Savasana at Sea Read online

  “What the hell’s going on?” Rowena tried again.

  “I was fired.” I wanted to turn my back and keep walking. Tears threatened to break through again.

  “Yeah, I know, is Jelena out of her freaking mind?”

  “I don’t fit in with the new brand,” I said.

  “Oh, fuck their brand.” Rowena stomped her foot on the pavement. “You’re a damned good teacher, you’re a real person, not one of those hypocrites swanning around pretending to be enlightened and then stabbing everyone in the back.”

  “Alyssa,” Kath nodded.

  “It’s that obvious?” I asked.

  “To anyone who doesn’t have his head so far up in his cleansed ass he can still see straight,” Rowena retorted. Kath giggled.

  “Thanks.” Tears started to leak down my cheeks despite my best intentions. “Jelena told me no one came to my classes because of me, but because the class was there.”

  Rowena opened her mouth to respond, then, with an effort, slammed her lips shut and took a swallow. “Come on,” she grabbed my arm. “We’re going for a drink. And I don’t mean a wheatgrass shake.”

  “It’s only ten a.m.,” I pointed out.

  “Would you rather have coffee?”

  I nodded. If I started drinking at ten a.m., I’d be a hot, weepy mess.

  Rowena and Kath steered me to the Barnes & Noble Cafe at the top of Union Square Park. Carmen was gone from the corner, moved on to her late morning perch in the park. Kath stayed with me at the table while Rowena got our drinks. “Mocha lattes with plenty of whipped cream,” she announced, dropping into the third chair.

  “Thank you,” I said. A sip of the drink loosened the lump in my throat. My shoulders came down from my ears.

  “So much for taking class there,” said Rowena.

  “You would stop taking class at Jelena’s studio because she fired me?” I was shocked.

  “The only reason I kept coming back is because I like your class. You’re a real person. Most of them are hypocrites. They pretend they’re so into meaningful lives and healthy living and kindness, and look how they behave? I haven’t heard such vicious gossip outside of a reality show set-up. It’s all ‘om’ and ‘namaste’ in the classroom and ‘did you hear that Penny put on fifteen pounds and Jason was so totally grossed out he left her?’ the minute class is over. Plenty of them are there for hook-ups, not fitness. That includes the teachers.”

  “The right hook-up is a form of fitness,” Kath interrupted.

  “True, but I don’t use my yoga class to troll for one-night stands,” Rowena revised.

  I took a deep breath. “Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. This is a transition,” I emphasized the name. “I have a wedding coming up in less than two months. Jack’s been so busy with work he hasn’t had much time to plan. I can focus all my attention on the wedding, and start looking for work again after. Maybe I can pick up a few classes here and there, let different studios try me out, in the interim.”

  “Remember, you’re trying them out just as much as they’re trying you out.” Rowena wagged a finger at me. “Here.” She pulled out a business card. “Please keep in touch. I want to know where you land.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I picked up the card. It was on thick, creamy stock with raised lettering — not a five-dollar printing job by any means. Rowena Callahan, Diamond Cruises. I remembered their commercial on television, promoting smaller ships with more personalized services. “I didn’t know you work for a cruise line.”

  “Yeah, the head office is in Miami, but we depart out of New York, so I’m up here,” said Rowena. “Have you and your fiancé decided what to do for your honeymoon? A cruise would be great; it’s a floating resort. We have yoga classes, so you could keep up your practice.”

  “Jack insisted on making the plans for the honeymoon,” I said. “He told me he wanted it to be a surprise.” I pulled out one of my own cards. “Here, to make an even exchange.” My cards, on the other hand, were from the five-dollar self-serve machine in the local print shop.

  “Great. I definitely want to keep in touch.”

  “Who will look out for Carmen if I’m fired?” I wondered.

  “Who’s Carmen?” Rowena asked.

  “The homeless woman on the corner. I sort of, um, keep an eye on her.” I was uncomfortable talking about it. It felt like boasting. “I’ll just have to make sure I’m in the neighborhood on a regular schedule.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on Carmen,” Kath promised.

  “A little difficult if we’re not taking class,” Rowena retorted. The dismay must have shown on my face and Rowena was quick to add, “We’ll make the detour. I don’t work that far away.” She checked her watch. “If you’re okay, I gotta run. I’ve got some flexibility in my schedule, especially on days without departures or arrivals, but I don’t want to push it.”

  “Yeah, go on, I’m fine,” I said. “Thanks for the support.”

  “Anytime.” Rowena stood up. “Keep in touch.”

  “Take care,” said Kath.

  I watched them take the escalator down to the ground floor and sighed. I felt better, and I wanted to enjoy my mocha latte before dealing with the rest of my life. This could be what I needed. Time to plan the wedding. Time to decide what to do next.

  I pulled out my iPhone and hit Jack’s speed-dial number.

  “Jack.” He was always abrupt on his personal line.

  “It’s Sophie.”

  “Yeah, I know. Caller ID.”

  “Could we meet for lunch? I’m having a tough day and could use some cheering up.”

  There was a beat of silence. “I was just about to call you to ask you to meet for lunch, too. I think that’s a good idea. Pristine noon?” He always said that when he wanted me to be exactly on time, not early, not late.

  “Pristine noon.” Something in his voice bothered me. “Is everything okay?”

  “Just busy.”

  Jack was always busy. “Okay, see you later. Love you.”

  “Yup.” He hung up.

  I finished the coffee, browsed the books, thought about the “to be read” pile in my bedroom, and bought more anyway. How could I pass up the latest by Celeste Vandermeer, January Keating, or Linette Hush? Bag of books in hand, I stepped outside, where the rain let up, and grabbed a cab to the Nine West at Madison and 55th, closest to Jack’s office. I replaced the broken boots with a pair of sturdy, flat-soled ones, and bought myself a pair of silver sandals with dragonfly embellishments to both salve my wounds and celebrate my liberation.

  Wearing the new boots, I left the store with more confidence in my step, and deposited the final paycheck into the bank. I waved to the security guard in the lobby of Jack’s building, signed in, got a Visitor’s pass, and took the elevator up to the seventh floor, where he worked for a marketing company.

  “Hi, Corinne,” I greeted the receptionist.

  “I’ll tell Jack you’re here.” Corinne offered. She looked like she should model for Vogue, not sit at a desk manning phones and greeting people.

  “Thank you.” I perched on the edge of one of the uncomfortable, trapezoid-shaped steel chairs and put my bags on the floor. I was always afraid if I rested something on the glass-topped coffee table, I’d leave a mark. I bet even the fake yellow orchid was polished twice a day.

  “Oh, good, you’re here,” Jack strode out. Catching sight of my bags, he added, “Shopping?”

  “Yeah. Can I leave the bags in your office?”

  “We’re not coming back here, so you’d better take them with you,” Jack said. He frowned, looking at me. “What happened?”

  I looked down, realizing just how messy and mud-splattered I was from the morning’s encounter with a cab. I should have stopped in the ladies‘ room as soon as I arrived to clean up a bit. “I got splashed.” I raised my face for a kiss, but he guided me back towards the elevators.

  “Be back soon,” he said to Corinne, who nodded and jotted it down.

  “
You wouldn’t believe what Jelena pulled today,” I began, as the elevator doors closed.

  “Please. Not here,” said Jack.

  “Of course.” I closed my mouth, the resentment sitting in it like bile. Jack hated public scenes. You’re not making a scene, you’re providing information. I felt the bubble of resentment build.

  We walked in silence to a small, expensive restaurant a few blocks away, near Third Avenue. Once we were seated and Jack gave the waiter our order, he folded his hands, looked at me, and said, “Tell me what happened.”

  “Jelena fired me.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “You haven’t been entirely happy there for awhile.”

  “Is one ever entirely happy anywhere?” I countered. When he shrugged, I added, “This is probably a good thing, especially right now. With the wedding coming up in less than two months, I can focus my full attention on it. I can pick up a few classes here and there at other studios, so I’m still bringing in some money, but I can take more planning pressure off you.”

  “I wasn’t feeling any planning pressure.”

  “I know your hours are crazy right now, and I keep asking your opinions on things. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m making all these decisions for you instead of with you.”

  “I want to talk about the wedding.”

  “Oh, good.” I smiled a thanks to the waiter as he placed a grilled chicken Caesar salad in front of me, and a steak in front of Jack. I rummaged in my tote bag. “I don’t have the wedding notebook with me, but I’m sure I can find something to write on.”

  “Not on the napkin,” Jack warned, with a smile. “These are damask.”

  “It was only that one time I used a linen napkin to write on,” I grinned back. “I paid for it. So, what do you want to discuss?”

  “I want to call the wedding off.”

  “What?” I must be hallucinating.

  “Sophie, I adore you, I really do. I just don’t think we’re in love with each other enough to make this work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We want different things.” Jack leaned forward, steak forgotten. “Your energy, your zest for life, your sense of humor — I’m drawn to those things, I still love them. I just don’t think I can live with them every day. I respect your kindness, your respect for life and health and the environment, no-kill animal shelters, your concern for global warming and climate change and all that, but it’s counter-indicative to where I see my career going. I handle multi-million dollar accounts for companies with lobbyists advocating that global warming and climate change don’t exist.”

  “But they do exist!”

  “That doesn’t pay the bills.”

  “There have got to be other companies, green companies—”

  “They can’t afford me.” Jack watched her. “I’m really good at what I do.”

  “I know that. There’s no reason why you can’t work for companies that align with your values.”

  “Your values, Sophie. I’m not sure I share them. Or, I’m not sure I’m willing to give up a six-figure salary for values. I can’t have a wife who’s an activist against the companies that pay for our lifestyle. I can’t ask you to stop marching on Washington and signing petitions and donating time and money on causes you believe in. That would be like cutting off your air supply. It could kill you, spiritually, and how could I do that when I care about you?”

  “Wow.” My thoughts and emotions swirled in a chaotic maelstrom I couldn’t order. “I had no idea.”

  “That’s my fault. I dropped hints when we should have had frank discussion.” Jack sighed. “I’d hoped, maybe, with Jelena’s studio branching out into DVDs and trying to land a cable show—”

  “How did you know about that?”

  Jack reddened. “You must have mentioned it.”

  “I didn’t know about it until this morning, right before Jelena fired me. How could I have mentioned it?”

  “Then I must have read it in the business pages somewhere.” He looked away. “I’ll pay you back for your half of the deposit on the wedding venue, and if you submit a list of expenses to my assistant, I’ll see you’re reimbursed for all of that.”

  “That’s very responsible and adult, but this is about more than money,” I said.

  “Yes, it is.” Jack took a deep breath and looked into my eyes. “I’ve met someone. Someone who is more than willing to be a helpmate, to make it her mission to further my career, not pursue her own goals.”

  That was an unexpected punch to the gut. “When did you meet her?”

  “A few months ago. At that art gallery opening for your old college friend, Freddie.”

  “How far has this. . .affair gone?”

  “Far enough so that I know I have to break it off with you before any more damage is done.” He stared at her. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I hate hurting you. But going through with this would hurt us both more.”

  “Yes, I see that.” I took my turn at a deep breath. I stared at the diamond engagement ring on my finger, a piece of jewelry that represented a life of love and partnership. I twisted it off and placed it on the immaculate white damask tablecloth between us.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jack. “Sorry seems so trite, but I am genuinely sorry.”

  I gathered myself. “You’re right. Better to find out now than after the wedding. I’ll take care of the cancellations later today or tomorrow, gather the paperwork and send it to you. Thank goodness we didn’t send out the invitations. I’ll take care of informing my circle, and if you’d take care of yours — that would be great.”

  “Of course,” said Jack. “Anything you need.”

  I need this not to be real, I thought. “I have some things at your place.”

  “I’ll box them up and mail them to you.”

  He doesn’t want me to set foot in his apartment ever again. “I’ll do the same with anything of yours I find at my place,” I said.

  “Please don’t hate me,” Jack pleaded.

  “Someday, I’ll be able to answer that, but not right now.” I gathered my bags and stood up. “Goodbye, Jack.”

  “Goodbye, Sophie. I wish you all the best.”

  I nodded, unable to speak, turned, and walked out of the restaurant. How could this happen? There must have been signs. Of course there were signs, I chose not to pay attention. Who could he have met at the gallery opening? Should I go back and ask him? Maybe if I promise to change? But I don’t want to change. I worked hard to become the woman I am, and I like her. Most of the time. Why am I not good enough? What could this other woman have that I don’t, besides a need to subvert herself for his career? What if she’s lying to him? What if she’s just after his money? There are women like that. I should warn him. That’s it. he needs a warning to tread carefully.

  I turned and hurried back to the restaurant, stopping short when I saw Alyssa enter. With a feeling of foreboding washing over me, I retraced my steps and slipped inside the doorway. It was what I suspected: Alyssa made her way to Jack’s table, and leaned down to kiss him. No wonder he knew about Jelena’s plans for the studio. He probably knew I was fired before I did.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” the hostess asked. “Did you lose something?”

  “No, thank you,” I said. “You can’t help me with what I’ve lost.” I turned and walked out of the restaurant. I named it loss.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “HE WAS RIGHT ABOUT ONE thing,” my housemate, Fawn Lassiter, said as we lounged in the parlor of the Brooklyn brownstone we shared. Sounds of men and women hurrying past, chatting on cell phones as they headed home for dinner, and “Good boy! You did your business” as the neighborhood dogs got their evening walk floated in from the street. “Better to call it off now.”

  I sprawled on the battered Victorian settee that we used as a couch, wearing Hello, Kitty!™ pajamas (worn only in times of true darkness), a half-empty bottle of red wine on
the end table beside me. The coffee table was littered with empty Chinese take-out containers and more empty wine bottles. The crescent moon shone through the fifteen-foot-tall windows, and the two silver tabby kittens played with shadows on the hardwood floor, while Ed, the golden retriever, draped himself over my mid-section in comfort. A re-positioned wastebasket overflowed with wadded-up Kleenex. “Should I warn him Alyssa is a piranha?”

  “No.” Bianca Suede, the third roommate shook her head, causing her beaded dreadlocks to jingle, and scraped the last bit of moo shu pork out of the container. “Let him find out on his own. Karmic return.”

  “To think that they met at my opening!” Freddie Diaz groaned, lolling on some over-sized cushions on the floor. He gave an “ooph” as the kittens chased each other across his stomach. “I’m mortified.”

  “She was hot that night,” I admitted. “That red dress looked painted on her.”

  “I wonder how much she had to do with your firing,” Fawn mused. “Are she and Jelena close?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I kept out of the politics of that place.”

  “Which is why you got stabbed in the back,” said Bianca, bringing the point home by stabbing her chopsticks in the air in my direction. “Because you’re kind, Sophie, people tend to think that you’re weak. They’re wrong, but because you wait to be pushed all the way into a corner before you push back, sometimes things don’t turn out so well.”

  “Trust me, I’m feeling less than kind right now.” I topped off my glass.

  “We’ll help make the calls to everyone telling them the wedding’s cancelled,” said Fawn. “We can split it up.”

  “I leave for Yaddo at the end of the week,” Freddie reminded them. “I’ll do as much as I can before then.”

  “I’ll be sorry to lose touch with Jack’s family,” I mused. “His parents were sweet, although his dad always teased me for being a liberal fool.”

  “Are you sure he was teasing?” Bianca asked.

  “He was kind to me, even when we disagreed,” I said. “I really liked his sisters. Especially Cassidy, the youngest.”

  “What do they do?” Fawn asked.