MIMOSA MANIA

I've been home a solid week and my Bali tan is already starting to fade into oblivion. Josh really has been MIA in the office, but I've been busy prepping the studios anyway.

My morning run is cut short when Raz texts me about the Case of the Missing Yoga Mat shipment.

I'm already preparing for the most minor of minor catastrophes. Raz blows everything out of proportion, ever since I met them about five months ago.

They were the most androgynously gorgeous person I'd ever met, teal hair and all. Exudes total hipster vibes, but also panics about every single thing.

I turn the corner and run through Denny Triangle, passing the Whole Foods I live in, and make my way to Belltown.

Go Zen's newest locale is a corner shop, with wide windows and string lights hanging on the mini pergola out front. I see Raz through the glass and can already sense their panic.

"Hey," I announce myself, choking on essence of lavender or rose or some other flower. Or all of them.

"Emmy, Oh my GOD. Thank you. Okay, so this is the box that Fed Ex dropped off yesterday." Raz starts rifling through an opened carton behind the counter.

"Okay." I rearrange my tank, now sticking to my boob sweat, and nod for them to continue.

"Water bottles, check. Those oil rollers Zoë ordered, check. Yoga mats? Oh wait, no check." Raz tosses their hands up in frustration.

"It's fine," I laugh. "At least it's not missing Zoë's rollers."

"Been on hold with the supplier twice. They eventually cut the line," Raz frowns.

"I'll call them later," I tell them. "Now take deep breaths."

Raz starts inhaling (and somehow not coughing on the palpable flower aroma) and exhaling in long breaths. When they first started, Raz told me they needed more relaxation and meditation in their life.

100% get it now.

I leave Raz at the counter and walk to the ladder shelf that Zoë erected against the far wall. An ambiently lit diffuser emits puffs of oil every twenty seconds. The culprit.

My fingers run along the oil rollers of our newest fragrances/essential oils.

In Capri: blood orange, neroli, pistachio

Salted: pink salt, seaweed, driftwood

Chai Vibe: vanilla, tobacco leaf, amber

I smell them each, one by one in search of my own personal fave.

In Capri gets me every day.

Smells like a fresh Aperol Spritz, lakeside under the sun, and with a bowl of pistachios.

I decide to make the most of this lazy Sunday and meet Demi and Tao for brunch. I drag Raz along. Getting out of the studio will do them some good.

"You're coming or you're fired." I spit out my tongue.

"Brunch it is."

The two of us lock up the studio and head out.

I text Zoë on our way, but I know she's in the middle of a morning class. How rude of me to throw brunch in her face when she can't go.

Raz and I go to Demi's favorite Sunday morning haunt. I like it because it is vegan friendly and has the best iced Americano that Seattle has to offer. It's seat yourself, so we select a table in the patio garden out back.

My phone buzzes with a text from Josh. I open it up and see Five Best Resorts in Malta.

I roll my eyes and hammer back.

Already tryin to ditch my parents' hotel.
Love it ;)

I'm a keeper

I smile at his text back before stowing the phone in my tote.

We order from the tablet in the center of the table. Tao pulls off his sweatshirt and tosses it over his chair. My eyes waste no time noticing the line-drawing logo sprawled across his T-shirt. Edge. Sure.

His athleisure apparel company really is spreading nationwide. I think maybe even I'll get a T-shirt with the new minimalist logo. I smile to myself, at my own progress, low key proud for someone I used to know.

Two seconds later the waiter shows up with the pitcher of bottomless mimosas Tao ordered. I'm already finishing my first flute when my coffee is dropped off.

I won't get tired of talking about my trip to Bali with Zoë, but it is way easier to just toss Demi my phone and let her have her own adventure through my photo album.

"OK. Next time I'm def going," Demi says, swiping fast.

"You saw a monkey?" Tao asks. He refills all our mimosas.

"Several monkeys, actually." I lick my citrusy lips.

Our food comes quickly and I almost drool over Raz's pear bacon bleu cheese tart. I alternate between sips of coffee and mouthfuls of mimosa, between refreshing Go Zen's webpage and viewing Meg's video story.

Trix's latest post is the pic we took at Back Bay. You can't actually see the water or the house, but I'd recognize those sepia, coastal tones anywhere. It's a beautiful shot of 30-year-olds and the few of us holding onto 29.

I comment with white heart emojis, my favorite staple as of late. I can't help but glance at the most recent like on Trix's photo. A pang in my core comes and goes. The little blue check mark next to her dumb name drives it home. Like being verified on social media somehow verifies you in all other ways too.

@theCeceMajors

But damn her profile pic though. Is it unhealthy to girl crush on my ex's new girl crush? I suppose it makes sense. Brooks and I are eerily similar after all. It's unsurprising we'd have the same taste in women.

"That's it," Demi says, flipping her pony behind her shoulder.

"What?" I ask, hoping I wasn't tuning her out too obviously. I notice the strawberry mascarpone stuffed in her French toast is the exact shade of her tank top.

"I'm dead. Seattle is dead to me," she shrugs. Then I spot my phone open next to her. "We are scheduling Go Zen's yoga retreat field trip right now."

"Let me guess, Bali?" I tease, polishing off my chia pudding.

"No point ever going anywhere else again," Demi declares.

"Agreed," Tao nods. He talks through bites of his breakfast burrito. "Open a Go Zen studio there."

"One at a time," I eye roll. "Are you guys still coming by later? Zoë wants to show you guys the new mediation set."

"Yea," Demi says, checking the time on her phone. "Like 7 o'clock?"

"Raincheck me. I have to drop my brother off at practice." Tao looks at his own phone.

I text Zoë and tell her it's just me and Demi tonight. Raz has a dinner with their old college roomie.

Three hours and I stopped counting at three mimosa pitchers later, we are all but shunned from the garden patio. I duck under the crawling wisteria and hope the smell will attach itself to me.

I'm dying for my post run shower.

My phone dings and a fresh noti scrolls across the screen.

I click open my text tread with Josh. His tiny icon is a pic of him from last Christmas, wearing his jolly pajamas and a boyish grin to match.

How about this one? Looks good on a sailboat.

I stare at the newest picture in our chat –a fluffer-nutter of a golden retriever, sitting on the polished deck of a sailboat yacht.

Relentless...

I type back. I bite my lip thinking about how long Josh's been trying to pick out a dog. Really, I think he's waiting for me to agree to co-adopt said doggo. As I look at the white fluff, I'm tempted.

Brunch over yet?
You still owe me a week...
;)