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“Your dad getting elected is completely out of your hands,” Ivan said. “But you can take steps to repair your relationship. What’s one thing that would make you feel better about the situation?”
“I want to hear his voice and not just in a video clip where someone is shoving a microphone in his face and asking him to explain my past behavior and asking why he didn’t do things differently as a father.”
“Call him tomorrow,” Ivan said.
“He might refuse my call. The chasm between us feels so wide that he couldn’t even hear the echoes of my regrets.”
“But he might answer,” Ivan countered. “And if he doesn’t, call him back the next day and the next.”
“Maybe.” He wrapped his arms around Ivan’s waist and squeezed. “I do feel better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
When Ivan had just about drifted to sleep, Rory whispered, “I could quit you if I wanted to.”
Ivan chuckled and held Rory tighter.We’ll just see about that.
“Remember to breathe through your nose,” Hope said two weeks later. Her voice was soothing and encouraging, even as Rory’s muscles screamed in protest.
He thought he was in excellent shape, but the sweat dripping from his face onto the pale purple mat during the standing forward bend said otherwise. What the hell had he been thinking when he’d agreed to this torture? He’d come to town with Harry for pedicures on a Saturday afternoon. He’d been too wound up with tension to worry if someone recognized him. But somehow he’d ended up contorting his body into the twelve positions Hope had called sun salutations.
“Let’s swing by my mother’s studio and say hello,” Harry had said.
“Oh, Rory, you look tense,” Hope had said after laying eyes on him. “Maybe you should stick around for my morning class. It’s just about to start.”
Hope’s energy had drawn him in, and sun salutations sounded so…peaceful. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
Hope’s smile grew even brighter as she patted his cheek affectionately. “Leave that to me.” She’d produced a pair of black shorts and a tee sporting the studio’s logo.
“That’s pretty tame,” Harry remarked when he’d returned from the changing rooms a few moments later. “Where are the shirts with the risqué slogans?”
“Sold out.” Hope’s smug smile was adorable.
It wasn’t until Rory hit the cobra pose that he realized the silent exchange between mother and daughter during Harry’s departure was downright suspicious. Had they set him up? Maybe Rory wasn’t as adept at hiding his tension as he’d believed. The conversations he’d had with Ivan in Honeyland and their nighttime confessions had triggered a lot of introspection. Ivan’s story had touched him on so many levels, but his grief over losing his father hit Rory the hardest. His mother often visited Rory in his sleep. She’d plead with him to make amends with his dad and remind Rory that tomorrows are never guaranteed. Often those dreams turned into nightmares where Rory waited too long and never got a chance to make things right with his father. Rory would wake up determined to connect with Charles until he checked the daily headlines. The scandal wasn’t going away. It must’ve been one dull news cycle, which was hard to believe considering the state of the world.
Today’s headline read: Sleeping with the Enemy. Beneath it was a picture of Rory kissing Seth Miller, the youngest son of Charles’s opponent in the party primary. They were shirtless and sweaty with colorful confetti sticking to their skin. Rory remembered the moment clearly because he’d been clean and sober. It was taken at a Pride event five years before either of their fathers had made a bid for public office. There was nothing salacious about the photo, but the media was acting like the photograph was taken five days ago, not five years. Clearly the leaks weren’t coming from the Miller camp. Dolan Miller wouldn’t throw his own son under the bus and draw that kind of scrutiny on his family. Or would he if he was tired of Charles getting so much press? The polls still showed them neck and neck.
“Inhale,” Hope gently said, “now root your feet on the mat to rise, bringing your hands back over your head.”
Rory had stopped counting positions somewhere around the equestrian pose, but he thought they were on the second to last position in the sequence. Hope guided them to the prayer pose and then the mountain.Off by one.Rory sighed his relief that it was over.
“And now we go through the poses once more, leading with the opposite foot.”
He’d meant to stifle his groan, truly, but it slipped out of his mouth anyway. A smattering of giggles sounded around him, and the older woman on his right held up her fist for him to bump.
“I hear ya,” she said when their knuckles touched. The woman’s dark hair was damp with sweat, but her skin looked dewy and luminescent. Flushed cheeks gave her skin a natural blush money couldn’t buy. Rory imagined he looked the exact opposite—sweaty as a gym rat with a blotchy red face.
“Everyone, take a moment to hydrate before we continue,” Hope said.
Rory picked up the reusable bottle Hope had provided with the clothes. The water was ice cold and mildly flavored with fresh fruit.
“I’m Abigail,” the woman with the dewy glow said.
“James,” he replied, using his middle name just in case. “Been at this long?”
“Just a few months. The movements have come easier, but I still fight turning off my brain and tuning in to my body. I still cycle through a to-do list occasionally. Mindfulness is the ultimate goal,” Abigail told him. A blissful expression crossed over her face as if she were discussing a dream vacation in a tropical paradise.
And maybe the concept of being completely in tune with her body and living solely in that specific moment was the ultimate destination for her. Rory tipped his head to the side as he considered it. No past. No future. No ruminating on what happened or what could’ve been. No anxiety about what was yet to come. Just the splendor of the present moment. That kind of thinking wasn’t sustainable all the time, but it could provide a healthy break from reality.
