Breathe: A Novel (8 page)

What am I doing here?

I shouldn’t be wearing this.

My pits are disgusting.

Then I felt a large, warm hand pressing down on my lower back, and Galen’s voice was right by my ear, saying, “Breathe.”

I could have burst into tears, it felt so good. I heard one of those long, high-pitched sighs escaping my own lips. He held his hand there for a long time, and I swear, I wanted to stay there forever. All the dark thoughts vanished from my mind, and there was only my breath and his hand—

“Come on to all fours, and press into downward dog.”

Uhhh . . .
he was still standing next to me, and I had no idea what to do. Awkwardly, I looked over at Jenny whose butt was in the air with straight arms and legs making her into an upside-down “V.” Now Galen was behind me, his hands on my hipbones, pulling
my
butt into the air and right up against his—

“Nice,” he murmured, and stood there for a moment before stepping back. Then I heard his voice getting farther away, saying, “Three part breath: belly, ribs, and heart, floating up and down.
Ujjayi.
”

I was shaking, from the pose or from Galen, I wasn’t sure. But I’d stay in that “downward dog” as long as he wanted me there. What just happened, anyway? Was that my imagination? Or did I just practically do it with the hot yoga teacher right here in the middle of the studio?

“Remember, any thoughts that arise are just that: thoughts. They are not you. Notice them, and let them dissolve.”

Oh, but I was enjoying those thoughts.

As we moved through various excruciating contortions, I waited for Galen to come back and put his hands on me again. I blatantly looked around at the other students, trying to follow what the rest of the class was doing. They all seemed to speak the same secret language, following cryptic commands like, “High to low. Up and over. Right high and stack. Big yawn.” There were long stretches of standing on one leg while the other stuck straight out to the front, then to the back, then to the side. It was murder. There were lunges and backbends and some bizarre circus act called “bird of paradise”.

Jenny actually did all of these while I sweated and grunted and groped. Honestly, I can’t even imagine how silly I looked, especially when I fell onto my face trying to copy her “crow.” She went from a squat to this crazy balance, resting her knees on her elbows and picking up her feet before ending up in a headstand. This stuff was hard. How the heck did everybody in the entire universe know how to do it? Was
this
the same yoga that Nancy and Tammy and Tripp were talking about? For the first time, I didn’t wince at the thought of his name. Instead, the fire of competition was finally sparked, and I just wanted to kick his ass. In a deluded moment of yoga fervor inspired by lust for another man, I vowed to learn it all. I was gonna rope this beast. Like Jenny said:
Game on, baby.

For the rest of the class, I threw myself into it. I was shameless. My back was hunched and my feet were flexed and my hair was frizzing out of control. Galen rewarded my wild enthusiasm with multiple visits to correct and “adjust” me. And when the rest of the class tipped over into ‘triangle pose,’ I stayed upright, watching Jenny to get it just right.

“Turn your feet so they’re parallel with the short edges of your mat. Open your legs wide, and point your right foot toward the front edge of your mat.” He was behind me again, speaking in a low voice with his hands on my hips. Then they were on my ribcage.

“Now shift your torso to the right, keeping your hips in place.”

His hands were on my wrists now and he was pulling them in opposite directions.

Yes, yes . . .

He was tipping me over to touch my shin with my right hand. “Long waist, straight spine,” he said, tracing his finger along my back. “Left hand reaches skyward.” He clasped his hands around mine and pulled up, up. It was so . . .

Shoot! Hairy pits!

I snapped out of it, flinging my body back up.

“Are you okay?” Galen looked concerned.

I was mortified, but somehow still wanted to jump him. Blushing and nodding, I clamped my arms around myself and said, “Mm-hmm, yep.” Crystal was watching us in the mirror.

“Why don’t you take child’s pose before we move into savasana?” His hand was on my arm.

“Mm-hmm, okay.” More nodding and clamping.

Obediently, I got down on my mat, pressed my forehead to the ground, and reached forward with my fingertips.
This
I could do. Alone in the dark, quiet space of my specially-assigned pose, I felt peaceful. I was filled with the memory of being four and hiding in the hall closet of my parents’ house. I would push behind the winter coats and sit on the vacuum, staring into darkness and listening to absolute silence.
Maybe that’s why they call this child’s pose; it brings you back to feeling safe in solitude
. I hadn’t felt that in such a long time. And that’s when I actually heard it: my breath in three parts. Belly, ribs, and heart, expanding and contracting, in and out. The soft thudding in my chest like Winger’s hoof beats on the High Desert sand . . .

“Alex?”

There was a puddle of drool in the center of my mat and both feet had fallen asleep. I looked up with a start and wiped the corner of my mouth. My forehead felt bruised.

“Were you asleep?” Jenny asked. “I thought you were just taking child’s pose for savasana.”

Galen was nowhere to be seen.

“Who, me? No. I wasn’t sleeping.” I was completely disoriented.

Jenny smiled and stood up. “Pretty killer, huh?”

I rolled my mat with trembling hands. “Yeah. It was really—” What could I say? Exhausting? Exciting? Inspiring?

“I know. It’s overwhelming.” She put out her hand to pull me up.

Whoa, was I sore. My arms and legs felt like Jell-O. I hobbled behind her on pins and needles to the top of the stairs and wondered how the heck to get down without falling. Maybe I could scoot down on my butt. Galen was down below, bowing to his students as they left. He glanced up and smiled. I forced myself to smile back and waited for him to look away, but no, he just stood there watching. So I bit my lip and stepped forward on searing quads and prickly feet, crawling toward the bottom step.

“Your friend worked hard in there, Jenny.”

“This is Alex, Galen. Today was her
first
real yoga class,” she trilled. “And I just
knew
she would love you . . . it.”

“Really.” he looked at me hard. Was he reading my aura? “Well, Alex, I hope you’ll come back and share your energy with us again. The Beginner’s Mind is a powerful thing. The most powerful thing.” His eyes now rested in the middle of my forehead. I remembered him referring to the ‘third eye’ in class. Maybe he was looking into my soul? I shifted my weight painfully, barely able to stand.

“I might not be able to leave,” I said.

Again, he laughed.

“Well that wouldn’t be too bad, would it? I’ve always thought I could make a home of those pink cushions over there.”

It was official. I was in love.

Twenty-four hours after my “yoga initiation,” I wondered if I had done permanent damage to my body. I was so sore that even blinking hurt. Lying in bed as motionless as possible, I cursed myself for being so competitive.

“Easy does it,” Mom would say when I was training for an event. But I think she was proud of my reckless abandon. I missed her.

I picked up my cell and scrolled through the missed calls, three from my parents and one from Jackson. At this point, they knew something was up. I’d called home a week ago, but couldn’t bring myself to tell them that Tripp had left. Holding back the tears was all I could manage.

“You sound sad,” Mom said.

“Fall allergies,” I deflected.

“Find some nettles and make a nice tea.”

“Will do,” I said. “Gotta go.”

I’d cried all afternoon.

I couldn’t endure another disingenuous call. It was time to tell her. When I almost hung up after the first ring, I reminded myself she was the one person who would truly appreciate that I had attended a yoga class.

“Hello?” My dad answered.

“Hi, Dad!” I welled up. What was it about parents? I was instantly ten years old again.

“Hey, there, stranger! How’s my girl? We sure do miss you around here.” He said this every time I called.

“How’s the ranch, Dad?”

“It’s another beautiful fall up here, darlin’, aspens blazing and steelhead biting. You and Tripp should come up. Mom would be thrilled.”

I swallowed hard. We hadn’t been to Sisters since our engagement party.

“Is she there?”

“Already passing me up, are you?” he teased. “Just give me a quick rundown first. Tell me one thing about life in the big city.”

“It’s not the big city,” I said in a small voice. It was shameful how I used to blab about Tripp’s worldliness, our home, the fabulousness of Marin, and my aspirations as a society woman. “And I’m a little under the weather, so I can’t talk long.”

“My Alex, sick? You have the immune system of an ox. That’s not like you.”

“I actually went to a really hard yoga class, and I am so sore I can barely walk.”

“Yoga, eh? Your mom’ll flip. She still hasn’t converted me, I’ll have you know.”

“Hang tough, Dad. Those yogarillas can be hard to withstand.”

He gave a deep and heartfelt laugh.

“You bring that sense of humor up here for a visit, would you? Your mother just walked in, so I’ll let you tell her the big news yourself. Love you, hon.”

Mom picked up the phone. “Big news! Don’t tell me I am going to be a grandmother!” I sucked in my breath. “Alex, are you there?”

“No baby, Mom. I just went to yoga. That’s all.” Silence.

“Is everything okay, honey?”

“Tripp left me,” I blurted. And with that, the floodgates opened. I heaved and sobbed into the phone.

“Oh, sweet girl. I am so sorry. I am so so sorry,” she soothed. My entire body throbbed from yesterday’s yoga boot camp. “Honey, it’s going to be okay,” my mom said quietly over and over until I drew a long, shuddering breath. “Do you want to come home for a little while?”

“I don’t know, Mom. I’m afraid to leave. What if . . . ” I hesitated. “What if it’s all been a big mistake? I keep hoping that something can be fixed. That
I
can be fixed and make it all right again.”

She was quiet.

“And besides, I’m so sore from that yoga class, I can barely make it to the bathroom, never mind Oregon.”

She laughed sympathetically, then paused.

“Do you want me to come down there?”

I did. I wanted someone to help me pick up the pieces. But I knew that this time, it had to be me. Not my mother, not Haley, not Tripp.

“No. But thank you,” I almost whispered.

We sat without speaking for a moment.

“We love you, Alex. And we’re proud of you.
You
do not need to ‘be fixed.’”

Defensiveness surged in my chest. I knew she would blame it all on Tripp. She never trusted him in the first place. But how could she keep absolving me? My only success was in messing things up: careers, friendships, marriage, finances. I was a complete disaster.

“What could you possibly be proud of me for, Mom? The failed careers? The society husband who decided I wasn’t deep enough for him?”

“Honey,” she protested.

“Really, Mom, why are you proud of me?” I asked. Then I shook my head. “No, never mind. Please. Forget I asked.” I didn’t mean for our conversation to sour. I needed to get off the phone. I was mad at Tripp, not my mom. I did not want to take this out on her as I had everything else in my life.

“Alex, what I’m saying is that we’re here for you. Please believe me, sweetheart. Everything happens for a reason.”

I softened, but my heart ached. I was in pain all over, in every way.

“I know, Mom, just like you’ve always said. I’m gonna go now. I promise I’ll call soon.”

I hung up and forced myself to stand, very slowly. It took ages to get from my bedroom to the kitchen, where Billy waited patiently to go out. I slid my feet across the Italian tile floor toward the sink for some water, but raising my arm to get a glass was excruciating. I decided to go thirsty.

The only option I had was to get in the bath. Although Epsom salt was a staple in my mother’s medicine cabinet for soaking after long rides, all I had was
fleur de sel
. It would have to do. I emptied the sterling saltbox into the bottom of the tub along with some foaming body wash and cranked the faucet. Watching bubbles multiply and drift across the surface was just about all I could handle at that moment. Carefully, I lowered myself into the steaming froth and yelped out loud. My mind was reeling from the conversation with my mom. I willed myself to think about something pleasant.

Galen.

If he weren’t so hot, I’d probably be able to walk today. Lying back, I considered the secret to these women’s yoga obsession: gorgeous teachers and their ‘adjustments.’ Tripp and Lauren popped into my head, and I sunk lower in the water. I forced my focus back to Galen and how to make him fall in love with me. With some books, DVDs, and a personal trainer, how hard could it be to learn all this stuff? I could buy some more of that “hoisting” spandex, learn a few crazy tricks, and land an instructor of my own. I closed my eyes and imagined Galen massaging the perfectly defined muscles of my imaginary back. Sigh.

Ding-dong.
I opened my eyes.

Ding-dong.
I furrowed my brow.

Ding-dong.
What the—?

I sat up too quickly, my abdominals protesting. “Ow!” Arms wrapped around my middle, I leaned forward and listened, hoping whoever it was would go away. Ten o’clock on a Sunday morning? It had to be someone selling something. Everyone I knew would be at home, on her second cappuccino, reading the
Times’
‘Styles’ section. I slouched back into the tub and groaned.

Ding-dong.
Please go away.

I submerged myself entirely, plugging my nose and letting water fill my ears. When I came up for air, my doorbell was having a full-on tantrum.

Ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong!
Seriously?

Suddenly, there was silence, and relieved, I cranked the faucet for more hot water. In no time, my thoughts started bouncing again. Needing a distraction, I reached for a magazine, hoping for a mind-numbing tabloid. Instead, I pulled up
Yoga Journal
. Of course. But what was once completely irritating now held new interest for me. I leafed through the pages, taking in a photo tutorial of “Warrior I” when—

“Ahhhh!” I screamed. Louise’s face had popped into view, framed by condensation on the bathtub’s picture window. I ducked, splashing into the sudsy water.

“Enough is enough, Alexis. Now please come let me in.”

Even with a muffled voice and blurred-out face she was unmistakable. That window was ten feet off the ground! How in the world did she get up there? Clearly, the woman had supernatural powers. Everything bent to her will. Hiding beneath a thinning layer of bubbles, I now could see that nothing was worth this indignity. I felt like those poor stocked trout in a recreational fishing pond. The net was coming and there was no place to hide.

“Alexis?” She tapped a Royalty Red fingernail on the window, her titanium bob tipping back and forth.

I lay there clutching the now-soaked magazine in my one un-submerged hand. My eyes landed on the soggy image of a fearless-looking woman who gazed intently at what lay before her: eyes level, back straight, arms and legs strong. A Zen badass. Louise rapped again. Then seized by inspiration, I sat bolt upright, put my face right in front of hers and shouted, “Hi, Louise!”

Her eyes were like saucers as she fell back, away from the windows and onto the camellia hedges below. I couldn’t help myself and stood up stark naked to get a better view. There she was, sprawled in the powder blue pantsuit I’d come to know and loathe. She’d piled up all our lawn furniture to create a scaffold, and it too had tumbled down around her. For a split second, I was glad there hadn’t been a more serious accident. I called through the window, “You got a little something on your lapel.”

“Arrrr. You, Alex, are unbearable,” she seethed.

“I’ll meet you out front.”

***

“What took you so long?” she spat, brushing phantom insects from her hair, standing just inside the front door.

Back straight. Gaze level. The Warrior.

“Sorry to make you wait, Louise, but I wasn’t exactly expecting you. I was in the bath, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Her eyes were on the pile of discarded yoga clothes and mat by the door. “
You
did a yoga class, Alex?”

“I did, as a matter of fact.”

She shook her head.

“Oh, this is all too sad. Do you really think that could possibly win back Tripp’s affection? You need to move on, Alexis. We both knew from the beginning that this was destined to fail. Now. Please. Go and get yourself dressed.”

She waved her hand and averted her eyes as if she couldn’t bear to look at me and my towel toga. It had taken all of ten seconds for her to regain her composure and domination of her surroundings. I narrowed my eyes, wishing she’d broken her leg in that fall, wishing Billy had chewed the emblem off her Tory Burch sandals as she lay trapped in the bushes. Not very yogic. Galen would never think like that, neither would . . . Lauren. I tried to shake the thought from my head.

Zen badass
.

“I’m sorry Louise, did you need something?” I blinked and smiled serenely.

“Alexis, you know exactly what I need. You can only avoid this for so long, and I am trying to prevent the acquisition of attorneys.” Louise spoke like she was reading from the
Wall Street Journal
.

I glanced at the manila envelope clutched in her left hand. It was embossed with the unmistakable Stanford-red logo of her law firm. Flick Fletcher and Howe.

“Looks like you already have.” I pointed.

With a sniff, she sauntered through the door, heels clicking and Harry Winston jangling. She scrutinized the house as she made her way to the living room. I waited for her to pull out her white glove and check for dust. After a long moment surveying the space with a scowl, she sat one butt cheek down on the white silk sofa.

“Tea, please.”

She placed her purse beside her and began to pull papers from the envelope. My heart raced. I knew this was coming, but somehow seeing the papers, seeing Louise—I had no idea where I was going to go. Home to Oregon with my tail between my legs again? Be my mother’s ranch hand for the rest of my life? I would become one of those agoraphobic women who lived with their parents so long that their only societal contribution was crocheted potholders at the Grange Hall Christmas Bazaar.

“Tea, please.” She looked at me and made a gesture as if to shoo me away.

Disoriented, I turned toward the kitchen, then caught myself. I squared my body to hers.

“If you would like tea, Louise, it’s in the kitchen. In fact, you know exactly where it is since you bought it and put it away.”

Along with everything else in this house.

“Precisely. Which is why the least you could do is to get it for me.” With a disgusted sigh, she stood up and went to the kitchen. I grabbed the papers and curled up in Tripp’s oversized leather reading chair. But when I read the first line of the document, my heart sank. It was, quite simply, a legal declaration that everything belonged to Tripp and Louise. The Warrior was crumbling. I willed myself to sit up straight in the chair.

I am still his wife.

He begged me to marry him.

I thought of our wedding day: holding his hand, looking into his eyes, how we promised to love each other forever. I never had any gold digger fantasy of taking him for his millions; I wanted to live this life with him. My throat stung with the threat of tears.
Not in front of Louise
. I drew a deep breath and resolved that yes, I did feel entitled to some sort of compensation for the deep humiliation of getting dumped after less than a year of marriage. I had turned myself inside out to make Tripp happy. Months of scrutiny and self-consciousness. Months of waiting for all this to feel real. To feel like me.

“Where am I in all of this?” I called toward the kitchen. “You can’t just erase me, Louise.”

She returned with her cup of tea and flashed me a cautionary look that made me feel like a child.

“If Tripp had seen this side of you, I’m not sure you would have made it the year that you did,” she said, scanning the living room again and nodding to yet another pile of clothes on the floor.

She was right. I’d been behaving like a child since the beginning. Caring so much about what she thought. Needing to fit in with the Edwards Family.

I had trusted Tripp when he said, “A prenup is standard, Alex, something that’s always done when there’s an estate in question. Don’t worry. We’ll be together in our rockers on the porch someday.”

I had looked up at him. His eyes were so clear. I wanted to believe him.