From Comfortable Distances (6 page)

There was something about
Neal—Tess couldn’t say what just what—that reminded her of her mother: a
gentleness, an instinct that he had seen another side of life; a side reserved
only for a special few. It was more a thought than a feeling, but she believed
that if she could learn more about Neal, she would also learn more about her
mother. Maybe that was her mind playing tricks on her, inventing justifications
as to there being a value in her getting to know Neal, or maybe there was
something to it. This much she was sure of: neither Neal nor her mother fit
into any of the categories of people that Tess knew. There was a freshness to
Neal, a vulnerability, a sense of peace and good humor. It was more than that,
though. It was as if when he looked into her eyes, he saw something in her that
she hadn’t yet seen in herself, and she wanted to know what he saw.

It amazed her—this
concept of intersecting with another person in this great big world. She
believed that there was a reason that certain people crossed one another’s
path, although she didn’t claim to know what that reason was. But she did
believe that it was more than just by chance.

The evergreen tree
shimmered in the breeze, its bush brushing against Tess’s knee, as if it were
pushing her away, back inside. There were moments, such as this one, that Tess
wished she never had to go in doors. Being outside made her feel endless, as if
the perimeters of her life didn’t exist. Once indoors, her life, the one she
had created, seemed to close in on her until exhausted and defeated, there was
nothing for her to do but collapse on her bed and close her eyes until it was
time for her to start again.

She imagined her mother
liking Neal, being able to say something definitive about him, precise, that
would make Tess nod her head and have clarity as to why she kept thinking about
him when she had no reason to keep thinking about him. Maybe Michael was right:
she was a basket case. Or maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was just living. Maybe
this is what life was—a journey full of twists and turns, a chance to work hard
and to love and sleep and think and feel and lose and find yourself. Tess liked
getting to know people—liked how it felt to let someone into her life. She had
forgotten that about herself. After so many years of trying to people keep out,
she had forgotten the joy of letting someone into her life, and it made Tess
wonder if she had ever really let anyone into her life. Even with her four husbands,
there had always been so much of her that they never knew, so much of them that
she would never know. The little barriers put up had become walls over time,
insurmountable, so that looking back now, it was clear to her that the only
person that she had ever allowed in had been herself, and she even fell short
in that respect, because there were so many times in her life when she couldn’t
grasp what she sought.

Somewhere along the way,
Tess had come to believe that the most that you could hope for in life was a
parallel road to travel alongside a person. But deep inside, in the places that
Tess never shared with anyone, she believed that there were some people in this
world that she would intersect with in a more meaningful way—that their paths
would collide so that they would stake out a new direction together. She
believed that those were the people worth seeking in life.

Tess yawned. She didn’t
always know where the silliness she thought about came from. The sky had become
a light show, the air a bit cooler, damper. Her cleaning lady neighbor must
have gone inside at some point. Tess smiled. She couldn’t quite say what she
was happy about, but for the first time in a long time, she felt quieter
inside, calmer. She closed her eyes and let the breeze pass through her one
last time before she left the world behind and went inside.

“Lokaha samasta sukhino,
bhavantu.” Tess repeated the chant in unison with the class.
May all beings
everywhere be happy and free.
  She closed her eyes and sang louder, losing
the sound of her voice amidst the others, so that all she felt coming out of
her was a vibration. In the moments of silence following the chant, she saw her
mother bowing down to the shrine in their living room as she did each night,
singing in Sanskrit as she counted her mala beads, her eyes closed, her head
moving to melody coming out of her, as if she were in a trance.

The teacher was asking
them to make their way onto their hands and knees to start warming up their
spines. This was the part of class that Tess loved most: everything in her full
of anticipation, and a good fear, as if she were about to climb up a steep
ladder from which she’d dive through the air and float to a safe landing. It
was the moment of all-potential, when anything was possible: she could fall or
fly, depending on how light and free she was.

In the yoga room, she was
able to lose herself. Each time a thought about work popped up, the teacher’s
voice, instructing them into the next pose, brought her back to the moment.
There was no time to think in yoga: it was all execution. One pose blended into
the next so that time and space didn’t exist, just movement and feeling, like
floating through water.

When they reached the end
of the class, Tess willed herself up into a backbend, full wheel, her elbows
shaking, her feet unsteady below her. She felt as if she may break in two. Her
breath became short and shallow, so that when the teacher approached her, she
was about to let go and plop back down onto the mat, until the teacher loosened
up her shoulders, massaging them, and holding onto Tess’s hips, instructed her
to bring her feet closer together and to press her hips up to the ceiling, open
up her chest, let her heart breath. Tess was about to say,
stop, let go
,
and collapse, until all at once, something in her opened up, a small splitting
feeling, and with her legs closer together, her hips rising, she felt as if her
heart was being freed from a web that had been confining it. The teacher held
her loosely round the waist as Tess eased down onto the mat. The teacher
instructed her to bring her knees to her chest to release her back, and she
pressed gently on Tess’s shins, so that Tess was able to feel her lower spine
ground. Tess sighed. For a moment, she worried that she would fart and she
froze, and then the moment passed and she was letting go again. It felt nice to
massage her spine against the hardwood floor. Then, after all of her hard work
and exertion, the teacher led them into the final pose, shavassana—literally,
dead-corpse pose. Tess let the ground beneath her cradle her, and in a few
moments, she was out cold. She didn’t wake up until the class was sitting
cross-legged, eyes closed, chanting “Om.”

With the final Om, Tess
rolled over on her right side, rest there a few minutes, and then sat up. She
folded up her mat slowly, methodically. No thoughts went through her head, just
an airy, peaceful feeling as if she was drifting through a cloud.

The lobby was chaotic and
noisy as it always was after class. It reminded Tess of being behind the scenes
at a Broadway play before the curtain was about to rise, with everyone
scrambling to change their clothes before the next scene. Tess had learned to
hang back from the activity for a few moments if she didn’t want to be robbed
of the effects of the class.

The teacher tapped Tess
on the shoulder.

“Nice class,” she said. “You’ve
made a lot of progress in a short time,” the teacher said. “How many classes
has this been for you?”

“Oh, thank you. I think
it’s been five or six classes.”

“You’re definitely a
natural.”

“Thanks,” Tess said. “I
feel great. If I could, I would be here every day.”

“You can be.”

“Oh, no. Not with my work
schedule.”

“Well, in the end, it’s
you that counts, not work.”

“I own my business,” Tess
said. “Me and my work are one and the same.”

“That’s what I used to
say,” the teacher said. “I was a corporate slave—I worked as a designer in the
publishing industry. I loved my career, never thought I’d leave it, but then I
found yoga.”

 “You left your career to
become a yoga teacher?”

“Not all at once. But
little by little, the more I got into yoga, the more I started to analyze what
I wanted in my life—what mattered. I always felt as if I was rushing around,
living on a time schedule—I’d show up late for every yoga class. Everything
about my life was messy and frantic. Yoga helped me to get a grip on my life.
Pretty soon, I was leaving work earlier to make sure I’d get to class on time.
My priorities shifted.”

Tess nodded. She felt
like she was listening to an infomercial on why to become a yoga teacher.
Frankly, she just wanted to be quiet. Seep in the rewards of her class. How
didn’t the teacher get that? The crowds were beginning to disperse. Tess
spotted an empty changing room.

 Tess smiled at the
teacher. “I’m glad it worked out for you,” she said.

“You should check out the
teacher training program. There’s a reason you found yoga at this point in your
life. Once I took the teacher training program, it wasn’t long before I left my
career and began teaching full time.”

“Sounds like you found
your calling.”

“I’ve learned firsthand
that it’s never too late to change your life,” the teacher said. “Besides, the
studio could use some teachers like you. I think it would be very inspirational
for students to see that yoga is for all ages.”

Tess had heard enough.
Was the teacher insinuating that Tess was over-the-hill? Sure, she wasn’t in
her twenties or thirties, but she wasn’t a senior citizen either. She was about
to tell the teacher she was in her thirties, see how she’d handle that one, but
then she caught herself. Who cared what the teacher said? And yet how dare the
teacher bother her like this after class. Wasn’t she allowed to be quiet and
enjoy the peaceful feeling?

The teacher reached over
to the stack of flyers behind the desk, and gave one to Tess. Tess glanced at
it, folded it in half, and smiled a cheesy smile. “I need to be going,” she
said.

“Trust me, when I took
the training, I never thought I’d become a yoga teacher. Oh, and classes and
all the training sessions are at night and on weekends—it’s set up for people
who work full time.”

“Thanks,” Tess said. She
would make it a point to never take her class again.

She put her hand on
Tess’s shoulder and smiled into her eyes. What was going on—why wouldn’t she
back off of Tess and let her be? There were plenty of other people that she
could go bug to take the teacher training program. What did she want from Tess?

Tess slipped on her
loafers and was at the elevator, pushing the down button without taking the
time to change into her street clothes. She didn’t want to risk having to
listen to another minute of the teacher’s lecturing.

Just as she got into the
elevator someone screamed hold it, and in walked Dale. Tess was already plotting
to find a new studio to go to. She imagined that there were dozens to choose
from in the city. Between the teacher salesperson and now Dale, the girl who
had issues with homes, Tess was beginning to feel more stressed out than she
had when she first walked into the studio after work.

“Hello, Tess.”

Tess smiled pleasant
enough and nodded. No. N-O. She was not going to deal with anymore banter. This
was her night. Her peace of mind.

“I was going to take the
next class, but when I realized who was teaching it, I couldn’t do it.” Dale
nodded at the paper in Tess’s hand. “She’s fierce, huh?”

“She hit on you for the
teacher training program, too?” Tess said.

“I think that she tries
to convince others to become a yoga teacher in order to help her deal with her
insecurities that she traded in her career to become a yoga teacher.”

“And I thought I was
special,” Tess said.

“The good news is that
she only teaches one class on Tuesday nights. That’s why I take the later class
on Tuesday nights, the one after hers, but turns out she’s subbing it tonight.”

Tess laughed. “Thanks for
the tip,” she said. “Now I’ll know better.”

“Let’s face it, we come
here to detox,” Dale said. “Not to get stressed out even more by a yoga
teacher. And she is a great teacher, it’s just the after-class lecture that’s
too much for me.”

“I guess that if you take
her class, you need to come prepared to dart right after it.”

“Oh, she’ll track you
down after class if she wants to. One night after class, I swear she followed
me to The Bakery to badger me about becoming a yoga teacher. The funny thing is
that I heard yoga teacher training is sold out,” Dale said. “At least that’s
what the Grinch behind the desk was saying to someone last night, so I’m not
sure what she’s doing.”

Tess smiled—the Grinch. “I
presume you’re not interested in becoming a yoga teacher,” she said. The
elevator hit the ground floor with a thud so that they both stumbled.

“That’s why I prefer to
take the stairs,” Dale said as they waited for the elevator door to open. “Not
a chance about me becoming a yoga teacher. I may not know where I want to live,
but I know that I don’t want to be a yoga teacher. My mother is already on my
case about being a social worker and working with runaway teens. She thinks I’m
throwing my life away. Imagine if I told her that I was leaving that career to
become a yoga teacher? She’d have me exported to Brooklyn at the least.” She
laughed. “That was a joke,” she said.

“And should you ever get
exported there, you could live in a very beautiful brownstone,” Tess said.

The air was cool, crisp,
fresh. Tess wished for a moment that she didn’t have the 40- minute drive home,
that she could just get under the covers now and let sleep take over. In her
lazy state of mind, she would easily join Dale’s Brooklyn boycott.

“How often do you come
here?” Tess said.

“Most nights,” Dale said.
“And weekends.” She laughed. “I guess I’ve gotten a little addicted,” she said.

“I hope to see you here
soon,” Tess said.  She meant it. “Just not Tuesday night at 6 pm.”