Page 56 of Your Echo
15The Riot’s Gone || Santigold
ACE
“Sorry I’m late,guys. Things are crazy at my dance studio. We have our summer showcase coming up next weekend.”
Stéphanie unrolls her yoga mat and settles herself on it, still panting from running across the park to get here. When she sees me at the back of the meditation group, she looks surprised for a second. Then she blushes and bites her lip like a sixteen year-old who just got asked to prom.
It’s fucking adorable.
It’s been less than forty-eight hours since I had her in my bed, but I couldn’t resist the chance to see her again today. She refused to stay the whole night in my apartment, saying she had to be up early for a dance class. I woke up the next morning and could still smell her on my sheets. It made me hard as fuck and sent a punch to my stomach all at the same time.
How is it possible to miss someone so much, just hours after you’ve seen them? No one but me had ever lain in that bed before, and half a night with her made it feel empty without her body beside mine.
I spent most of the last two days working on songs for the new Sherbrooke Station album. The music is pouring out of me now, so fast that sometimes I can barely keep up. I’m using this meditation class as an excuse to get me out of my apartment before I forget how to function in the outside world. Spending time with Stéphanie is about the only thing that could convince me to ignore the urge to have my hands on a guitar right now.
“We’re going to try something a little different today,” Stéphanie tells the group, in French first and then in English. “Let’s start by closing our eyes and focusing on our breathing.”
She leads everybody through some deep breaths, and I let myself get caught up in the exercise, sinking into the darkness behind my eyelids.
“Today, I want you to think about the things that make you angry. Think about all the things that make you upset or sad—all of the negatives. Normally in meditation, we try to distance ourselves from these feelings, but today I want you to really let yourself experience them.”
Without any warning, I’m thrown into the memory of holding the lighter in one hand and the can of gas in the other. My dad’s fucking hedge is going up in flames in front of me.
“Sometimes, when we try to push our negative thoughts away, we just end up pushing them deeper inside ourselves.”
Stéphanie’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. I can feel the heat of the fire licking up my arms.
“Sometimes wehaveto let ourselves feel them. Sometimes that’s the only way to understand them. We have to let all that rage and hurt burn as bright as it can before we can put it out for good. So that’s what I want you to do today. For the next few minutes, let yourself feel the full impact of your negative thoughts.”
I drop the gas can, pull out a cigarette, and cup my hand in front of the lighter. I stand there smoking while my dad watches from the window, holding a phone up to his ear. He’s pretending to call the cops, but I know he’s fucking bluffing. Nigel and Rebecca Thompson couldn’t survive the embarrassment of having a cop car show up at their house, just like they couldn’t survive the embarrassment of having a mental case for a son.
“Now that you’ve built that fire up, I want you to stop feeding it. Stop giving it fuel. That fire isn’t what’s keeping you alive; you’re what’s keepingitalive. Wherever you just went in your thoughts, bring your attention back to this moment. Tell yourself: I’m here. I’m not there anymore. I’m here.”
My eyes fly open. I stare at her, sitting at the base of the tree, the sun catching in her hair exactly like it did the first time I saw her. I feel that same chill I did when she quoted ‘Nevermore’ to me, that same need to reach out and touch her to make sure she’s real
There’s no way she can know I say those same words to myself all the time:
You’re here. You’re not there anymore. You’re here.
I can’t go back to meditating after that. I sit and watch as she brings the session to a close, and when she opens her eyes, it only takes a second for them to find mine. The usual line-up forms in front of the coffee can as people make their donations. There’s still a few stragglers hanging around when I make my way up to Stéphanie, but I can’t wait any longer.
“Hey,” she says, a little nervously. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”
“I wanted to see you again.”
She plays with the edge of her mat where it’s tucked under her elbow. “I should probably say thank you. You...inspired today’s exercise. I’ve never tried that before, but it really helped.”
She nudges my foot with hers, and that’s all it takes. I raise a hand to cup her cheek and kiss her on the mouth. I feel the shock run through her for a second before her lips move against mine. My other hand finds her waist, and the kiss lasts until her back thumps against the trunk of the tree. She breaks away from me and looks around, but the remaining few meditators are gone.
“I think we scared them off,” she says.
“Thank god.”
Her fingers trail along the collar of my shirt. She tugs the fabric down until the edge of one of the feathers inked on my chest is exposed.
“You still haven’t told me why you have this.” The strokes the lines of the drawing, and I have to close my eyes for a moment as I fight for control of myself. “It’s beautiful.”
“The artist I usually go to lives here in Montreal. He drew it for me.”
