Page 38 of Shy Girl
All the better.
Helene stood at the head of the group and sent me a subtle little wave in between conversations with Victoria and a young girl. I returned it with a warm smile and a silent pang of regret that we would never besisters. A tower of yoga mats waited off to the side in the sand, and I quietly plucked one off the top and unrolled it. It had been a year or two since I’d last attempted to even stretch, so this would be interesting.
The hiss of a mat opening to my right side drew my gaze up. Bastian tossed his flip flops into the sand next to him. Before I could say another word, the same thing happened on my left. Vikram moved over there. He sent a quick nod to Bastian over my back, then winked at me.
Well . . . maybe he did remember me. Then again, Vik winked at any available female, and he knew Hernandez and Iweren’treally dating.
“Wh-what are you d-doing?” I asked Bastian, because he seemed the safer bet. He looked at Victoria, then back to me.
“Making sure she doesn’t get weird again.”
Vik whistled low. “Girl be crazy.”
“I-I’m fine. R-really.”
“Hernandez insisted.” Bastian shrugged. “We obey.”
That moment, Victoria turned around to face our direction, but she didn’t look our way. Her hair glided over her shoulders in a ponytail that swept her bikini top. Just as Helene called for class to begin, Victoria stepped away. Unable to help myself, my gaze followed her as she strolled off the beach without looking back. Had she left because I was there? I doubted it, so I ignored her as she disappeared and tried not to think too hard about Jayson asking them to stand at my side.
Helene guided the class into a few gentle stretches that soon consumed my attention. The gentle tug and pull on my body felt refreshing after the plane ride and long, deep sleep. The breeze stirred my hair, and the sand felt hot beneath the mat. I luxuriated in the open air. How un-tropical would the coffee shop feel after this? I’d never want to go back to Mom’s claustrophobic towers and wild ideas.
Only a few men freckled the female-dominated crowd, among them a middle-aged woman that looked like a wiser version of Helene. Alison Dunkin, I would bet. Helene’s mother and Anthony’s wife of over twenty years. I tried not to stare at her—or Vikram, who was surprisingly agile and talented for a man that drove trains for a living—while the class progressed. Bastian moved like a stiff tower, and groaned, red-faced, with every other stretch.
For years, a deep curiosity about Anthony had haunted me. Alison lingered in a close second. Questions about them had always plagued me. What was their marriage like? Were they happy? Was he a good husband? Was she a good wife?
Who got to definegoodin those roles, anyway?
Alison had captured my curiosity more than I expected because I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d do if I ever popped into her awareness. Perhaps she knew about me already. Alison may have been the one that had the idea for the NDA and consideration of $50,000 to my mom.
But why stay with a husband that would do such a thing? Power, I'd guess. Money, for another. Although both might be the same thing.
These thoughts accompanied me through the deep breathing exercises, flanked by Bastian and Vikram. Still, having them at my side was bolstering. Crowds didn’t seem so daunting when I had someone to talk to, and neither had asked about my stutter.
Before I knew it, Helene closed the class with a bow from her waist and a wish for good health. Bastian lay on the mat, hands stacked behind him, and tilted his face back to the sun. Vik untwisted himself from his pretzel-like position and dusted the sand off his shorts after he stood up.
I stared at Alison and wondered.
“So,” Bastian drawled, “Hernandez said something about going to the grill after this. You ready?”
“D-do you always m-make plans for girls you d-don’t really know?” I asked, my gaze still locked on Alison. With a sigh, I forced myself to look away. There would be no answers to my questions about her, and that left me with a melancholy feeling. Because Alison seemed like the right kind of woman with the wrong kind of man. In the meantime, I tucked the question ofwhat will happen to Alison when I talk to Anthony?out of the back of my mind.
Bastian tilted his head in my direction and seemed to consider my question.
“Fair,” he said. “Dagny, want to hit the grill and meet up with the man you so deeply care for?”
His choice of words hit me like a bag of bricks in the chest and scattered my senses like sand on tile.The man you so deeply care for.Not a hint of sarcasm, but I could tell he searched for something.
Was I that transparent?
How did he know?
“Yes.” I cleared my throat when I realized my silence extended to an awkward length. Vik stared at me, eyebrows high. “I’m s-s-starving.”
“Me too,” he murmured, his attention focused over my shoulder. “Please excuse me.”
Vik had already rolled his mat up and slung it over his shoulder. He stood with one hip cocked, his wavy, black hair shining in the light as he called to a girl in a white tank top. I grabbed my mat and turned to follow Bastian when I collided into something else. Anoomphfollowed a second before I stepped back and saw only flailing arms.
“S-s-sorry!” I cried. “I d-d-didn’t s-see you there. I—”
