We gather our cushions for meditation and wait for Miranda to join us. Today the room smells of rose oil and patchouli as well as the aroma of someone’s well-worn trainers. Will has assumed his lying-down position as usual, while everyone else chats among themselves. His left hand swipes out and taps me on the leg.
‘She does tarot, you know,’ he says in a low voice.
‘Who does?’
‘Meg.’ He turns on his side to face me, whispering, ‘She read my cards last night, it was weird.’
My eyes dart over to her, watching her unzip her hoodie. ‘Really? Why doesn’t that surprise me? Did she tell you anything interesting?’
He scratches his stubble. ‘Hmm, she said I was going to have a torrid affair with a stubborn woman who wears glasses and can’t open a hot tub.’
My eyes swiftly move from Meg to him. ‘What? She did?’
‘Of course not. It’s all nonsense, but I played along.’
I look at his body stretched out beside me. I hadn’t noticed just what good shape he’s in. He hides it well under those ridiculous T-shirts. Not gym-ripped like Brad but wide and lean.The kind of torso you could snuggle into after—
‘What did she actually say, then?’ I ask, interrupting my own train of thought while my brain congratulates me on being the most undersexed woman in history.
‘Stuff that applies to everyone,’ he replies, unaware of my leering. ‘Nothing specific – bad relationships in the past, a new one on the horizon, etc. People pay her forty quid a pop to turn over cards and make shit up. I’m in the wrong game.’
‘My granny used to read the cards,’ I reply. ‘Wow, I haven’t thought about that for years. And she read palms… and tea leaves. She was mental. My dad’s side of the family were all a bit kooky. Well, except him. He was as straight-laced as they come.’
‘Sorry, everyone, Miranda is feeling unwell today, so I’ll be taking the meditation class.’ Brad strides in like he owns the place and takes his position at the front of the room. Will grudgingly sits up.
‘Your boyfriend’s here,’ he whispers.
‘At leastmy boyfrienddoesn’t read tarot cards,’ I mumble back.
I watch Brad settle into the lotus position. My thighs hurt just watching him.
‘Now, if we’re all ready, let’s start with a deep breath in…’
Smirking, I close my eyes and let the world slip away.
At ten thirty, we all grab coffee before the next session. I’ve never wanted to get out of a room so quickly. I’m completely shaken by that last meditation for two reasons: 1. I still have Brad’s dulcet breathy tones ringing in my ears and every time I closed my eyes 2. Will’s torso was there, just looking annoyingly masculine. I couldn’t get them out of my mind. It was the most awkward meditation session so far and now I feel like I’ve been involved in some bizarre mental three-way that was both horrifying and the most erotic thing to happen to me in years.
‘You alright?’ Will asks as he reaches across me for the milk. ‘You look a bit flushed.’
Do you know what else feels flushed, Will? My vagina.
‘I’m fine,’ I respond. ‘Just a bit warm in here. I’m taking my coffee outside.’
‘OK, cool, I’ll join you.’
I smile politely and walk towards the door, hoping that he drops dead before he has the chance to spend his break with me. It feels like that time I had a sex dream about my neighbour Mike and couldn’t even say hi to him without my face bursting into flames.
I take a seat on my usual bench and blow into my coffee, while Will stops to chat to Harriet, a woman from Group One who wears the same pair of gold sandals every day, regardless of the weather. I’m so annoyed with myself. It’s one thing to have secret lustful feelings towards a younger American who is out of my league, but it’s unacceptable to drag the maddening, though admittedly funny, journalist that I’ve been sharing intimate life details with along for the ride. Will’s even more messed up than I am, I don’t need him in my head. I sit for a moment and try to clear my mind, reminding my lower regions that none of this shit is real.
He probably looks like a nightmare under that T-shirt. Just matted back hair and a plethora of badly spelled tattoos.
The entire group seems to be congregating outside today and as I watch them converse, I can’t help thinking about how different everyone is on paper – but inside, they’re essentially the same. Regardless of gold sandals or fedoras or wealth or age, everyone just wants to be loved.
I’ve almost finished my coffee by the time Will trundles down to sit with me and thankfully I’m calmer than I was when I left meditation class. It must be all that heavy breathing,I decide. It’s only normal. I haven’t had sex in three years; a firm handshake could set me off.
‘I thought I’d been rumbled,’ he begins, taking a swig of his half empty cup. ‘That Harriet woman is convinced she knows me. Wouldn’t stop throwing names and places at me, to see if one of them stuck.’
‘And?’ I ask, purposefully looking at him from the neck up. ‘Have you met before?’
