Breathe: A Novel (24 page)

“You went back to dark, I see.” Louise looked at my hair.

I bit the inside of my cheek and held back. I wanted to tell her that her pinched expression made her look constipated, and that the laser must not be working because the pores on her nose were the size of my hometown.

Compassion, Alex. Compassion
and kindness.

A yogi lives on this earth, but rises above it.

“And you, Louise, are as platinum as ever. Well. We were just leaving,” I said, turning back toward the car.

“And Alex, what exactly did you say you were doing here?” Louise asked.

“I—we—I was just—” I looked from Haley to Jenny, knowing my best bet was Jenny, but since she had yet to even say hello to Louise, I figured I was pretty much up shit’s creek, to use my brother’s expression.

“Oh, Louise, I wanted to see you!” Haley chimed in.

Just when I’d started to lose all hope, it was Haley who came through.

“That is very sweet Haley. But why would you come looking for me here?” Louise was not easily deceived. She looked back at me.

My face burned. “Haley wanted to see you, and I . . . ” I glanced around and spotted the mailbox, “ . . . I wanted to see if there was any mail that needed to be picked up.” Lying again. I was going to yoga purgatory for sure. “We were here anyway. At the Club. As Jenny’s guests.” I felt the annoying need to justify myself.

Louise looked at my yoga clothes.

“Are you still at that? Alex, Tripp has moved on, and I suggest you do as well. So now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to inside.” She gave Haley an air kiss and hug and extended her limp hand to me.

“Wait!” Haley piped up again. “I’m dying to see the inside. How about a quick guided tour?”

Louise was clearly eating up Haley’s adoration.

“Alright, young lady, a tour it is. Alex, I assume you and your friend will wait here?” she said to Jenny and me.

“Louise, you remember Jenny. We met through Tripp.” Louise brought her Chanel glasses down onto her nose and peered at Jenny.

“Oh, yes, Tucker’s wife.” She now extended that limp hand to Jenny. “I apologize for not recognizing you. I just assumed you two would no longer be friends.”

“Yes, well, life is full of surprises, Louise. Anyway, nice to see you. I’ll be in the car,” Jenny said.

“Me too,” I managed.

“Oh Alex,” Louise called. I turned around. “Don’t you want your mail?”

I walked back. “Is there any?” I asked.

“I believe Luz has collected a stack in the kitchen. Since I’ll be taking Haley on a tour, I’ll let you go in and retrieve it. We’ll be going in through the back, so she can see my topiary on the way in.”

Haley beamed.

When they were out of sight, I tentatively walked up the stairs toward the great cherry wood door, memories creeping in with each step. My hand on the heavy iron handle was almost more than I could bear. I needed to get out of there as fast as possible. Pushing it open, I dashed through the foyer; past the living room with its white sofa; past Tripp’s office, his desk and chair. I burst into the kitchen, saw my mail on the counter, was ready to grab it and run, but something stopped me dead in my tracks. Neatly placed on top of the stack was a brochure.

“Lauren Gates Yoga Workshop: She will change your life!”

My duffel zipped easily. I was traveling light. Jeans, thermals, and pjs, a coat, hat, and boots were really all I’d need. At the last minute, I remembered my yoga mat, picturing my mom practicing her daily sun salutations on our wooden porch. I folded it and placed it in my bag.

“Alex, are you sure you don’t want me to come with you guys to the airport? I really don’t mind,” Haley said, lying on my bed with Bitzi.

I was looking forward to the quiet drive with Andy.

“I’m sure, Haley. Plus, I think Andy’s heading down to the peninsula after dropping me off, and it would be a pain for him to drive you back to the city,” I said, hoping to quell any further questioning.

“Hmm,” she said. “I could always go with him. I still haven’t seen the greenhouse.”

With all my meditation and mantras, I still couldn’t handle the thought of the two of them alone together.

“Honestly, Hay, I think he’s busy. Why don’t you go to the Garden for Galen’s class?”

“Knock, knock.” Andy opened the door. “Hey, besties. This all we got?” he asked, looking at my bag.

“You can borrow some of my clothes, you know. Aren’t you going to go out at all while you’re home?” Haley asked as she moisturized her feet.

“Out? In Sisters? In case you forgot, ‘dressed up’ in Sisters means a new pair of Wranglers. Besides, I’m sure my parents will have me playing endless rounds of Scrabble when I’m not helping Dad with the new potting shed.” It actually didn’t sound half-bad.

“My kind of vacation,” Andy said, rubbing his hands together. “Sure you don’t want me to go with you? I build a mean potting shed.”

I imagined Andy and my dad bundled in the olive L.L. Bean parkas that lived in our mudroom. Andy hammering, while my dad held the frame in place.

“Gosh, Andy,” Haley said and stood up. “What are we going to do with Alex away for two weeks?”

We?

She was putting on her furry boots.

“Guess we’ll just count the days ‘til she gets back. Right, my man?” he asked Billy, who was sprawled out at his feet. He bent down to scratch him. “What about you, Haley? Did you find a place?”

“Not even looking. Alex and I make fantastic roommates.” She was wearing her jacket now and putting things in her purse.

“Don’t forget that Andy has an appointment,” I tried again.

“That’s okay. I’ll just go with him.”

Andy smiled and said, “I’d love to hang out Haley, but I’ve got back to back meetings all afternoon.”

“Oh, fine,” Haley said and tossed Bitzi back onto my bed.

“Another time,” he said to her. “Let’s hit it, Oregon.” He tossed my bag over his shoulder. “You up for a drive, Bill?”

Billy barked twice, so Andy grabbed his leash and headed for the door.

“I’ve got Billy,” he called. “I’ll bring him by later.”

“Sounds good,” Haley yelled from the refrigerator. She was lining up ingredients for a homemade facemask.

I glanced around the room, pushed in two dresser drawers, and walked over to the kitchen.

“Alright, Hay. I’m out of here.” I grabbed a banana and put it in my purse. “Don’t forget to water the plants and feed the dogs.”

Haley had begged to dog-sit Billy. And despite my doubts about her responsibility, I really didn’t want to put him through the trauma of a flight. So reluctantly I accepted her offer, making her swear to walk him twice a day and not to dress him like a Christmas elf.

“Don’t worry, Allie. I got it. Give Mags and Ben a hug for me.” She cracked an egg and tossed its shell in the sink. A trail of egg white streaked the floor.

The Universe is not yours to control.

I leaned over the mess and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Once we were settled in the cab of the truck with Billy snuggled in his lap, Andy reached over like he was going to rest his hand on my thigh. He must have changed his mind though, because he placed it back on the steering wheel, took a deep breath, and looked out his window.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He glanced at me but didn’t say anything.

“So my mom said they just got twelve inches of snow. I wonder if I’ll even remember how to drive in that stuff.” I unzipped my jacket and loosened the scarf around my neck. “We actually have a plow that attaches to our tractor, and when we were little, my dad used to—”

“I can’t do this,” he said without looking at me. My body tightened.

“What? Can’t drive a tractor? I’ll teach you.” I turned and smiled at him.

We were stopped at a light, but Andy kept his eyes on the road.

“I can’t be this guy for you.”

My heart started beating faster.

“You’re not just a guy, you’re my friend. We agreed, remember? And look at us. It works.”

“It works for you.”

“Andy, I don’t understand . . . ” I lied.

“Come on.” He looked irritated, and it scared me. “I’ve been here. Am here, Alex. For whatever you need and whenever you need it. But you’re keeping me at an arm’s length. Flirting just enough to keep me wondering. If you only want a friend, then act like one.” He gripped the wheel.
I’m so sorry. Kiss me. Come home with me.

The words were stuck, unreachable.

I summoned all of my courage and said, “You’re free to do what you want.”

Free to leave me. Free to love someone else.

We rode in silence.

“Good to know,” he finally said, and turned on the radio.

We arrived at the airport three excruciating songs later. Andy stopped outside the terminal, then turned and looked at me. He was unshaven and still tan from his long days in the sun. A soft, cotton t-shirt peeked out from the neckline of his worn wool sweater. I felt a longing so strong that it threatened to consume me. As I held his gaze, the world slowed to a stop. Everything faded away but his eyes and my heartbeat.

“Alright, Oregon.” He looked away. “I tried.” He got out of the truck, retrieved my bag, and walked it around to the sidewalk where I now stood. I searched for something to say.

“Will you make sure Billy’s okay?” I asked.

He smiled for the first time since we left my apartment, and I was flooded with relief.

“You think I’d leave this guy to fend for himself?” He extended an arm to Billy, who was hanging out the passenger side window.

“Thanks,” I said.

Then he put his arms around me and pulled me close.

Let go of control.

I slipped my arms around his waist and closed my eyes, enveloped by the smell and feel of him.

Let go.

I looked up, moving my lips toward his. This time, he pulled away.

Looking out at the line of cars, he said, “You’re gonna miss your flight.”

I could barely breathe. I picked up my bag and walked toward the terminal, afraid to look back and terrified to move forward.

***

Two hours later, I was searching through the crowd for my mom’s familiar face.

“Honey, I’m right here,” she called, walking toward me in a worn barn jacket and purple knit hat.

“Mom!” I didn’t realize how much I needed to see her until I was in her arms, soothed by the scent of her White Rain shampoo.

“How’s my girl?” she asked, pulling away and holding my shoulders with both of her strong hands. “You look great. How are you feeling? Hungry? How about Pines of Tuscany for a nice hot lunch?”

“Sounds good. I’m starving,” I answered. I needed something in my knotted, empty stomach.

Mom and I held hands and walked out into the chilly High Desert air. At first, it felt awkward, given the distance between us for the last few years. Still, I didn’t let go.

“Come on.” Mom laughed, and we jogged toward the family Wagoneer.

“There she is!” Dad jumped from the driver’s seat and gave me a hug that lifted me off the ground. He looked around and asked, “Where’s your usual travel companion?”

“Hi, Dad! Billy’s at home with Haley.”

“The famous Haley Hamilton?” he asked, throwing my bag into the back. I wondered if Mom had shared our last conversation.

“Yep. She’s been staying with me.”

We jumped in the car, and on the drive I delivered an abridged version of what had gone on since Haley’s arrival. They listened thoughtfully, and when I was through, my mom turned her head to me in the back seat and said, “There’s a reason that girl has been in your life for so long.” Then she turned back to the expanse of land that lay before us. I relaxed into my seat, taking in the majesty of the snow-capped mountains.

***

Pulling into our long dirt driveway, I knew that coming home was exactly what I needed. Smooth banks of fresh powder softened the vast landscape, and the crunching of our tires was the only sound to be heard. Our long front porch glowed in the mellow light of afternoon, and a plume of smoke drifted peacefully from the chimney. All my life, I’d wanted to escape this emptiness and calm, to find something new and exciting. But my year with Tripp had been like a near-death experience, and now I was seeing everything with new eyes. My heart felt like it might explode, it was so beautiful.

While Dad carried my bag in from the car, I wandered down toward the corral. My troubles blew away like drifting snow as I opened the side door of the barn, its cold metal latch burning my bare fingers. The sweet, familiar scent of hay and leather greeted me at the door. I grabbed a carrot from the bin and walked straight to Winger’s stall. He whinnied and threw his head over the door before I had even reached him. I fed him the carrot and rubbed his nose.

“Hey, buddy. You miss me? ‘Cause I sure missed you.” I nuzzled into the side of his neck then took his face in my hands. “You’ve gone grey on me.”

It had been a whole year since I’d last seen him. I felt a mix of guilt and sadness. Winger, my faithful confidant, my place to center and connect, my yoga before I even understood what yoga was. I pulled the phone from my pocket and snapped a photo of Winger, the flash startling him. I typed, ‘
Hi from Oregon. Give Billy a smooch for me.’
I sent it to both Haley and Andy.

When the barn door opened and the lights flickered on, I realized that I had been standing in the dark. Outside, the moon and stars were so bright that light spilled through a window and into Winger’s stall.

“Now, that’s the Alex I remember.” Mom hung a few pieces of tack and then walked over to me. “Winger before anything else.”

“Nothing’s changed, Mom,” I said with contentment. “Well, except these grey whiskers on my Wing man.” I gave him a kiss on his snout.

“Hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Right, Winger?” My mom leaned one elbow on the stall door and brushed a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “My girl is home.” She sighed. “We’ve missed you, Alex.”

I knew it was more than the physical distance she was talking about.

“I know. I’ve missed you guys, too.” I rubbed my arms. In my hurry to see Winger, I’d come down without a coat.

“Dad put on some tea up at the house. Help me throw these blankets over Bristol and Max then we’ll head in to warm you up.” I loved my mother’s strength. Her ability to see what needed to be done, to see what people needed, and to do it without drama or recognition. She truly was
a humble warrior.

“Sounds good,” I said.

We worked together with the ease of two people who shared that chore each evening, one straightening, the other buckling. I could have been fourteen again, except that I had a sense of peace and gratitude I’m not sure that I’d ever felt before.

‘
You have to be knocked off center in order to find center,’
Galen once said as I tumbled out of half moon pose. Trying again, I had wobbled, then found my balance.

Now I smiled.

When we were done, Mom checked all the latches and shut off the lights. The moon reflected off the snow, giving everything a blue glow. With a pang, I thought of Andy. He would love it here. And he’d never have needed twenty-five years to appreciate it.

Inside the house, I sat at the large wooden table and leafed through an old photo album. Dad was in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace, reading some tattered classic from his collection. He looked up at me with a satisfied smile.

“Sure is nice to see you there, little miss.”

“So, Dad.” I turned a brittle plastic page. “At what age does a daughter lose ‘little miss’ status around here?” Mom placed a cup of tea on the table in front of me then sat down.

Dad looked at me over his reading glasses and sighed. “Oh, darlin’. You know you’ll always be about four in my eyes.”

“Great, Dad. I did quit sucking my thumb a few years back,” I said. “Doesn’t that make me at least eight?” He laughed his rich laugh.

“Well, no matter what your dear old Dad thinks, I’m sure Tripp is relieved.”

A log in the fire popped.

It was a slip, surely meant to be a joke, but I looked down at my tea, cheeks burning.

“I’m sorry, sweet pea. What a thing to say.” Dad closed his book, walked up behind me, and gave me a kiss on the head. I knew he felt terrible.

“Honey,” Mom said, putting her hand on top of mine. “You decide if and when you want to talk about it.”

“I think that this may be your mother’s department. You need a male opinion, you call me, but as far as I’m concerned, that guy, whatever his name is, just lost the best thing that could have happened to him, to anyone.”

He kissed me again and turned to walk upstairs.

Per usual, Dad left the emotional conversations to Mom. Still, he was a deeply feeling man who poured all his thoughts onto a canvas in his studio. That’s why I treasured his paintings. They were poems, letters, memories, and celebrations.

Once Dad had gone to bed, it was just me and Mom and the three dogs lined up on their beds half-asleep, their excitement having finally died down. And strangely, as safe as it felt to be there, sitting by firelight in my family’s cozy home, I now had the sense that there was nowhere left to hide. Suddenly I was avoiding Mom’s eyes because I felt so exposed. I was ashamed that my marriage had failed; ashamed that I’d chosen the wrong man; ashamed that I had shut her out.