“That’s neither here nor there, anyway I’ve got bigger things on my plate right now.”
“Like what?” Cheyenne takes her seat slowly as though she’s watching a movie unfold.
“It’s nothing I want to get into here. You wouldn’t be interested.”
“Try us.” Keith urges me. “We might be able to help.”
Maybe he’s right. I’m so upset about my mother and this invasion she’s put into my life. I can’t sleep and anytime she crosses my mind I want to punch something. The people in this group have been through their own share of tragedies. Maybe they can shed some light. I can give them a cliff notes version.
”A very long story short, my mom had some issues when I was young and the minute I turned eighteen, I cut off contact with her. It’s been many years, and now she wants to get in contact with me. She is been talking with my cousin, and my cousin wants me to have dinner with her and my mom so we can work out our differences.”
“I think you should do it.” Keith doesn’t hesitate.
“That’s easier said than done.”
“And that’s a cliche if I ever heard one.”
Keith is right. It is cliche, but it’s true. I don’t want them to tell me to go see her. That’s exactly what Shannon would say and the precise reason I haven’t gone to her about it. She would drag me to see my mom, to make amends, and I don’t want to do that. A mother is supposed to be there for her daughter, and she was anything but. How can she expect me to forgive her? “I’m not so sure I’m ready.”
“You’re almost forty years old,” Luna says to the group. “Grow up already, grow a pair, and go see your mom.”
“Grow a pair? No offense, but I really can’t do that.”
“Stop stalling,” Cheyenne says. “You know very well what she means. If this were any of us, you would tell us the same exact thing.”
“Not to mention, your relationship with your mom is probably what is holding you back from maintaining a long-term relationship.”
I don’t doubt Keith is correct. I’m well aware why I don’t want to commit. Forgiving my mother may bring some sort of relief in my life, but how can someone accept abandonment? Every time I look at her I’ll remember her with the sunken in eyes and the slurred speech, the zombie-like posture when I asked her to help me with homework. I’ll never see her as a woman, a mom. She’ll always be the drug addict. They don’t know because I won’t share this information, but they don’t have to. That detail is too shameful. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“Well, you’ll never know if you’re ready unless you try.” Keith stands and moves to the refreshment table.
Everyone is looking at me for direction. I guess that’s it, then. Go see my mom. That’s what they all think I should do. I think they’re crazy. “Let’s call it a meeting for tonight.” I want to get home, take my bra off, pop open my laptop, and do some work. It’s the only way I know how to unwind.
I meet Keith at the table and he already has a plate of potato chips. “Dinner?”
“Yeah. I wrapped things up at the office at around six and then hit the gym. I didn’t have time to eat before I came here. Want some?”
He shoves the plate of chips at me and I want nothing more than to inhale their saltiness and calories. Where is this coming from? All these changes are causing me to want to revert back to my old ways, back when food was the answer. I’m still attending yoga, though I’ve missed a few classes since I moved to Sundays. I need to center myself again. I need to find peace.
“No, thanks.” It takes all my willpower to deny myself the binge. I’m proud of myself, though. I can’t seem to control anything in my life anymore, and at least this is the start of finding my way back to the right path.
Although I’m not so sure I know what that path is anymore.
Chapter
Eighteen
I feel like I’m cheating on my regular yoga studio, but I needed something new today. I’ve heard a lot about this hot yoga and am excited to try it. I sweat during my normal class so I can only imagine the pool of sweat that will be underneath me when I finish today.
The studio is more intimate than I’m used to. Only fifteen people fit in a class, and I like we have a little bit more room to spread out. I’m sure the person next to me doesn’t want to be able to smell me by the time this is done, and I sure don’t want to smell them. I lay my purple mat so it fits in the designated area under the solar panel. This studio is different than the other hot yoga studios. When I researched online which studio to try, this one jumped out at me because they use infrared heating panels instead of just hiking up the heat in the room. This should allow me to still be able to breathe. And yoga is all about the breath.
Two women take the spots to the left of me, both adorably cute in their Capri yoga pants and form-fitting tanks. Not sure what to expect today, I bypassed my pants and chose shorts and a somewhat loose tank, a sports bra underneath. I sit down on my mat crisscross applesauce and start to regret my decision. While I consider myself in shape, there’s no way to stop the inevitable cottage cheese legs that I’ve been graced with. I rearrange my legs in hopes the dimples aren’t noticeable to those around me.
The space to the right of me remains empty. I consider moving my mat over so there’s a space between me and the two cute girls, but if I make the switch now, it will be obvious as to why I’m doing so. I’ll stick it out.
Relaxing music plays through the speakers as I begin stretching. I like to be able to straighten my legs as much as I can during the balance sequences so stretching can only help. I’m certainly losing my flexibility. I doubt I’m as limber as the rest of the young people in this class.
The class begins, and I’m relieved to see the instructor can’t be too far from me in age. Though her dark hair is pulled back, silver strands are streaked throughout. She’s short, but as she moves us through the sun salutations, her body lengthens in ways I only hope mine is. I imagine I look as graceful as she does when she raises her leg in the air and swoops it through next to her hands. I’m sure I’m anything but, my leg bending and having to hop forward for my foot to reach my hand. I’m warm and sweating by the time class is over, but as I lie in Shavasana and the instructor sprays us with lavender, I’m in a state of relaxation I’ve needed so badly over the past few weeks. What took me so long to do this?
Once she dismisses us, I approach her. “Emma? My name is Cassie. I’m new to your class.”
“Hi, Cassie. Thanks for joining us. I hope you enjoyed it.” She’s catching her breath. Instruction while participating can’t be easy, but I love she does so. I’ve attended numerous workout classes and the instructor never joins in. If I’m working, I want my teacher to as well. “Is there a pose I can assist with or do you have any questions? I like to be hands-on and focus where you need me to.”
I’m a fan of this approach and she’s sold me on buying a membership to the studio. I can hop between my other class and this one. “That’s wonderful. This is my first time trying hot yoga. I really enjoyed it.”
“You didn’t find it too hot, did you?”
“Not at all. I was a tad worried, but this is so comfortable. I think I’ll be here every day in the winter.”
Emma’s laugh echoes through the room, and the two girls who were next to me glance back and wave to her. “That’s Josie and Ellen. They’ve been coming since the studio opened. They are very nice and can help you whenever you need it.”
I take note of their names, though I doubt I will remember them. “I use yoga to alleviate stress. I love the slow flow, but I’m curious if there are other options that may be more —”
“Uplifting?” She beams as she interrupts.
“I suppose that could be a good way to describe it. While the relaxation is welcome, I want to be more energized.”
“Our hot happy hour starts in thirty minutes. You’re welcome to stay for that session if you want. It’s a forty-five minutes class.”
I don’t know if I have the energy to take a back to back class, even with a half hour break. “Let me roll up my mat and think about it. I need to grab some water, whether or not I take the class.”
She nods. “Sounds great! Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be around the studio. Samantha teaches the happy hour.”
Who knew yoga had a happy hour? Did they serve wine as well? That would be perfect, like one of those videos I’ve seen online with women doing a downward dog to a wine glass with a straw.
I head back to my mat and crouch down to roll it up. Crap. The last time I did that getting up wasn’t so easy. I tighten my grip as I roll the mat forward and velcro the strap. A small puff of air later, I’m upright with my mat swung around my shoulder. Happy hour sounds fun, but I think I’ll go home and do some work instead.
I exit the studio into the main area. The little shop also sells tank tops, t-shirts, yoga mats, and meditation journals. I don’t need to spend money on any of that. I head for the door and stop in my tracks when I see Keith entering.
“Cassie?” He asks as though me being here is the weird thing.
I slide my fingers down the strap of my yoga bag and adjust my tank top with my right hand. Suddenly self-conscious about my perspiration, I allow my hand to rest on the back of my neck as I greet him. “Keith, hi. I didn’t quite expect to run into you here.”
He waves at someone behind me and I glance back and witness the two girls from class waving and smiling at him. Now I’m trying to remember their names. Was it Josie and Ellen? No. I think Josie and Helen. That sounds right.
“Ditto.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I should ask you the same thing. I come here every other day.”
He’s a regular? Of all the men I can imagine doing yoga, Keith is the last one I would expect. I could see Lucas doing it before Keith. Now I can’t take my eyes off of his arms. I’m sure a lot of his strength comes from advanced poses. I’ve been practicing for many years and have built up a lot of my strength this way. Yoga can be relaxing and healing, but it is a very good way to build muscle as well. Keith certainly proves that.
“Oh. This is my first time here. I’m actually going to sign up for a membership.”
A smile overtakes his face and it brings me ease. It’s not like he owns the place, but since I at first denied membership into Dating for Decades, I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want me here. Yoga is a very personal thing and he may not want me in his space.
“That’s great! Maybe we can take a few classes together.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” I’m not sure where this is going, but I think I like it. Are we, in a way, bonding? Have we found a commonality we can enjoy together?
“Do you want to stick around for the next session?”
I didn’t before, but I do now. I think I want to attend a few more classes on my own, though, before I make a fool out of myself in front of him. I don’t know how good he is. Judging by the fact that he said he has been attending sessions here for many years, I can only imagine he’s pretty advanced. I’m definitely not a beginner at yoga, but adding in the heat is a bit of a change. “I would love to, but I have some work to do.”
“Are you ever not working?” He cocks his head and looks at me with concern.
I realize I still have my hand on the back of my neck and remove it promptly, unsure of where I should place it now that it’s loose. I cross it over my body and take a hold of the strap with the other hand. “I know it seems that way to a lot of people, but I really do love my work. People find it crazy that I like to work after hours, but it’s something I like to do. I get a lot accomplished.”
“As long as you’re happy. That’s all that really matters.”
That’s what people say all the time. As long as you’re happy. How does one find true happiness, though? We go through life with our ups and downs and some days we’re happy and some days we’re not. What constitutes accepting life as it is and being able to shout to the world, “I am ridiculously happy and no one can take that away from me?” Does anyone really have the answer to that? I’m satisfied. I love my job and I make decent money. Shannon is the best friend anyone could ever hope for. I’m not too happy about these chin hairs that have made an appearance, and what seemed like a slow crawl up the hill is now a sprint. I want to slow down before I tumble over. I’ll be forty years old soon and not sure if I can even answer if I’m happy.
“That’s the truth.” Not sure what else I can really say. I don’t want to get into a philosophical conversation in the middle of the yoga studio. Or ever, for that matter.
“Have you thought at all about what we discussed in the group?”
I purse my lips and squint my eyes. Lucas? Did we even discuss the topic enough for him to be asking this? I don’t think anybody really gave me any advice. Not that I need any. What’s done is done and he and I are not moving forward.
“I’m talking about your mother.” Keith specifies as he catches on to my confusion. “Do you think you’re going to go see her?”
Wow. I try to swallow, but it seems impossible at the moment. This wasn’t a topic I was expecting to discuss right here in the open. “I don’t know.” My answer is short and I eye the door, wanting to make a run for it. I could knock him out of the way and be out of here so fast he wouldn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.
“I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through. I think there’s more going on than you’re allowing us to hear about, something that happened between you two that is making this a much more difficult decision, and I can appreciate that. For what it’s worth, she is reaching out to you. After all these years, it could be possible she’s found peace with herself or is trying, and she needs to make amends with you. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. Maybe one percent of me thinks she’s realized all her mistakes, and even though she can’t give me back my childhood, she can try her best to give her all while she’s still here on this Earth. But the rest of me, the rest of me that has been through hell and been through so much pain I feel numb sometimes, that part of me doesn’t believe a word of it. There’s a hidden agenda, something she wants or needs that has nothing to do with being a mother.” I can feel my face turning different shades of red and Keith reaches out and places his hand on my shoulder.
“It’s okay, Cassie. It’s okay to doubt her and it’s okay to be experiencing these emotions. I’m here for you if you need me.”
The only other person who’s ever said those words to me was Shannon. My eyes feel heavy as they fill with tears, tears that I push back so hard I’m afraid they’ll come pouring out of my ears. He’s staring back at me, those dreamy eyes offering me the comfort I’m so desperately in need of. I want to forget everybody is in this room and wrap my arms around him in an embrace that never ends. I want to thank him for those words and press my lips to his, unable to breathe but not caring because this, this is what I needed in my life for all these years. I’ve misjudged him.
Maybe I will stay for the class after all. Keith and I can place our mats next to each other and who knows what may happen. I open my mouth to thank him and tell him I’ll stay when he clears his throat and adds, “The group. The group is here for you.”
Of course. Not him. The group.
Chapter
Nineteen
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Something about what Keith said stuck with me and here I am at Sasha’s house, ready to enter into the boxing ring. If this goes anywhere close to how I think it may, a UFC ring may be a better description.
I arrive at Sasha’s at five-thirty. Dinner is at six, and I want to arrive before my mother. I want home-field advantage. If I’m already there laughing and drinking and enjoying myself, I may deal with this better. She’ll be the one intruding, not me.
I stand in front of the door, holding a bottle of Coca-Cola. I skipped the wine, considering my mom is a recovering addict.
I know she didn’t have an addiction to alcohol, but I don’t want to tempt any further dependencies. Not that I care. However, as I glance down at the bottle, complete with its red label, I can’t help but think of how people talk about how there was cocaine in the product. I know there isn’t, but right now I appreciate the irony.
I knock on the door, swearing at Keith in my head for causing me to question my stubborn attitude. Had I never ran into him at yoga, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. I could be at home on my laptop engrossed in a project. Instead, I’m preparing for an evening of either uncomfortable silence or a roomful of flying accusations. I’m going in with no expectations. Unless the night turning into complete shit can be considered expectation.
The door swings open and Sasha is beaming. It’s clear she’s leaving a fun conversation, and based on her red cheeks, I’m pretty certain she’s been drinking as well. “Why hello there, Cassie!” She yanks the soda out of my arms and pulls me inside. “Welcome to my humble abode. I’m so glad you could make it. And I’m sure your mom is as well.”
She takes my jacket and directs me to the living room. Upon entry, my mother stands up from the couch, straightening her pants and blouse.
She’s exactly like I saw her in the pictures on Facebook. Her hair reminds me of a raincloud, a mix of whites and grays that sweep across her cheeks. Her hair is so long and all one length. As she moves it out of her face her wrinkles become apparent and the bags under her eyes look as though she hasn’t slept in years, which is probably true. A mound of clouds hovers over me and lightning strikes inside as I try to control the beating of my heart back to a normal pace. My stomach twirls in circles, and I wish someone could stop the room from spinning. Every piece of my heart is being ripped apart and put back together, confused by this woman standing before me. This isn’t the woman who didn’t care about me as a child. She doesn’t appear frail and damaged. Or lost and depressed. She’s aged, but she’s happy.
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