Page 42 of Snake

Chapter Ten

“And once more, inhale ... exhale ... release the heels ... moving into plank, inhale ... exhale ... hold there for one more inhale ... exhale ... now chaturanga ... hold there and breathe ... long and slow, draw breath all the way to your navel, and out ... very good.”

“She’s trying to kill us,” Ida muttered quietly, struggling to hold chaturanga on her bright yellow yoga mat. “Twice a week, she attempts literal murder.”

Autumn was too focused to answer, but her eyes slid that direction and saw Ida’s arms shaking. When the instructor, a teensy Punjabi woman for whom yoga was far more spiritual practice than physical exercise, moved them into upward-facing dog, Ida sighed with loud relief and dropped her hips to her mat.

They moved into their cool-down phase, a series of sun salutations and finally savasana, the ‘corpse pose.’ “The best thing about yoga is the nap at the end,” Ida stage-whispered.

Though Autumn took yoga more seriously than her friend and tried hard to quiet her mind and stay in the moment, she chuckled—as did the women nearest them. For Autumn, yoga was physical exercise, mental discipline, and something not far from psychotherapy, the complete self-care package. Every weekday she gave herself this hour to make herself strong inside and out. She did not chat while she was being mindful. It was one of the rare times her brain settled down and let her rest.

For Ida, yoga was a thing she did twice a week to hang out with Autumn. Though she appreciated the physical benefits, she couldn’t get into the headspace, and yoga itself was too slow and quiet to interest her. She’d rather be in spin class.

Autumn had tried spin once and would never go back again. Her whole life was lived at that go-go-go pace. She didn’t need it in her ‘me time,’ too.

When the class was over, they rolled up their mats and slung their towels over their necks. Autumn helped Ida put away the bands and blocks she’d used to hold a few positions, then they headed to the locker room, stripped down and wrapped towels around their chests, and hit the sauna. By the end of this evening, Autumn would have cleansed most of the stress from her muscles and settled her mind well enough that she could sleep.

Ida leaned back against the wood-slat wall and sighed with much more satisfaction. “This is the best part of yoga,” she crooned. “When it’s over.”

Two older women sitting on the facing bench laughed.

Also leaning against the wall, Autumn lazily shook her head. “You complain, complain, complain about yoga. You don’t have to do it, you know.”

“Well, you won’t do spin or the weight room. Trying to get my hands on you to hang out is like winning the Powerball.”

There were too many ‘roid bros in the weight room, screaming and dropping weights. And men called women ‘pick mes’? Please.

“Not true,” she countered. “We have a standing shopping date.”

“Once a month. Friendships are not sustained with one single day out of thirty.”

“We text nonstop every day, sweets. In this digital age, that counts as hanging out.”

Though she didn’t open her eyes, Autumn felt Ida sit forward. “I suppose that’s true, but damn, it’s depressing. What’s next? The singularity?”

Now Autumn opened her eyes so she could roll them at her friend. “You use that as your doomsday scenario all the time, but I do not think it means what you think it means.”

“Cute, Inigo Montoya. It means when the robots turn us into batteries or livestock or something.”

Laughing, Autumn hooked an arm around her friend and kissed her cheek. “Close enough. But I think there are a lot of steps between texting and oppression by robot overlords.”

Ida hugged her back. “That’s the kind of blasé attitude that gets an electrical cord shoved up your butt while you’re not looking.”

They were quiet for a while after that, leaning on each other, sweltering in the sauna. Then Ida came out with something that made Autumn sit back.

“I met another of James’ friends last night. He’s a stockbroker. Drives a Lucid Dream Edition. And his name is Parker Wright—he’s literally Mr. Wright, Autumn.”

Ida had been seeing James Cho, Mr. Biceps, for several weeks now, and they’d become pretty serious. Autumn had met him a few times, and he seemed like a decent guy. But he and Ida were now in cahoots. Three times—four now—Ida had schemed to set Autumn up with one of his friends, a collection of them apparently curated by James.

“Absolutely not,” Autumn said now, kicking the notion away for the fourth time. “And I’m starting to get mad about the way you’re not hearing me.”

“I am hearing you,” Ida protested—and then huffed with loud rhetoric when one of the older ladies across the room dumped fresh water on the coals. “I’m just not liking the answer.” When Autumn prepared to launch into a rant about how she felt about that, Ida stilled her with a raised hand. “Not liking it for you, not for me. I know you haven’t wanted a relationship since Miles, and that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not really even talking about Tinder matches, exactly. But you’re not even doing social-function dates this summer. You went to Marlie and Laiken’s wedding solo. Not even a plus-one! You’re a beautiful, brilliant, successful thirty-four-year-old badass. Do you really mean to give up and become a crazy cat lady already?”

Ida was not wrong, exactly, but she didn’t have all the information. Autumn had in fact not had any kind of date, not even a friend to accompany her to social functions, since she’d returned from her latest trip to Missouri. But that wasn’t because she’d packed up her vagina and settled into spinsterhood. It was because every time she thought about reactivating Tinder or even asking one of the men with whom she was platonically friendly to accompany her, that drunken night in Signal Bend reared its head. Every guy she considered became Daniel Cox, and he was the mascot for a really embarrassing night. She couldn’t stomach getting near a guy right now.

But she had not said a single word to Ida about Cox. It was the first secret she’d kept from her friend in two decades that wasn’t about a surprise party or a special treat.

“I am very tired of this topic coming up. And why do I have to have a man, anyway? As you say, I’ve already got a great, successful life. I’m good as I am. And not a single cat anywhere to be found.” Re-tucking her towel, Autumn stood up. “I’ve got work to do tonight when I get home.”

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