Page 81 of Storm in a Teacup
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“Namaste,” the instructor says once we sit back up after Savasana.
My yoga class is over, so the people around me start to shuffle, cleaning their mats, returning blocks and blankets, and packing up. The lights are still turned all the way down.
I was expecting this, so I just sit and wait in my spot near the back, where I had a direct eyeline of the teacher. I pretend I am stillsointo my meditation. I was unreasonably and unbelievably nervous before coming here. So much of my time used to be spent in this exact studio, but it has been ten months since I’ve been here. I let myself retreat into my solitude, give up things I used to enjoy. It’s time to start taking them back.
The lights are brought back up, though still at a very dim level. Good enough. I stand, adjusting my ponytail as I evaluate the area, clocking people, mats, water bottles, and any other obstacles before I walk to the back corner to grab a cloth and cleaning spray. When I make it to my destination, my heart is beating like I just walked through high-speed traffic. I fetch the cloth and cleaning spray, and then narrowly miss a water bottle in the middle of the floor on my walk back.
As I’m cleaning my mat, the lights get brighter.
The instructor says in a pinched tone, “Oh, sorry, can you not touch the lights?”
Then I hear a familiar voice I haven’t heard in a while say, “It was too dark. I couldn’t see a damn thing.”
I lift my head to find my old yoga buddy, Emma, who, by the way, could likely see just fine in the dim light. I shake my head at her as we lock eyes.
“Always making a scene on my behalf,” I say as I roll up my mat.
She strolls over to me, making a weak attempt to fix the hair escaping from her bun, halting as she stands above me. “Would have said hi earlier, but I got here late.”
“Ah, that was you. There is a way to keep the front door from slamming, you know.”
“Eh, no harm in making my presence known.”
“How have you been?” I ask as I stand, tucking my mat under my arm.
“I’ve been fine. How haveyoubeen? It’s been so long, I thought you moved. Or,didyou move? I remember your fiancé was from London.”
I grimace and hold up my naked left hand. “Ex-fiancé,” I correct.
“Oh,” she says. “Well, then I have to say, I always thought he sounded like a real wanker.”
A surprised laugh bursts from my chest. “He is. Very much so. You never met him, though, right? What made you think that?”
She sucks her teeth. “Little things you would say about him, that’s all. You told me a story once about him getting upset when you knocked over a glass at a pub. That wasn’t cool.” She cocks her head. “Oh, and weren’t you—?”
I cut her off with a quick shake of my head.
She nods, moving on. “So, are you going to start coming back here?”
“That’s the plan. I’ve missed it. I just…I was in a funk that I’m starting to get out of. So, I’m back.”
“Good,” she says like she means it. “I’ve missed you. You were always so fun to talk to. Remember that time when the instructor kept glaring at us because we were talking in the back of class?”
“Yes, I do. Especially because that would happen in nearly every class we took together. It’s not like we weren’t participating.”
“We were ruining the mood.” She laughs and starts to walk toward the door. “Would you like to get lunch or a drink sometime soon?”
My heart lurches with nervous trepidation mixed with excitement. “Yeah. I would. Do you still have my number?”
Emma checks her phone as she says, “Can’t imagine why I wouldn’t. Ah, aye, there you are. Wow, under five unanswered direct questions I sent you.”
I cringe. “Sorry, I was—”
“In a funk,” she finishes for me. “It’s fine.”
I feel my phone buzz, Emma’s name lighting up on my screen.
