Breathe: A Novel (9 page)

“I know, I know. I guess I can’t help but cringe at the word ‘prenup.’ Don’t people use those on their third and fourth marriages?” I had joked.

He smoothed my hair and handed me a pen, saying nothing. I had reluctantly signed. He leaned in when I was done, kissed me, and said, “That’s my cowgirl.”

Now, sitting in our abandoned living room, I couldn’t even remember signing it. I just remembered the kiss. But there it was, my name in scrolling black ballpoint, inked with the blithe assumption that nothing could go wrong, and even if it did,
if
it did, that he would take care of me, at least until I got myself on my feet. Now I knew the truth. And just like a child, I wanted to cry, to stamp my feet, smash some crystal, and draw a mustache on Louise’s perfectly-shaped, collagen-filled upper lip. But to keep any last bit of dignity intact, my only recourse was to sit there and read every word of that twenty-page document. To make Louise wait.

She cleared her throat. “Ahem. Let’s get on with this, shall we?”

“I’m not divorcing you, Louise. I’m divorcing Tripp,” I said, although we both knew that this was not true.

She stood and snatched the papers.

“We have allotted a sum of money to support you in finding a new home and job,” she said, glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She looked down at me haughtily, as if I were incapable of existing without Tripp. My temper flared.

“I don’t need your money.” What was I saying? I did need her money.
Swallow your pride, Alex. Swallow it.

“It has already been settled. I have the check here.” Then she said, under her breath, “Tripp insisted.”

I felt my spirits lift slightly. Tripp cared enough to want me taken care of after all. Maybe I hadn’t been wrong to trust him. He did love me. She handed me the check. $22,347.59.
What?

“Seriously, Louise? Who came up with this number? And what am I supposed to do with it?”

Gathering up the papers, she said, “I suggest you fly back to Oregon and live with your parents until you find a place. How much more could a house in your part of the world cost?” She stood and extended her hand. I didn’t move. “Well, good luck to you, Alex.”

I wanted to say something cutting and brilliant. But I just sat there. Sat and watched Louise walk out the door, exactly like Tripp had five weeks earlier.

***

Billy sniffed around the house for hours as if he smelled a skunk or raccoon. Or a rat.

“She’s gone, Bill. For good. You’re not going to find her.” He kept at it, though, sneezing when he got a particularly strong whiff of her Poison perfume.

I hoped what I said was true. I really hoped we would never, ever see Louise again. But later that morning when someone knocked, I was sure she’d come back with a pistol to shoot me like a lame horse.

“Hello-ooo?” I heard Nancy sing. I felt a surge of relief and opened the door. “Well, look at you!” she exclaimed.

After Louise left, I’d put my yoga clothes back on; stretched, attempted a few downward dogs, and tried to figure out what the heck to do next. The pain of tight muscles was a good distraction from my miserable circumstances.

“Hi, Nancy,” I said in what I hoped was a nonchalant voice. She wasn’t fooled.

“What happened, darling?” She stepped forward. “I saw Louise barreling away in her Beamer like it was a getaway car this morning.” She gestured down the street with her sunglasses.

“That’s because she took everything with her. Not that it was ever mine in the first place.” My throat tightened.
Don’t cry, Alex. Please. Not again
. I already had a splitting headache. I couldn’t help it, though. Nancy squeezed my shoulders, and I winced. Tears began to roll down my face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, peering into my eyes.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I shrugged and wiped my wet cheeks. “I’m sure my mom and dad want me to come home, but I can’t keep running back to the ranch every time things fall apart for me.” I was really crying now.

“Oh, honey.” Nancy rubbed my arms.

I took a breath and smiled at her. “That feels really good,” I said, laughing a little through my tears. “I’m so sore from Galen’s class yesterday.”

Nancy put a hand to her forehead. “What a convergence of events! Your journey is truly revealing itself! Come, come. Let’s sit.” She put an arm around my shoulders and gently walked me back to the living room. She settled herself on the sofa next to me.

“My first class with Galen nearly killed me, too. Just like you, I was at a real crossroads.” She patted my knee. “A moment of evolution.” Taking a deep breath, she looked at the sky. “Alicia had just gone off to college, and I was alone for the first time in my life. Of course
that
didn’t last long. Being alone, that is.” She laughed good-naturedly, and I smiled in spite of myself. Nancy was so warm that she glowed.

“Well, enough about me. Of course we’ve all read the books that say the most challenging part of anyone’s
journey
,” she said, emphasizing the word, “is working through the initial aches and pains, so we can tap into what’s really happening inside here.” She placed both hands over her heart. “So tell me, darling, what’s your plan?” For starters, I needed to get my hands on some of Nancy’s reading material. Something told me a lot of those books were on my mom’s shelf back in Oregon.

“Well, I guess now that it’s official, I should start thinking about—” my voice trailed off. I shook my head. “I really have no idea, Nancy. I’m completely at a loss.”

She looked at me for a moment with tender sympathy, then snapped her fingers and sat up with a smile. “I have it, darling.” She pulled out her phone and dialed before wandering onto the front porch. A few minutes later, she came back in. “There. A day at Euphoria Spa and a private session with my Giovanni. He’s an absolute wonder. And,” she whispered, “he’ll get you ship-shape for Galen’s class.” Nancy winked.

I blushed. How did she know?

“Just try it,” Haley insisted.

We were sixteen and I had just gotten my license. It was our first solo adventure into town. Wanting to do something grown-up, we decided to go out for sushi. It sounded sophisticated.

“You try it,” I said, pushing the slab of pink fish with the tip of my chopstick.

“I’ve had sushi tons of times,” she assured me. “It’s delicious. Eat it.”

I was way outside the comfort zone of Dad’s buffalo burgers and Mom’s homegrown kale. But I so wanted to be cultured and daring, like Haley. No one in our class ate sushi. It would set me radically apart in this meat-and-potatoes town, and that’s what I was after. I felt very lucky to have Haley as my guide. Still, that fish looked like it was ready to swim off the plate.

“Alex!” She was getting exasperated. “Sushi is, like, all that Jennifer Aniston eats! Forget the chopsticks, just pick it up!”

“Okay, okay.” I breathed. Awkwardly pinching a piece, I closed my eyes and popped it into my mouth. It was surprisingly soft, almost pasty. I chewed, scrunching up my face. Haley looked around.

“Don’t make a face,” she hissed under her breath. Then with a big smile, she waved to the chef. “We should probably buy him a beer. William always bought the chef a beer.” William was her mom’s last boyfriend in LA before they moved up to Oregon.

“We can’t buy him a beer,” I said, incredulous.

“Sure we can,” she said, applying lip-gloss with a spongy little wand. “Watch this.”

I sat still as an elk while Haley called the server over, ordered a Sapporo, and waved again to the sushi chef. I was floored. She had done it again.

“See? It’s easy.”

That was the thing about Haley. She made everything seem so easy. She just set her sights on what she wanted and went for it. Her attitude of entitlement was obviously very convincing. ("Well, why shouldn’t I ask Taylor to the Turnabout Dance? He doesn’t like Jackie that much, anyway, and I know for a fact that they’re about to break up.")

I, on the other hand, was more serious and studied in my approach.

“Relax, Alex, you’re so intense,” she said to my reflection in the mirror as we stood side-by-side and practiced applying liquid eyeliner.

“I want it to be perfect. There’s no point in doing this if it’s not perfect,” I responded.

I had yet to wear liquid eyeliner.

***

I thought of Haley as I left the spa; it was her scene, glamorous and luxurious. True, my time might have been better spent job hunting, but according to Nancy, “The spirit must be soothed before connecting to its destiny.” If nothing else, it was a great way to postpone the job search for another day. I wondered if Haley had gone back to work, if she’d even thought about it. Automatically, I pulled out my phone to call her, paused before dialing, and then slipped it back into my pocket. I felt like I needed some clarity before I could talk to her. Maybe more yoga would help.

Giovanni was supposed to meet me in front of Euphoria. I glanced up and down the quiet street, but saw only a robed spa guest getting something from her car. Shading my eyes, I scanned more closely and noticed a man on the ground by a tree. He was sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed and his hands in prayer position. I studied him for a moment—long, thinning, curly brown hair; tight black pants and a flowy white shirt, unbuttoned; a mat of dark hair carpeting his chest. Then I heard the sound, loud and nasal. “OoooooMmmmm.”
Oh, no.
Surely, this was not my teacher. Surely, it was.

I ducked behind the row of cars between us, and dialed Nancy’s number. I could see my car at the corner of Guerrero Street and crouched to make a run for it. A bright, orange parking ticket was tucked under the windshield wiper.
Shoot!
As I reached for the ticket, my phone slipped. I tried to grab it, but missed. Meanwhile, I dumped the entire contents of my purse onto the sidewalk.
Shoot, shoot, shoot!
I dropped to my hands and knees, trying to grab everything and keep one eye on Giovanni, who was still deep in meditation.

“Need a hand?” asked a vaguely familiar voice from the other side of my car. I sped up, not wanting male help collecting the contents of my bag. I quickly zipped it, stood up, and found myself face to face with—it took me a second to place him—the guy from the farmer’s market.

“Oh, hi,” I said, trying to get my hair out of my face. “Thanks, I got it.” I fumbled for my phone and my keys.
Where did I put them?
I looked on the ground and started talking, because I didn’t know what else to do. “I was just calling my friend when I saw this parking ticket, and that’s why I dropped everything, because I didn’t realize I had been gone so long, and I guess you can only park here for four hours, so of course I—”

I stopped myself. This guy already thought I was a lunatic. I suddenly remembered Giovanni and glanced over my shoulder. He was gone.
Phew.
So he wasn’t my yoga teacher. I wanted to learn about yoga poses, but not by chanting, or worse, meditating in public. Plus, I wanted my teacher to look like Galen, not like a mad scientist.
Shallow, Alex. Very shallow.

Andy bent down and picked up my keys. Then he walked around and handed them to me, furrowing his brow with a little smile. “What’s that smell?”

The succession of seven treatments had left me smelling like a strange mix of products. “I don’t know. I was at the spa.” I pointed back to the sign. “It could be the seaweed, the grapefruit, castor oil, or tanning lotion. Sexy, isn’t it?”

“Well, you
look
nice.” Andy smiled.

“Yeah, right. I look like a glazed donut. That facial was brutal. And just so you know, I do not spend my days at the spa,” I said.
No, I do much more important things like reading lost animal profiles to avoid looking for a job.

“So today was a special occasion? Decompressing from another close call with an on-coming bus?” This guy was more of a smart-ass than I was.

“More like a bulldozer. Or B-2 Bomber,” I said, referring to Louise.

“You might want to consider a helmet or reflectors. To be safe,” he said.

He was adorable. Why had I been in such a hurry last time?

“I’m Andy. From the farmer’s market, in case you forgot.”

“Right. Andy with the apples. Well, thanks for your help. Again. And for your suggestions.” I looked at my watch. Now I was five minutes late for Giovanni, wherever he was. “I’ve really got to get going. I have a lesson, a session, a class—”
Where
was I going again? “A meeting.”

“All four? You’re a busy woman.”
I gave him a twisted smirk. I liked him. The sun lit up his eyes and defined his angular jaw. He was
really
cute. Maybe I could be a few minutes late . . .

“Ciao, Bella!” someone called. I jumped and spun around. Wild Man from the spa lawn was closing in fast. And before I could prevent it, we were a triad—like the Bermuda Triangle with Giovanni trying to box out Andy. “You, my dove, are more beautiful than Miss Nancy described.” He said “Nuncy” instead of Nancy. Was it me, or was his ‘Italian’ accent a bit off? He lifted my hand for a kiss. I looked at Andy, who was clearly amused. “Are you ready for ecstasy, young faun?” As far as I could tell Giovanni and I were the same age.

“Now I’m really interested in what sort of lesson we’re talking about.” Andy looked at me. Giovanni tried to twirl me around with one arm. My feet remained cemented to the concrete.

“We have much work to do to loosen you up,” Giovanni said, wagging my arm up and down as if to manually loosen it.

I forced a smile and slipped my hand from his grasp. “Andy, this is my new yoga teacher, Giovanni.”

Giovanni puffed out his chest and tilted his head. With his hair falling over one eye, he stuck out his hand and said, “Ciao.”

I was going to kill Nancy. Thank her profusely for the spa day, then kill her.

“Ciao,” Andy replied. “Listen, I’ll let you two get to it.”
Oh please don’t
. “Alex could use some yoga,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“Oh, right. I forgot. You are the queen of calm.”

“I
can
be very calm, you just keep—”

Giovanni jumped in. “Darling, I charge by the hour.” He tapped his watch. He had one leg perched on the roof of my car and was folded over it, stretching.

“Okay, yes, okay,” I said. This wasn’t my money I was wasting. “We have to go.”

“Alright, Zen Alex. You enjoy that ecstasy,” Andy said.

“Thanks. Will do,” I said, reluctant to go.

“I do some work just a few blocks from here, so if you end up in this part of town again, give me a call. Here’s my card.” He passed me what looked like a torn paper bag. His full name, Andrew Cruz, was printed on one side and under it in bold type was “Vegetable Advocate.”

“Vegetable Advocate?”

From the bag at his feet he pulled out a small bunch of carrots and handed them to me like bouquet of flowers. “Hungry?”

I smiled and accepted his carrots. Who was this guy? He was more than slightly magnetic.

“Ahem,” Giovanni said, catching my eye and indicating his irritation.

“Right. Yoga.” I looked back at Andy.

“Alex, always interesting,” he said with a smile, then turned to leave. I watched him walk away for a moment.

“Shall we?” Giovanni put out his arm. These yogis sure were touchy-feely. I tentatively accepted. “We are going to become very close, bella. I am going to transform your world.”

***

Giovanni’s “studio” was surreal. It was painted in various shades of bronze, gold, and silver with mirrors and statues everywhere. There were figures with elephant trunks and monkey faces, big halos, and lots of hands.

“Giovanni, could you turn the lights up?” I asked as we crested the narrow staircase and entered his shrine. It was spooky, standing there in the dark with this strange man and all those statues. If I hadn’t loved Nancy so much, I would have been half way back to Marin by now.

“But, of course. But, of course.” His strange accent kept coming and going.

“Giovanni, are you from Italy?” I asked. He clapped twice, and the lights came up. The walls were covered with sixteen-by-twenty images of Giovanni in the craziest poses I had ever seen. One leg hooked over his shoulder balancing on one arm. Both legs over his shoulders, his entire body flattened on the floor like he had been run over, yet he was looking up and smiling. And the most astonishing, head stand without his hands. I was beyond impressed. Maybe Giovanni
could
get me Galen-ready.

“Well, not technically from Italy, ma cherie.” I had taken Spanish, but felt pretty sure he was now speaking French. “My spirit soars the Italian skies. I am a man of romance and sensuality.” He was losing me.

“But you’re not Italian?” I walked around the small room, investigating the framed pictures of bald men scattered amongst the statues. “What’s through here?” There was a small door at the back of the room.

“That is my humble casita,” he said. He lived in a nice part of town and charged $150 an hour. I wondered how humble it could be. I picked up a framed document from behind a stack of books. It read:
James Boyd, 200 hour E-RYT, Yoga World Trainings.

Giovanni hurried over to me, took the frame from my hands, and placed it back behind the books. “I am well over five hundred hours now.”

“So are you Giovanni or James?” I asked. He seemed noticeably uncomfortable, but recovered quickly. “I am a yogi. I live on this earth but rise above it.” He puffed out his chest and tossed back his hair. Nancy was right. This guy was a wonder. A comedic wonder. And just what I needed. I hadn’t thought about my life in thirty minutes. Besides, I would like to rise above this earth too. Maybe I could learn.

“So you changed your name?”

“Yes. Now. Can we get started?” he asked curtly.

“But wait. Why did you do that?”

“I told you. My spirit cannot relate to ‘James Boyd,’” he said, hitting play on his iPod. The sound “Om” filled the room. “We must be true to our essence.”

Maybe that was my problem. My spirit couldn’t relate to Alex Greene. “So your essence is Italian? Do you love pasta?”

“No gluten! I am Vata.”

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“Can we please get started?”

“Ready, when you are, James.” I smiled and bit my lip.

“It’s Giovanni! Now, get in down dog!” He circled me like a hyena and said, “You are going to be my greatest challenge. Tail bone up! Navel to the spine!”

I was my own greatest challenge. Good luck, James.