It's another turning point for Bella.
.
.
Thanks to:
Di, my editor,
Paige, Aileen, and Renee, my prereaders.
Stupid Little Game
Chapter 10
Invoke looked like an upper scale studio that meant business, and the yoga beginner in me shifted inside like a seven-year-old with an itchy crotch.
I aimed a worried look Alice's way, but she was already in zen mode with a dreamy, distant gaze. Straightening my shoulders, I followed her out of the spa-like dressing room with my lips zipped, because there were No Talking policy signs everywhere. One was even posted menacingly on the door that led to the studio: Anyone who disrupts the vibe will be asked to leave immediately.
Well, that wasn't stressful at all.
Alice claimed I needed to decompress, and summarily invited me to her yoga studio. I'd agreed reluctantly because I wasn't used to doing yoga, and was afraid I'd embarrass myself when I couldn't perform the poses. But, I did like the idea of a workout and relieving some stress, and it meant I got to spend time with Alice outside of work.
I needed to do some damage control.
She still wasn't satisfied with my explanation why she hadn't been invited into Edward's office three days ago during Rileygate. Apparently, Edward's explanation hadn't been any better, and the looks she gave me were more pointedly curious than ever. She knew something was going on between Edward and me, and had begun to imply it with innuendos.
I didn't know what I was going to say to her, but obviously I needed to give it a shot.
In calf-length black yoga pants and a matching sports bra, I padded barefoot across the polished wooden floor alongside Alice to the far side of the room. It was like walking through calm austerity. Light streamed through windows on three exposed brick walls, placed too high to see outside traffic. Soft chanting tones were piped in through hidden speakers, and the place smelled lightly of incense, calming my nerves almost immediately.
I unrolled the mat I'd purchased at their store, placing it diagonally across the floor as Alice did hers, then sank to my knees. As several other people entered the room, I studied the still, silent instructor who was kneeling on her own mat. She was rail thin with noticeable musculature, wearing loose shorts and an intricately designed halter top. Her blonde hair was gathered into a low bun, her eyes closed, her body relaxed.
Pretty soon, everyone who had entered adopted the same position. I side-eyed Alice, noticing she was in her own pose of meditation.
Fake it until you make it.
I closed my eyes, and the seconds stretched into minutes as the chanting sounds continued. The scent in the air was incredible. I needed to ask what it was so I could get some for my apartment.
Maybe this wasn't so bad.
Maybe I should reconsider yoga.
As more time passed, my thoughts gradually started to settle, and my shoulders began to relax. The chanting was lulling, gently vibrating through my mind and body, calming and soothing. Before I realized it, I was breathing in rhythm to its driving beat, my body growing still and light with ease.
I inhaled deeply, my mind moving through a gray tunnel, gently heading for the soft white light ahead . . .
"Welcome to your sixty-minute, heartfelt compassion yin yoga class," I heard a voice say gently. "Today, we're going to embark on a journey together, bringing ourselves closer to our heart, mind, body consciousness and awareness, and deeper into a state of peace, hopefully ridding ourselves of baggage and all that is no longer serving us."
It was quite a statement, not to mention a lofty undertaking. And although she pronounced the words slowly, lightly, without force, I was still jolted back into consciousness and awareness, and cracked open an eye.
The instructor's eyes were still closed. So were everyone's.
"Take a second with me now. Take a deep breath in," the instructor said, and I closed my eyes again. "Inhale, fill your whole lungs, all the way up. Now exhale, letting it all out, just taking this moment in before we begin to set the intention of peace and stillness and connection."
What followed was a bunch of forced breathing, ostensibly to work at mindless consciousness and clearing my system of negative energy. I felt ridiculous at first, but the longer it went on, the better I became at it. By the time I was stretching my arms up to the ceiling, and told to think about why I'd come and what my intentions were, I was able to admit to myself that I badly needed some inner peace.
When the instructor gently added that yoga usually gave you exactly what you needed, my chest and throat tightened. I felt oddly as if I could cry.
Was there something in the incense that was affecting me?
And then she asked us to bend down into Child Pose. To stretch, breathe, and be still. Peeking over, I saw that her body was folded over on itself, knees to chest, with her arms stretched all the way in front of her.
It was difficult at first because my shoulders and upper back were still so tight, but the longer I concentrated on breathing and letting my body sink, the easier the pose became. The more I lost myself in the moment. Until it seemed as if only the instructor and I were in the room.
For every movement she asked me to do after that, she also asked me to be mindful of my emotions at that moment, to check in with myself. How was I feeling?
Surprisingly relaxed.
What had I been going through?
Anger, loss of control, embarrassment.
As she asked me to return to Child Pose, my throat closed.
"Breathe through it," she told me. "Breathe through that emotional trauma and baggage."
I tried.
For every breath of air I sucked in, two more seemed to ugly-wheeze out.
Fuck, don't disrupt the vibe.
"We store so much emotional baggage and trauma in our muscles," she continued, driving the wedge deeper as my chest and shoulders began to shake. "Letting that out and giving ourselves a moment to be available, can be the most important thing you do in your journey today."
Shocked, I heard myself sob. My fingers curled, digging into the softness of my mat as I sought to grab onto something.
"Make sure as you experience these emotions, you're at peace letting them do what they need to do."
Another hard sob tore from my throat.
If this was peace, it was damned scary sounding.
"Let them exit in whatever form they need, whether it's sadness or joy, bliss or frustration."
It was more like painful anguish, and it wouldn't stop.
"Whatever it is for you, take a note as it happens."
I pushed my mouth against the soft material of the mat as the sobs continued to rip through my body. They started low in my belly, then coursed upwards, making me shake. Ignoring my need to control them, they punched without warning out of my throat. I heard myself, heard how hard-fought each released sob was as it came, and marveled that such sounds came from my body.
"Take a breath, keep breathing, keep stretching," she told me. "And let it out, let it all out."
I did. I couldn't not.
Because there was no stopping anything.
It erupted from me in fits and starts, and eventually, I got better at letting it out. At accepting that it was happening.
Sometime later, I came back to myself and raised my head, looking around the room with guilt. Through puffy, watery eyes, I was shocked and humbled to see that everyone was continuing with their poses. No one was paying me any attention.
It was safe to let go here.
After that, I ebbed and flowed through the rest of the class. Stretching, bending, breathing. Sobbing sometimes, but letting it come, all while feeling a sense of relief and freedom from resistance. After having held myself in such strict control, the loss of inhibition was liberating.
By the end of class, after I had released my last cleansing breath, I felt light as a helium balloon.
Alice hugged me hard, then took me over to meet the instructor. Her name was Irina, and apparently, one of her favorite things was getting people to release their tension through tears.
I wanted to both kill and kiss Alice.
"Well," I said and sniffed, "mission accomplished."
. . . . .
We went to Beatnik's afterward, a beautiful Moroccan-style restaurant. Mirrors and fabric hung on walls built of rough-hewn dark wood, with intervals of mosaic tile inlays. Crystal-laden chandeliers hung over long trestle tables set with scarlet runners, heavy golden candelabras and jewel-toned china. It was rich, dark, and overwhelming, and although gorgeous, Alice and I chose to sit on the patio with its colorful tea stained rugs overlooking the Chicago River.
It was just after one in the afternoon on Saturday, but we ordered glasses of wine anyway. As you do after a yoga class.
"You were amazing," Alice told me almost wistfully.
The truth was, I still felt amazing. My body felt warm and fluid, and I was calm and at ease for the first time in a long time.
"It took me more than a few classes to get in tune with my body and emotions enough that I could let go like you did. Usually it takes practice, so you must really be in touch with yourself."
"Or everything was right under the surface, just ready to blow," I replied. "I feel incredibly light; although, I was embarrassed and surprised that I had such a loss of control at first."
Alice shook her head at me disapprovingly. "Yoga can be transformative. You just discovered that firsthand."
"Dare I say that a yoga class is more relaxing than a glass of wine?"
She grinned and raised her glass to mine in a salute. "Lucky for us, we get to experience both."
"They might have to roll us out of here when we're done," I said, my eyes following a small boat's progress out on the water. A father and his son; a captain and his first mate.
"This past week with Edward and Riley really affected you, didn't it?"
Alice's voice was soft and hesitant, but I still sagged with regret inside. It was time to pay the piper.
I didn't think my bawl-fest at yoga class was entirely due to that situation, although maybe it had been the impetus. Despite having gone through therapy, I knew I'd been carrying around some serious baggage for years.
Not being able to say goodbye to Mom, enduring being picked on, trying to handle everything myself, leaving Dad, learning how to deal with Edward again, needing to make sure I did well at my job.
When I thought about it, it was a lot.
"It was definitely an eye-opener," I admitted with a sigh. "The way I perceived Edward at the time was all wrong."
She toyed with her wine glass stem. "Oh? How did you perceive him?"
Blindly. As a damn bully.
"I thought he was too hard on Riley. That he was unjustified in his anger. I didn't know that Riley had a bad reputation."
Alice looked mildly ashamed. "I could have told you, but I didn't want to worry you or influence your opinion of him. Sometimes it's best to discover who a person is on your own. Make up your own mind."
"Well, Riley's been a beast to deal with, but I think Edward really scared him."
"Edward has a strong personality, but he goes to bat for our department. He's protective of us," Alice said, matter-of-fact. "So don't let his outburst color your opinion of him too darkly, okay?"
I wouldn't. Not now that I realized he'd essentially stood up for me.
"You've been a godsend at work, you know," she added. "It can be stressful, doing what we do. It's not easy always coming up with fresh ideas, and then you have to sell it to the client. You handle it really well. I'm going to ask Edward to give you the other two accounts. I think you're ready."
"Wow," I said. "Thank you."
In the silence that followed, she studied me closely, and my stomach knotted.
"Jasper's working on a Saturday again?" I asked to distract her. Alice had told me he was a divorce attorney, and worked a lot of evenings and weekends.
"He has a court date on Monday," she replied in a heavy tone. "It's an ugly, never-ending business with a lot of rock bottoms, according to him. We . . . make the time we do spend together count, but it's tough sometimes feeling as if I'm competing with his job. I also worry that he's going to get burned out if he keeps going at this pace."
I gave her a look of sympathy as the breeze kicked up and caressed my bare arms, teasing up the edge of my cloth napkin under the appetizer plate.
"But never mind that," Alice said, tucking her displaced hair back behind her ear. "Tanya said you looked really upset when you walked past her that day."
I sat back against my chair, feeling a spark of anger. "Tanya should mind her own damn business."
Alice laughed shortly. "That'll never happen, at least not where Edward's concerned."
"What's going on with them, anyway?"
"I'm not sure. They were pretty friendly at last year's Christmas party, but I think that was just the alcohol. Edward tends to get that way after a couple of drinks. But ever since then, Tanya's trailed after him like a lost puppy. The whole office has noticed it, although it's not like she hides it."
So Tanya was fixated on Edward. How sad for her that it was so obvious, especially since there was no good outcome. I didn't remember seeing a coworker dating policy in the employee handbook, but it was probably a safe bet it would be frowned upon.
"She needs a girlfriend to tell her to snap out of it," I noted.
"She needs Edward to tell her to back off, and I'm guessing he did in no uncertain terms, but she obviously didn't get the memo."
I glanced out at the sunlight dancing on top of the water, wondering if Edward had had a talk with Tanya. What would it even have sounded like?
I was drunk when I kissed you that night, but it ends now. You're my employee.
Oh, but Edward, I don't care! I'll quit my job for you.
What part of "I was drunk" did you misunderstand?
"So what's going on between the two of you?"
I blinked at her pointed question. "What?"
She drained her glass of wine and scowled at me.
"Don't what me, Bella. I thought it was odd months ago when Edward said he'd be doing the interviewing for the open position, because he usually lets me vet the candidates before he gets involved. So that means he saw your name and decided he'd interview you personally."
I grabbed my wine glass. It was difficult not to gulp the entire thing.
"Don't you think it's time to finally come clean?" she asked.
Nothing's going on, I wanted to tell her, but I could feel that the lie was already written on my face.
Well, nothing except for him following me and hoping I'll forgive him for being a bastard.
And my anger at Young Edward.
And my inconvenient attraction to Older Edward.
"When you and Edward are in the same room, the tension can be cut with a knife," she said with emphasis.
I tried not to squirm under her scrutiny, but maintaining eye contact was impossible.
"We went through high school together," I said softly.
"I remember. You told me you and he didn't hang out together, but I think there's more to it than that."
And here it came.
"We didn't hang out together," I admitted with a heavy sigh. "We hated each other. Well, he hated me. To say that we didn't get along would be putting it mildly."
"And?"
"And what?"
She cocked her head at me. "Why did he go out on a limb for you? Why do I get the feeling that he owes you?"
"You'd have to ask him."
"I'm asking you. I've been patiently waiting for the rest of the story, but what happened Wednesday with Riley leads me to believe there's more going on than I suspected. Neither of you will tell me what's really going on."
"Because nothing's going on," I insisted.
She gave me a look of disapproval. "Bella, I've seen the way you look at him. Half the time, you look absolutely murderous, and the other half, you seem to be mooning."
I was what?
I had a mild coughing attack as she continued mercilessly.
"At first, I thought maybe you were old flames who still had a thing for each other. But then there was the song you sang during the karaoke event, which was obviously directed at him. And the way you angrily shrugged off his touch when he tried to help you off the floor. And the way you couldn't keep your eyes off him afterward."
I wanted to disappear. To kick myself. Fuck, was I that obvious?
Obviously yes.
"We hated each other's guts in high school," I told her, as I brought a hand up to my forehead and rubbed. "He made horrible fun of me, made my life miserable, and I let him get away with it. Okay?"
She nodded. "I figured as much. But . . . you let him get away with it? What do you mean?"
My foot bounced under the table. "I never told anyone."
"Oh, Bella," she breathed.
"I know," I said.
Although I really didn't. Because I should have told Dad. At least. The shame had been crippling, but more than that, I hadn't even known how to begin. It had taken months of living with him for the strangeness of being close to him again to wear off. And then, it had been important that he think of me as grown up. I just couldn't imagine going to him saying, someone's being mean to me at school.
I used to write about it all. I'd fill pages and pages of college-ruled notebook paper with pain and ugly anger. I'd recount whatever happened with Cullen during the day, giving the situation a new ending where I told him off or cowed him, and then I burned the pages to ashes in the fireplace before Dad got home.
After Mom died, I wrote to her about my days, realizing with irony that I hadn't been able to tell her anything about my situation when she was alive, but could confess everything to her memory.
"You're a protector," my therapist had said. "You protect others, and in the process, neglect yourself."
Our second round of drinks came, along with our appetizers. Alice claimed her glass and took another sip, then set it down with a distinct click that caught my full attention.
"So, if you dislike Edward, and have all this history, why are you working for him? That was a tough as fuck decision."
I reached for one of the breadsticks, then tore it in half.
"I don't dislike him. At least, not anymore," I admitted, dipping the end of the breadstick into a dish of oil. "But I'm not here for altruistic reasons; I'm here for the money. And I love this type of work."
"Still. How does that work? Seeing someone daily who used to tease you in school?"
My mouth twisted.
"It's not without its difficulties, especially at first when I thought he was coming around my desk way too often. But now I've gotten used to it."
Yeah, like you got used to a rock in your shoe.
"Have you two . . . talked about the past?"
"No," I lied, hoping she'd drop the subject.
She cocked her head at me, looking at me like a mournful Mona Lisa. "But, Bella, how many people actually get the chance to confront their childhood bullies? And Edward's obviously eager to make it up to you."
Yes, he'd made that more than clear, but the feelings her words brought to my mind filled my stomach with a horde of butterflies.
"I'm not ready to open old wounds," I said, and took a bite of the bread. It tasted like sawdust. "And he really gouged some deep ones."
"Holding on to that anger can't be good for you," she said gently. "You know, you forgive others for your own peace of mind, not necessarily because they deserve it."
She wasn't saying anything that I hadn't heard of or read about before, but I wasn't there yet.
I suspected I was afraid to let go of my anger. To let go of my security blanket.
"Don't you think you deserve that?"
In answer, I washed the sawdust down with a few gulps of wine that burned as I swallowed.
"What are you afraid of, Bella?"
I gave her a sharp look. "Please don't try to psychoanalyze me, Alice. I've had therapy. I know forgiveness is a choice. I just haven't made it yet."
She shook her head sadly. "Oh, honey. Don't let this fester. It could damage your working relationship with him, and then where would you be? People already notice the tension between the two of you, and you don't want this to affect your job."
Don't cry. You've cried enough today.
"I'm working on it," I said.
I was so heart-weary of being angry with him. When were these feelings going to go away?
The bravest thing I could do was forgive Edward, but I didn't feel brave enough yet. It seemed as if the protector inside had finally reared her head, warning me of the imminent pain involved in . . . confronting him?
Because I knew I would. I couldn't just forgive him, oh no. Fucker wasn't getting off that easily. Neither was I, because he deserved to face every bit of my rage.
It made me feel strung out just thinking of it, because God, why did I have to be this way?
But since he seemed sincere in making amends, it no longer seemed out of the realm of possibility. It no longer made me sick to my stomach, anyway; there was just a feeling of extreme reluctance to confront him about it all.
I shooed away a fruit fly from my glass of wine, then took another deep drink. Like the sun, the wine warmed my chest. It helped to erase a tiny part of my tightly held composure, as I smiled faintly and shrugged at Alice.
If I were smart, I'd just wash my hands of it all. Let the hurt and anger go, then walk off into the sunset like a 1950s movie character while whistling a happy tune.
But I couldn't whistle. And I tended to do things the hard way.
Alice reached across the table to me, and her fingers were solid and tight around my own. "I'm here for you. Just let me know if I can do anything, okay? Anytime."
"You already are," I admitted with a tight throat. "Thank you."
Her dark brown eyes were fierce with unshed tears, and I squeezed her hand back. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve her, but she was turning out to be a close and unexpected friend.
Which meant I had another person to protect from the worst of my pain.
