20 Million Tiny Particles

17. Missy

Cara was the first of Sheridan's friends to get drunk at the party. Visibly, at least. She was slurring her words as she talked to one of the girls from Sheridan's spin class about how amazing the energy gel was. The new recruit didn't mind though; Sheridan had offered her a shot a few minutes into the slurry conversation.

As the night went on, I couldn't help looking around at the other girls in the room that Sheridan waved to, exchanged hey-girls with. I squinted at their glasses, listened closely for the telltale sound of slippery words. Before I came into the picture, Sheridan had made this her MO -- get your friends drunk and get them to buy more of the drink that makes them happy. And now that I was here, that hadn't changed; we had just increased our reach by not only getting them drunk, but somehow convincing them they'd gain core strength along the way, whatever that meant.

I didn't know which of our strategies was more ethical, but I also didn't know which would be more successful. Or which of the two mattered more.

We were sitting on the white faux fur rug near the coffee table, our legs curled up underneath us as we looked up toward Cara and Shelby sitting on the leather sofa, when the chatter throughout the room began to reach a lull. All of our heads turned semi-simultaneously toward the end of the room, where our hostess herself was standing by the piano, smiling out at us, her subjects.

Missy Lakshmi had her dark hair slicked back in a ponytail and wore a black tank top and white jeans, with no jewelry save for a thin sparkly band around one finger and tiny diamond studs in her ears. She had a thin, strained smile on her face as she eyed the room, waiting silently for the party to acknowledge her and quiet down in her presence. I was struck between the difference of Missy's presence here versus, say, Sheridan at yoga class. Missy didn't have to announce herself; she waited for others to catch on that she was here. Patient, calm, demanding nonetheless.

I wondered if that was a quality you're born with or developed over time.

After a second, she began to speak. She greeted us warmly, thanked us for coming. She was glad to have us all here in her home. Cara made a slurping sound as she tilted her drink back, causing Sheridan to snort. Missy's eyes snapped straight to us. I didn't make eye contact, looked at the fuzz of the rug beneath me. If I could pull at its threads, I would.

Missy went on as Sheridan held back her giggles. "It's always really exciting to have everyone over and see this amazing community we've created," she said, "around a goal that's so important, not just for ourselves but for the legacy that we're creating. That we can be better versions of ourselves, that we can be --"

Sheridan leaned toward Cara and half-whispered "Drunk." Cara put a hand over her mouth to stifle herself.
Again, I felt Missy's eyes as she went on. "-- harbingers of wellness to those around us."

"What does harbingers mean?" Shelby asked under her breath into Cara's shoulder. A girl across the room shot our group a stern look, which only made me more embarrassed and the others more hysterical.

"I think what we're doing here in our own little pocket of the world is so special," Missy was saying now, "and that's why I'm so, so excited to get to share what we've been doing with others, and teach even more women how to empower themselves and each other."

Beside me Sheridan tilted her head to one side like a cocker spaniel who'd heard a squeaky toy from beside the room. What was Missy getting at?

"In a few weeks, I've been invited to speak at the regional Southeastern Diamondesq Diamond Club Conference," Missy said, her cheeks lifting into a smile in spite of herself. There was a slow eruption of claps and cheers throughout the room. Even Shelby let out a "woo" before Sheridan rolled her eyes.