Tales from the Yoga Studio (4 page)

Katherine also knows that Alan was supposed to leave the car at the school for Lee today, but she can see it outside the studio. Classic passive-aggression and an issue she is not going to get in the middle of.

He walks into the studio, and through the glass doors Katherine can see him “stretching,” a routine that involves a lot of preening and prancing, a few push-ups to get his biceps pumped, and a handstand that he holds for almost a minute. Supposedly he was a runner or something in college, and he
does
have a great practice, one that would be a lot more impressive if it wasn't so obviously intended to impress.

Alan's music career is the reason he and Lee moved out here. The fact that it didn't work out as he planned doesn't say anything about his talent; show business didn't work out as planned for most residents of this city—herself included. Katherine has sat through enough of his coffeehouse and private performances to know that he's a skilled musician and a capable songwriter. But sadly, he tends to oversell himself in front of an audience or let out a trace of bitterness about the disappointing size of the crowd, so you end up feeling like a jerk for having shown up. “I had confirmation from forty people that they were coming tonight,” he once said from the stage to an audience of ten. “I guess they had something better to do.”

As far as Katherine's concerned, Alan's behavior toward Lee is just a lot of unattractive acting out. The spoiled boy who's used to being the center of attention needs some space to lick his wounded ego. As for what she saw him doing in the office two weeks ago . . . more acting out.

She gathers up the sign-in sheets and goes back into Lee's office, turns on the computer, and pulls up the receipts for the past week. Because she's a body worker and a former junkie, everyone assumes her computer skills are basic. Sometimes it helps to keep expectations low.

The last thing Lee needs right now is to have Alan breathing down her neck about all the free passes she hands out and the bartering she does with some of the regulars and the sloppiness of the studio assistants. She tries, whenever she can, to get rid of the Post-it Notes and bring a little sanity to the accounting side of things. Alan would probably be upset if he knew, but it's not like he's going to handle the job himself.

Katherine is so absorbed in what she's doing, she barely notices the sound of sirens. When they register, she heads out to the sidewalk and sees the fire trucks headed down the hill. Another brush fire somewhere, no doubt. And no sign of Big Red on the truck.

L
orraine Bentley intercepts Lee as she's dashing across the street to the school.

“Don't freak,” she says. “It's just another false alarm.”

Lee isn't having any of it. “Where are the twins? Have you seen them? What's going on, Lorraine?”

The two of them jog down the line of kids, most of them in giddy recess mode. A little voice in Lee's head is telling her everything's fine and she's overreacting, but a louder voice is shouting,
Where are they?
All the pent-up tension of the past couple of weeks is beginning to squeeze her in the chest.

Then she spots four boys off by themselves in the playground, clearly not where they're supposed to be. She sees Michael push a boy off the jungle gym. Marcus dashes over and helps the boy get up.

Lorraine grabs her arm and says, “Don't let them see fear on your face, Lee. Don't get them worried.”

As she steps onto the playground, the boys rush over to her and grab her legs. Even Michael. “Someone tried to blow up the school,” he says, proud rather than worried, but the fact that he's clinging to her like this means he smelled trouble.

Miss Marquez appears from around the corner, looking even more harried and exhausted than she usually does. “I'm sorry, Lee,” she says, trying to catch her breath. “They were all supposed to be on the sidewalk. I don't know how the boys got over here. Didn't you boys hear the announcement? Didn't you hear me calling for you?”

They're still clinging to Lee, not even bothering to respond. Miss Marquez has lost what little influence and control she had. “What happened?” Lee asks her.

Miss Marquez can't be more than twenty-five. Teachers use the school system here as a résumé builder. Two or three years and they're out with a badge of honor, moving on to greener pastures. There's sweat beading up on her forehead, like little blisters. She speaks quietly, so only Lee can hear. “A call about someone with a gun. This was just a precaution. They were pretty sure it was a prank right from the start.”

It's the third unnerving “prank” since January. And it's only March. There was a bomb scare, rumors of a new superflu that caused a two-day closure, and now this. It's just what happens these days, but what worries Lee most is that the overstressed faculty and administration don't seem to be able to control the situation. For the past year, she's been telling the principal that she'd love to come and give yoga classes for the staff, to help them deal with the stress, but there were objections from a couple of teachers that the practice conflicts with their “religious beliefs.”
Breathing,
she asked,
conflicts with their religion?
This just renews her conviction that she's got to keep pressing the issue. Maybe she could offer one week of free classes at the studio for teachers. Alan would love that.

Back on the sidewalk, Lorraine has Birdy's hand. Birdy is a sweet little girl who seems to be living up to Lorraine's odd choice of name. Pale, thin, and decidedly sparrowlike. Predictably, the twins call her “Turdy.” Lee's had no success getting them to stop, but at least they no longer do it to her face. And let's face it, the kid is . . . unusual?

“Garth and I are calling in all our chits,” Lorraine tells Lee. She's the only real California blonde Lee is friends with, and, with her Joni Mitchell coloring and cheekbones, Lorraine makes Lee hear strains of “Ladies of the Canyon” every time they meet. “His parents, mine, every relative we can think of. I can't do this anymore. I don't care how expensive it is or how I'm supposed to support public education. One of these times it's not going to be a false alarm.”

Birdy is staring at Lee with her preternatural gaze, her watery blue eyes too limpid and ethereal for an eight-year-old. She really doesn't belong at this school. At least Michael is a tough kid. And even if Marcus isn't, he has his twin around to (hopefully) help him out.

“You look sad,” Birdy says.

“No, no, honey,” Lee says. “I'm happy that everything's okay here, that's all.”

Birdy gives Lee one of her eerie silent stares, and Lee knows she understands that she's being lied to.

Garth and Lorraine are both artists with a big studio behind their modern house by Shakespeare's Bridge. They play an active role in the local gallery scene, and Lee's lost count of the number of openings she's gone to for them. They're one of those couples who seem to spend all of their time together and to be constantly holding each other's hands. She once heard Garth refer to Lorraine as “Mommy” in a way that made Lee a little uneasy.

She finds Lorraine's big, muddy canvases incomprehensible and unattractive, which makes them a lot more appealing than Garth's embarrassingly homoerotic nude self-portraits. They claim to be struggling artists living hand-to-mouth, but it's hand-to-mouth at a pretty high level. Lee guesses they call in their chits a few times a year.

“Do you have another school in mind?” Lee asks.

“We've got applications in at three,” Lorraine says. “They're all interested, but we're waiting to hear.”

In other words, they've been planning this for months, long before any of the recent incidents at the school. This makes Lee resent Lorraine in some inexplicable way and, at the same time, feel like a bad mother for not having investigated the same options herself. But she's always been one to try to fix a situation instead of running from it.

She heads to the lot with the boys and searches for the car. As suspected, it isn't there. She's tempted to call Alan and start ranting, but it's always best to just deal on your own, she's found. Especially now. She's afraid that showing Alan she needs him will only drive him farther away.

Michael is poking his brother, and as she walks back to Lorraine, she separates them a few times before they settle down. Lorraine has on a casual, slightly shredded, gauzy skirt and a crisp blue shirt. Lorraine has a look. Maybe Lee needs to acquire one, too.

“I forgot that Alan has the car today,” she says. “It's been so busy at the studio, I'm more scattered than usual, which is saying something.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“If it's not too inconvenient.”

Lorraine looks at the boys. “We'll put Birdy up front,” she says. “If you don't mind riding in back.”

“I insist.”

They get the kids arranged and strapped in, and Lee sits between the boys to keep them apart. Michael immediately starts swatting at Marcus and she gives him a look.

“So I've been meaning to invite you to an opening Garth's having in a couple of weeks.” Lorraine names a date as she pulls out of the lot. Lorraine is one of the overly cautious drivers whose hesitation at every turn is meant to be safe but is actually a hazard. “He's just finished some new work and the gallery is so excited about it, they shifted their schedule around to give him a show. We'd love it if you and Alan could come, if that's possible?”

“I'm pretty sure that week is open.” Something about the way she asked the question makes Lee a little paranoid that she's heard rumors about Alan's move. They've told the kids he's just staying with Benjamin so they can get some work done and they don't need to talk with anyone about it, but you never know what's going through their heads. As for the opening, the idea of standing around Garth's paintings with a group of people talking about his technique while pretending not to see the garish depictions of his dick that are always front and center on his canvases is pretty excruciating. But there are a lot of things Lee likes and admires about the couple, and it might do her and Alan good to appear together in public.

“I'll send you an e-mail,” Lorraine says. “It'll have to wait until Thursday. Garth and I have Wednesdays as a techno-free day. No cell phones, no computers, no TV. You guys should really try it. It always ends up being our most romantic day of the week, if you see what I mean.”

“Sounds good,” Lee says. She starts playing with her hair nervously, thinking about Alan and the fire drill and the last time she and her husband had a romantic day of the week. (And “most” implies there's more than one day a week that's passionate!) She's always telling her students not to compete and to let go of ego, but sometimes Lorraine makes her feel as if her own life is going off the rails.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Marcus asks. He's her worrier.

“Oh, sweetie,” she says. “Of course I am. I just got a little nervous when I didn't see you on the sidewalk.”

Michael starts kicking the back of Birdy's seat and chanting, “Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream, ice cream.”

She reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh. Does Alan take them out for ice cream when he picks them up? She thought they had an agreement about the kids' diet, but she thought a lot of things that aren't turning out to be what she imagined.

“We've got some tofu pops in the freezer at home,” she says.

Even Marcus screams in protest at that suggestion and joins in with his brother's chanting.

To hell with it, she thinks. She could use a little indulgence herself. “What do you think, Lorraine? My treat?”

“Let's go to the new gelato place,” she says. “Birdy's lactose intolerant and they have sorbet.”

Michael makes farting noises on the back of his hand, but hopefully not loudly enough for Lorraine to hear.