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Sasha
Iwalk down the gravel driveway as quickly as I can without actually breaking into a jog. My heart is pounding at the thought of one of the staff seeing me and asking me where I’m going. I’m wondering if you can get kicked out of the retreat for this type of infraction.
I’m wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up in an attempt to be incognito. I know I look ridiculous but I don’t care.
I get to the end of the driveway and see Spencer standing there holding his phone up toward the sky trying to get better reception.
“Hey. Were you able to book the Uber?” I whisper.
“I did, thank God. I had to walk further down the street to find decent reception but Alex in a white Camry is on his way. It looks like he’ll be here in the next… 3 minutes,” he says, glancing at his phone. “And by the way, I don’t think you need to whisper. I’m pretty sure they can’t hear us all the way out here.”
We look at each other and crack up at the utter ridiculousness of the situation.
“What do you think they’ll do if they catch us?” I ask, kicking at some gravel and praying Alex shows up quickly.
“I’m sure they’ll throw us both in the meditation retreat dungeon, never to be seen again.”
“I can only imagine what the food is like down there,” I say, making a face.
“I’m pretty sure there would be no food – only green juice that tastes like kale,” he says wrinkling his nose.
“And no beds. Only meditation cushions…”
Alex the Uber driver rolls up and we get in. In talking with him, we find out this is not an unusual situation. Just last week he took two women from the retreat to town and dropped them off at a diner. They told him about the no coffee after breakfast situation and said they just couldn’t cope.
Ten minutes later we arrive at the only steakhouse in town, a slightly rundown-looking place called Texas Horns. We jump out of the Uber, thanking Alex and letting him know we’ll be needing a ride back in an hour or two.
The restaurant looks like it’s straight out of the 1980’s with Mexican tiled floors and red faux leather booths. It smells of grilled meat and stale beer. We sit down and peruse the menu.
There are no martinis to be had at Texas Horns, but they’ve got every type of domestic beer that you could ever want. Not exactly what we are looking for but it will have to do. We both order a Rolling Rock and cheers each other for so skillfully escaping Northern Dharma for the evening.
“So, how the hell did you end up here?” I ask, a flush of alcohol and adrenaline tingling through my body.
He looks up at the ceiling and chuckles. “My therapist recommended it. She knows I’m working too much right now and need to find more balance in my life. She actually raved about the retreat and told me I’d be a changed man at the end. Maybe she meant changed as in never wanting to eat tofu again.”
“You? Working too much? Where did she get that idea?” I tease, taking another swig of beer.
“Yeah, yeah, I know… I work too much. It’s a well-known fact. But, I’m trying – I really am. I want to make time for other things.”
“Like dating. I know. And I’m still working hard on finding you some good options,” I say, glancing away and wishing that I’d had more luck finding him what he wants.
“I’m an inflexible pain in the ass. I know. I’ve just had some major slip-ups in my dating life and I’m not willing to settle for less than I really want.”
“You’re not an inflexible pain in the ass. And I admire you for sticking to your guns. If you know what you really want, you should go for it.” I say, biting my lip.
Spencer scratches his head, a pensive look on his face, and tips up his beer.
“So... You... How didyouend up here?” he asks.
“My friend, Lexi, came here a few months ago and told me I had to give it a try. She’s now meditating 3 times a day and says it helps her stay focused at work. She’s an attorney with a crazy caseload so anything she can find to help her focus better is like gold to her.”
“Focus is certainly something I could use more of. Maybe we need to give this whole thing a try. Open up our minds a little bit?” he says.
“I just wish there weren’t so many rules. I’m 26, for God’s sake. Don’t treat me like I’m five.”
“Wait a minute… what rules are you talking about? Other than no talking, which we are certainly not following right now. And no reading, right?”
“Those are the main two. And, no sex, of course.” I feel my face color.
