by Annie Harper
300 Social Sciences
Karina and Tony arrived a few minutes before yoga class began. Since it was two weeks before Christmas, the class was half its normal size. The few who were there unrolled yoga mats, stretched out from long days on their feet or at desks, and chatted quietly.
“Karina!” Wes said. His smile brightened half the dimly lit room. “I didn’t think you’d come!”
“I told you this was my normal class time.”
Before she could introduce him, Wes offered his hand to Tony. “You must be Uncle Tony.”
“Tony Trovato,” he said as he shook Wes’s hand. “You don’t have to call me ‘Uncle,’” he added with a wink.
He actually winked. Karina looked at him as if she’d never met him.
“So, Not-Uncle Tony, have you been kidnapped or are you genuinely interested in yoga?”
“I used to come regularly; it’s been a few years.”
“It’s been a few years since I’ve taught, so we can fumble through this together.”
“Right. I’m gonna…” Karina stepped back and unrolled her mat close enough to hear Wes and Uncle Tony talk. Uncle Tony freaking winked.
“I probably should apologize—” Uncle Tony said as soon as she stepped away.
“You don’t need to; she’s an adult.” He caught Karina’s eye. A slight parental threat lurked behind his kindness. “She’s awfully fond of you.”
“She’s a good kid. About the only family I have left,” Tony said. “And from what I hear, she’s pretty fond of you too.”
“Ah. Well,” Wes said as he bent to collect a mat and yoga blocks, “let’s see how we all feel about each other after an hour or so of fumbling, huh?” He handed Tony the supplies, shot Karina one more warning “glare,” and sat cross-legged on his mat wordlessly directing the students to do the same.
Karina patted the empty spot next to her, sat up, and crossed her legs until Wes began. Instead of standard meditative chants, nature sounds, or ethereal floating chords as musical background, the room filled with soft, smooth jazz. His peaceful baritone voice blended into the music’s groove as though he was part of the recording; its gentle rhythms kept everyone’s bodies fluid and in sync with his instruction. She had always enjoyed yoga, but Wes’ leadership was downright invigorating.
Uncle Tony remained quiet, focused. He followed Wes and kept up easily. After a refreshing hour, Wes led them through the final positions of the evening. They relaxed in shavasana—fully relaxed, flat on their backs—and Karina tried to focus on her breath as instructed. All she could think about was rewinding time to experience the class again.
“Extend your legs. Keep your shoulders away from your ears,” Wes said, slowly walking around the students. “If there’s space between your lower back and the floor, wedge those blocks under your thighs.” He bent to help Mrs. Swanson in the back of the room. “Doesn’t that help?” he asked her, and she giggled in response. Dear god. He continued to walk among the students as he talked. “You should be thoroughly comfortable; sink into the floor, focus on your breath.” He stopped between Tony and Karina, and she couldn’t help but smile up at him.
He lifted a scolding finger and squatted next to Tony. “Can I?” he said, as he reached out to touch Uncle Tony’s shoulder.
“Yes, please. My back’s tighter than a rubber band.”
Wes lifted Tony’s shoulder from the floor and settled it into the correct position. The groan Tony emitted was so serene, so satisfied, the rest of the class chuckled. Wes arranged Uncle Tony’s other shoulder; he groaned again. Deep, full breaths noisily filled his lungs. Karina glanced at him; his peaceful grin would have been ridiculous if it wasn’t so genuine.
Wes remained squatting next to Tony and said, still using a soft, meditative voice, “Can I recommend you pump up your customers higher in their chairs? Your traps are a mess.”
“I’ll do anything you say. Anything.” As far as Karina was concerned, Tony might as well have accepted a marriage proposal, or, at the least, a movie night proposal.
Wes verbally guided everyone to relax each part of their bodies as he moved about the room. By the time everyone had rolled to their sides and sat up, Karina had lost track of time. Tony’s smile exhibited a peace she hadn’t seen in years.
With a final, “Namaste,” students slowly moved to collect their belongings. Wes spoke with each person as they left, calling them by name. He was able to eke a tentative commitment from Tony to return next week. Karina promised to be there.
“I’ll bring my girlfriends, too. They were afraid without Tracy—”
“I’m glad you both came,” he said and moved on to the next student.
Once in the car, Karina stared at Tony.
“What?” He turned the heat on full blast.
“So?” she said, incredulous.
“So?” The blush that had colored his cheeks since Wes touched him was faint, but still visible.
Karina grinned at him. “Did you enjoy that?”
“I want to go back tomorrow,” he said. “I feel amazing.” Karina tossed her workout bag onto the floor and rolled her eyes. “You’re upset.”
“Not upset,” she said as she snapped her seat belt buckle. “Did you like Wes? I know you liked yoga. Your moans were pornographic.”
“Well, excuse me.” He reached for her hand and gently pinched her. “I liked Wes just fine.”
“And?”
“And tomorrow is a new day. When is your Lit for Youth paper due? Are you off from the library?”
Defeated, Karina locked her door and stared out her window. “Friday and yes.” He wasn’t interested. That was that. The wink was friendly, the shoulder adjustment was professional, and Christmas would be as dull and miserable as always.
“Good,” Tony said. “Come work at the shop. You need to show me how I should move my clients to fix my—what’d he say?”
“Traps—trapezius muscles. You’re starting to look like an old woman with osteoporosis.”
Tony didn’t say anything the rest of the ride home. She tried to read his expression as streetlights illuminated his face in the moving car. The grin never left—not really—but she could have been seeing with blind hope. When he pulled into her drive, he kissed her cheek.
“Thanks for inviting me. I had a good time.”
“Will you come next week?”
“One day at a time, Rina.”
Three days later, Wes hadn’t shown up at the library at all, and neither he nor Tony had returned either of the last books she’d given them. Until now, they’d flown through their books, and even if they’d feigned disinterest in her more ridiculous choices, they’d read everything. Now? Silence.
Karina finished her paper and emailed it to the professor. She should enjoy the rest of winter break, but she couldn’t shake off her disappointment that yoga class was simply yoga class. The books were but a silly game. Wes was just a friendly guy at the library and Uncle Tony… well, he remained stubborn and alone.
It was preposterous to have expected sparks and instant chemistry and glitter bombs, but the irritation persisted. It didn’t help that her dad honed in on her mood and danced on it every chance he got. “Told you that girl wouldn’t amount to anything,” had been that morning’s parting words.
Wes came to the library that day; she greeted him with barely a nod. As she walked away to shelve a cartful of books, she heard Rhonda say, “Don’t ask me. She’s been quiet all week.”
They stayed in separate corners. Karina caught Wes staring at her, but she would turn back to her work without so much as a blink. She had put one final—she’d promised herself—book on hold for him. He had it in his hand as he approached her in Nonfiction. “A Christmas Carol,” he said simply. “Why do I have the feeling you’ve cast me as Scrooge?”
“Well, you’re certainly not Tin
y Tim,” she said, staring at a bookbinding. Modern Dating: A Field Guide, 646.77 ATI.
“I’m feeling more like the Christmas goose—basted and carved into pieces. Why are you upset with me?”
“I’m upset with everyone,” she said as she shoved the book into place so hard it pushed the book on the other side onto the floor. “Shit.”
“I’ve got it.” Wes went around the stack, retrieved the dropped book, and wiggled it through a small empty space into Karina’s line of view. “Where do you want this?” He motioned to her cart.
“It’s numerical, Wes. I’m sure you can put it back.”
Wes dropped the book onto her cart anyway and retreated to his laptop. Karina swore again, finished unloading, and plopped herself in a chair across the table from him. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Darling, I’m not sure I know.” She glared at him—he had to know. “What?” As usual, his expression was friendly. Today, friendly didn’t cut it.
“Forget it. I’ve been out of line; you’re a patron. I’ll leave you alone.” She grabbed her empty cart and stalked to the circulation department.
“Karina, come on now.” Her cart caught on a floor mat, wobbled, and began to topple. Wes was there, one hand on her arm, one on the cart. When she met his eyes, he said, “I know why you’re upset, but I want you to explain it to me.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“Come see me on your break?”
“I’m embarrassed,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Wes smiled and tried again. “Don’t be. Come talk to me.”
An hour later, after catching more of his concerned looks, her pity party lost its fire. She joined him for her break.
“Is that your novel?” she asked him, diverting.
Wes turned his laptop away from her. “Not for anyone’s eyes yet,” he said. She looked over his shoulder and tried to read. “If you don’t behave, I’m telling your supervisor you’re goofing off.”
“It’s my break. I’m allowed to goof off.”
He closed the lid and looked at her with the fatherly patience she only saw from Uncle Tony. “I liked your uncle,” he said, cutting straight to the point, “but if these things happen at all, they take time. And at my age, they usually don’t happen.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous. There’s no reason to shut it all down because—”
“Why is this so important to you?”
She couldn’t answer that question any better now than when he had asked her ten days before. “I want, okay? I want for Uncle Tony. I want love and Christmas stories and snowball fights and shared mulled wine.” Wes nodded, smug, as if she’d given the right answer for the toughest question on the final exam. “What?”
“Are you sure you want those things for Uncle Tony… or for yourself?”
Karina scoffed. “Those things don’t happen for girls like me.”
“Says who?” Karina fell silent. Through quiet moments where she fought the urge to unleash a wall of tears, Wes’s hand rested warm and comforting on her arm. She put her hand on his, unable to look at him. “Your father gets no say in who you are or who you find happiness with.”
“I know.” She hated that he understood; she loved that he understood. “But you and Uncle Tony—”
“You need to take care of yourself and let the old farts fumble around on their own.”
At that, she looked at him. “No more books?”
“Are you kidding me? Meeting you and reading these books helped me make it through this month,” Wes said. “Please, more books.” A mischievous grin lit up his face. “Have you seen the cute girl from the tree farm again?”
“No. How would I?”
“I don’t know, maybe she reads. Maybe it’s Christmas, and she works at a tree farm, so there are a million good reason to go back.” He poked her shoulder. “Maybe the fates are kind, and she’ll be buying milk the next time you buy eggs.”
“I hate eggs.”
Wes leveled his gaze and pushed on. “If I remember correctly, you need a Christmas tree for your bedroom.”
She squeezed her fingers around Wes’s hand. Your father gets no say in who you are or who you find happiness with. He also had no say in how she decorated her own bedroom—Mom had made sure of that years ago.
“I think that might be a genius idea,” she said.
“Good. Busy tonight?” Karina shook her head. “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
Wes arrived before Karina’s dad’s post-dinner complaints began. Because Wes cared, because Hailey might be at the tree farm with her bow saw, flannel shirt, and dark eyeliner, nothing her dad said could have hit its target anyway.
The moment they stepped into the lot, Karina spotted Hailey’s orange puffer vest and flannel shirt. She was working with another family, but when Wes and Karina passed her, Karina could have sworn—
Wes bumped her shoulder; they followed the signs to the smaller trees.
“Did she double take me?” Karina asked out of earshot.
“She so double-took you. Double-taked?” Wes cocked his head. “The girl looked at you at least three times.”
Karina stopped in her tracks and stared at Wes. His eyes lit up the space more than the dangling utility lights. “You’re as bad as me!”
“Maybe.” Wes pointed three trees down. “Is that too tall?”
It was, but the third one they considered wasn’t. It had plenty of branches for ornaments, was short enough to fit on her desk and pretty enough her mom’s appreciation of it would drown out her dad’s insults. When a round, scruffy man approached to help, Wes was the first to say they were still thinking. Hailey arrived next, saw in hand and a crooked grin on her lips.
“Find one you like?” she asked.
Wes choked. Karina hit him in the arm and nodded. No words came out, which was a blessing. All she could think of saying was, “I like you. Will you come plant yourself in my bedroom?”
Hailey sawed and chatted and wrapped the tree in plastic netting. She dragged it to the register and insisted on ringing Karina out herself. The total was five dollars less than posted.
“I found an extra discount for you.” Hailey leaned on the counter and rested her chin in her hand as Karina dug into her wallet for cash. “This is your second trip,” Hailey said.
“I—yes.” She remembers me. “It is. My uncle needed a tree and I decided I’d like one for my room.” Cold and shaking with nerves, Karina’s fingers couldn’t separate and grasp her bills. She looked at Hailey, who promptly licked her lips. “You take plastic?”
“Anything you wanna give me.”
Wes made a hasty escape toward the car. With one more look at Hailey, who now stared Karina straight in the eyes, Karina swallowed and gave Hailey her debit card. A blank piece of scrap paper and a pen accompanied her receipt.
“Can you put your phone number on that?” Hailey asked. “In case—uh, in case there’s a problem with the card?”
Karina’s heart skipped, her breath skipped. “And my name?”
“Yes,” Hailey said, a flash of nerves now evident in her eyes. “Definitely your name.”
“It’s Karina,” said as she took her time to make sure her handwriting was legible.
“Beautiful.” As if choreographed, they stared at Karina’s tree, out to the parking lot, and back to the tree. Hailey picked it up by the trunk. “I’ll load this for you since your—”
“Friend. Wes is my friend, who is probably standing by his car laughing his ass off.”
“Unhelpful friend.” Hailey laughed and dragged the tree behind her. “Let’s make him help.”
Karina wasn’t sure how the tree ended up in the back of Wes’ car or how the rhythmic scratching of pine needles on his back seat’s upholstery became the accompaniment to his Christmas jazz, but before she knew it, they sat
in her driveway. She had been replaying the moments with Hailey until she was downright giddy.
“See?” Karina said, sassy and confident.
“See what?”
“It’s not that hard to put yourself out there.”
“I took you to that girl.” Wes yanked the tree from the car and dragged it to her door while Karina followed and laughed. “Don’t you dare take credit for your successful evening.”
“Oh, come on. You have Uncle Tony’s number from yoga. Call him.”
“Do you need help getting this inside?”
“No. Dad’s home and he’s—”
“A bigoted asshole. Got it.” Wes kissed her cheek. “You’ll call me or Tony if things get too bad?”
“I will.” Before Wes got in his car, Karina made one more plea. “Call him!”
Karina’s dad grunted at the tree and told her she couldn’t have any of the family ornaments to decorate it. The family ornaments were ugly anyway; she’d won this round.
On yoga night, Wes and Tony chatted while students settled into their places. Karina stretched, but was more focused on trying to listen in. At one point, Tony threw his head back and laughed so uproariously everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. Tony’s blush didn’t disappear until class was so far into flow poses he had no choice but to focus and concentrate.
“I’m gonna—” Wes said, as he stood behind Tony’s lazy-looking warrior two pose. He put his hands on Tony’s hips. “Tuck your pelvis.”
“And my shoulders are wrong,” Tony said as he adjusted them himself.
“There you go, now keep them there into the next pose.” Wes spoke to the class; his voice was like liquid silk. “Right arm down to your bent knee, left arm to the sky.” He stayed behind Tony and moved with his own commands. “Look up at your hand… that’s it.”
When he moved to check on Mrs. Swanson’s sciatica, he caught Karina’s eye and sweetly scolded, “Look up at your hand, Ms. Ness.”
Her desire for these two idiots to hook up might have been misplaced, but dammit, it was sincere and, besides, they were adorable—and bullheaded.
Five days before Christmas, Karina took one more book to Uncle Tony—her closing argument. She plopped One Hundred Years of Solitude on his workstation as he trimmed Wilson’s sideburns. “This is what’s going to happen to you if you don’t do something. You like him.”