Chapter Twenty-One
Whenever Eliza went to Mo’s favorite yoga studio, she understood why her friend loved it there. It was located in the West Village, not far from Mo’s apartment, on the second floor above a wine store and a clothing shop that specialized in batik and gauzy cotton prints. The space had shiny hardwood floors, high ceilings, and large windows. Mo liked their early classes best, when the shafts of morning light dappled the floor.
But it was already dark outside when Eliza met Mo there following her appointment with Vicky. Mo was convinced she would need some “centering” after that meeting, and since the Village was sort of on her way from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side?—depending on which subway line she took?—Eliza agreed.
In the small changing room, Eliza pulled her T-shirt and yoga pants out of her bag and stripped off the skinny black pants and cotton sweater she’d been wearing. After she filled her water bottle at the sink, she paused in front of the mirror to unwind her hair from its loose bun and twist it up again more tightly. Cascading hair and downward-facing dog didn’t go well together.
In the studio, Mo was already sitting cross-legged on her yoga mat, stretching her back in exaggerated good posture. An empty mat sat next to her. “Saved you a spot,” she said, smiling. Whenever Eliza agreed to come to yoga, Mo was convinced that this would be the time that converted her to a devotee of the practice.
Eliza sank down beside her and folded her legs into their own crisscross-applesauce position. Meanwhile, Mo stretched her own legs in front of her, then brought one knee up and twisted her body around it to face Eliza. “So, how did it go?”
“Okay, I guess. She thinks I’m probably entitled to inherit.”
Mo made a face. “Well, of course you are!”
Eliza stretched her neck from side to side. Apparently, the need to stretch was contagious. “The lawyer is going to do some research, but most likely we have to file some sort of order to get Carol to ‘show cause’ that I’m not entitled. Then there would have to be a hearing.”
Mo nodded. “Sounds simple enough.”
Eliza opened her mouth, but before she could respond, the yoga teacher assumed her spot at the front of the class. The woman wore a loose tank top over a sports bra and tie-dyed yoga pants. From the neck down, she could have passed for a much younger woman?—fit, slim, and muscular. But her face bore deep lines, and her skin looked like it had spent many years in the sun. Her nearly white hair was wound up on top of her head, much like Eliza’s.
“Welcome,” she said softly, immediately quieting the chatter in the room. Eliza glanced around; there were a dozen people of varying ages seated on their mats, mostly women. “Let’s begin in lotus. Sitting bones deep into your mats. Hands on your knees. Eyes closed.”
Eliza obediently assumed the position and followed the teacher’s instructions to take deep breaths, hold them, and slowly release. They joined together in a simultaneous “Om” before extending their legs in front of them for some seated forward folds. Eliza couldn’t help but notice that her toenails needed a pedicure. This was why she found it hard to commit to yoga. She knew she was supposed to release all other thoughts and be at one with her breath. Yet, there were her chipped toenails. As they moved into a series of warrior poses, her mind wandered back to her meeting with Vicky. The more she tried not to think about it, the more present it was.
She wanted to talk to Scott about the conversation but was afraid to. Bringing him into it was exactly what Maren had asked her not to do. And she worried about Scott’s reaction. She wasn’t at all sure she could count on him taking her side in this, especially if it meant airing the family’s dirty laundry in public.
A sheen of sweat cooled on her skin as she lay on her back in Savasana. Tinkling music played in the background, overlaid on top of what sounded like rushing water. If only she could turn her brain off, it would be very soothing.
Before she knew it, they were sitting in lotus again, joining in another “Om” to end the class. Eliza pressed her hands together, first at her forehead and then in front of her heart, as instructed, wishing this had been as centering as Mo had promised. At least her muscles were limber.
“Wasn’t that great?” Mo was wiping her own neck with a towel.
“Definitely.”
Mo rolled her eyes. “You could try saying it with a bit more conviction, Lize.”
“Look. I try. I find it hard to get out of my head.” Eliza stood to wipe down her mat.
“Well, maybe if you did it more than once every full moon.” Mo stood, too, and put her hand out for Eliza’s mat.
“I know, I know.”
Mo returned Eliza’s mat to the stack at the back; her own was in a mat bag slung over her shoulder. They were walking down the stairs when Mo returned to their earlier conversation. “So, tell me more about what the lawyer said.”
Eliza tried to remember the particulars, but the part she kept getting hung up on was the bit about inviting Carol to testify about Laura’s infidelity.
Mo was puzzled. “So who cares? It was all those years ago. Your mom won’t know. And neither will your dad. And it’s not like this is the trial of the century. It won’t be headline news in the Post .”
Eliza and Mo stood on the sidewalk, groups of people parting on either side of them as they made their ways to their destinations. “I know,” Eliza said. “It’s just?—I can barely wrap my own head around it. Do I really want to open up this can of worms?”
“Eliza! You didn’t open it. Carol did. You have to fight for what’s right. No matter what your mom did, Jack was your dad. And he wouldn’t want Carol to try to take that away from you.”
But there it was. Maybe that was what was underneath it all. A part of Eliza?—the emotional, anxious part that found it hard to listen to reason and rationality?—wondered if Jack would feel exactly as Carol was suggesting he might. “But what if...”
“No what-ifs. There isn’t even a decision to be made here.”
But Mo’s view was unclouded by the emotions that tied Eliza in knots. And she wasn’t sure it was so simple.
Mo had invited Eliza back to her apartment, but she’d declined. She needed some space to think, and rather than go straight down into the subway and change trains in midtown, she headed east to pick up the Lexington Avenue line, which would take her directly home. Josh lived somewhere in this neighborhood, but she didn’t know where.
Back in high school, Josh had stayed true to his word that he’d lend her the latest Jason Mraz and Nickelback CDs. In return, she shared Radiohead and the Killers with him. Josh was at the Levinger house a lot, even though Laura’s illness had caused their home to be less of a hangout. Scott, Josh, and one or two other guys shot hoops in the driveway or played video games in the family room. When Eliza and Josh found themselves in the kitchen at the same time, they somehow got into long conversations, Josh in the doorway and Eliza leaning back against the counter, very conscious of the angles of her body.
It started with music but segued into TV shows, and school subjects, and which teachers they’d both had, and which ones Josh advised her to avoid like the plague. And Josh talked about college applications and what he thought he wanted?—a school with a contained campus in or near an urban area. Somehow they just connected and never ran out of things to say.
Scott looked at them strangely whenever he came upon these tête-à-têtes. After he’d drag Josh back outside or to the sectional sofa, Eliza would return to Laura’s side. With the constant hum of fear about Laura’s condition clogging her brain, she didn’t have a lot of room for the crushes her friends were constantly falling in and out of. But, without her realizing it, Josh had carved out a little corner for himself. And late at night, or while she was walking home from school, she enjoyed her visits to that little corner.
Now, as she walked across town, she found Josh in her thoughts again, wondering about those women Vicky had mentioned. The girl Josh had taken to the prom was beautiful. Although it was only a week after Laura died, Scott had gone anyway?—Jack said there was no need for him to stay home, and, besides, he had a date to consider. In that era before Facebook and even the first iPhone, Eliza never saw photos from the festivities, but somehow she still had an image in her mind of Josh in his tux, his arm around the lovely girl with dark brown hair who was in Eliza’s gym class.
There had been a time when Eliza imagined it might be her on Josh’s arm?—before she realized that she’d been misinterpreting his kindness toward her. That wasn’t a mistake she planned to make again. Nonetheless, when she finally got home that evening, she shot him a quick text to let him know she’d met with Vicky and to thank him for the referral. He replied immediately.
Great. Glad you could get in to see her so quickly. Do you have a plan?
Maybe. There’s some stuff I need to think about.
Really? I thought it would be pretty straightforward.
You and Mo both.
Legally, I guess it is. But I’m not sure what I want to do.
There was a pause, and the three dots came and went a few times. Then:
Do you want to talk?
Excellent question.
Sure.
Her phone rang immediately. “That was fast,” she said.
“Well, no time like the present. What did you think of Vicky?”
“She seems nice. Maybe a little...”
“Quirky?”
Eliza laughed. “Perfect word for it.”
Josh laughed as well. “But she’s a good egg, and she knows her stuff. So what did she say?”
She lay back on the sofa, her legs dangling over the end and her hair coming loose from its bun, as she once again explained the legal strategy Vicky had recommended. One would think that this afternoon hadn’t been the first time she’d ever heard the phrase “order to show cause.”
“It sounds reasonably simple. What’s the issue?”
Eliza twisted a loose strand of her hair and exhaled a long breath. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of having people talking about my mom cheating on my dad. And I don’t think Scott is going to like it either.”
“First, Scott is a separate issue. This is your inheritance, and you’re the one who has to decide what to do.” Eliza pictured him sitting straighter, putting on his attorney hat, so to speak. “And as far as people talking about your mom?—why does that bother you?”
“Because she’s my mom. And she made a mistake, and...” She trailed off.
“Does that mistake make her any less of a good mom?”
“No, I guess not. Though...”
“Though what?”
Eliza’s throat clogged. “I just wish she hadn’t put me in this situation. Things with my dad and me were hard enough, and now there’s this.”
“E. Listen. Whatever your relationship was with your dad is what it was. Whether you were his biological child or not, he’s the dad who raised you. And he loved you, and you loved him. Carol is messing around because that’s the kind of person she is.”
She sat up as her nose clogged and she had to sniffle. “Maybe. But maybe she’s right. Maybe my dad would have looked at me differently if he’d known. Maybe...”
He cut her off. “I find that really hard to believe. I know things were rough with you guys. You went through a lot. More than you should have had to. But you were his child . In all the ways that matter.”
Eliza nodded, but she couldn’t find the words to speak.
“E?—are you there? Are you okay?”
She managed to make a little squeaky noise.
“Are you crying?”
Ugh. This was so not how she wanted this conversation to go. Or any conversation. She hated this part of herself.
As if he could read her mind, Josh continued. “Look, you’re dealing with so much right now. Of course you’re sad. And confused. And discombobulated. You’re an incredibly strong person just to keep on going. I’ve always thought so.”
Eliza snorted.
“Seriously. I know you don’t see yourself that way. But you are. Always have been.”
She wiped at her eyes. “I think your memory is faulty.”
“Being emotional and being weak aren’t the same thing.”
“Yeah, well, they can feel like they are.”
“Even so. They’re not.”
She swung her legs to the floor and sat up. A part of her was tempted to just stay on the phone all night to hear his voice?—which made hanging up all the more important. “I should go. I haven’t eaten anything yet.”
“Okay. Go eat. And call anytime.”
She clicked end and set her phone down on the coffee table. She was tempted to just lie down on the sofa again, but Josh’s description of her as strong floated in her mind. Strong people manage to get off their butts and eat dinner. So she did.