Chapter 15 Lorna Now
Lorna wasn’t ready to admit it to montreal, but she was beginning to appreciate the morning meditation practice, especially since they added yoga flow to it to “fire up her nervous system.” She didn’t know about that, but she was managing to silence her wild pinging thoughts and follow instructions to look inward.
She could imagine her breath sliding over organs and down to her toes, then slowly sliding out of her and into the universe, carrying all the stress and worries of the day.
Of course, that ended the moment the gong sounded and she was herself again.
The thoughts would recommence their pinging.
She was suspicious of those around her, and especially the lady who offered to take her mat.
Why would anyone offer to take another person’s mat and put it away?
Nevertheless, this morning she felt optimistic.
She’d finally done something. She’d unlatched the door of her bomb shelter.
She hadn’t opened it, just cracked it, but knowing that it could be opened was sort of amazing.
Micah whooped when she showed him the codicil list and reported she’d reached out to Callie. “Lorna! This is epic!” He jumped up from his beanbag and onto his haunches, like he was going to leapfrog around the room. She sincerely hoped he did not.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” she warned him. “Anyway, it’s not epic . It was just a Facebook message. No one even uses Facebook anymore. She’ll probably never see it, and if she does, she’ll ignore it. It was pretty stupid if you think about it.”
Micah was still grinning as he waited a beat. “Are you done?”
Lorna thought about it. “One more—I probably have the wrong Callie.”
“Glad we got the negativity out of the way,” he said jovially. “But you are missing the point, as usual.”
“As usual ?”
“As usual. You’re a master at missing the point. This is great progress, Lorna. This is a step in moving past your fears.”
Lorna rolled her eyes. “I haven’t moved past anything—in fact, I’m even more afraid now. What if she emails back and says she hates me? Worse, what if she wants to see me and then sees me? What do you think that is going to do for my fragile self-esteem?”
Micah was unfazed. “Let’s look at those two possibilities. If she hates you, well... that’s her problem, isn’t it? You can’t control another person’s emotions or thoughts, right?”
Lorna stared at him.
“Right?” he said again.
“Right,” she grudgingly admitted. She sank down onto her elbow and stretched her long legs off the beanbag.
“But you did what you set out to do, to help you , to make your life better. It is a giant step toward freeing yourself of this major roadblock.”
It wasn’t a roadblock, exactly. That implied she could get past it. This was more like a Go to Jail, Go Directly to Jail card.
“And two, if she wants to see you... isn’t that what you want? To make amends?”
“On paper,” Lorna said. “But in real life?” She winced. “I don’t know. It scares me.”
“What exactly do you fear?”
She thought that was obvious. “That she’ll hate me to my face, like everyone else.
” She imagined the expression on Callie’s face, and it made her insides twist. What could be worse than the one person who had meant so much to her eyeing her with disdain?
“She already hated me once. I don’t know if I could go through it again. ”
“Because if she hated you, you would...?” Micah gestured for her to fill in the blank.
“Be heartbroken.”
“And?”
“And? Isn’t it enough to be heartbroken? How about die? Do you like that? I might die.”
“You wouldn’t die.”
“Not literally,” she said with a scoff. “But, you know.” In other words, she may not physically die, but she might as well.
Sure, she hadn’t been friends with Callie since middle school.
But Callie was just one of those people in life who, when you met them, you knew you’d be connected to for more than just a season.
Their friendship was supposed to endure a lifetime.
She’d only felt that a couple of times. With Callie. And with Kristen.
She would be truly devastated if Callie didn’t feel the same about her, and the chance of that being the case was quite high.
It had been thirty years! It was wildly absurd to think there was any hope of a reunion after so much time had passed.
But in a tiny way, even if there was no hope, that would also be freeing.
To no longer have that what-if hanging over her head.
“It’s all out of your control, Lorna. The only thing you can control, the only thing that will free you, is your ability to rectify the wrong in a way that feels right to you. That’s your goal. Nothing else.”
That wasn’t entirely true. She could control everything from the comfort of her bomb shelter and had been doing so for a long time. She might be friendless in there, but at least she wasn’t hurting.
Micah seemed to be reading her mind. “Do you like living with the past?”
“Of course not.”
“There’s an old saying by a French philosopher that goes something like, ‘Whoever fears suffering is already suffering what he fears.’ In other words, the outcome can’t be any worse than you fear.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered.
He smiled and eased himself down on his beanbag. “I feel hopeful. We’re getting somewhere.”
The door opened and Montreal stuck his head inside. “Ready for your sound bath, Lorna?”
She had almost forgotten about that. She’d never in her life heard of anything more froufrou.
She was going to have a long list of comments for Deb about the company’s new wellness program when she was done here.
That is, if she survived it, which was not a given.
“I will never be ready for a sound bath, guys.”
“You will never know the benefit of different things if you don’t try,” Micah said cheerfully. “Just allow yourself to exist in the moment. Can you do that?” he asked as Lorna rolled onto her knees to get up from the beanbag.
Did this guy’s optimism ever fade, even for a moment? She stood up and straightened her shirt. “Highly doubtful, Micah. But I’ll do it if you will check sound bath off so I can get back to work.”
He laughed. “Good work today, Lorna. Very good work.”
“I didn’t do anything but roll off your dumb beanbag,” she said, and followed Montreal.
He led her down a new hallway to another all-white, cavernous room where people were rolling out their mats and taking seats on them.
Lorna had this part down now and sat, legs crossed, reminding herself to exist in the moment as the class started.
It was impossible to do at first—and she resisted it in the usual ways.
Who is giggling? What’s so damn funny? Also, someone should really crack open a new bar of Irish Spring.
What is that thing in the corner? Is it a spiderweb? ARE THERE SPIDERS?
The instructor asked them all to put themselves on their backs, shoulder blades flat against the floor, and to do a mental scan of their bodies, releasing any tension. “Begin with your toes. Your feet. Your ankles...,” she whispered melodiously.
Lorna felt too vulnerable flat on her back, her eyes closed.
Anyone could come right up and kick her and she wouldn’t see them coming.
And when the sound started, it startled her almost to a comfortable seated position.
She opened one eye to see three people dressed in white using wooden mallets to ring the bowls.
She closed that eye and listened to the dozen Tibetan singing bowls of various shapes and sizes reverberating through the room.
After a few minutes, she could feel the sound reverberating in her, just as the instructor had said she would.
She didn’t know how, or at what point, she was able to stop worrying and let herself exist in the moment.
But it happened. She concentrated on the vibrations and felt herself grow light of being, like she was floating away from herself.
Her mind filled with images of sun-drenched mountain valleys.
Of butterflies and trees and flowers and puppies.
She felt drowsy, like she was hovering between sleep and lucidity.
It was peaceful. Maybe as peaceful as she’d felt in a long while.
“You are invited to reach deep into the vault of negative thoughts and take hold of one to release. Feel it sliding up and away. When you are ready, release it into the ether,” the instructor whispered, and the Tibetan bowls sang.
Lorna drew a long breath. She took hold of the most prominent negative thought, felt it sliding up and away, floating like a bubble to the top of her head, and when she was ready, she announced to one and all, “I hate myself.” She realized, of course, the moment she said it, that it was not supposed to be said out loud.
“Are you okay, hon?” A cold hand slid onto her arm, and Lorna startled up, clumsily putting herself into a cross-legged position. An older woman next to her smiled kindly.
“I thought... I understood we were to release the thought,” Lorna whispered.
“You were,” the lady confirmed. “But silently.”
Lorna nodded and settled onto her back and closed her eyes again.
The bowls continued singing, but the moment was lost for her.
She sat up once more on her mat, her mind racing, her mortification climbing up her neck and into her scalp.
Did she really hate herself? The thought had come from somewhere so deep that it had seemed like more than an occasional annoyance.
It startled her. Unnerved her. She didn’t want to hate herself.
She wanted to like herself. Because if she didn’t, what was the point to anything?
What was she trying to save herself for?
When Montreal came for her, he cocked his head to one side and looked her up and down. “You look... different.”
“Really? Maybe because I just made a fool of myself.”
“No, you look as if the sound bath was relaxing. Was it?”
“Not exactly. I followed instructions and let myself go in the moment and caused a stir.”
Montreal smiled. “Interesting.”
Lorna snorted. “I’ll say.”
“You’re definitely leaning into those yoga pants, girl.”
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Oh, Lorna,” Montreal said with a grin. “You should know by now that hope is always sky-high around here.”