Just Breathe (3 page)

‘They don’t want a yoga
guy
, do they?’ Leon said. ‘I could do earthy chic
and
my own make-up.’

‘I think they want boobs. You can’t do boobs.’

His laugh was drowned out by the screech of the truck door as he dragged it down. He brushed his hands off on his jeans and turned to Dee with his arms out. ‘So, that’s it, babe.’

She stepped into his embrace. ‘It feels like a divorce without the anger.’

‘And you got custody of the TV. Robert’s got a giant flat screen so I left mine to you.’

‘Thanks.’ They looked at each other for a long moment. ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ she said.

‘No stranger than usual.’

Dee waited on the kerb until the van disappeared around the corner. It wasn’t like she wasn’t going to see him again, she told herself. She was going to their place tomorrow night for New Year’s Eve. She looked at the apartment block – white render, black handrails that wrapped around it like a coil. It would feel weird without Leon. Like a different life. She wasn’t sure she was ready for a new one.

She took the stairs at half pace, checking the mail. Car registration, insurance, electricity – didn’t those guys take a holiday over Christmas? She paused at the door, key in the lock. Come on, Dee, how bad could it be? He’d only been gone five minutes.

She pushed it open, walked into the living room and stopped.

‘Crap.’

What used to be Dee’s cosy apartment echoed like a cavernous vacuum.

The living room was empty except for a couple of oversized cushions and the TV, which had a note stuck to it:

Sorry to leave the room so bare. Ring if you need anything. Luv ya, Leon.

‘Where’s all my stuff?’ She glanced around, trying to remember what had been there before. There was the sofa and coffee table Leon brought with him and the stereo he bought and the computer he got from work and the small desk and chair his brother gave him and …

This can’t be all I own? she thought.

She walked to the bedroom, expecting a bunch of things to be piled at the door. Maybe Leon moved it all out of the way. She pushed the door open. Just the bed, the old wardrobe and the battered bookshelves. Across the top, the lovely decorative boxes she’d collected on her travels caught the light and cast pretty colours on the wall. She loved those boxes, but right now, she wished she’d bought a couple of chairs instead.

She went back to the lounge room and sat on the carpet between the dents left by Leon’s sofa. Felt a flutter of anxiety in her belly. She’d never had the need to own a lot of things. She was happy just to be alive. She and Leon had what they needed in the apartment – it never occurred to her to have surplus.

It never occurred to her that she didn’t actually own anything.

She stretched her legs across the space where the coffee table used to be and wriggled uncomfortably against the wall. Even someone devoted to improving their inner self needed something to sit on.

And Val would have a heart attack if she saw her now. Wouldn’t let her anywhere near Auntie May’s money.

Hmm, Auntie May’s money.

Until now, Dee hadn’t seriously thought about what the inheritance could do for her. She was more concerned about being stuck with a mortgage and paying off Leon. But sitting in an empty room with only a few dollars and a whole lot of debt had a way of making a person focus.

Auntie May’s money could pay off Leon
and
keep the electricity on, keep her car on the road
and
buy some furniture – a sofa big enough to stretch out on, a table, her own telly, maybe even a rug.

Get your shit together
, Amanda said.

Great. She had to get her shit together in order to get the money she needed to get her shit together.

She raked a hand through her hair. What exactly
did
she have? She went to the kitchen. Yes! The coffee pot was hers. She went through the cupboards and drawers. Not much but she wouldn’t have to eat off the floor. Bathroom: essentials all attached. Lounge room: nada. Bedroom: lovely boxes, bookshelf, books, couple of yoga mats, bunch of second-hand clothes, bed and a wardrobe not worth the floor space it was taking up.

She sat on the bed and felt anxiety squirm in her gut. How does one get one’s shit together?

With money, of course.

Shit.

She thought about what she needed to survive January – more students, more classes, some catering shifts. Then what? Pay Leon a couple of instalments, pay the rent, buy petrol, eat. She was pretty sure achieving that wouldn’t register on any Shit Together scale.

She flopped back on the mattress and hung her head over the side. Amanda’s beaded evening purse was twinkling at her from the dustballs in the bottom of the wardrobe where she’d tossed it after Lucy’s party. It was probably worth more than all her beautiful boxes. Probably shouldn’t leave it on the floor amongst her shoes like that. She stretched out, picked it up, toyed despondently with it.

How does one get one’s shit together without breaking one’s golden rule? No plans, no future, just live in the moment. It was the only way she knew to stay safe and free of pain.

How does one carry anything useful in this teeny-tiny bag? What was the point if it didn’t fit a yoga mat? She opened the clasp. Oh, look, five bucks. And a business card.

Adam Velor. Creative Director. Roxburgh Advertising.

Dee sat up, holding the shiny blue card by the corner. The ad campaign.

She swallowed hard.

Maybe she
was
that desperate.

She sat on one of her oversized cushions, hugged the other one to her chest and stared at the number in the window of her mobile phone. Do it, Dee.

‘Lucy Roxburgh.’

‘Hi, it’s Dee. Sorry to disturb. Are you up at the Lake yet?’ The Roxburgh family had several holiday houses, one of which was on the shores of Lake Macquarie a couple of hours north of Sydney. Lucy and her husband, John, had planned to be there for a week over Christmas and New Year. When Dee last saw her, she’d only managed a day and a half by the water.

Lucy let out an irritated sigh. ‘No, I’m still at the office, tearing my hair out.’

Dee winced. Maybe this was a bad time. Maybe she should just hang up. ‘I’ve, um, been thinking about that ad.’

Lucy’s voice shot up a couple of decibels. ‘Thank God. I just got off the phone with the model agency. Our talent fell out of a helicopter last night and broke her leg.’

‘Oh, no. She’s lucky she wasn’t killed.’

‘The helicopter was on the ground. She was so stoned she couldn’t sit in it without falling out. The shoot’s already booked and it’ll cost a fortune to cancel. You’re my last chance. So you’ll do it?’

No pressure or anything. ‘Actually, I was wondering how much I’d get paid.’ What was the point swallowing that particular pill if it wasn’t going to cure her.

When Lucy recited the daily rate, Dee looked at the phone in awe. Wow – Leon’s money, the electricity bill, rego, grease and oil change, half a sofa.

‘Are you in?’ Lucy asked.

Deep breath. ‘Yes.’

‘Have you got any publicity shots?’

Another thing she didn’t own. ‘No.’

‘No problem. You’ve got a class with me a couple of days after New Year. I’ll book you into our photography studio and get the shots to the client in the afternoon.’

Dee envisioned a bunch of executives analysing her earthy chic, whatever that was. It was all suddenly, ominously real. ‘What will I have to do?’

‘Just a bit of yoga. Don’t worry. Let’s just concentrate on getting the Health Life board to approve you.’

That would be the same Health Life board Ethan Roxburgh was on. Dee thought of the bemused look on his face at Lucy’s party when he discovered she was the yoga teacher. And after she’d smashed Leon’s car. Maybe she needed a Plan B for getting her shit together.

The alarm buzzed. Dee’s eyelids shot up. She gasped, in the grip of panic.

She’d woken the same way every morning for ten years – the hangover from the car accident. Whatever was on her mind would grow large and frightening overnight and terrify her in the morning. Today the photo shoot had scared the hell out of her.

She settled back on her pillow, took a deep breath and blew it out again. In the early years, that waking sensation had stayed with her all day – made her tense and nervous, made her back ache. The anxiety was like a wild animal – she could catch and cage it now but it was always waiting for a chance to escape and freak her out.

Closing her eyes on the pre-dawn darkness outside the window, she rolled onto her back and focused. Big circles with the right leg, big circles with the left, breathe in, breathe out, shutting down the fear, loosening her back. Then she dropped onto the yoga mat beside the bed and began her daily practice.

An hour and a half later, she pulled up outside Patrick’s house. The wild animal was in its cage but it was rattling the bars. Damn photo shoot.

Patrick opened his front door before Dee had a chance to knock. He was incredibly stiff in the shoulders, hamstrings, lower back and, well, all over really. He couldn’t reach past his knees in a forward bend but he was at his door at six-thirty every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Bless him.

She listened patiently to his litany of sore parts – neck, knee, shoulder, wrist, tooth (yoga couldn’t help with his root canal problem but he liked to tell her about it anyway) – and focused on making sure he didn’t injure anything else in the next hour.

The post New Year traffic was light as she drove through the city for the eight-thirty intermediate class at the yoga school. It was mostly mums, and most of them were on holiday
with their kids. Anxiety aside, it was just plain depressing teaching ninety minutes of yoga to three people. It didn’t even pay for the petrol.

An hour before the shoot, Dee and Lucy were side by side on the floor of Lucy’s office executing two neat Downward Dog poses – hands and feet on the floor, legs straight, butts skywards forming large inverted Vs – when the door behind them opened.

‘What are you doing here?’ said Lucy, her head still tilted towards the floor.

Dee tucked her chin a little closer to her chest to see who was there. Ethan Roxburgh, one hand on the doorknob, the other on his hip, was glancing back and forth between their twin peaks. From this angle she could see what all the fuss was about him. Relatively gorgeous with his tanned face and dark, mysterious eyes, although the collar and tie were a detraction. He bent forward a little, cocked his head to one side to check the face under her legs.

‘Ah, the yoga teacher.’

Then she remembered – he was a board member. She stood up quickly and tried to look the nonchalant professional she was. ‘How nice. A surprise guest student.’

His mouth curled up on one side as he took in her tights and singlet top. ‘I don’t think I’d fit into the uniform.’

‘Giving up before you’ve even started? What a shame.’

An eyebrow went north as he slid his hands into his pockets and leaned against the door frame.

‘Ethan!’ Lucy was on her feet, impatient now.

He watched Dee a moment longer before turning to his sister. ‘I didn’t realise you were, ah, busy. I wanted to know when the new Health Life model was going to be in the studio.’

‘Thought you’d check her out before the rest of the board, did you?’

‘The timing’s getting tight. If she’s not what they’re looking for, there’s no point wasting any more time than necessary on her.’

‘Well, you’re looking at her.’ Lucy swept an arm in Dee’s direction.

Dee smiled, wishing she hadn’t made the crack about giving up, hoping she didn’t seem nervous, which was pretty hard considering that was the overriding sensation since she’d agreed to do the ad.

Ethan ran his eyes over her as though she was already a photo. ‘So she talked you into it, after all.’

Dee shifted from one foot to the other, aware her earthy chic was in the bottom of the wardrobe with Amanda’s sparkly dress. ‘I, um, it seemed like a good opportunity.’

He nodded slowly. ‘I think Health Life could be interested in what you’ve got to offer.’

Her cheeks grew hot. ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to waste anyone’s time.’

There was a hint of surprise between his brows, a kink to his mouth. ‘Now who’s giving up before they started?’ He spoke to Lucy. ‘Let me know when the photos are ready. I’d like to see them before they go over to Health Life.’ He turned to leave. ‘See how well art imitates life.’

‘Oh, bugger off, Ethan.’ Lucy shut the door behind him.

Dee didn’t want art to imitate life if it showed how red her face was. The photos hadn’t been taken yet and the model thing was already awful, she thought as she repositioned her yoga mat away from the entrance. Thank God she didn’t have to go through that kind of scrutiny every time she got a job. Although, it felt kind of nice when Ethan approved. Not that she cared what he thought, except in a give-her-the-job kind of way.