Tales from the Yoga Studio

by Rain Mitchell

  She takes off the dress and, using tissue paper, folds it carefully and lays it in a box. She loves all these little accoutrements that seem so outdated in a way—tissue paper, the dress box with a handle. She’ll present it to Lee after class today.

  She slips into a faded blue sundress she did a little reconstructive surgery on a couple of days ago. Not especially chic, but more her style.

  It’s going to be a warm day, and as she’s gathering up her mat and water for class, she looks out the window to the slope of the hills and the sparkling reservoir. Who’s kidding who? It would be nice to share this view, this house with someone else. Sometimes she feels an aching for that. But she can cope with aches. She really can manage alone.

  As she’s locking the deadbolt on her door, she hears a little ringing somewhere down the street, like maybe an ice cream truck, something she’s never seen in all the time she’s lived here. The bougainvillea has grown up so high, she can’t see the street clearly. She really ought to cut it back. She hears the bell again, a little closer this time, and more familiar. Almost like the bell she had on ...

  She walks to the sidewalk and looks down the street, and that’s when she sees him—Conor, pedaling up the hill on a big Dutch bicycle, not pink, but green, with a big red bow on the handlebars. He’s breathing heavily and grinning, and he waves.

  I can’t, she thinks. I’m doing so well now. It isn’t going to work out, and in the end, everyone’s just going to get hurt.

  “Brodski! ” he calls out, puffing. “Do you know how long it took me to get this bike? Sorry about the color, but the pink would have taken another two weeks. And I didn’t think you should be without wheels that long.”

  Don’t, don’t, don’t, she hears in her head. And then she slips out of her sandals and drops what she’s carrying and starts running toward him, feeling as if her heart is going to burst.

  Lee had been hoping for a big turnout, but only about fifteen people showed up for the class. Maybe some of her students are still angry at her for announcing that she was going to close and then doing an about-face and telling them she wasn’t. Or maybe they just fell out of the habit of coming during the two weeks she did close so she could go away with the kids and explain everything to them as best she could. How their lives were going to change now, how she and Alan would always be their parents, their real family, even if they would be living in different places permanently, not just for a little while as she’d said before. Forever. That was a tough one to swallow herself, but the sooner she lets go of “maybe there’s a chance . . . ,” the sooner she’ll start to heal.

  Fifteen isn’t a bad number, really, and the others will drift back. Some of the students she feels closest to came in support. She has them all on their backs in savasana, their eyes closed, and she goes around to each and cups her hands over their eyes and gently touches their temples.

  “Thank you for being here,” she whispers to each, offering something up, but trying to draw strength from them as well.

  Graciela reaches up and grabs her hand as she touches her; a smile trembles on Stephanie’s lips; and Imani whispers back, “I have something to tell you after class.”

  It would be perfect if Katherine were here, but she understands that she needs more time. She’ll give her however long it takes.

  Lee goes to the front of the room and sits in lotus, her hands on her knees and her fingers touching in a loose bhudi mudra. She closes her eyes and tries to get her breathing in unison with the class, but she feels a little clutch of panic at her chest. There are so many details to work out, so many knots to untie. What will it mean for the kids? And how is she going to move forward and face everything alone? She’s always wanted to think of herself as being such a strong, independent person, but the truth is, she’s been connected to someone—even the wrong someone—for so long now, she isn’t sure if she’s going to be able to cope.

  She presses her fingers together a little more tightly and breathes as slowly and steadily as she can. She instructs the class to roll onto their sides, to sit up, to give thanks, and then she opens her eyes.

  The first thing she sees is Katherine standing at the back of the room, a dress box in one hand and Conor’s hand in the other. They’re both smiling, their cheeks flushed in an unmistakable way.

  There are moments in life when you understand with certainty that no matter how difficult the immediate future is likely to be, you are going to be able to face it. You are going to walk into it with calm and conviction. You might not get through it unscathed, but you will get through it. Your life isn’t the way you thought it would be, but you know for sure you’re not alone. And looking into her friend’s kind eyes, Lee has one of those moments.

  All right, she thinks, let’s begin.