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“Vince, are you almost ready?” Lyndsey calls from the other room. She pops her head in, looking gorgeous as ever, wearing a moss green workout top and leggings.
“Yeah! Here you go.” I hand her a yoga mat.
“Also, I picked up some flowers for your mum, too. They’re in the kitchen. I also found some of that good incense from the health food store. Is that a weird hostess gift? I figured she’d like it since she’s a yoga teacher.”
Lyndsey’s face softens. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says.
“Yes, I did! I need to get off on the right foot.”
Lyndsey is silent on the drive over to the community center, contemplatively glancing out the window as she clutches the bouquet of wildflowers I found for her mum.
“You okay?” I ask, trying not to pry.
“I guess I’m a bit nervous. I’ve never brought anyone home to my mom before.”
“Really? Ever?”
“Nope. I mean, most of my previous boyfriends weren’t exactly long-term partners. So, feel free to gloat.”
I can’t help myself. I smile when Lyndsey says, ‘Long-term.’ No one’s ever made me consider the future as much as Lyndsey. I used to say that I lived life by the day. I started touring full-time when I was twenty-one, and it impacted my sense of time.
Time became truncated: weeks separated into days, hours, and then green rooms. Then, I got sober, and I had no choice but to take things day by day. Now, almost thirty years later, I can see a future for the first time, and I hope Lyndsey will be by my side.
“It’s up on the right here,” Lyndsey says.
I pull into the parking lot of a nondescript terra cotta building with a marquee spelling out “PASADENA COMMUNITY CENTER” to the side.
I park, and Lyndsey leads the way into the building, pointing to a concrete staircase off to the side. “It’s on the second floor.”
I watch her ass bob as she walks upstairs, giving it a playful slap with my yoga mat.
Lyndsey laughs. “Behave! What happened to making a good impression?”
“I can’t help myself,” I say.
Lyndsey opens a clear glass door into a long, carpeted hallway, then opens the third door on the left to reveal a softly lit room with polished wooden floors. It looks like a dance studio; soft music pipes through the speakers as various students lay their yoga mats on the floor.
A woman with a silver shag haircut sits serenely at the front of the room; legs crossed as she perches on a meditation pillow. Lyndsey walks up to her and taps her on the shoulder. She pulls Lyndsey into a hug, and then Lyndsey gestures to me.
“Mikki? Or, er, Mrs. Vynse?”
“Oh, call me Mikki!” She coos, her voice is calm.
“It’s so wonderful to meet you! I’ve been a fan for years, although I’m sure Lyndsey’s told you.”
“Well, wouldn’t you know I’m a fan of Lyndsey?”
Mikki laughs. “That makes two of us. Thank you so much for coming tonight.”
“Of course! Lyndsey and I were going to do yoga this week anyway.”
“Well, not to brag, but this is the best class in town.”
Lyndsey rolls her eyes.
“I don’t doubt it!” I say as the last students file in.
“Just you wait.” Mikki has the same smile as Lyndsey, who gestures toward two empty spots near the back of the studio. Ifollow her, briefly impressed by the power of genetics. Lyndsey and her mom have the same mannerisms.
