Charitable Contributions

6: Crossing Lines

Tonight was an exception.

My feet tingled, and my limbs hung weakly from exercise but knotted up with tension. Fatigue sagged thoughts to the back of my brain. An invisible layer of dried sweat coated my skin, along with a perfume combination of BO, rubber mats, bleach-based cleaner, and incense. Absent from my normal release of stress, my forehead pounded.

I was tired. The admission sank my shoulders. My most significant class was my biggest mindfuck challenge. And that followed the shit from Midfield "Today was absolute shit." I cupped my elbows in my palms. "One day at a time, right?"

"So I've heard." Abby offered a humorless smile, concern filling her eyes. "Help me set the table, and we'll see if Michael's call ends by the time the plates are set."

My eyes rolled. "It's Sam. I'm not waiting."

The call would drag to thirty minutes or three hours, depending on how much stroking Sam's ego needed. And I spent tonight's class trying to bruise that ego, so we'd probably see Michael tomorrow. Assuming Sam never stepped into the studio again, all I cared about was him drawing my brother's attention away from his family.

A sparkle brightened Abby's eyes. "How did the Midfield meeting with Sam go?"

"Don't look at me like that." I scooped three servings of her delicious comfort chicken pot pie onto three plates. "He didn't recognize me...unless you count giving Michael's business card for a merch discount. Before he flaunted his untrained ass in my yoga class, which reminds me...How the fuck did he show up?"

A soft hum sounded in her dark-skinned throat. "Michael thinks Sam isn't seeing things well right now."

Mental note: kill brother. Probably best while he was on the phone so Sam heard. Abigail was a rare gem of infinite patience and empathy. Her heart, broken once like mine, was immeasurable. She made my brother a better man by loving him.

Before me introducing them, Michael fell victim to the temptations plaguing his clients' lives - the most dangerous being overindulgence and an inflated sense of his importance. Friends first, their relationship developed slowly, organically, and beautifully. Her open, honest admissions matured my brother beyond his twenty-eight years.

Unlike me, Abby was both a planner and an observer. Considering the unexpected angles of every story, she measured them with quiet, delicate grace. Which was why she tried– "Hold up." I juggled the water glasses over to the table. "Did you come back early to see the doctor?"

"Sure did," she hummed again.

I sucked in the room's air with one breath. "And? And!?"

"And she's pregnant," Michael announced behind us, pocketing his phone and palming Abby's lower back.

"Ahh!"

Those three words obliterated anything else in my life. Hallelujah! My body wasn't big enough to contain the thrill rushing through my veins. It was an instant explosion of feelings led by absolute joy. Electric lines of excitement drew under my skin, my heart leaped, and hot tears sprung into my eyes. I could burst. "Oh my gosh!" I wrapped my arms around Abby. Hot, ticklish tears trailed over my cheeks, one of which I pressed into hers. My throat tightened. "Really?"

Her warm palm patted my back. "Yes."

Wait. It could be–A small gasp left me. I pulled back and palmed her shoulders. My voice dropped to a raspy whisper, "Is it...his?"

Similar tears rose in her eyes. "Yes."

My hands flew to my damp cheeks. "That's...wonderful. I'm so, so happy for you. Both of - Michael, how are you feeling?"