Shetsksand rolls her eyes. “He’s still a good boy,” she insists, watching Gemini wag wildly and lap at the fence, trying to greet the children with canine kisses.
“Yeah, whatever you say,” I tease, and then I lower into a cross-legged sitting position. “C’mon, we’ll start like this.”
“Oh! Just a minute,” Janine says, trotting back toward the door to take off her shoes. A high-pitched squeal sails across the yard, and I look back to see the giggling, dark headed boy standing with his pudgy hand through the fence. Gemini licks it with gleeful abandon. My guess is the plump little fist is covered with ice cream or popsicle juice or some other treat.
Mrs. Vivian has always been our backdoor neighbor. She still works in her garden almost every day, but she’s starting to slow down. I don’t know how old she is, but I know those little ones aren’t her grandchildren, but hergreat-grandchildren.
I quickly scan the yard for my elderly neighbor, but I don’t find her at the picnic table or in the cluster of people lounging in lawn chairs. At first, I think she must be inside, and I hope she’s all right.
But then I spot her on the right side of her yard, near the garage, talking to a tall, dark haired man. I don’t recognize him, but he has the look of Vivian’s grandsons. Except younger. And leaner around the middle. Better looking.
From my angle I can tell they are out of sight from the rest of Vivian’s guests. And this is when the stranger looks up and straight into my eyes, almost piercing me with his gaze. I suck in my breath. He’s caught me staring at what is probably a private moment. I jerk my face away and focus on Janine. She joins me insukasana,and I start us off with a few measured breaths, willing my mind to return to the present. I ask Janine to softly close her eyes, and then I take her through alternate nostril breathing, orkundalini.
Within a few exhales, I can feel my own body ease and unravel, and I hope it’s working as well for Janine. I bat my eyes open and see that already she looks less tight in the shoulders. But we only have about thirty minutes, so I need to make each one count.
“Okay, let’s move forward onto all fours,” I tell her, taking the position on my mat as she follows suit. “We’ll start with a flat back, and do a few cat-cow stretches.”
After a quick, but yummy hatha session, I walk a completely relaxed and supple Janine through the house and to the front door.
She gives a deep sigh and looks at me in gratitude. “You are a miracle worker. I think I could actually face a night ruled by cholic.”
I wince through my smile. “I hope you don’t have to.”
She shakes her head. “You know, I have a feeling I won’t. I’m so relaxed now, I think Aaron will feel the difference in me.” Janine blinks in surprise as if her own words startle her. She scrunches up her nose. “Does that sound crazy? I hardly trust myself to talk to people these days. Maybe it’s the hormones, but I say the weirdest things.”
I clasp her gently on the elbow. “You don’t sound crazy,” I reassure. “Of course little Aaron will be more relaxed and at ease if you are. He can feel tension in your body. And he’s aware of your breath and heartbeat. How could he be okay if you’re not?”
Janine closes her eyes and smiles, looking almost prayerful. Then she opens them. “What do I owe you?”
I shake my head. “First lesson’s on the house.”
“Well,” she says, narrowing her gaze. “What if I want to come back?”
This, right here, is probably the highlight of my whole day. I’ve helped my friend by introducing her to yoga, and she wants more. I can’t even count the number of times I offered a lesson before she got pregnant, but that obviously wasn’t the right time, and now this is.
I can’t hide my smile. “I’ll give you the Saint Street discount. Fifteen an hour.”
Janine eyes me like I’m crazy. “I know it’s more than that to take a class at your studio, and that’s not a private lesson.”
“Yeah, but I’m teaching you in my own home,” I say, gesturing to the house around me. “No overhead, and I don’t even have to drive anywhere. Seriously, that’s what I charge all my neighbors.”
The look she gives me is skeptical, but I just smile. “Well, the first chance I get, when Aaron isn’t crying loud enough to shake the shingles off the roof, or he’s not nursing me dry, I’m making you some lemon squares.”
“Ooh…” I croon appreciatively. Janine’s lemon squares are the best ever. “When you’re ready, I won’t turn you down.”
After I tell my neighbor goodnight, I walk through the front room back to the kitchen, brimming with happiness. Tori’s at the counter by the sink, chopping an onion.
“So, are you going to help me, or am I cooking by myself?”
The smile on my face freezes. My shoulder blades draw together, but I will myself to breathe evenly. Tori and I share dinner-prep duties on the days I don’t have a late class. Tori earned a chemistry degree, and she works as a lab tech at United Blood Services, testing blood samples, so she’s home pretty much every day right after five o’clock. But that means she’s usually the one to start dinner, and she never lets me forget it.
“I’m going to help you,” I say gently, not taking her bait. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think my sister craves an argument. I have a theory that feeling embattled — believing that others have wronged her — brings her some relief. If someone else is to blame for her unhappiness, then she’s off the hook. It’s not her fault. And then maybe the universe owes her for damages, and one day in some cosmic righting of wrongs, she’ll get this huge settlement that will make it all better.
But that’s not how karma works.
What I resist persists, so I hold back the sharp retort at her oh-so-very-annoying jab, and I reach under the counter for the stockpot. I grab the olive oil and drizzle some over the bottom, but I know my one act of non engagement won’t be enough.
“I can’t believe you didn’t charge Janine,” Tori hisses. “So, people can just call you up out of the blue now, and you’ll teach them for free?”
