“How hot is it in here?” I gasped as the instructor urged us to bend our bodies right and left, right and left, like graceful swaying reeds. The room was crowded, but we’d staked out a back corner for ourselves. The air smelled like sweat and natural deodorant—charcoal and lavender. We’d see how long that held up in this heat.
“About a hundred and five,” Daphne said cheerfully. “It’s good for circulation and flexibility.”
“Yeah, if you can survive it,” I muttered, barely swaying back and forth. For the next few minutes, we were silent, focusing on the moves.
“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Daphne whispered at the tail end of the Eagle move, which involved standing on one leg with your other foot wrapped behind your ankle. I was wobbling so hard I had to give up and put both legs down and just squat that way, like a diver ready to spring into action at any moment.
“Oh yeah?” I was concentrating hard so I didn’t topple over.
“I heard you and Dad talking about the Eatery’s finances a week or so ago.” Daphne kept her voice low. “I knew things weren’t great, but I didn’t realize it was so bad.”
“It’s always bad,” I grunted, feeling sweat trickle down my temple. My thigh muscles were on fire. “It started slowly going downhill after Mom died, and it’s just gotten worse year after year. Dining demographics have changed a lot. People don’t want our kind of food anymore. Tastes evolve, and we haven’t evolved enough to be competitive.”
We moved on to a pose involving holding one foot straight out in front of us and bending over it. Daphne laid her entire lithe torso over the length of her thigh and held the sole of her foot in her interlaced hands. I bent my leg and managed to balance while holding on to my foot too. Sort of.Good enough, I thought. I was stretching. I was breathing. All while trying not to pass out in this heat. Had I really gotten up two hours early to make pies in the pitch-dark for this?
“Well, this might sound crazy, but hear me out,” Daphne said, turning her head in my direction. For a moment I saw her again as a child, that motherless little tween with straggly hair and neon-rubber-banded braces. But I blinked and there she was, a grown young woman now, crackling with energy, exuberance, and confidence. Daphne had always flung herself out into the world, fearless and bold.
“Crazy how?” I grunted, holding on to my wavering foot.
“I want to quit school.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?” I lost my balance and hopped to remain upright.
“Moving on to Standing Bow Pose,” the instructor called, shooting us a censorious look. “Bend your leg back and pick up your foot from the inside of the ankle.” Daphne followed the directions, and I copied her as best I could.
“What do you mean you’re going to quit school?” My voice was too loud in the calm space, high-pitched in protest.
Daphne shrugged, holding her ankle and slowly easing forward, fingers pointed toward the far wall like Superman. “Cornish just costs so much money, and I don’t know if I’ll even use my degree. I want to do something more practical that won’t be taking so much money from you and Dad for tuition. I want to help out.”
“You can help out by staying in school and finishing your degree,” I countered in a loud whisper. I wobbled forward and pointed my arm straight in front of me, not even trying to copy the move.
“But what if I don’t want to finish it?” Daphne argued in a slightly softer whisper. “What if I want to travel and see the world? That can be more valuable than a college degree. Real life experience. I could get my yoga teacher certification somewhere really cool. Damien wants to go with me.”
“You need to stay in school and get your degree. It will give you way more options for a good job in the future,” I said firmly. When I glanced up, the instructor’s gaze was on us, her brow furrowed. Oh great, she was heading our way.
The instructor glided up to me. “Let me help you with your form,” she said in a low, soothing tone, a voice one would use for a petulant toddler. She was sweating but doing it in a calmly beatific way, glistening serenely. I caught a whiff of patchouli as she showed me the correct pose. I swiped a damp strand of hair back and adjusted the angle of my bent leg, not caring at all whether I was doing the pose correctly. Inside I was fuming.
Daphne had set this whole thing up. She wanted to have thisconversation in a place where I wouldn’t be able to openly respond to her bombshell. She was right, her tuition was a significant financial strain on our family. But I worked as hard as I could so that she could do the things I couldn’t. We sacrificed as a family for her so she could have a brighter future than either Dad or I had. She was one of the main reasons I had given everything up ten years ago. If she gave up on school now, all that sacrifice would be worthless.
Apparently despairing of my form and lack of attention, the instructor returned to the front of the room.
“I just don’t want to see you throwing away opportunities for your future,” I said out of the corner of my mouth. “You’ve only got a year left anyway. Stick it out and get your degree, then go see the world, do your yoga training, whatever you want. Just finish school first.”
“I don’t want to waste any more time or money on school if I’m not going to use it,” Daphne countered in a loud whisper. “I’d rather do what I want to do now. It doesn’t make sense to wait. Damien agrees with me. We’re going to go right after he graduates this spring.”
“Step to the back of your yoga mat,” the instructor called out, “as we move into Balancing Stick Pose. Just a reminder to keep the space quiet and full of positive energy.” She looked straight at us and frowned reprovingly as she spoke.
I moved to the back of the mat and shot Daphne a warning look, the one I’d used since she became my responsibility, the one that conjured up as much maternal disapproval as possible. I telegraphedThis isn’t finishedwith my furrowed eyebrows. I was not about to let her waste her chance to get a college degree, not to mention throw away the years of study, tuition, and time she’d already invested.
She studiously avoided my eyes, keeping her own on the front of the room, but I could tell by the stubborn set of her jaw that she’d already decided. Well, we would just have to see about that. I wasn’t backing down without a fight. Not where her future was concerned. Iwanted more for her than I’d had—more chances, more fulfillment, more... life.
After the class I swung home for a shower before heading to the diner. I was sweaty, stinky, and grouchy. Daphne had stayed to teach another class as soon as our session had ended. As I drove, an old Tammy Wynette CD started playing on Florence’s ancient CD player. It was stuck in there, so there were limited music options. It was basically Tammy or silence. “We’re Gonna Hold On,” Tammy warbled in a duet with George Jones. She had been my mother’s favorite, the first lady of country music. My mother could sing all her songs by heart, belting out every word in her throaty alto.
Pulling into our driveway, I put the car in park but didn’t get out. I was still reeling from Daphne’s bombshell. She could be stubborn as a rock, but I could be stubborn too. There was absolutely no way I was letting her throw her future away now. I had sacrificed too much to let that happen. Her success meant my sacrifice was worth it. It was as simple as that. But how could I get through to her and convince her to stay in school?
I needed help, someone to talk to about all this. I was still in knots over the worrisome tax letter and now Daphne’s crackpot scheme. I reached down and touched the lemon drops tucked safely in the pocket of my jacket, then took one out and considered it for a moment. There was only one person who would understand all this, who would offer sage advice. It was her death that had thrown us into this mess in the first place. Perhaps she could help get us out. All I wanted right now was the woman I had missed every minute of every day for the past ten years. I needed my mother.
19
