The Last Phone Booth in Manhattan(42)
“And you really think she can help me with my range?”
“Are you kidding? Everyone at Mimi’s swears by her, not to mention her Insta Stories are chock-full of the Broadway elite. Sutton Foster was there just last week, and Patti LuPone the week before that. Miss Tilly will get you hitting that high E above C again in no time.”
“Sutton Foster? Really? I mean, I guess if she’s good enough for Sutton, she’s good enough for me,” I joked.
“No, seriously, Avery, she’s the real deal. I went to see her last year when I was hit with a particularly wicked case of laryngitis before my callback for the national tour of Mean Girls. I mean, I didn’t get the part, buuuuut practically overnight, my voice was in top shape for that audition.”
“That sounds promising,” I said, hoping that the small threads of skepticism in my intonation weren’t detectable.
We walked through the shop door and climbed down a dark and narrow staircase until we were inside the studio space. Almost instantly, my nostrils were assaulted with the smell of burning incense so strong my eyes began to water. Colorful pillows were scattered around the room, and next to a large gold Chinese wind gong was a rock fountain that took up almost the entirety of the back wall.
Miss Tilly, a heavyset woman dressed in a flowery caftan who was twisted up like a pretzel doing some version of Lotus Pose, spotted us and sprang up from the floor. “Lyla, my sweetheart, perfect timing, I just finished my morning transcendental meditation session,” she said.
“You practice twice a day?” Lyla asked.
“Absolutely—morning and evening. It’s the only way to maximize its benefits—a more alert mind, increased energy, clearer thinking, not to mention a roaaarrrring libido.”
Lyla molded her hands into two claws. “Me-ow!”
Miss Tilly chuckled as she slipped on a silk robe. “Exactly. So, who’s your friend?” She motioned in my direction. “I don’t recognize this one.”
“A new roommate. Avery. She’s a singer too. She works with me at Mimi’s.”
Miss Tilly waved her hand around. “Say no more, you’ve come to the right place. So tell me, what’s been going on?”
I shifted my weight, unsure of how to start. “Well, my range isn’t what it used to be.”
“As I said, you came to the right place then. Miss Tilly’s gotchu covered,” she said.
Over the next few hours, Miss Tilly led me through a series of alternative and energetic medicine meditations, crystal and Tibetan sound therapy, Reiki sessions, and aromatherapy treatments. I wasn’t sure any of it was actually helping my voice, but I had to admit, I did feel significantly more relaxed than I had in months.
“You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders. Has anyone ever told you that?” Miss Tilly asked as she finished up my spine adjustment. “We’re just about done here. Let me go and grab your complimentary crystals from my office.”
Miss Tilly went into the back room, leaving Lyla and me alone in the studio.
“How do you feel?” Lyla whispered.
“I feel good, but is it odd that she didn’t have me sing a single note? How do I know any of it worked?”
Lyla pointed her finger in the air. “Oh, it worked. Trust, girl. Trust.”
“All right,” Miss Tilly said, clutching a small brown suede bag in her closed fist. “I have the most fantastic assortment for you.” She motioned for me to hold out my hands and gently shook a rainbow of crystals into my cupped palms. “The garnet kick-starts belief in personal power, the kunzite encourages forgiveness and helps ease emotion, and finally, the sapphire reaffirms purpose and direction. The amethyst reduces anxiety, helps reestablish boundaries and a sense of control, and most importantly, strengthens confidence and self-empowerment.”
I closed my fingers around the stones. “I need like literally all of these. How did you know?”
She lowered her voice. “If I’m being honest, you don’t need any of these. You possess all their powers inside yourself. The crystals are just a way to help you manifest them a little quicker.”
Though hard to believe considering I’d taken directions from a mysterious phone booth, the truth was I had never been a particularly spiritual person. Marisol was the one who believed in all this stuff—psychics, fortune tellers, and tarot cards. I liked to see things with my own two eyes, not some mystical third one. But, for some reason, I trusted Miss Tilly and her new age methods. I mean, what did I really have to lose?
Miss Tilly reached into the pocket of her robe, pulled out a receipt pad, and started scribbling out my list of treatments. When she got to the third page, my palms really began to sweat. Finally, she presented me with the bill, and my eyes nearly fell out of my head. In total it was a little over $600 and that was with the friends and family discount. Without any tangible proof that any of it actually worked, regret and images of overdraft alerts were racing through my panic-stricken mind, and I mentally calculated how many songs from Wicked I’d have to perform at Mimi’s to make up that amount of money.
“I take cash or credit. But not Amex,” Miss Tilly said.
I reluctantly handed over my bank card and prayed the charge would go through, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when I saw the word ACCEPTED flash across the small screen of her Apple Pay. I pushed the suede bag of colorful crystals into my tote but held on to the amethyst one, tucking it deep into the front pocket of my jeans.