21– Surprises With a Side of Dinner
Casey
“Sorry everyone, Grace is away for the next couple of weeks, so you are blessed with me in her absence.” I smile to the group of women—and one man—before me. Taking Grace’s inner-child class today. She was always so good with this one, helping others heal through breath work, stretching, and movement.
“Let’s start in boat pose.” I walk them through the breathing, setting up the posture, and ensuring we practice with the right muscles engaged, adjusting beginners as required and challenging the more experienced regulars.
“Let go of what you’ve been holding on to. Use those emotions to power you through, stoking the fire that drives you, keeping you strong. Relaxing your face muscles, let go of all that tension, while bracing your core, keeping your navel drawn to your spine. And breathe. Holding for 3, 2, 1, lowering all the way to a long body stretch.” I demonstrate and stretch my arms up above me, feeling my spine stretch along the mat, my muscles relax, and the coolness of letting go washes over me. I think about the tension I hold through every day, the weight of expectations, and trying to anticipate the needs of everyone to make sure the people I love are cared for.
“Notice how you feel. Don’t dwell, just note it. Label it, and file it away, keeping your breaths deep, your face relaxed with a gentle smile.” I softly instruct as I fall deeper into the stretch, trying to take as much advantage of the exercise as my class engages in theirs.
Memories start to come to mind, fleeting, but they’re there. Grace sneaking out after Mom and Dad were asleep; at first, she didn’t know that I knew, but after the first few months, I started waiting for her. I wanted to know where she was going. I needed to know who she was with. What would happen if one day she didn’t come back? I would need to tell our parents. They would need to know where to look, would need something to give the police if she went missing. I felt responsible for making sure she was back safely. That was, until the night she was busted. Man did that scare the crap out of me. My parents have always been pretty level-headed, at least up until that point. I’d never seen Mom lose her cool like I did that night.
Grace was grounded, of course. But it changed the direction of everything. Mom, Dad, and Grace started getting into a lot of fights. A lot of things, I thought, could have been avoided with just a little communication, anticipation, or thought.
Grace getting mad that none of her clothes were clean; Mom losing it because she never put her clothes in the wash.
Grace having a tantrum because she had lost something; Dad getting angry because Grace was careless with her belongings.
When Mom and Dad lost it at Grace, they lost it at each other, at me. It got extra bad when Mom dropped me off at the library for study group in high school, but then forgot to come get me because she was busy chasing down Grace after a particularly heated argument she’d had with Dad. They ended up eating dinner and getting ready for bed. Rosie’s nanny—yes, nanny…even in high school—had picked me up and dropped me home, and then my mom cried because she felt so horrible that she’d forgotten me.
After that day, I just found it easier to help. I’d made sure Grace’s clothes were washed if Mom wasn’t home to do it. I had convinced Grace to send me her location when she’d sneak out and give me one contact number—she wouldn’t tell me the name of the person, and said she’d murder me if I ever used it for anything other than an emergency—but I saved it, nonetheless. I started keeping track of Grace’s jewelry that she’d lose or where she’d put her keys. The house started to resemble some peace.
And then Grace started snapping at me.
Mom and Dad were exhausted. They would sigh, beg Grace to relax, and then just let her go on her rampages. But it was okay. I was okay. As long as we could sit and have dinner, as long as Dad would remember my recitals and Mom would pick me up from the library on time, I could handle Grace.
I breathe deeper, reminding myself not to dwell. The fleeting memories are only that–memories. I’m happy and healthy in my life. I know I struggle with being a chronic support person; I know I tend to take on the feelings of those I love, but it’s hard not to. I just don’t want people to feel sadness, to hurt. I know I can handle it, so I want to take it from them. If I could heal the world by taking the pain for myself, I would in a heartbeat. Flaw or not, I don’t think I’d change this one piece of myself.
Walking the class through the next few stretches, we find ourselves in a standing, bent over position, instructing the class through the pose. “Bending your elbows in toward your body, with palms flat on the ground and knees slightly bent.” I breathe deep and demonstrate.
“Resting your right shin on the back of your right arm, heel lifted off the ground. And relax.”
I turn to watch the class follow, watching for any bad posture or poses to avoid any injuries when we take it further. “Good. Remember to keep breathing through it.” They do as I instruct, and a bubble of pride rises through me, watching each of them follow with ease.
We repeat on the other side, then with both knees at the same time.
“Leave some weight in your toes, keeping your gaze up in front of you, keeping your face gentle and relaxed.” Excited for this next part, I remind myself to stay calm and breathe. I love the feeling of my body moving through these movements. The feel of my strength, the feeling that I can do anything. Be anything.
“Fire up your core and transfer your weight, powering through your hands. If you can, if you feel supported, and your core is engaged, lift one foot.” I pause to look at the class, and see each of them trying and succeeding, a few strained faces. “This is designed to go only as far as your ability takes you. This is not a competition. Just breathe. Remember to keep your breathing even, don’t push past your body’s needs, tailor it to be perfect for you.” I watch a few drop their feet and their heels, and I smile gently.
“For anyone who’d like to take it further, lower your foot and try the next. Play with this pose as much as you like, filter through the rising of your heels, the lifting of your feet. There is nothing wrong with your level of need for this position. Play with it. Let that inner child play and connect.” And I feel my inner Casey frown at me. I feel her ache for play, for carelessness. To be free and frenzied and fun. But I feel disconnected. I don’t know how to be those things; they were never in the cards for me. I have never been able to be those things, because if I did, everything would just… fall apart.
I make it through the rest of the exercise, walking the class through the final meditation and reminding everyone to care for themselves and be gentle with themselves as they go about their day. I realize I can’t dwell on any of it because I need to get to the next class.
I wave a quick goodbye and duck into the next room.
“Sorry, everyone. I’m here!” I quickly make my way through to the front, where the mat is prepared, and I take a quick look at the schedule on my phone. This is the mom’s class.
Right, okay, I’ve got this. I take a deep breath to relax. This class deserves my best, so I will give it to them.
“Let’s start in child’s pose.”
I’m exhausted.
You’d think a day of Yoga would just make someone flexible and energized. But I’m wrecked. It’s heavy emotionally, a strain on my muscles and my voice. Socially depleting, my mouth hurts from smiling, and my brain hurts from just being ‘on’ the whole day.
Five classes, it’s 7pm, I’m home, finally. I managed to do the grocery shopping. I had popped home to do some laundry, but I haven’t had a chance to even blink, really. I have all the ingredients for chickpea and sweet potato curry, but I am so tired I don’t know if I can stand to be in the kitchen.
“Hey, girl, how was your day?” Rosie asks from her position on the couch. A glass of wine in hand and Netflix paused. She rests her chin on her hand as she looks over at me.
“Long,” I respond. “Addy in tonight?”
“No, she is with Noah, said she might be there for the week. She has a few long shifts and wants to spend as much time with him as possible. You know, gross couple things.” She waves her hand at me and rolls her eyes. It brings a lightness to my chest, and I chuckle at her.
“What do you feel like for dinner?” I ask, grabbing a glass and meeting her on the couch.
“You haven’t planned it already? That is unlike you,” she says, eyes narrowing on me when I fall to the couch. My head thrown back, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“No. I did. I can start in a minute.” The words are barely a breath, and I rest the wine glass on the coffee table before I lay on the couch. Rosie puts her glass down, too, and throws me a pillow.
“Chill for a bit. I got this.” My eyes snap open at her, follow her as she makes her way to the kitchen. I sit up and watch her as she opens the fridge.
“Uhhh, what are you doing?” I ask, confusion fogging my brain.
“I’m going to MasterChef you a meal. Momma Case needs a break,” she tsks as she fumbles her way through the kitchen cabinets.
“Rosie, I saw you struggle to make a bowl of cereal…” Rosie whips her head in my direction, a look of offense plastered to her face.
“Excuse me. I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent fast learner and extremely resourceful. Lay your pretty head down. I got this.” I stare at her skeptically, but am far too tired to fight her on this. Instead, I do as she says. I will just order pizza if this doesn’t work out. At least she is trying.
I don’t know how long I nap for, but it’s long enough for a meal to be cooked, and I’m woken by gentle fingers sliding against my cheek as I hear my name whispered. A deep, soothing whisper.
“Wake up, Ace. Food is ready.” My eyes snap open.
“Jessie?”
“I called him because I was trying to work out what the ingredients you purchased made, and then gave up because, what the fuck? And Addison was out with Noah, so… I didn’t know who else to call.” Rosie stands behind Jessie, who has crouched down in front of me on the couch. When I look to her, she over-exaggerates her wink, splits her fingers into a V and pokes out her tongue before giving me a thumbs up. My blush is instant, and when I snap startled eyes to Jessie to make sure he didn’t witness that atrocity, I see the tenderness in his eyes, the gentle smile on his face as he looks at me like there is nothing else in the room.
“You cooked me dinner?”
“I did. I assume you were making a curry? I’m sure it isn’t like what you had in mind, but I witnessed Rosie attempting to dice the potato, and, well, I really needed to take over.” He chuckles, straightening, and putting a hand out to help me up from the couch.
“How come… why are you…” I cough to clear my throat and Rosie slaps a hand across her mouth to stop a laugh. I throw her a glare over Jessie’s shoulder, and he lowers his head, chuckling.
“Uhhh… I’m just confused. Why are you cooking me dinner?”
“Just taking care of you, like I said, remember?” How could I forget? He shrugs and smiles again. That same smile, which has apparently been stuck on his face since yesterday. I stand from the couch, letting him pull me and drop me into a seat at the table. Rosie grabs wine from the fridge and pours me a glass. As Jessie plops a bowl of delicious smelling curry and rice in front of me.
“Oh my god, it smells amazing. ”
“It’s no Casey Baker meal, but it’ll do,” he says, not able to make eye contact. I look at Rosie as she does eye tennis between JJ and me, her mouth open in a wide smile, like she has no idea how to react.
We settle into a comfortable silence, and taking a bit of the rice and curry, it melts perfectly in my mouth. It doesn’t taste like the one I usually make, but it’s delicious. I practically moan as the fork leaves my mouth.
“Jessie, where the hell did you learn to cook? Between this and the omelet?”
He shrugs self-consciously and scratches the back of his head. “Um, a… friend… in high school, sh—they taught me. I used to spend a lot of time at their house. Cooking was one of the things we did a lot together.” He doesn’t look at me, and I know he is talking about Jenny.
Something hurts in my chest. Food, cooking, baking is something that I find comfort and joy in. I hate that I’m jealous he did the same thing, but with someone who broke him. I hate that he still has that with her, and it isn’t something shared with me. I nod and continue with the food.
I’m certain I’d lose my appetite if it just wasn’t so damned good. Rosie still hasn’t said a word, and when I look up at her, she is just smiling like a total idiot and looking between us.
We sit in awkward silence for a while. And when we finish, I waste no time grabbing the plates to clean up before Rosie stands and shoves me back in the seat. “I might not be able to cook, but I am excellent at cleaning. Sit down and let me.” She gives me a look, and I slink back down into my chair. She clears the table, heading to the kitchen, and Jessie shuffles awkwardly in his chair.
“Thank you for the coffee this morning,” I say gently, not really sure if we’re acknowledging what happened or if we are going to pretend like it never happened. For the sake of our friendship, I hope we forget, but I know if he pretends, it’ll hurt more than I’d care to admit. God, I’m a mess.
He nods, looking at his hands, which rest on the kitchen table. He fiddles with his pinky finger, where a ring that is no longer there used to sit. Because it rests on my thumb. I grab it on instinct, like seeing him reach for it makes me need to do the same, and I twist it on my finger.
“What time did you wake up?” he asks, and his voice is rough, his eyes finally looking up at me.
“Um, about 8ish. I didn’t feel you leave?”
“I didn’t want to wake you. I needed to be at the shop, but I opened early and brought everyone back some coffee. I knew you’d need it. I was hoping you would rest,” he says simply. Like it was a completely normal act of kindness.
“Have you spoken to Grace today?” I shake my head and keep my focus on the thumb ring, twisting it up and down my thumb. Grace hadn’t even reached out. No calls or texts. It feels so completely selfish being upset that she hasn’t. She has so much going on right now; she really doesn’t need to be thinking about me.
“I was going to go see her tonight, but it just got so late. I might go during the week sometime.” He nods again, and I look up to find Rosie giving me another look. One I think means she wants me to try. Honestly, I don’t know what we’re doing here. I don’t know how to address any of it. Maybe it’s better if we just clear the air. Be friends. It was a moment of high emotions, of intensity, and we were both spent and tired. It doesn’t have to mean anything or ruin anything.
I open my mouth to speak, but Jessie beats me to it.
“Well, I should probably go. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He gives me a forced smile, standing from the table.
“Oh. Sure, okay. That’s fine.” I smile back at him.
He stands there staring at me for a bit, giving me his fake smile. I can’t tell whether he knows I know it’s forced, or whether he actually believes I think he is smiling at me. He nods again, and I follow him to the door. Rosie watches us with fascination as she tries to multitask between cleaning and watching. Jessie nods at her as he passes, and she does something with her hand that I think is a wave, but she is so far into her shock she doesn’t really do anything except fling soapy water across the floor.
I follow Jessie to the door. He opens it and turns to face me on the other side of the threshold. Holding onto the frame for balance, because his proximity always knocks me around, I stare up into his greeny-blue eyes.
“I’ll see you?” he asks, softly.
“Yeah, I’ll be around.” I nod, biting my lip, because all the words I want to say just don’t feel right. He isn’t going to talk about what happened. I guess that means we’re pretending it didn’t happen?
He steps closer to me, a hand on the door frame above mine, and leans in.
“Good,” he says, low enough just for me, his mouth hovering just above mine, and when his eyes dart to my lips, I lose my breath. He leans in and places a soft, chaste kiss to mine that has electricity coursing through my entire body. His one touch lighting me on fire, but it’s gone the moment he pulls away. I take a step back, and when I look to him, his eyes seem darker.
He hits his fist into his palm and takes rapid steps back, biting his lip to hide the real smile I’ve been dying to glimpse again, before he turns without another word and rounds the corner to the elevators.