as a door slammed in the distance.
“Aunt Ida, it’s so great that you’re not dead. Your apartment is just like you left it, and there’s no way any yoga chick’s been living there,” Hash Pants called from the entrance of the building.
The woman nodded to her nephew, then Aunt Ida gave her one more curious look. “That rage in your aura will eat you alive. Take this,” she said, plucking a stone from her pocket. “It’s an aquamarine. Rub it with your thumb. It promotes emotional wellness and can assist in releasing rage. And, honey, you’ve got enough of that emotion to power the city for days. Whatever you need to do to rid yourself of that negativity, you better do it. I’ve never seen chakras more out of alignment.”
“Um…thank you,” Libby uttered, quite surprised as she accepted the smooth object. But the woman wasn’t wrong about aquamarine’s healing properties. Often called the breath stone, aquamarine fostered transformation, rebirth, and trust.
Trust.
“Now, go restore the balance and overcome the barriers in your life. Namaste,” the woman answered with a bow, then clinked and jingled as she glided toward Hash Pants.
Libby blinked. Ida was back, and she was out.
How’s that for balance!
She gazed at the stone. She was usually the one dispensing spiritual advice. It was odd to have someone off the street read her aura. But the woman’s words hit home.
That rage will eat you alive.
That was the understatement of the century.
She slid the cool aquamarine stone into the pocket of her wrap as a storm of emotion welled in her chest. She inhaled a breath and focused on one word.
Rage.
Twilight had engulfed the city, and she stared up at the darkening sky as a jet-black crow swooped in the air above her, and for a brief second, her spirits lifted.
Crows were thought to have psychic abilities and were gifted creatures that some believed could see the past, the present, and the future. From the time she was a little girl, thanks to her jet-black hair, she’d always identified with the bird.