Balancing Acts (23 page)

“How come you always say the perfect thing?” asked Bess. “You're lucky I don't straddle you right here as a reward.”

“What's stopping you?” Dan gave her his best sexy look.

“Ooooh, sexy.”
I really love him,
she thought.
He makes me inordinately happy. Why do I live a zillion miles away?

Bess took a sip of her drink and surveyed the smallish crowd. Brunch in New York always meant at least an hour wait. You'd be dying for just a drop of caffeine, just a bite of bacon, just a place to sit your weary, hungover ass and. . .nothing. No matter how fair the system supposedly was, inevitably someone who had arrived after you would sit before you. You would see it happening, but be too weak to protest the injustice. Bess had actually been a brunch fanatic once upon a time, but New York had silenced that passion about two years in. It just wasn't worth it. Here, though, she could brunch to her heart's content—a huge selling point.

“You ready to go?” asked Dan. He placed some money on the table and they made their way back outside.

“Oh shit,” said Bess, rubbing her belly. “I really wish we had your car here.”

“See! I told you!” yelled Dan. “Hilarious. Too bad sista, we're walking home. Strap on your sneakers.”

“Gahhhhhhh,” Bess whined. “I'm too full to walk.”

Dan laughed. “You are too much. Let's go. As soon as we get to my apartment, we'll jump in the car and I'll take you on a scenic LA tour. We have time, right? When do we need to be at your parents' house?”

“Around seven. We've got plenty of time for a tour.” She grabbed his hand and they strolled home, the sun freckling Bess's shoulders.

T
he day was pretty magical—blue skies, seventy-something degrees, relatively traffic-free drives along the coast and up winding hills, strolling down Rodeo Drive and making fun of the women's face-lifts and boulder breasts, even a celebrity spotting or two.

Before Bess knew it, they were at the grocery store, picking up the wine. Inside, she practically wept with delight. The aisles were so big! The produce was so fresh! And the lines. . .what lines!? LA was growing on her, there was no doubt about it.

Back in his car, Bess started to get nervous. “Are you sure you're okay with spending the night?”

“Bess, for the hundredth time, it's fine. Really. As long as we can sleep in the same bed and your mom cooks us up a hungry man breakfast in the morning, I am golden. Please stop worrying.”

“Okay, sorry. I need half a valium or something.” She reached into her bag. “I have one on me, I'm going to take it, okay?”

Dan glanced at her sideways. “Shit, really? You're that nervous about this? Okay, Bess, if you think it will make you feel better. Just don't go facedown into dinner after your first spritzer, okay?”

Bess laughed. “Not to worry, this is a super-low dose. It's probably just a sugar pill, but I take it when my anxiety reaches the breaking point. Works like a charm.”

“Do you get really anxious often?” asked Dan, surprised.

“Sure, don't you?”

“No, not really.” He paused.

I hope he doesn't think I'm some sort of pill-popping psycho.

“Dan, it's no big deal! It's just a pill.”

“Bess, I could give a shit about the pill. I just can't believe that I don't know my girlfriend has anxiety issues. Why haven't you told me about this before?”

“I don't know. I mean, it's not exactly something that comes up in casual conversation.” She looked out the window, recognizing the street as her own. “Turn right here.”

Dan was silent. “Dan, come on, what's wrong? I don't tell you everything about me, that's just not my style.”

“But I want you to, Bess.” He slowed the car. “Is this it?”

Bess smiled at the sight. There it was—the house she had grown up in. One story high, it really was no different from the other ranch-style homes in the neighborhood. It was only when you looked closely that you could tell that she had lived there. In the front walk, on the left-hand side at about the middle of its length, were her initials. And the far right pillar of the front porch had grooves carved into its wood, from when Bess had gone through her
Gilligan's Island
phase. She had pretended to be on a deserted island—waking up each morning and notating it with a steak knife. That hadn't even lasted a week though—just six days.

She turned to look at Dan, wondering what it looked like through his eyes. He was frowning. “Bess, of course I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me everything, but how are we going to work if you're holding back on the important stuff?”

“Dan, I'm sorry. I love you and I'm sorry. It's really not such a big deal. Now, look outside! This is where I grew up! Can you believe it?”

Despite himself, Dan smiled. “Little Bess used to play in this yard!”

“Yep.” She reached over and kissed him. “Come on, let's go in.”

Out of the car, with wine and flowers in hand, they strolled up the walk. The door opened. “Bess!” exclaimed her mother.

“Mom!” Bess ran to her, suddenly overcome by the need to hug her. She looked the same except somehow smaller, as though the years were shrinking her.

“Oh Bess, you look beautiful.” She took Bess's face in her hands. “My pretty girl.”

“Bess!” boomed her father, bringing up the rear. Instantly, Bess's heart flopped in her chest at the thought that he might look much older and more frail than she had imagined. He pulled her close before she had a real chance to look at him. Peeling herself out of his embrace after a moment, she took him in. A little smaller, with a little less hair, but the same dad. She fought back tears of relief.

“Mom, Dad—this is Dan.” She turned to pull him into the circle.

A
fter a dinner of barbecued chicken, steak, and salad on the back porch, Bess sat with her dad on the couch inside while Dan fulfilled his dream of sifting through her old photos with her mom.

“You feeling okay, Dad?”

“Bess, I'm feeling okay. I get tired more easily these days, but I can't tell if that's just because I'm old or it's because of my heart.” He laughed. “The operation wasn't so bad, you know. It's pretty wild to have this thing protruding out of my chest, though.” He fingered the pacemaker just above his heart.

“Makes it hard to wear tank tops huh?”

“Ha! Bess, that's funny. Exactly. My tank top days are over, I'm afraid.”

They settled into the couch contentedly. Bess sipped her spritzer.

“Bess, this Dan is a nice guy.”

“Really, Dad? You like him?” It felt so good to hear him say that. Better than she thought it would.

“I do. He seems to be crazy about you, and that's really all I care about. Well, not all I care about. I wish he had a job.”

“Dad, he did have a job. Now he's in school pursuing his passion. I'd rather be with somebody who is doing what he really wants to do than with a man who is trapped in a job he hates.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. That's just what a dad does, you know. Worry about who's going to take care of his girl. Who and how.”

“Dad, I don't need a man to take care of me! C'mon now! This is not 1952. I make damn good money on my own.”

“How is your job, by the way?” He looked at her with a bemused expression on his face. “You still trying to get out of there?”

“Every day. I'm working on something now that I think might work. It might be my ticket out of tabloid hell.”

“Oh yeah? You want to tell me about it?”

For some reason, she didn't. She needed a break. “Not yet, Dad.”

“Okay, Bessie. Fine with me. You know what you're doing.”

“Most of the time.” She smiled up at him and grabbed his hand.

D
id you get your period in this room?” asked Dan, as they snuggled underneath her floral bedspread.

“You know what? I don't know.” She thought back. “I think I was at a friend's birthday party, actually. At Sunshine Skate Club. It was horrible. I had to skate with a wad of toilet paper in my underwear.”

“Ewwwww,” teased Dan. “I really like your parents. They're pretty adorable. And boy, do they looooove you.”

Bess smiled in the dark. “Yeah, they do, don't they?” She paused. “You know, Dan, about what you said earlier. About me not telling you things?”

“Mmm hmmmm.”

“I'm going to try harder to let you in. Fully. It's hard for me to be so open, you know? I guess I'm scared about coming across as weak or something.”

“Bess, I would ne—”

“No, Dan, I know. I truly know that. So I'm going to try. Just be patient with me, okay?”

“Okay. I'll be patient. Not to change the subject, but did your parents like me or what?”

“They really did. They do.” Before they had gone to sleep, Bess's mother had pulled her aside.
I like him a lot, Bessie. He's good for you.
Bess had been unexpectedly moved by her mother's openness. Age seemed to be mellowing her, and her father, in a lovely way.

“Yes!” He did a victory pump in the air with his fist. “Shew.”

“Dan, I have to tell you something, but I don't want you to get overexcited and act like a nerd.”

“No nerdiness, I swear. I'll channel my inner Jack Nicholson. What's up?”

“I like LA,” she admitted. Dan remained stoic. “A lot more than I thought I would,” she continued. Still nothing from Dan. “And I like being able to see my parents. I think maybe I might be willing to move out here if I can find a job.” Nothing. “Hello? Dan?! Anything?”

“You told me I couldn't act like a nerd!” he protested. “I am trying my best to remain cool under these circumstances.”

“Okay, I take it back, act like a nerd.”

“Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Dan howled, pulling her to him. “Woot woooooooooot!” He moved his arms in a circular motion in a pathetic attempt at the cabbage patch.

“Okay, that's enough!” laughed Bess. “More than enough.” She hugged him close. “I just wanted you to know, okay? What I was thinking.”

“I'm glad you told me, Bess. Obviously, your moving here would be the best thing that could happen to me. I don't expect any sort of definite answer from you right now, I hope you know that.” He released her from the hug and looked in her eyes. “I'm just so happy to hear that you're considering it.”

“Baby steps,” whispered Bess, arching her neck to kiss him.

“Baby steps,” he whispered back, squeezing her tight.

N
aomi sat on her couch on Saturday morning as Noah watched his favorite cartoon, hoping that Cecilia was coming. They hadn't spoken since her inappropriate explosion the week before, and so much had happened. Their argument about Gene seemed so silly now, not to mention so long ago, that Naomi wasn't sure how to apologize without bringing up her more recent troubles. She hadn't spoken to anyone about them, other than her parents and, briefly, Charlie. She wasn't sure she was ready to open up further. She knew that Cee would be a wonderful ally, especially since she would no doubt need her more then ever if her MS was real, but there was something easier about living in her bubble of denial for the time being. After the doctor's appointment, she had scheduled her MRIs for the following Monday and returned to her life as before—taking care of Noah and his broken wing, and working on her projects. At night, in bed, was the only time her fear was inescapable.

A timid knock at the door made Naomi's stomach seize up.
Oh, thank God,
she thought. She had been envisioning Noah having to occupy himself at the studio while she took her class, and the vision wasn't pretty. She stood up to answer the door.

“Hey, Cee,” she said, as she let her in. Cecilia seemed to be deliberately avoiding her gaze.

“Hi, Naomi,” she replied curtly. “Hey, Noah,” she added as she brushed past Naomi and into the apartment.

“Cee,” said Naomi, touching her arm. “I am so sorry for the way I behaved last week. I was out of line.”

Cecilia's face softened. “Thanks for apologizing. I appreciate that.”

“I completely overreacted,” explained Naomi.

“You really unleashed all of your frustrations on me,” added Cecilia. “Don't shoot the messenger, you know?”

“I know, believe me. I've felt like such an asshole all week.”

Noah looked up in alarm. “Mom!” he exclaimed. “That's a bad word.”

“I know, baby,” she answered. “I'm sorry. Pretend you didn't hear it, okay?”

Noah got up, shaking his head in disapproval before announcing that he was going to the bathroom.

“Tough critic,” Cecilia said, laughing as he scampered away.

“Seriously. He's my own little word policeman. Anyway, I do feel terrible about it all. I'm sorry I didn't come down and apologize earlier.”
I've been a little preoccupied with the idea that I might have an incurable disease.

“It's okay,” said Cecilia. “I just worry about you, you know? All of these emotions you repress. . .they'll eat you alive if you don't at least acknowledge them.” Cecilia moved to the sofa to sit down and Naomi followed.

“You are absolutely right,” Naomi agreed. “And everything you said about my photography is true. I. . .well, it's complicated.”
Especially now.

“I know. You should think about seeing someone. To just talk stuff out, you know? You don't have to handle all of this by yourself.”

“You're right. I've been thinking about it.” Naomi sighed. “But I've also had a lot of other stuff on my mind lately.”

“Hey, you okay?” As if on command, Naomi's eyes welled up with tears.

“Shit, Naomi!” Cecilia moved closer to her on the couch and grabbed her hand.

“Um, I guess I, well. . .I've had some health stuff going on.”

Cecilia looked at her earnestly, the worry dancing in her dark eyes. “Like what?”

“Well, to make a very long story short, I might have MS?” It came out like a question instead of a statement.

“What? MS? Oh my God. Naomi, what's been happening?”

Naomi rehashed her story as rationally as she could through her tears. Talking about it still reduced her to a slobbery mess. When she was finished, she looked around the room, thankful that Noah hadn't wandered back in. She hadn't told him anything—just that she hadn't been feeling well. If MS was impossible to understand at thirty-two, how could it possibly make sense to an eight-year-old?

“Oh, baby,” murmured Cecilia. She wiped her own eyes. “I am so sorry for all of this. What a nightmare. How are you feeling physically?”

“Still numb around my midsection, but it seems to have lessened a bit. My fingers feel the strangest now. Their tips are numb.”

“Are you able to get around okay?”

“Oh completely, thank God. I'm not encumbered in any physical way with these symptoms, you know? Mentally is a whole other ball of wax, though. I can't blow my nose without worrying that my brain will explode.”

“I cannot even imagine. Does Noah know?”

“No, I haven't told him anything specific yet at all.”

“Of course. What would he do with that information?”

“Exactly. Hey listen, sorry my delivery was so messy. I haven't quite mastered the art of talking about this yet, as I'm sure you can tell.”

“Naomi, please. If you ever apologize to me again about your emotions I will smack you. So, how can I help you? What can I do?”

“Thanks, Cee. Nothing right now, I don't think. Noah will be in school while I'm getting my MRIs on Monday, so there's no problem there. I may need your help later, though. Yours and Gene's.”

“Have you told him?” asked Cecilia.

“No, he's in Paris. I will when he gets back, though. Depending on the situation. Talk about letting him in, right? God, I was freaking out about a paper doll two weeks ago and now. . .well, the universe works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?”

“You've got that right. Whatever you need from me, just let me know. I love you and am here for you and Noah one hundred percent. And you know, if you decide that you want to speak to someone with MS, my friend Susan would be a wonderful source.”

“Oh yeah? She knows about MS?”

“She has MS. Was diagnosed back in 2000 I think.”

“Are you kidding me? I had no idea! She is completely normal. Whatever normal means. Wow, that is really inspiring.”

“Yeah, she's amazing. She takes her medication and goes about her business. No drama about it whatsoever.”

“Oh man, I have to go!” Naomi realized with a glance at the clock that she had only ten minutes to make it to class. “Thank you, Cee, for everything. Talking about it with you just made me feel so much better.” She grabbed her coat and her camera. “Did I tell you that I'm taking pictures for the Prana website?”

“Get out! I think that's a great idea. Are you sure you're ready?”

“Yeah, I am. I'm designing the website for them, so I thought I might take a couple of shots of the space and the people, you know? Just to give it a personal touch.”

“Naomi, I love it,” encouraged Cecilia. “I really do.”

Naomi hugged her, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for her friendship.

“Wait—hellooo?! I don't know anything about this mystery man in your apartment! What's the story, you minx?”

Cecilia blushed. “He's pretty great, Naomi. I met him out in the neighborhood.” She paused mid-story and looked at the clock. “You better go, though! You're going to be late for class.”

“Okay, but will you tell me about him later?! Please?” begged Naomi. “I want to know everything.”

“Will do.”

N
aomi arrived at the studio feeling lighter than she had all week. Opening up to Cee felt like losing fifteen pounds.

“Hey, Felicity,” said Naomi, as she took off her jacket as quickly as she could. She could hear Charlie's voice coming from the studio. “Class has already started?” she whispered.

Felicity nodded. “Get goin',” she chided with a smile.

Naomi crept in as sneakily as she could. She made eye contact with Charlie and attempted a silent apology.

“Hey, Naomi,” said Charlie. Sabine turned to smile at her in welcome.
Where was Bess? Curious.
“I was just talking about those lightbulb moments in life. You can be going about your business, pretty content with the setup you have, when all of a sudden: bam! You make some sort of new discovery about yourself, or your perception is forced to change so abruptly that it feels as though the wind has been knocked out of you. It's a form of reawakening, really. Marcel Proust once said, ‘The real act of discovery is not in finding new lands, but in seeing with new eyes.'” Charlie paused. “I think that's a pretty accurate metaphor for self-actualization—this whole idea of ‘new eyes.' I want you to think about reawakening today as we practice. Think about the self-imposed constraints that are holding you back—in yoga and beyond.”

As Sabine followed Charlie into Tadasana, she thought about the whole idea of fresh perception. Unintentionally or not, she did hold herself back a lot of the time. Take Zach, for example. Wednesday night had really thrown her for a loop. She wanted to believe that he really liked her, but couldn't help but think that he didn't. If a guy liked you, he wanted to sleep with you. Right? Or wrong? She had been obsessively rehashing the night's events since; so much so that she could barely function at work. It was ridiculous. Zach had called her Thursday, to ask her out for the weekend, but she had made up some excuse as to why she couldn't.
Why did I do that? I like him.
She had thought she was taking a stand by playing hard to get, but in reality she was just playing a silly game instead of confronting her feelings. Zach had been understanding, and had even gone so far as to schedule a date for the following Saturday, so obviously he did like her. . ..
Why am I being such a jackass? No, you know what, I need a week to calm down. I really do. Knowing that might be fresh enough in terms of perspective, at least for now.
She took a deep breath in.

Charlie realigned Naomi's shoulders. She hoped she hadn't sounded too “woo woo” up there, talking about reawakening. Up to this point, she had really had only one complete reshuffle of all she had deemed inherently “Charlie.” Now she was experiencing another as she shed the memory of Neil like molting snake skin. It felt right, but that didn't mean that it wasn't scary. Redefining yourself took patience. She hoped that yoga was helping Bess, Naomi, and Sabine redefine themselves in a similar way. They had all been so quick to classify themselves as “nonyoga” people at alumni night. Bess had been particularly hard to get to open up. Charlie missed her today. She wondered if she was getting any yoga in LA. Most likely not. Regardless, it was clear that Bess had made some progress. Charlie hoped that all of them saw themselves, and yoga for that matter, differently now.

She took them through their sun salutations, happily noticing their increased confidence with the sequence. Sabine was almost graceful as she swooped to the floor. Naomi's brow was smooth instead of scrunched like an accordion. The Saturday before, Charlie actually had to readjust her face—smoothing out her forehead as she assumed a posture. This morning, there was not a furrow to be found.
I wonder how's she's feeling.

Naomi's arms wobbled as she propped herself up by her wrists in an upward facing dog. Her back muscles burned a bit from the arch she had been holding under Charlie's instruction, but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation. She was happy just to “feel” anything. Her appreciation for her muscles—for a body that “worked”—had never been so great.

“As you inhale, try to get your legs off the floor,” encouraged Charlie. “Very good. Today we're going to attempt Urdhva Dhanurasana, or wheel pose. It's a back bend, really.” She led them through their prepositioning. “Now press your inner feet into the floor,” she continued. “As you exhale, push your tailbone up. Pull in your tooshies and lift them off the floor. Keep your thighs and inner feet parallel. Very nice, ladies.

“Take three deep breaths here. In for three and out for three.” Naomi followed the count, noting the way she relaxed more fully into the stretch when she paid close attention to her breathing.

The blood pooled in Sabine's head as she held the position. She couldn't remember the last time she had been in a back bend, but she suspected it might have been at a slumber party circa 1987.

“Excellent! Now release,” said Charlie. “Lie on your backs and regain yourselves for just a moment.” Sabine inhaled deeply. Her shoulder muscles were screaming at her.

“Okay, we're going to repeat the wheel three times,” Charlie continued. Sabine closed her eyes and mouthed “motherfucker” silently before launching back into the sequence.

Fifteen minutes later, after they had cooled down and uttered their requisite
Namaste
s, Sabine felt differently. Her muscles were still jelly, sure, but she felt powerful nevertheless. Her head felt clear and her body lighter. She noticed the same kind of dazed, contented expression on Naomi's face. If she didn't know any better, Sabine would think that they were all in a postcoital haze.

Not postcoital,
she thought to herself as she hoisted herself up from her mat.
Postyoital, maybe?
She smiled at the thought.
Yoital.
Sounded like a new brand of yogurt.

“Do you know where Bess is?” Sabine asked Charlie as they put their mats away.

“Oh yeah, she e-mailed me this week saying she wasn't going to make it today. She's in LA.”

“Really?” asked Naomi. “That's great for her. She went out to visit her man, huh? I wonder if she is giving the whole moving thing some more thought.”

“Sounds like it,” said Charlie. “I hope she eases up on herself a bit. Moving out there doesn't mean that she's giving up her identity, you know? She's just taking a risk.”

“True,” agreed Sabine. “But I don't think risk-taking comes naturally to our girl Bess.”

“I know!” said Naomi. “She is tightly wound, that's for sure.”

“Although when Dan was in town, she was positively fluid,” said Charlie. “I've never seen her so relaxed in class.”