Chapter 4
Mary Louise looked at the clock. It was time to go. She had spent the morning digging into everything she could find on the proposed music venue site. She clicked back on the tab for the county appraisal district and looked at the map that contained the property. Barton Creek ran right along the edge. What would a facility that large do to the creek? It is not just a “creek,” like a piddling stream of water kids would love to throw rocks in. It's a tributary that runs over 40 miles, feeding the Edwards Aquifer and ending up at the Colorado River. The potential waste that would get dumped into the creek, intentional or unintentional, would have ramifications to people, property and wildlife well beyond the tranquil rolling hills surrounding the proposed venue. Her heat hurt thinking of the thousands of people who would swoosh in for concerts, then leave behind a trail of harmful debris.
She reluctantly closed the laptop trading one problem for another. How in the world had she gotten herself into this mess? Mary Louise didn’t even know what a “Life Coach” was, but her son Adam had insisted that she ‘talk to someone’ and Joanne had suggested a Life Coach. Sometimes having friends was a big pain in the patoot. She was fine. So she cried sometimes. Who didn’t? No one could be happy all the time. If anyone needed life coaching, it was Beverly. At least she, Mary Louise, didn’t go around whacking people with pickleball paddles.
It wasn’t until after she’d made the appointment that Mary Louise researched and found out that no formal certification or licensing was required for life coaches. Even plumbers needed to be licensed. She’d called Joanne to question her about the recommendation, and Joanne assured her that Coach Deborah would change her life. Guaranteed.
She arrived at the address and parked. It was a residential neighborhood with multi-acre lots. The main house was built in typical hill country style very similar to Dottie’s with a combination of white and tan stone. To the right was a two car garage attached by a breezeway with outside stairs leading above the garage. Mary Louise went up the stairs per the instructions in the email. She’d had the option of a Zoom meeting, but after COVID the very thought made her nauseous. From the landing she had a view of the surrounding land and properties. Steep hills dotted with houses and plenty of oak and cedar trees.
Next to the door was a plaque, beautifully bordered in painted flowers that said, ‘Coach Deborah, CPC Texas. The smell of incense seeped out and made a beeline directly to the center of Mary Louise’s sinuses, setting the stage for a massive headache. She should have done the Zoom meeting.
She knocked on the door and was surprised by the woman who opened it.
“Cheyenne!” she said.
“Hello. I’m sorry, have we met?”
Cheyenne looked every bit the old Austin hippie, who were becoming fewer and fewer. Long straight hair with streaks of gray, multiple jangling bracelets and a loose fitting, flowered prairie dress.
“I’m a friend of Dottie’s, your mother-in-law.”
“Of course. We met at her birthday party.”
“That’s right. So, um…” Mary Louise wasn’t sure what question to ask. Did Cheyenne work for Coach Deborah?
“Please come in,” said Cheyenne and stepped aside.
Mary Louise was greeted by the infamous little yapper dog who barked at her angrily a few times, then took it down to a low, steady growl.
“Pixie, you stop that,” scolded Cheyenne. She looked up to Mary Louise. “Some of my clients like having an animal around, but I can put her in the other room if you’d rather.”
Her clients?
“I um, that is…”
This was starting off horribly. First the incense, then Cheyenne, then what was indeed a little yapper dog. Cheyenne picked up the pooch and took her to a back room and then closed the door. Score one for Cheyenne. Mary Louise had no interest in having a dog join her session.
“If you change your mind, just let me know.”
“Yap!” said Pixie from behind the door.
Every effort had been made to make the room comfortable and inviting. Patterns and textures played together against soft furniture surrounded by plants, with artwork filling the walls. Under other circumstances, Mary Louise might have enjoyed spending some time on the sofa with a good book. The small sitting room was open to a small eat-in kitchen.
“Can I get you a cup of tea?” asked Cheyenne.
“No thank you. Please forgive me, but I’m a bit confused. I thought I was meeting with Deborah Swann.”
“Yes, that’s me. I’m Coach Deborah.”
“But I thought your name was Cheyenne?”
“Deborah is my given name, and what I use professionally. Cheyenne is my chosen name.”
Mary Louise let that little factoid settle in beside the incense and hippy clothes. For the first time in her entire life she was self-conscious about her aura and what it might be projecting.
“Look, Cheyenne, I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”
“Because Dottie is my mother-in-law?”
“Precisely.”
And because the most spiritual thing about Mary Louise was the ever-present fear of going to hell, something burned into her psyche during childhood when her mother dragged the family to church in an attempt to solidify to outsiders how normal they were.
“This is a sacred space, Mary Louise. It’s only you and me. Nothing that is said in this room ever leaves this room.”
This had been a terrible idea from the start, getting worse by the minute. Good manners were battling with her overwhelming desire to run.
“How about this,” said Cheyenne. “Let’s sit down for 15 minutes and see how it goes.”
Mary Louise’s eyes flicked to the smoking incense. Cheyenne doused the stick and turned back to Mary Louise.
“Have a seat anywhere you’d like.”
Mary Louise chose a comfy-looking sage green overstuffed chair. She set her purse on the floor beside her and sneaked a peak at her watch. 15 minutes. Cheyenne sat on the couch across from her and picked up a hot pink pen and spiral bound notebook from the coffee table.
At first Mary Louise felt like she was in a job interview. Her hands were sweating and every word that came out of her mouth was measured. The first quick glance at her watch showed five minutes had gone by. Ten more and she’d have kept her part of the bargain. Maybe she’d treat herself to a small hot fudge sundae from DQ on the way home. The next thing she knew, Cheyenne was looking at her watch and said unfortunately the hour was up.
What had happened? One minute she was thinking about a hot fudge sundae, and then she started talking. Cheyenne began by asking her what she hoped to accomplish in her session. Mary Louise had told her she wasn’t sure, that her son had pushed her to come.
“And did you want to come?” asked Cheyenne.
Mary Louise blushed trying to discreetly dry her sweaty palms on her pants.
“It’s just you and me, Mary Louise, and I’ve got incredibly thick skin. This is about you and only you. We need to speak freely and we need to speak truthfully.”
“No!” said Mary Louise. “I mean, no I didn’t want to come.”
“Then why did you? To please your son? To avoid hurting his feelings?”
“Those were the main reasons.”
“So maybe that’s where we can start. Let’s talk about what you really want, Mary Louise.”
What Mary Louise wanted was to leave and never come back.
“I don’t know that I really want anything. I’ve got family nearby, I’ve got good friends, I’m in decent health. At my age, that’s pretty good.”
“Are you married?”
“Widowed. Two years ago.”
Cheyenne didn’t offer any of the usual patronizing platitudes. She scribbled in her notebook.
“Why do you think your son was encouraging you to ‘see someone’?”
Mary Louise knew exactly why. Her son, who never just stopped by, happened to stop by on a rare bad day. Sometimes she got melancholy. Sometimes she just wanted to stay in her jammies and binge watch sappy movies. It was a cold, dreary day and having a good cry after watching Steel Magnolias for the thirty- or fortieth time had felt appropriate. Even though Mary Louise had already given him most of Albert’s tools, Adam needed a specific type of wrench that didn’t make the original tool transfer.
If it had been anyone else she could have ignored the knock on the door, but Adam knew she was home and would have used the garage door code to come in and check on her if she didn’t answer. She ran a hand through her hair and wished she had at least gotten dressed or at the very, very least brushed her teeth. She wrapped her bathrobe tightly around her and re-tied the belt. She opened the door and the smile that Adam had put in place to greet her quickly faded.
“Geez, Mom. Are you sick or something?”
“Sinus headache,” she lied.
He studied her for a minute, then stepped forward to wrap her in a hug. It was glorious and she would have loved to stay there a while longer but she felt the tears stinging her eyes again and she couldn’t break down in front of him. She cleared her throat and stepped back.
“So what brings you by?” she said as cheerily as she could muster.
Adam stepped inside and she closed the door.
“The kitchen sink is leaking. I was headed to Home Depot to get a wrench to try and tighten the pipe when I remembered Dad might have one. Mind if I look?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Go ahead. Would you like some coffee? Hot chocolate?”
“No thanks,” he said, headed toward the garage. “I’m on my lunch hour. Gotta get back to the office.”
He found the wrench and gave her another quick hug before he left.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll go take some more Tylenol.”
After Adam left she decided to take a long, hot shower. She was a stoic, whether by birth or childhood circumstances was still unclear. Always able to handle the things that came her way. Life was life. You dealt with it and moved on. Was she getting soft in her old age?
Adam called her later that evening and it was apparent he’d been talking to Blair. The words coming out of his mouth weren’t part of his regular vocabulary. But the gist of it was, he was worried about her and asked her to please see someone. She gave a non-committal, “I’ll think about it.”
She tried to nonchalantly ask Joanne, the cheeriest person she knew, if she ever had days where she just felt like doing nothing and watching a sad movie. Within five minutes, Joanne had the entire story out of her and exchanged it with a confession of her own - that she did get down sometimes, and had found a wonderful Life Coach.
“Our generation was never taught to deal with our feelings,” said Joanne. “Sometimes it helps to talk it out with someone who doesn’t have any skin in the game.”
Apparently Joanne had been right. For the past hour Mary Louise had been spilling her guts to an almost perfect stranger. When she was ten she had a friend down the street named Alice who talked non-stop, which was great for Mary Louise because she could go an entire day and not say 10 words. Took the pressure off. One day Alice’s father had accused Alice of having diarrhea of the mouth. That’s what was afflicting Mary Louise today.
She talked about everything and nothing. Cheyenne occasionally acknowledged her with an “Mmm hmm” or a “Go on.” It felt a little bit like reorganizing the pantry. So many things on the shelves that somehow managed to get out of order. Bottles of salad dressing behind boxes of spaghetti or crackers that she’d forgotten were even there. She rambled on about her children, her grandchildren, and a little about Albert. She held steadfast to the tradition of never speaking ill of the dead. She touched briefly on growing up in Houston and moving to Austin for a job opportunity offered to Albert.
As she was leaving, Cheyenne asked, “Will I see you on Saturday?”
“I thought our next session was Wednesday.”
“I mean for the anniversary party.”
The anniversary party. Dottie and John’s 40th anniversary party. She had completely forgotten.
“Of course!” said Mary Louise.
Cheyenne frowned at her.
“You don’t want to go.”
Was Cheyenne that good, or was Mary Louise that predictable? That boring? That cliche?
“Of course I want to go! Dottie’s one of my dearest friends.”
“But…”
Mary Louise took a deep breath. Had she purposely forgotten? She was very happy for Dottie. Forty years was a long time. It should be celebrated. What was holding her back?
“Is it because you’re single?” asked Cheyenne.
Single? Yes, single. She was a single woman. That sounded much better than widowed. She was single. And yes, she didn’t realize it until this very moment but that was exactly why she didn’t want to go.
“Yes, that’s pretty much it. I don’t know how to act. Albert and I were also coming up on forty years so I always had a built-in date for these types of things. I think I would feel awkward going to something like that alone.”
“Would you like me to fix you up?”
Mary Louise gasped.
“You mean a date? A blind date? Oh my goodness no. I think we might need another year of sessions before I’m ready to think about that.”
“You wouldn’t be marrying the guy. He does my taxes. I think you would get along well with him. His name is Bob Vance. Just someone to sit with at dinner.”
Heat rose in her cheeks and she thought she might actually throw up.
“Can I get back to you on that?”
Cheyenne smiled. “Totally up to you.”
“Thanks.”
She gripped the rail tightly going down the stairs. A date. An actual date for the first time in over forty years with someone other than Albert. It was simply out of the question. She’d go to the party. She’d drop off her gift, eat some dry tasteless chicken, and slip out the door. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
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