Breathe: A Novel (14 page)

By the time I woke up, the fog had rolled in, and my room was dark and chilly. Every muscle in my body was tense, and my hamstring pulsed. I groped for the light and covered myself with a blanket. Okay, so maybe I was alone. Alone and lame, literally. I reached for my phone. 8:34pm. I had five unread texts from Jenny.

sorry I couldn’t make class.… call me after! xoxox

how was it? bet you rocked, badass!!!! call me

where are you??

alex, pls call me a.s.a.p.!!!

8pm, just called the garden…. on my way

My heart filled with gratitude. I pulled the blankets up to my chin and waited. Five minutes later, I heard the main door downstairs.

“Hello?” Jenny called up the stairwell. In seconds, there was a soft knock at my door.

“Come in,” I said.

She opened it slowly. “There you are. Oh girl, look at you!”

I smiled at her from my bed. “Quite the badass, huh?”

“What happened? Tell me everything.” She walked to the window and closed it. “But first I’m going to make you some tea. It’s freezing in here.” “Jenny, you’re an angel,” I said.

“I don’t know about that.” She raised her eyebrows. “But can I get you anything else?”

My hot tub? My house? My husband to massage me?

“No. I’m all set. I’m just glad you’re here.” I meant it.

“Before I forget,” she said from the kitchen. “I just ran into Nancy, and she wants to come over tomorrow. She has some ‘fabulous’ crutches for you to borrow.” Jenny emerged from the kitchen balancing my entire Limoges tea service on its sterling tray. She looked up carefully and smiled. “How did Louise miss this one?”

I laughed; the few things that had come with me from Marin now seemed so over-the-top. I pointed to my ‘new’ flea market coffee table. “You can put it there.”

“Beautiful,” she said with approval.

“That’s a stretch, but you’re kind.”

“No, really.” She got down on her hands and knees and examined the table from all angles. “We can totally Shabby Chic this thing.” She poured our tea, placed a cookie on each saucer, and handed one to me.

“Now.” She got settled on the bed and took a sip. “Tell me.”

I spared no detail: my place in line, my spot in the studio, the sequences and the fateful splits. I even confessed my crush. Jenny was riveted, hand over her mouth and shaking her head. At first, she seemed to be having a very emotional reaction. Then slowly, I realized that she thought the whole fiasco was . . . not mortifying, not unforgivable, but
hilarious.
Suddenly, we were howling with laughter, and looking at each other just made it worse. It was exactly what I needed.

“
Old Yeller
?” She picked up the case, trying to catch her breath.

“Andy brought it.”

Jenny looked at me. “That’s pretty cute, Alex. He’s kind of the whole package, you know. Funny, smart, sensitive. And those brown eyes . . . ” she sighed.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I said innocently. I thought of Andy’s strong arms as we lurched up the stairs, and his hands propping up my leg.

“I see that look on your face.” We were both laughing again. It was nice not to be taking life so seriously. Jenny looked at her watch. “So let me leave you with those sweet thoughts.” She stood and zipped up her hoodie.

“Don’t going throwing me into the arms of another man, Jenny. I can barely handle myself, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Okay,” she sang.

“I’m serious.”

“So you didn’t make plans to see each other again?”

“Well,” I hesitated.

“Yeeees?”

“We
are
having dinner next weekend . . . ”

“Ah HA!”

“ . . . at Galen’s.”

“
What?
I can’t believe you didn’t mention this earlier! That is huge!” She sat down again.

“You didn’t assume that after my stunning performance, Galen would invite me to dinner?” Jenny threw a pillow at me. “Yes, no thanks to me, I am supposedly having dinner at Galen’s. Turns out Andy and Galen are long lost friends. It was very odd.”

“Crazy. What a small world. So, dinner at Galen’s. With Andy.”

“And Marco.”

“And
Marco
,” she enunciated. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

“Jaw-dropping,” I said.

“He’s a total love, too. Those two are a match made in yoga heaven.”

“I have to agree, as sad as I am to give up my fantasy.”

She bent over and gave me a warm hug. “Love you and your fantasies, girl.”

“Love you, too. Say hi to Tucker for me.”

“I will.” She smiled at the mention of his name. “He misses you.” Out of nowhere, I felt tears. Jenny looked at me. “Alex, you’ve been through a lot. It’s going to take some time to feel normal again.” She piled another comforter on the bed. “Just be patient with yourself. Be
kind
to yourself. And keep practicing your breathing. Promise?”

“Are you worried I’ll never do yoga again?” I laughed, wiping my eyes. Jenny smiled.

“I have not one worry about your future, Alex Greene,” she said like a news broadcaster. She picked up her bag, put on her coat, and blew me a kiss.

“Goodnight, Jenny. And thank you.”

***

I slept surprisingly well that night. I woke early to take Billy out, limping up and down the block a few times before crawling back up the stairs and into bed. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to stand. And I didn’t want to face my yoga posters. Breathing exercises could not possibly distract from the reality of my failure. I looked at the ceiling and mapped its cracks, imagining what would happen if an earthquake struck at that moment.

I finally sat up when my phone rang. I looked at Mom’s picture on the little screen and debated whether to pick up. I dreaded her reaction to the news about my leg. The phone vibrated insistently. Billy lifted his head and looked at me.

Okay, okay.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Honey. How are you doing?” The connection was crackly, and she sounded breathless. She was probably trudging through her garden with a bucket of compost; I’d have bet on it.

“Are you walking out to the barn?”

“Yes, darling. Mrs. Carlton wants to borrow Charmer’s tack. I figure it might as well get some use,” she said. “He’s pretty much retired now. I’ve been riding Winger for you, though, don’t you worry.”

“Hmm.”

“Are you okay?” she asked. It sounded like she had stopped walking.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I just—”

“Alex, what happened?”

“I just had a little accident.”

She sucked in her breath and said, “What happened? Where are you?” I imagined her whirling around looking for me somewhere in the trees.

“Mom. Mom. I’m fine. It happened yesterday. In yoga. I just pulled my hamstring.”

“Oh.” She sounded relieved. “Well, damn, sweetheart. I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve never heard of someone pulling a muscle in yoga. What on earth were you doing?”

I knew she was questioning me because she cared, but all I felt was judgment. “Actually Mom, I‘m really not up to talking right now. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Wait, wait, honey. I can hear the pain in your voice. How bad is it?” Buckets were clanging again in the background.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Well, damn, Alex.” She clicked her tongue. Mom liked to solve problems, and the distance between us made her feel powerless and pissed off. My whole life it had pained her when I got hurt, was excluded, or had messed up in some terrible way. She never seemed to make mistakes, but when I did, she was beside herself, talking incessantly with Dad about how she could have prevented it.

“Please, Mom. Just forget about it. I’m fine.”

“Well okay. But what about Billy? Are you taking care of him?”

“Of course I’m taking care of him,” I said, unable to mask my defensiveness. “You’re not the only one who cares for her animals.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Alex.” The strain between us was palpable.

“Besides, my friends are helping out,” I said, intending to clarify that I still had a life despite my inability to do anything right.

“Friends?” She sounded hopeful.

“Yes, of course.”

Mom had been exasperated by my exclusive devotion to Haley when we were kids. She’d urged me to make friends with girls from her riding clinics or gardening groups, inviting them over for cookies and games. I’d sneak into the den to call Haley and give her a blow-by-blow of the “Laura Ingalls scene,” as she called it. Years later, when I’d moved to Marin, Mom had insisted that I make sure my community was not entirely comprised of the Edwards clan and their people. “Reach out, build your
own
network of friends.” Back then, I took her suggestion to mean that she did not accept my new family; but now I saw the wisdom in her words. What would I have done without Nancy and Jenny?

“Tell me about them.”

“Remember Jenny, Tucker’s wife?” She waited for more description. “Petite, redhead; she wore that beautiful, lavender dress to our wedding?”

“I don’t remember things like that, Alex.”

I held my breath. I didn’t have it in me to fight. “She has freckles, very cute. She’s in the picture of me cutting the cake?”

“Oh, yes, I remember her. Have you become friends?”

“I’ve known her since I started dating Tripp.”

“Oh, I guess I’ve just never heard you talk about her before,” she said.

Was that possible? Had I never mentioned Jenny in the whole year that I’d known her?

“Anyway, she’s great. And my neighbor, Nancy—well, old neighbor. Did you ever meet her?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“She’s coming over today with some crutches.” I tried to make my life sound full and promising. Or at least not empty and tragic, as I’m sure my mom imagined.

“Well that’s kind of her.” We paused again. “Both of these women live in Marin; who helped you home after your accident?”

“Oh. Uh. Another friend here in the City. See, mom, nothing to worry about. Lots of friends,” I tried to sound casual.

“A new friend?” Why was this feeling so intrusive?

“Yes, Mom. He’s a new friend.”
Shoot!

“He? Did he do the class with you?” she asked, suddenly sounding even more interested. I needed to change the subject.

“No, he just picked me up. He was at work. He sells vegetables. There’s a great farmer’s—”

“Oh, is he a gardener?” She was pleased. “A man with some dirt under his nails. Now, that’s what you need.”

“Yes, but . . . but,” I stammered. I knew she just wanted me to be happy. But I couldn’t withstand pressure or expectations of any kind, no matter how well-intentioned. “Mom, I’m sorry, but I’ve really gotta go. I promise I’ll call you later, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I worry about you. I wish you could see that the Universe is guiding you. All you need to do is trust it. That strong will of yours gets in the way.”

“Enough about the Universe! I’d give anything to hear you admit that something in your life is less than perfect!”

“Alex,” she spoke quietly. “I love you. I only want you to find your way.”

“You want me to find
your
way.”

“I’m sorry that’s how you feel.”

I was mad, sad, and defeated, and most of it had nothing to do with my mom.

“I’ve got to go. Say hi to Dad.” I hesitated. “Love you.” We never ended a call without those two words.

“Love you.”

I hung up and fell back onto my bed, causing Billy to leap to the floor.

“You make it look so easy,” I said, and struggled to get my feet on the floor.

***

I managed to get myself showered and dressed before Nancy arrived, bearing crutches and a potted Meyer lemon tree. “Phew! Wonder how long it’ll take me to get used to those stairs!” She looked at me with wide eyes and smiled. “But what do I have to complain about? How are you feeling, dear?” She walked into the kitchen, opened the window, and placed the pot on the fire escape.

“Better now that you’re here.”

“Well, you look unexpectedly gorgeous.” She gestured to my Chi Chi yoga pants and ZEAL tunic, which had become my extravagant pjs. “Sad and grey, but gorgeous. Is it the leg, sweetie?”

“No, I just talked to my mom. Sometimes it’s so hard for us to communicate.”

“Oh, darling. Mothers and daughters—the most complex and growth-inspiring of all relationships.” She filled a mug and watered the tree.

“Did you get along with your mother, Nance?”

She smiled and plucked a few curling leaves. “Whitney Boardman Fox was an awe-inspiring woman. I loved her with every fiber of my being—but did we fight! Daughters need to differentiate themselves, but mamas have a hard time cutting that golden cord. Even the most enlightened.” I felt a weight lift. Nancy was self-help in a bottle.

“I admire my mom more than anyone in the world, but she drives me crazy. I swear every time I talk to her that I’m not going to react,” I said, watching Nancy putter around my tiny kitchen.

“Well, of course she does! She’s supposed to. It’s the divine order of things. Just you wait though. Her wisdom will astound you once you see it.”

“I already do see it,” I admitted. “I just get so frustrated that she always has all the answers. I want to find some for myself.”

“Honey, stop looking so distraught. Your mama loves you. She just feels your hurt from miles away, and it’s excruciating for her.”

“Nancy, how are you so wise?”

“Oprah,” she said with a straight face. “And I’ve lived many more years than you have. But please, let’s keep that our little secret,” she said. I laughed. “I only hope Alicia sees me as a conduit of wisdom someday.”

I had never met Alicia. Just before I arrived in Marin, she moved to a small town outside of Denver and, according to Nancy, devoted herself to the eradication of non-native plants in her adopted Rocky Mountain home. The irony was classic. I wondered if she sat somewhere judging her mother like I judged mine.

“Thanks for the tree.” I looked at it gleaming in the sun.

“You are welcome, darling. Nothing like a slice of fresh lemon in your Pellegrino.”