The Willingness to Burn (13 page)

Chapter 23

Anna

I always believed that one day I would find my true love, but if you had told me at the beginning of the summer that I would meet him in the back of a yoga class, I would have never believed you. I also would have never believed you if you told me even a week ago that I was going to be traveling the world by his side. My prince, my knight in shining armor, come to whisk me away from the world I knew and bring me to something much better. A new definition of what the word life truly means. It all started after my yoga class.

“Namaste,” I said with a deep exhale. The six people in the class echoed my words and breaths back to me. The soft indirect light of the room reflected back on the faces of my students. I remembered that most of them were regulars. Most of them, except him. I had seen him in class before, but he wasn’t an everyday type of guy. He was cute. He had that refined rugged type of good looks. He had just lightly graying hair and a well-maintained beard that was just a notch or two above “scruffy” length. He looked like he would fit in perfectly wearing a flannel shirt and swinging an axe at a tree or in a suit standing in front of a board room.

I immediately thought he was attractive. But just to look at. He was too old for me. I tried not to date anyone who is more than two years older than I am. And he looked to be somewhere in his thirties. I didn’t get why my girlfriends always did that. I guess I was the lucky one who didn’t have daddy issues. And I know what they all say, that girls mature faster than boys, but still. I didn’t want to date an old man who couldn’t keep up with me.

“Thank you all for coming this evening.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks, Anna.”

I smiled. I was so grateful that yoga was what I got to do for a living. Well, that and meaningless office work. But this was the most rewarding part of the day. Being a yoga instructor doesn’t come with a big paycheck unless you have a super cult following.

I remembered as the class dissipated and everyone left, he was still there. He seemed to be taking his time getting his stuff together. You know, that type of intentional stalling.

“Great class,” he said to me.

“Thank you. You did great today.” I smiled back politely.

“Thanks, I mean it, you can tell that you really put your heart into this.”

“Really?”

He grinned at me, and I could see a twinkle in his eye. I think I instantly got a good vibe from him. But I was very in touch with my spiritual side, and I got feelings about people all the time.

“Yeah, it shows.”

“I really do. I love yoga, it’s such a spiritual experience, and being able to give it to other people …”

He smiled and looked back at me. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Um, yoga in general? Or the classes?”

“The classes …. Or yoga in general.” He shrugged and smiled.

Something about his tone or inflection was funny, and I tried not to smile, but I could feel it in my cheeks before I responded. So I looked up and away from him and tried to think.

“About a year with the classes and maybe four years before that?”

“Wow, really?”

“Yeah, why? Is that surprising?”

“Hey, five years is a long time to do any one thing.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Hey, I’m gonna grab some food next door, do you want to join me?”

“Oh, I’m actually not supposed to date students,” I lied. It just seemed like that was easier to say then,
You’re too old for me, pops
. Besides, I swore that I wouldn’t date anyone for a while, and just kind of work on
me
.

“That’s okay, I wasn’t really asking you on a date.”

“Oh.”

“I just hate eating by myself at restaurants is all.”

It was the most awkward silence ever. Yoga studios are set up to be quiet so that they are zenful and so people can relax and that just made that awkward silence
so
much worse.

“So, yeah, I’ll just get that to go then.”

He laughed.

“It was good seeing you, what’s your name again?”

“Anna.”

“Nice to meet you, Anna.” He smiled warmly at me. Then he picked up his stuff and began walking toward the door.

“Hey, you never told me your name!” I called out as he reached the door. He stopped and turned to me. The door was wide open and his hand was on the knob.

“I know.” He grinned and disappeared out the door. The spring-loaded wooden door swung closed behind him.

How we came to date is a different story entirely. I taught in a nice area. I feel like most places that can support a yoga studio are typically in nice areas. I mean, seriously, it’s not like I was in the ghetto or something. I mean I never worried about my car getting broken into or anything like that. But I guess that crime happens everywhere. No matter where you are.

Later that same night, the night that I fell for him, without ever formally meeting him. It’s funny the things you remember. I didn’t even know his name until I saw it on his card. I was walking out. It might have been another twenty minutes since he left. Maybe ten or fifteen, I’m not really sure. I have no concept of time when I’m busy. However long it takes for me to finish paperwork, lock up the money, and lock everything up. I walked down the stairs and out onto the street.

My car was parked behind the building, There was a small alleyway that went between our building and the restaurant next door. For some reason, it always smelled like onions. I don’t know sure what they were doing back there, but I was almost brought to tears every time I walked through the alley. But, anyway. So, I walked out of the front door and took my normal route down the alleyway. But midway through I heard a footstep in a puddle. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw a man walking in the alleyway about ten feet behind me.

Now as I mentioned, I was in a nice neighborhood. They didn’t put a Coach store in a neighborhood where you had to worry about gang bangers robbing you in the street. At least, that’s what I had thought. But just to be safe, I started walking very fast. I reached into my bag to grab my mace. A lady never leaves home without it, but I couldn’t find it. Of all times to be lost in my own disorganized bag!

I could hear the footsteps grow faster behind me. It was the sound of a man on a mission. Not walking casually, but in hot pursuit. I started to run, but as soon as I picked up speed, he grabbed me. My body flew through the air as he slammed me against the wall. I was just a few feet from the end of the alleyway. But it seemed so far. He pushed me against the cold brick exterior of my building. His breath was drunk and heavy on me.

“Drop the bag,” he whispered to me. I can still hear his voice. That deep bass pelted over me. I looked up at him. He was tall, probably over six feet, but to be fair I’m 5’2” and a terrible judge of height, especially when my feet are barely on the ground. He had dark hair and these gross rapey eyes. They were a steely blue, like serial killer eyes. And as he pressed me up against the wall, his hand covered my mouth, and for just a second, his face hit the light and I saw this ugly scar on his chin. It was a jagged scar that looked like he had been carved up by a knife or something.

I dropped my bag. I was confident that he would not hesitate to hurt me for its contents, and it wasn’t like there was much in there. Honestly, I’d be more upset about losing the bag itself; it was Gucci, and what was he going to do with it? Throw it out? But anyway, so I just dropped my new Gucci bag. But he didn’t pick it up.

“Now drop those pants.”

“What?”

“Now!”

He gripped my throat tight, and I felt the blood start to rush to my head.

“I always loved yoga pants,” he whispered, and my skin literally began to crawl. Tears began to stream from my eyes. My face operated without my consent.

“But, but …” I sobbed out through empty breaths. I wasn’t able to get out more than a squeak. Like a gerbil being crushed by a snake.

“Now!”

I started to wheeze. I had asthma as a kid and in situations of high stress, it would come back sometimes, and that was one of those times.

Through panicked breaths and heavy sniffles, I tried to utter the words “Pl-Pl-Plea—”

But he yelled, “Now!”

Then just before I dared to accept my fate, I heard a sound in the distance. A footstep in a puddle. And a voice followed it.

“Hey!”

I glanced over and saw a silhouette of a figure approaching from the alleyway. He put a paper bag down and stepped out into the light.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the older man from class said.

“This is none of your business, walk away.”

“That’s my girlfriend, you better fucking believe this is my business,” he said, stepping closer. His confidence was unwavering despite the imposing figure of the other man.

The large, evil man turned his gaze and focused on him. His grip on my throat lessened.

“You seem like the type of guy who really likes having all of his teeth,” the older man said, stretching his hands and cracking his knuckles.

The larger man stepped back from me then. He released me entirely, and I felt all of the blood rush back to my brain. Deep, panicked breaths filled my chest as I stared at the showdown. The serial killer took an inventory of the man in his opposition, then, without saying a word, he turned and ran.

I felt an uncontrollable wave wash over me, and I started sobbing. The tears came from the emotions of helpless despair. And just before I collapsed, he grabbed me in his arms. I shoved him off at first, but then got my grips and realized who was holding me. I threw my arms around him and squeezed. I tried to say thank you, but I think only muffled sounds and snot came out.
It’s a good thing he’s not very squeamish.

I didn’t know this at the time but that moment, that instant when he said, “Hey!” that feeling I experienced would be the theme of our relationship. He would be the one to rescue me. From everything. From the villain in the alleyway, from the villain that was our normal lives. He would be the one to take me away from all the sorrow and exhaustion and show me the world that we should all live in.

He walked me to my car that night, and although I felt like the universe owed him a kiss or something, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. After looking a rapist in the eyes, it’s really hard to look at someone else and feel anything besides nausea. But he was fine with it.

After weeping on his shoulder a bit, he walked me to my car. He said that the guy wouldn’t be waiting for me, but I was pretty insistent. I just didn’t want to be alone, especially not there. He was a perfect gentlemen about it.

“Do you think I should call the cops?”

“Nah, at this point he’s long gone. It’s just going to be a lot of stress for you, and nothing is going to happen.”

“But I can describe him, he had a scar on his chin.”

He paused and didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell if he was thinking or what, his expression remained unchanged.

“You can call them if you want. I mean, one might argue some sort of civic duty. But I’ve been through this rodeo before.“

“You have?”

“Yeah, I’ve been mugged a few times. They’re going to ask you to describe him, and then they’re going to write it all down and throw it out. Unless he robs someone else tonight, nothing is going to happen.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so. The way they see it, no crime actually took place. So they’re really not going to look into it too much. Sadly, it’s nothing like what you see on TV.” He paused.

“Look, you go home and get some rest. Tomorrow, you can write it down, and I’ll send it to a cop buddy of mine. He’ll take it more seriously if it comes from me and he will actually look into it for us.”

“Thank you so much. You really saved me.” I looked up at him, and he smiled bashfully and looked away slightly.

“No worries, you’re not supposed to get points for doing the right thing.”

“You didn’t have to, though.”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress. Here.” He reached in his pocket and fumbled around for a moment. “This is my card. If you need me, give me a call.”

I smiled, embarrassed. “You know, now I kinda wish I had taken you up on dinner.”

He smiled back and leaned his forearms on the open window of the car door.

“You still can. Just another night, though. I don’t think I’m exciting enough to follow burglary in the alleyway.”

I remember I thought that was so clever, and I laughed hard.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“A smile. Keep doing that. I’ll talk to you soon,” he said, and then he stepped back. I smiled at him and turned the car on. He stood a few feet from the car, and I glanced down at the card. I smiled, what a great name. Then I drove away. I think I might have waited all of twenty minutes to text him. How could I not after that? He was cute, charming, and he saved me.
I think the universe owes him more than just a kiss.