Chapter 9
“Let’s get everyone checked in,” the tautly lean woman, who is not one of our usual instructors, says, standing at the door to the community center’s health studio.
I attend a breath work class weekly with my two best friends, Maeve and Katrina.
We alternate studios, because Maeve’s community center is two neighborhoods over from where Kat and I live.
Today we’re at Kat’s and my local health studio, and first in line.
I’m at the front of our group, so I give the woman our names.
“Tilly Crewson, Maeve Milford, and Kat Rojas.” The instructor touches her tablet’s screen, checking us in, then says, “Welcome, ladies. I’m Beatrice, filling in for Ellis S. today. You’ve been here before?”
We nod. “We’re regulars,” I reply.
“Excellent. Then you know the drill,” Beatrice says, smiling before turning her attention to the next woman in line behind us.
The room is lit in a soft, golden glow, meant to mimic near sunset, and we each take one of the VR headsets hanging on wall hooks.
The mats have already been laid out, and we choose three in the last row.
There’s a faint scent of lavender, infused into the space to promote relaxation.
“We have…” Kat looks at her watch, sets a timer.
“Eleven minutes. So we each get three. Maeve, you’re first.” Kat used to be an elementary school teacher and is now at home with her four children.
The need to organize remains strong, so Maeve and I are happy to indulge her.
Sometimes it’s nice to hand over the control to someone else.
“As you both know, I was at a conference last week,” Maeve says.
She ties her ponytail lower to accommodate the headset.
She has a new watchstrap, transparent except for tiny flecks of gold—it reminds me of the jelly sandals of my youth.
I’ve been looking at a similar one, though flecked with white, but it has been out of stock.
“ ‘The Role of Neuroaesthetics in Treating Mood Disorders,’ ” she adds, before glancing at me. “With a focus on creating visual art as therapy, so I’m going to want to pick your brain later, Tilly.”
“Happy to have my brain picked,” I reply. “Besides, I owe you about a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of therapy at this point.”
Kat raises her hand. “Another fifty thousand at least from me.”
Maeve laughs, then shares that her partner, Jenn, an emergency-room physician who travels often for humanitarian work, is up the coast in Maine.
“There was a lot of displacement with this one, and injuries, Jenn said,” Maeve adds, referring to the most recent hurricane, only two weeks prior, more devastating than initially predicted. “I’m going to join her next week.”
Jenn and Maeve are child-free by choice, neither possessing the “mom gene,” as they put it.
MotherWise, and society in general, isn’t sure what to do with women like Jenn and Maeve, and they are mostly left alone.
Though there are whispers that MotherWise, and the government at large, is considering disincentives for this childless group.
Along with servicing disaster zones, most of Maeve’s therapeutic work focuses on dismantling this concept of “unquestioned procreation,” supporting women who either choose not to become mothers or can’t due to a variety of circumstances.
It’s how I met her—she was leading a workshop on secondary infertility, and my therapist at the time suggested I attend.
Kat, who is married to Wyatt’s high school best friend, Nick, devotes her update to her kids: Lola, Jose, Ana, and the baby, Rachael, who is finally sleeping through the night.
Nick is a former city councilor now tasked with growing the MotherWise initiative, and this occasionally creates friction.
I’m more moderate on nearly every issue and am often the peacekeeper between the two.
They are as opposite as can be, both in appearance, with Maeve blond and athletic and Kat dark and willow-thin, and in personality.
Our friendship has remained solid regardless.
“Okay, so I have a top secret project right now,” I say, lowering my voice. I tell them about the mysterious delivery in the vaguest terms possible.
“I can’t share more than that for now, I even had to sign an NDA, but I’ll say this: it’s the project of a lifetime. A true ‘pinch me’ moment.”
There’s a hit of anticipation in my belly; the promise of unearthed secrets under the black soot makes me itchy with impatience.
Underlying that is a thread of disquiet, as I remain troubled by hearing my mother’s voice on my front stoop last night.
Plus, Wyatt and I have decided to do a course of privatized IVF, in part thanks to the Leclerc and its bonus fee.
I’m both excited and overwhelmed about the decision, which I hope is the answer to our at-the-moment unsolvable problem.
All this to say, I’m counting on tonight’s class to rebalance my nervous system.
“Sounds exciting!” Kat says, ever enthusiastic the way only a former elementary school teacher can be. “I’m thrilled for you.”
“Me too,” Maeve adds. “I can’t wait—”
Whatever she’s about to say is interrupted by Kat’s watch alarm. “Time’s up, ladies. Are we doing dinner after?”
Maeve shakes her head. “I have clients this evening.”
“I’m out too,” I reply. “Work stuff.”
“I don’t miss that.” Kat shakes her head. “I mean, I still work. Four kids under seven is almost equivalent to a full-time job.”
“I’d say more like a job and a half,” Maeve replies, and I murmur my agreement. Raising another human being is the hardest job there is.
With a stab of sadness I think about my recent failed month.
I told Maeve, because she checked in on me, knowing test day was coming.
There’s little I don’t share with her, particularly in this arena, but I haven’t said anything to Kat yet.
It’s likely I’m not giving her enough credit, but she can be myopic about motherhood and I don’t need cheerleading on the issue.
Beatrice’s voice fills the room, coming through speakers that line the ceiling. “Headsets on, folks. We’re going to be starting in a minute or so.”
I slide the virtual reality goggles onto my head, the glass eyepiece a stormy gray color that’s semitransparent. The headband is soft and stretchy.
I click the on button at the side, the device comes to life, and my vision fills with the Take a Breath logo and a glowing yellow sphere that pulses like a slow heartbeat.
Choosing “Hawaiian Beach” for my setting—my usual (Maeve prefers snowy mountainous settings, and Kat wide-open fields of wildflowers)—I cross my legs, resting my hands on my bent knees in a sort of lotus position.
I’m now in Maui, on the beach. The mat is warmed, and I can almost convince myself it’s sun-drenched sand under me, the seabirds chirping above the continuous roll of ocean waves.
A pod of dolphins swims by, jumping and frolicking among the waves, and I smile.
Then a twinkling light pierces the center of the scene, and I watch as it grows to four times its original size, then retreats back to a pinpoint.
My vitals are recorded in the upper left corner of the screen, and I see my heart rate has come down five beats a minute.
Feeling chuffed, I take a deep breath in through my nose, then slowly release it through my mouth, as per Beatrice’s request. The lavender scent is pleasing, and I take in another deep nasal breath, happy to see the twirling gold star beside my vitals.
“We’re going to start the session now.” Beatrice’s voice is whisper soft, like the gentle breeze the seabirds I’m watching float upon.
My heart rate comes down another two beats.
“Breathe in through your nose for four…now hold for seven…release for a slow eight. That’s it, everyone. Well done. And again, here we go…”