Chapter 3 Lorna Now #2
Lorna followed instructions to let the breath reach her toes.
Amazingly, she felt herself begin to relax.
This is how they get you. They relax you to the point you don’t know what you’re signing up for and then—whammo—you’re literally drinking the Kool-Aid.
How am I going to fill that damn hole in the backyard?
That kid will probably hurt himself if I don’t.
Why do I feel so angry? I’m literally just sitting here.
It felt like the stillness went on forever. Lorna never did empty her mind of all the thoughts. A gong sounded, and it was over. As people picked up their mats, Montreal came to find her.
“Micah is ready for your assessment now.”
He led her down a marble-tiled hall, the sounds of more classical guitar and the sweet scent of incense trailing after them, to a room that was, surprisingly, painted blue.
Inside was a glass-top desk and two white beanbags.
Another water feature was running in the corner.
The windows were big and the leaves of a tree outside scraped against the glass in a sort of soothing rhythm.
On the walls were paintings of elephants and symbols Lorna assumed were mystic in some way.
“Have a seat,” Montreal said, gesturing toward the beanbags. “Micah will join you shortly.” He smiled and backed out of the room.
Lorna glared at the beanbag he’d pointed to.
This assessment business seemed designed to intentionally make her feel out of place.
First the meditation, and now she was in a room meant for either a princess or a hippie.
It was clearly not meant for King Kong. But King Kong lowered herself in her tight pants onto a beanbag anyway.
The door suddenly swung open and a man with a long tail of salt-and-pepper hair down his back swept in. He was wearing silk joggers, a short kimono jacket over a Grateful Dead shirt, and thick, black-rimmed glasses. He looked like he’d just come from a tai chi class.
A pink manila folder was tucked under his left arm.
“Welcome, Lorna,” he said, as if they’d met dozens of times before. He walked straight to a hot plate and the teapot there. “I like to have a little herbal tea during these sessions. May I offer you some?”
Lorna eyed him suspiciously. “What sort of herbs?”
“I’ve got them all. What’s your pleasure?”
There was no pleasure in this, but she did like a cup of lavender tea. “Lavender?”
“An excellent choice.” He turned a dial to heat the hot plate. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Micah Turnbull, a licensed clinical social worker and an avid coach of life.”
Lorna was momentarily confused by his wording. “A life coach?”
“Personally, I think that phrasing is limiting, but yes, I am. Now it’s your turn. Tell me about yourself.”
She hated this. He could probably look at her and know everything he needed to know. Classic spinster story, thank you. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not really an avid anything.”
“Fortunately, that is not required. Just tell me a little something so I can get to know you.”
“Umm...” There was a weird rumbling deep inside her. She was pretty good at not letting anyone see her. Especially herself. “Not much to say, really. I just work a lot and that’s about it. I like dogs.”
He poured water into two mugs. “What kinds of dogs?”
“All dogs. But I have a corgi.”
“Great breed. What about a partner? Do you have one of those?”
She shook her head. Her stomach was beginning a slow churn.
It always made her feel strangely guilty that she was in her forties and did not have a partner.
She’d had them. Two, to be exact. And a smattering of dates in between.
But neither significant other had lasted long, and the more time went on, the more isolated she’d allowed herself to be.
“Friends?”
She thought of Agnes and Deb. While she considered them friends, she imagined Micah might not. “Not really.”
“Family?”
Okay, this was getting awfully personal, and she could feel her anger meter kicking into gear. She didn’t like to talk about her family. “I don’t see what that has to do with... this.”
Micah poured the tea, handed her a mug, and, holding the other one, sank effortlessly onto the beanbag facing hers. He wrapped long, tapered fingers around his mug. “So, if I’ve heard you correctly, you’re single, you don’t have many friends, maybe fewer family, and you work a lot.”
When he said it that way, she sounded pathetic. “That about sums it up.”
He smiled and sipped his tea. “That’s a bare list, though I think there is more to you than that.”
“Nope.” She sounded curt, and she didn’t mean to be rude.
But she didn’t care to look more closely at what there was to her.
She was perfectly satisfied with what she’d presented and had come to terms with this version of herself.
It didn’t do any good to go looking around for other things to add. That could only make the picture worse.
“For example, you’re a good salesperson,” he said.
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. “Yes, I am. The best at Driskill. And that’s not bragging—I’m just really good.”
“I have no doubt. You manage a top-notch sales team too. The best in the company is what I read.”
Well. She didn’t know if she’d go so far as top-notch. Notch, maybe.
“But maybe not always as effectively as you would like?”
Okay , here we go. “Gross understatement, my man,” she said, trying to sound chill. Sometimes at work, when he wasn’t eating fish and was being chill, she’d hear Lance say “my man” to his friends on a call.
“And you may have some unresolved personal issues getting in the way of effective management and interpersonal relationships?”
That was a strange thing to surmise and entirely wrong, and did he want her to be just annoyed, or was he going for furiously annoyed? “No. Everything is fine. Why, what did Deb tell you?”
“Deb?” He put aside his tea, opened the folder, and pulled out a piece of paper to examine. “Beverly Rich compiled the referral. Do you know who she is?”
“Unfortunately,” Lorna muttered.
“It doesn’t matter who referred you. It’s clear to me that people who work with you care about you.”
Wrong. No one at Driskill, save maybe Deb, cared about her. They were probably having a pizza party right now to celebrate her absence.
“I urge you to open yourself up to our process. The goal is to remove any internal blocks you may have to working effectively with a team. Or anyone, for that matter. And those who are able to remove internal blocks are generally much more forgiving of themselves.”
That was the goal? Dumb goal. “I don’t have blocks. I work effectively with a team. I told you, everything is fine. This is just supposed to be a break.”
He winced sympathetically. “But do you work effectively with other people? Because you said just a moment ago that you don’t.”
“ You said I didn’t always manage effectively.”
He said nothing.
“I work effectively with them. I assign work and all the other things managers do.”
Still nothing.
She did not understand what she was supposed to say. “Okay, I get it. I know they don’t like me, but we sell a lot of software.” There. She’d admit what she knew was true.
He nodded. “Wouldn’t it be great if you could sell a lot of software and also have a good rapport with the team?”
Would it? She honestly didn’t know anymore.
“I’m thinking a great place to start is with some exercises where you can learn how to connect with your innermost self. I like to use consistent meditation for that.”
This guy was insane. She was already composing the email in her head. Deb, thanks for trying, but the Bodhi Weirdo Place is not going to work for my particular issues.
“The idea is to gain mental clarity so we can really tackle issues that you identify. As you go along in the program, we’ll progress to some more out-of-the-box ideas to connect you with your inner peace and effect change.”
Whoa. She did not like the sound of that. “Okay, hold up,” she said, lifting her hand. “I’ve been to therapy before, and this doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever had to do. This sounds made up.”
“Nope. Our approach has been studied and proven effective for people just like you. What we do here is one, acknowledge the need for change, two, contemplate why that change is necessary, then three, prepare to make positive changes before actually making them. In other words, we work on giving you the tools to identify necessary changes and then make them in a way that lasts. And then, of course, we’ll work on tools to maintain those changes after the program.
” He suddenly leaned forward, his gaze piercing hers.
“Lorna... do you think you need to change?”
Mumbo jumbo. She could feel her body coiling up. Did her company actually spend money on this nonsense? Was there any choice but to be here? “Maybe a tiny bit,” she said, holding up thumb and forefinger to show how tiny the bit was. “How far out of the box are we talking?”
Micah smiled again, which, she was realizing, was his way of deflecting. “That’s up to you. But I think you’ll like the direction we’re going. It’s all designed to help you help yourself.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered.
“For today, let’s get some background. We were talking about family—”
“No, you were mentioning it. We weren’t talking about it.” As long as they were pursuing clarity of thought, she was happy to clarify that she was not talking about her family.
“You’re correct. Let’s do that now.”
Oh boy, he was not taking the hint. Lorna put aside her untouched mug of tea. “Look, Micah, I appreciate that you’re doing your job... although I really don’t get your job, and that’s on me. But I don’t like the idea of getting too personal.”
“Are we getting personal?”
“You want to talk about my family.”
He shrugged lightly and took a sip of his tea. “We don’t have to talk about it. Perhaps you could just give me a general outline. Your mother is...?”
She forced herself to swallow. “Dead. Cancer.”
“Oh.” He put down his teacup and leaned forward. “I am very sorry for your loss. That must have been incredibly hard.”
It wasn’t just hard. It was torture, misery, anguish.
.. all the things. The burn of tears immediately sprang to the back of her eyes.
It had been several years now, but Lorna could hardly think of that time without feeling miserable.
“Yes,” she said. “I was her caretaker, and in the end...” She’d said things to her mother that would haunt her forever.
“It was awful. I don’t want to talk about it. ”
He reached for a box of tissues and handed them to her. “Then we won’t talk about it. Your father?” he asked, pivoting.
Her father? Another bad topic. “Umm... remarried. A long time ago. He lives in Florida.” Dear old Dad, who had come crawling back when it was too late.
“Any siblings?”
An image of Kristen popped into her mind’s eye.
But it wasn’t the same Kristen Lorna had seen last. It was the Kristen of her youth.
Her big sister Kristen, the lithe, tanned, blond, pretty Kristen she’d so admired.
Lorna remembered always laughing then, with Kristen, at Kristen, around Kristen.
Those were happy times. Her skin began to feel clammy.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been sick, but she was feeling weirdly queasy.
Like she was at the top of a roller-coaster ride and waiting for the drop. “A sister,” she managed.
“And where is she?”
“Also in Florida. With my dad.”
“What’s her name?”
She swallowed down a swell of nausea. “Kristen.”
“Younger? Older?”
“Does it really matter?” she blurted. She was doing her best not to lose her cool, but this line of questioning was so... intrusive. She curled her hand into a ball and shoved it under a bent leg, trying to keep a grip. Micah simply looked at her, waiting for an answer. “She’s older.”
“And you and Kristen are close?”
Her throat was constricting, making it difficult to breathe. “No. Not now. We used to be. Look, I really don’t want to—”
“When—”
“We’re on a break!” she snapped. Was she perspiring? She felt so hot suddenly. She imagined dark stains spreading under her arms. She wanted to rip off her jacket.
He pushed the box of tissues closer to her. “Are you doing okay, Lorna?”
She grabbed a tissue. “I’m fine. There is something wrong with my tear ducts.
Look, Micah, my sister and I are on a break because she’s an addict, and her addiction has ruined my life.
Is that what you want to know?” She paused to dab at her eyes.
What in the world? Was she going to keep shouting private things at him?
This was precisely why she didn’t want to talk about it.
“ Ah ,” Micah said, like he’d just caught on to the theory of relativity.
Like what she’d said meant anything to him.
He didn’t have a clue, because unless you had lived with an addict, you could not imagine how addiction could throw an entire family into a tailspin and how sometimes you really wanted to step out of the room.
Or out of a life. Or out of your own body. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” He tapped on his knee a moment. “I can imagine it must be very painful.”
“Enraging is more like it.”
“It looks like we have a lot of ground to cover before we design a program for you.”
“Nope. Think we covered it,” Lorna said firmly, trying to regain her internal composure. “They are in Florida, I’m in Austin. It’s all good.”
“Okay,” he said, and smiled again. But this time, his smile seemed piteous, and she had to get out of there before she did something terrible like smash her fist through one of his elephant paintings.
She rolled onto her knees from the beanbag to get up, wondering how she was going to get to her feet without humiliating herself. But she had no time for grace and poise. “I’m sorry, I have a prior engagement. I should get going.”
“Sure, Lorna,” Micah said. “We’ll pick back up tomorrow. I’ve got a pamphlet I’d like you to read on the power of meditation as a gateway to healing.” He leaped up like a cat and walked to his desk, sparing her the humiliation of sticking her ass in his face while she gained her feet.
He picked up a brochure and handed it to her. “I look forward to working with you,” he said. “And if I may, I think you have nothing to lose and everything to gain from this experience.”
“Uh-huh.” This room—and her jacket, and her life—was unbearably tight and hot. She had to get outside and breathe. “See you,” she said, and walked out of his office before a torrent of sweat broke from her forehead.