Page 32 of Catch a Wave

I start with mountain pose. We stand straight, facing the side of my neighbor’s house.

“Breathe in and out, Ma ... Kalaine. Gentle breaths, count of four in, hold four, exhale four.”

If I’m reading her right, she has a glint of awe in her eyes. I’m pretty sure she’s thinking how far I’ve come since the last time we were together. I wouldn’t have been doing yoga, let alone leading someone else back then. Seeing her reminded me of my mistakes, but today she’s reminding me of my triumphs too. Kai was so instrumental in making sure I got past what was holding me back and gained a new lease on life. He never stopped believing in me.

Mavs and I stand together, breathing in and out. Then I lead her into a forward fold, her body bending at the waist and her hands dropping toward her toes. She wobbles a little, but makes it.

“Can you make it into plank pose?” I ask her when we finish running through a few reps of forward fold.

“No.”

“Come on, Ma … Kalaine. You don’t know if you don’t try.”

“It’s really hard for you not to call me that, isn’t it?”

I look her in the eyes, “Yeah. It’s hard. But you’re worth the effort.”

She nods again. This more subdued version of her makes my breath hitch in my throat. She’s still wrestling with the aftermath of her accident. I don’t want to push her, but at the same time, I know she needs it.

“I’ll help you make your way to the pose.”

“Uhh …”

I don’t give her time to protest. Kai pushed me. He’s not going to do the same thing for his sister. She’s in a different category for him. He feels like he has to be a shelter and guardian in her life. She needs someone to push her—someone who loves her enough to believe she can move past the wreckage of the wave.

My hands are on her waist, annnnd I really didn’t think this through. Touching her feels like coming home. The electricity surges between us the moment my hands land on her waist. I don’t dare look her in the eyes or the thin strand of my remaining self-control will snap.

I clear my throat and pretend I’m a personal trainer—or a monk. Or a personal trainer to monks. Or a monk who does personal training on the side of whatever it is monks do to help raise funds for orphans. I picture that sidekick to Robin Hood. What was his name? Friar Tuck? Yeah. That dude definitelywasn’t a personal trainer. Then I see Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson in a brown robe with a rope belt. Yeah. That’s more like it. I’m Dwayne, the monk.

Whatever it takes to deal with Kalaine for her sake and to ignore the raging fire that sprung to life as soon as I stepped into her space.

“Bend down and stretch your arms out. You can rest on your knees instead of using straight legs. I’ve got you.”

She surprises me, by extending her arms and bending her knees more than she would if her boot weren’t a factor. Between the two of us, we get her into a modified plank pose.

I let out a whoop of celebration. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a yoga class where they shouted before.”

“I have my own brand.” I smile over at her as I join her on my mat, emulating the pose she’s in, only my legs are extended straight.

“You most certainly do.”

She looks across the yard. “Is that your neighbor? Is she spying on us?”

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “She sometimes peeps out while I’m doing my practice.”

“Oh my gosh! That’s hilarious.”

“Hey, Margaret! Good morning!” I shout over.

The curtains drop a little, but Margaret stays there, a small slit revealing her presence.

“How old is she?” Mavs asks.

“Who knows. Too old to be an option.”

Mavs laughs again. “That’s either creepy or adorable.”

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