Page 8 of Hiding from Hope

“Thanks, Jay! I’ll confirm numbers tomorrow, I promise. See you Saturday!”

I am suddenly looking forward to the weekend.

Casey

“Beautiful work today, ladies! I hope you’re feeling as relaxed and refreshed as I am after that!” I declare to my Wednesday Mom’s class. Nods and sighs fill the room, each of my clients having a relaxed smile on their face that makes me feel happy. Satisfied with a sense of achievement that I’ve been the person to bring these hard working and tired moms a bit of peace on a Wednesday.

This one is my favorite of the week. The women relax as we enjoy a slow stretch meant for de-stressing, flexibility, and relaxation. “Join me for a few still moments of seated meditation to bring us back before we enter our chaotic day. Close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose.” I love this part. Everyone becomes still. The room is quiet, as my older sister, Grace, and I ensured each of the studio rooms were properly sound proofed at construction. Expensive or not, we wanted to make sure our clients get the best experience possible. The only way for them to really get the best out of their yoga and meditation is to do so in the perfect setting. That meant not hearing the hustle and bustle of New York City.

I peek my eyes open just to make sure everyone is deeply within their meditation as I walk them through the exercise. Satisfied that I have successfully lulled my class into a trance, I close my eyes again and let myself just be. I go to my happy place. This is usually somewhere light; there are flowers and books, coffee, and comfy couches. Never a bra, always sweats. There is a slight breeze and I sit back in a deep-set couch breathing in the fresh air, the scent of sandalwood, a scruffy beard that tickles my neck… woah.

My eyes snap open and I quickly analyze the room and check that no one saw inside my mind and the traitorous direction my brain went just now. Grumpy lumberjacks will not be invading my happy place. No siree.

After ten minutes–and a few failed attempts at securing the proper happy place–I finish up the class and we pack away our mats. Elle, one of my staff who attends this class, comes over as the rest of the clients leave. “Hey, Case! I’m so excited for Saturday. Who else is going?”

“So far everyone has RSVP’d! It should be such a good night. You’ll love JJ’s, super vibey.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been.” She tilts her head.

“Oh, you need to go! It’s a Bookshop Café! Next time you go, ask for a Turkish Delight, extra cream, caramel, and chocolate on top. Thank me later.” I wink at her, and she laughs as she leaves the room. I pull out my phone and see I’ve missed a FaceTime with my parents, so I make a note to call them back. Since they retired, they have been busy traveling the world. At the moment, they’re still in the US, but doing the country tour around Arizona, so I am sure they just wanted to brag about all that they have seen. I get a text pop up from my group chat with Rosie and Addy, and every time I see the group name Rosie gave us when we moved into the apartment together, I swear I’m going to change it.

23A Sluts

I mean, I don’t know if perfect is the word I’d use, a sports bar in the middle of the day isn’t exactly what I want, but it is chilly outside, and Pucks is warm in the bistro area so, it’ll do. Plus, the girls love it there, so I don’t mind going for them.

I check the time quickly. I don’t have another class until 4pm, which means most of the day is all mine. I wave to the other staff on my way out and head in the direction of Pucks, a short fifteen-minute walk from the studio on the Upper West Side.

On my way, I walk past a drugstore, so I pop in quickly, then get distracted at a bookstore and find Rosie’s recent edit, so I grab that, too. I manage to walk straight past the flower shop without picking up a bunch of marigolds–which is extremely hard. I do, however, get sucked into the thrift store, and it is like the universe rewards me. There is a gorgeous Vintage Chanel jade green clutch for fifty dollars that I needed to get my hands on, because I know exactly who this would look perfect on. The same person who would never buy herself such a thing.

I finally manage to make it to Pucks with arms full, immediately spotting the girls. Rosie is hard to miss with a head of tight dark curls that sit just above the caramel skin of her shoulders. Her go-to style of jeans, tank, and purple blazer, paired perfectly with ankle breaking Jimmy-Choo’s. She calls it ‘Rosie-casual’, which I think is Rosie for, ‘I wear what I want, and I dare someone to tell me otherwise’. Addison wears her Bozzelli’s shirt, jeans, and Converse, like every other day she works in the bar, her long blonde hair pulled back into a tight pony sitting primly on top of her head.

They notice me as I get closer, and both look at me as if they expected nothing less.

“No wonder you were late. You buy up the whole strip between the studio and here?” Rosie accuses analyzing my full arms.

“No, I just happened to have a run of luck. I got another copy of that book! Can you please sign this one? I want to make sure I’m rich when it’s vintage.” I push the book in Rosie’s face as I drop into my chair.

“You know I was on an editing team… I didn’t actually write the thing.”

“Doesn’t matter. Still proud.” I shrug while grabbing the drug store bag and giving it to Addison.

“What’s this?” she asks.

“Cranberry tablets,” I respond while I grab the other amazing find. “I also got you this!” I practically squeal as I hand Addy the vintage purse.

“Oh my GOD! Casey, is that Chanel!?” Rosie screeches, and I nod enthusiastically.

“Yes! The thrift shop had no idea the value of the item they held, and I just couldn’t leave this baby in there all alone. Unsafe. Unloved.” Rosie nods, completely understanding.

“But… why? Why give it to me? You should have it!” Addison says, while holding on tightly.

“Because you have that gala thing with Noah this weekend, and I thought it would go amazing with that black dress and shoes. Compliments your eyes.” Addison looks like she is going to cry, hyper-emotional that she is, and I laugh at her.

“You’re incredible, Case. I love you.” She hugs me and I return the embrace. “Wait, how’d you know I needed cranberry tablets?” she whispers.

“Because you went to the bathroom like ten times last night,” I whisper back. But then my eyes widen and I look at Rosie for a split second before we both look at Addison and say at the same time. “Oh my God, are you PREGNANT?!”

“Shhh! And NO! My god. What is wrong with you women? Your original assumption was correct… I’m just a little uncomfortable, think it might be a UTI.”

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