Balancing Acts Page 17

  “Yeah, they are. I’m glad we finally found a time for all of us to get together, outside of class.”

  “A group adventure is perfect. I thought maybe Naomi would be busy with Noah and Charlie would be teaching.” Initially, Bess had thought that she would like to get one-on-ones with all of them, but Sabine was right actually—there was something about the group dynamic that encouraged full disclosure. And with their class time almost halfway over, Bess was all too aware that her access to all of them was limited.

  “Hello, ladies!” they heard behind them. They pivoted on their stools to find Naomi and Charlie, beaming brightly.

  “We just ran into each other walking in,” Naomi explained. “Perfect timing.”

  They all moved to greet each other with warm hugs.

  “Should we get a table?” asked Charlie. She was a bit nervous to be hanging out with Sabine, Bess, and Naomi outside of the studio. It was hard not to adopt the teacher role, despite her best intentions. She thought of her conversation with Sasha. This was as good a time as any to practice blurring her carefully constructed lines. Why couldn’t she show a little vulnerability? Just thinking about it made her tense. She hoped the women wouldn’t pick up on her discomfort. She needed a drink.

  “Sure,” answered Sabine. “There’s one over there in the corner.” She and Bess gathered their things, and they all made their way to the table.

  “Winter is such a drag!” moaned Sabine after they had all struggled out of their jackets and stowed them on the various hooks behind them. “I cannot wait for no-jacket weather.”

  “Seriously,” agreed Charlie. “Just to walk freely, without these gigantic down prisons on top of us.”

  The waitress approached the table. “What do you guys want to drink?” asked Naomi.

  “Red wine sounds good to me,” answered Bess.

  “Me, too,” agreed Charlie.

  “Sabine, is that cool with you?” asked Naomi.

  “Oh yeah, of course,” she answered. Naomi picked a bottle for the table and the waitress retreated. “I hope you guys are all okay with a Syrah,” said Naomi. “I figured it was safe. And it’s one of the cheapest bottles on the menu,” she added.

  “Now you’re talking,” said Bess. “Isn’t the markup nuts?” she asked. “You can get the same thirty-dollar bottle here for, like, eleven ninety-nine at the store.”

  “I know,” agreed Charlie. “Have any of you guys bought milk lately, by the way?” she asked in mock horror. “The price is insane!”

  “This economy is in the shitter in a really scary way,” added Naomi. “Buying food for two these days is killing me. With what I spend every month, I could take a weeklong trip to Tahiti.”

  “How’s Noah?” asked Sabine.

  Naomi smiled. “Oh, he’s great. He is really great. We had a long talk about how sometimes it’s okay for me to go out by myself at night. He had a tough time with it at first, but then he reluctantly saw the light. After pouting for a half hour or so, he gave me a big squeeze before I left and told me I looked pretty. He’s perfect.”

  “Isn’t it crazy how little men change?” Sabine asked. “I think I dated that guy a year ago, except leave out the telling me I’m pretty part.”

  Bess laughed. “Seriously. It’s not too hard to see the little boys they once were, is it?”

  “Not at all,” Charlie said. “Especially if they are denied something they really want. I’ve seen some man tantrums in my time, believe me.”

  “Charlie, do you have a boyfriend?” asked Naomi.

  Charlie shook her head. “Noooo. I honestly don’t think I would have time for one right now, even if it was an option.” As the words came out of her mouth, Charlie wondered if that was even true. She looked at the women surrounding her and thought about opening up about Neil and her inability to move past him. Surely they could commiserate and offer advice. She just couldn’t step over the line, though. There was too much to lose—namely, their respect. To find out that their together yoga teacher was a mess? Unthinkable.

  “How are things at the studio?” asked Bess. Getting Charlie to open up was like prying steel bars apart. The woman was a vault. Subtly, Bess adjusted the tape recorder. The band was digging into her ribs.

  “Oh, the usual. The classes and the people are terrific, but the day-to-day bullshit is a drag.”

  “Like what?” asked Naomi.

  “Oh you know, bills, money, plumbing, blah blah blah. All of the unglamorous stuff behind the scenes.”

  The waitress returned with their bottle, pausing to display the label before uncorking and pouring a splash for Naomi to taste. Naomi took a sip and nodded appreciatively.

  “How did you decide to open your own studio?” asked Bess, when their glasses were filled. This was the money question.

  Charlie blinked rapidly, a nervous twitch she’d always had. Should she reveal the way she came to such a monumental decision or should she give her usual answer? She decided to play it safe.

  “I got into yoga about five years ago, and it just changed my life,” she explained. “I started to lose any sense of fulfillment at my finance job, you know?” The women nodded in response. “I had worked so hard for what felt like forever at something that provided minimal enjoyment. It was time for a change, and thankfully, the timing was right. I met Julian and Felicity and we decided to pool our resources. Voilà—Prana Yoga.” Charlie smiled. This wasn’t a complete lie. In fact, it was almost completely true, except for a vital detail or two.

  “Weren’t you scared to do it?” asked Naomi. “What if the studio had tanked and you had lost all your money?”

  “Well, never say never,” said Charlie, taking a big gulp of her wine. “That could still happen. I just figured that I had to take that chance. Worst case scenario, we do tank, I can always go back to Big Brother and work for some giant money machine. I have the skills.”

  Bess nodded. “True,” she added. “But still, it’s impossible not to respect your ballsiness and commitment to your dream.” She really liked the direction this conversation had organically taken. Maybe the article wasn’t dead in the water after all. She surveyed the table, waiting for one of the other women to expound on her point. As if reading her mind, Naomi spoke.

  “I agree with Bess,” she said. “And don’t forget the points you get for even knowing what it is you want to do. Most days I feel like I’ve completely forgotten why I ended up doing what I do.”

  “How so?” asked Sabine.

  “Well, obviously I ended up designing websites somehow,” answered Naomi. “It just didn’t fall in my lap randomly. I used to take pictures, you know? That was my great passion. And when that wasn’t working out the way I had always envisioned it would, I left it behind to focus on a more lucrative venture. I mean, photography and web design are related, sure, but there’s a lack of passion and interest in what I do now that I can’t ignore.”

  “But you had to pursue something that paid more money on a more regular basis,” said Sabine. “You’re a single mom in New York. Talk about bills—yours must be astronomical.”

  “Very true. And I would never take back Noah. He has made my life one hundred percent better in ways that I would never have the time to explain. But even when I take photos of him, just for us, there’s a hesitancy on my part that I never experienced while I was photographing full time. It’s like I’m scared of taking pictures now. A couple of clicks, the joy returns, and then what? I can’t quit my day job.” She paused and took a sip of her wine. “Ugh, listen to me, going on and on.” She felt so comfortable with these women. Should I tell them about the tingling? she wondered. Maybe they could help. Or maybe they’ll ask too many questions and freak me out. She had already made the mistake of Googling her symptoms. What she had found online was terrifying. She decided not to say anything. Speaking about whatever it was that was happening to her made it real—too real for a drinks night with her yoga friends.

  “No, I get what you’re saying,”
said Bess. “I mean, obviously I don’t have a child, but Sabine and I were talking about exactly this before you guys joined us. Even though I know rationally that I could make the time to cover the sort of stories I want to cover, I always think of a million reasons why I can’t. You know, I have to go to the gym, I have to go to the grocery store or pick up my dry cleaning, I have to hang out with Dan. Sure, I do have to do all of these things, but I could find the time to pursue my dreams if I really wanted to. The question is, do I really want to, or do I just think I do?” Bess thought of the tape recorder strapped to her rib cage. Did she want to do this? What a hypocrite she was. These women were just like her.

  “Wait, hold up, who’s Dan?” asked Charlie. “You didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend, Little Miss Secret!”

  Bess suddenly felt trapped beneath the expectant stares of Charlie, Naomi, and Sabine. Should she open up? Would that further her betrayal by really making them feel like her friends? She decided to go for it, hoping that she could volunteer just a little more to open up the conversation even further. They hadn’t even touched on men yet.

  “Dan is my boyfriend, yes,” replied Bess, suddenly timid. She could feel a blush spreading over her cheeks.

  “Who is he? What does he do?” asked Naomi excitedly. “How did you meet?”

  “We met here in New York, at a random party,” answered Bess. “You know, typical story: I didn’t want to go at all, but forced myself off the couch after days of self-imposed, glorious isolation. I showed up and there he was. It’s been about a year since we got together.”

  “Wow, do you guys live together now?” asked Charlie.

  “I wish. He actually moved to LA. He’s getting his MFA in Screenwriting at USC.”

  “How do you guys pull off the long-distance thing?” asked Naomi.

  “Not very well. It’s hard, you know? Not having that immediate access can change the dynamic incredibly. But we try to see each other at least once a month.”

  “How long is the program?” asked Naomi.

  “Two years. But when it’s over, Dan will probably need to stay out in LA for work. It’s hard to land a screenwriting gig in New York, at least in comparison.”

  “Really?” asked Charlie. “What will you do?”

  Bess reached for the now practically empty bottle. How did the conversation become all about her? “I don’t know. I love him, but I don’t want to leave everything I have worked so hard to create for myself behind. I mean, ten years of blood, sweat, and tears in the magazine industry is no joke. Not to mention the fact that I just moved into an apartment that has actual, legitimate space. To give that up just seems really naïve, you know?”

  “But you love each other,” said Charlie, quietly. “That counts for a lot. If you overlook that by focusing on the size of your apartment, I think you’re doing yourself a disser vice. I mean, you could work in LA, couldn’t you? Doesn’t your magazine have a West Coast office?”

  Bess nodded. “Yeah, they do. Lots of silly magazines do. But that’s just the thing. I’m trying to break out of silly and segue into substance. You can’t say LA and substance in the same sentence. They’re oil and water.”

  “What about the Los Angeles Times?” asked Sabine. “Your New York credentials would probably be much more impressive outside of New York. You could break in with them and then expand your empire.”

  Bess shook her head in frustration. “Newspapers are dying and, even so, I would be following him. Giving up my entire life—my dreams!—for a man. That sounds terribly archaic to me. Not to mention the resentment I would feel toward him, and the fact that I’d be returning to the place I grew up. I spent half my life wanting to get out of there.” She thought guiltily of her parents, and her dad’s illness. I have to get home to see them soon.

  Naomi spoke up. “See, I think you’re looking at this the wrong way. You’re seeing it as an end rather than a beginning.”

  “Excellent point, Naomi,” said Sabine. “I tried to tell her the same thing before.”

  “If you’re in love with Dan and he’s in love with you, moving to be together as a unit is just a natural next step. Your dreams used to be just about what you wanted in a very individualistic sense, but now that you have someone else to consider, your dreams can just as easily evolve to envelop two.” Naomi paused, seemingly impressed by her own wisdom. “Wow, I don’t even know where that came from!” she exclaimed. “Must be all the yoga, Charlie.”

  Charlie laughed. “No doubt! But Naomi, what you’re saying is truly right on, and kind of why I fell in love with yoga. Yoga taught me about evolution on both a spiritual and physical plane, you know?”

  “How?” asked Bess.

  “Yoga is about surrendering to a sense of flow and internal rhythm,” Charlie explained. “You connect with your inner being to flow more successfully on a physical level. You are evolving inside in order to evolve outside.”

  “That’s incredible,” said Sabine. “It makes complete sense.”

  “You guys are very wise,” said Bess. “It’s great advice, it really is, but I just don’t know if I am evolved enough as an individual to really pursue us as a unit. Either that, or I’m scared shitless. I mean, intelligent journalism has always been a dream of mine, and I guess true love has as well, but never as concretely. Balancing the two together seems almost impossible. Men take up a lot of time.”

  “Only if you let them,” said Naomi. “It sounds like you are aware enough of your time and its management not to get caught up in the inevitable male domination of it. Something tells me that you would have no problem standing your ground.”

  “Wow,” said Bess. “Thank you.” She really meant it, too. She hadn’t been surrounded by such warm, wise, and empathetic advice since. . .well, since never. She fought the urge to lift up her shirt and expose the tape recorder. How could she write this article when they were all caught up in the same struggle?

  “I feel like I’m on The Tyra Banks Show,” said Sabine, breaking the comfortable silence.

  “I know!” agreed Charlie. “There is a whole lot of sisterhood going on at this table.”

  Bess laughed in relief. “Seriously! And by the way, I’m getting tipsy. Do you guys want to order some food?”

  “Yes, pleaaaase!” answered Naomi. “My stomach is digesting itself at this point.”

  Bess motioned for the waitress. These women had incredible things to say, but she was still battling with what moving to LA really meant for her. Despite her conflicted emotions, she did feel blessed. For this interaction, for Dan, for the options she had at her fingertips. . .. Her glass was full. Well, figuratively at least, she thought, as she eyed the empty bottle on the table and smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Charlie & Naomi

  I can’t believe I ate three slices of pizza,” Charlie moaned, as she and Naomi waited drunkenly for the subway. “What was I thinking?!”

  “You weren’t,” answered Naomi. “It was the wine talking. Besides, they were fancy pieces.”

  “Fancy pieces? What does that mean?”

  “You know, it was a yuppie pizza joint. The pieces were small. Three of those pieces are really only one and a half in the world of true pizza,” Naomi explained.

  Charlie laughed. “I like your math, Naomi. But they were still piled high with mounds of cheese. And don’t forget the Caesar salad and calamari.”

  “Why are you trying to kill my buzz?” Naomi asked, playfully pushing Charlie away. “If you’re drunk, calories don’t count.” She wasn’t sure if it was the drink or the company, but she felt really good—physically and mentally—for the first time in what felt like weeks. To be so hyperaware of everything that was going on in her body, from the slightest muscle twitch to the mystery bruise that she had found on her thigh, was exhausting, not to mention completely depressing. And then, to keep it all to herself. . .it was a heavy burden. She wondered if telling Charlie about it would help.

  “Another dietary gem! Okay,
okay, I’ll shut up about calories. Even tomorrow when my gut hangs over my waistband during my seven o’clock class, I’ll shut up. Promise.”

  “Deal,” said Naomi. The train approached. Once inside, Naomi yanked off her hat. She wondered if Charlie had heard of symptoms like Naomi’s before; if she would laugh and say, No offense, but this is clearly a case of being out of shape. Naomi hoped for that kind of reaction, but knew she was being naïve. There was no way that someone as in tune with the body as Charlie would be so dismissive. She glanced nervously at her. She was grinning with her eyes closed, her head against the wall. She seemed a bit drunk. Maybe this wasn’t the time to bring up her troubles. Talk about a buzz kill.

  Charlie opened her eyes suddenly and faced Naomi. “When was the last time you were in love?” she asked.

  “Well, there’s an interesting question. What brought that on?” Definitely drunk, thought Naomi. She had never seen this kind of candor from Charlie before.

  “You’re avoiding my question!” said Charlie.

  Naomi laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am. Hmmm, the last time I was in love. Has to be Noah’s dad, Gene. We broke up like, almost nine years ago, so. . .there’s your answer.”

  Charlie nodded. “It’s been four years for me.” She sighed heavily. “Four freakin’ years.”

  “Who was it?” asked Naomi. “What happened?”

  Charlie suddenly sat up straighter and shook her head in an attempt to realign her brain. “Oh God, look at me! Drunk girl! Forgive me, it’s that damn wine talking.” She smiled shyly, revealing purple-tinged teeth.

  “I’ll say it’s talking! You have red wine mouth. Do I?” Naomi opened her mouth wide to give Charlie a good look.

  “Totally!” shrieked Charlie. “Aren’t we a vision? A drunk yogi and a drunk mom, waxing poetic on love lost. It’s like an episode of Sally Jesse Raphael or something.”

  “Do you remember in college how they used to air those episodes in the smoking section at the GSU?” asked Naomi. “All day long, nothing but Jerry Springer, Sally Jesse, and packs upon packs of Camel Lights. Jesus. You practically needed a flashlight to find anyone in that cloud of smoke.”