After Her by Amber Kay

the back of the room.
    “These should be good enough,” she tells me while kneeling onto the mat. I turn once more, in search of her , somewhat peeved that she won’t look at me. Seven floor mats away, Vivian sits like an Indian, eyes closed, attention diverted away from me. I make up for my jitters by doing a few warm-ups to emulate the other women.
    “You’re already stretching?” Sasha asks me. “I knew you’d latch onto this with some enthusiasm.” 
    “Yeah,” I say. “I guess I am getting into the mood.”
    After a few pretend stretches, I plop onto my mat, folding my legs beneath me. Vivian moves into lung-stretches then Pilates. She seems so…nimble, so natural. Maybe it is coincidental that she’s here.
    “Sas, have you ever seen that woman in this class before?” I whisper while referring to Vivian with my eyes. Sasha gives Vivian a brief onceover then shrugs halfheartedly.
    “No, she must be new here,” she says. “Why? Do you know her?”
    I answer with a noncommittal shake of my head to disarm her curiosity.
    “No, I just figured she looked pretty out of place here.”
    “No shit. Do you see that purse she’s carrying?” Sasha remarks. “It’s a genuine Marchesa Valentino.”
    I shrug. “Should I know what that means?”
    “Those babies don’t come cheap,” she says, scoffing at my ignorance. “There is no way she dropped any less than a cool thirty-five grand for anything Valentino.”
    So my initial assessment was right. Vivian is filthy rich. But that’s a total no-brainer. The woman is a walking trophy. She looks like she should be stuffed into a curio cabinet like some prized collectors doll.
    After a few more warm-up exercises, the instructor arrives. She is a perky blonde wearing spandex yoga pants and a camisole. She is much younger than most of the woman in class aside from Sasha and me. The women here are probably bored homemakers with a day away from kids and marriage.
    This class is probably the only time any of them have to themselves. I wonder if the same is true for Vivian. She doesn’t seem like anyone’s mother and she’s in much better shape than most women her age.
    She lifts her gaze to meet mine. I turn away before she notices me staring. I don’t know what’s come over me, acting this way. I reproach my behavior, ordering myself to ignore her. This is for Sasha. Any uneasy feelings I have toward Vivian need to vanish. I face the instructor and listen as she introduces herself to the class.  
    “Hello class, my name is Kelsey and I will be your instructor,” she says. “Sadly, your last instructor had to leave abruptly and I'm proud to be stepping in her place. I hope to pick up where she left off. First, let’s get to know each other better. I’ve announced my name and I’d like every one of you to do the same. Starting with the front row, announce your name to the class, ladies.”
    I listen as the first two rows of woman announce themselves and I nearly clam up when she points to me.
    “My name…is Cassandra,” I say, suddenly aware of every person in the room. Each of their heads turn in unison as if on strings. I clear my throat to expunge the nerves, to carry my voice above a rasp whisper. “This is my first Tai Chi class. I'm here as a favor to my friend.”
    I gesture at Sasha who waves at the women that acknowledge her. Then I risk a glance over my shoulder at Vivian, observing her eyes as they watch me. I can't tell if her subsequent smile is phony or if it’s a gesture of sincerity. I imagine a pumpkin with a monstrous grin craved into its face. 
    After the next few introductions, I hear a familiar voice announce, “And I'm Vivian.”
    Her voice alone is enough to make everyone take notice, but Vivian doesn’t buckle under the pressure. She effortlessly commands the room. Kelsey beams as if she’s just heard the voice of God. 
    “Are you …Vivian Lynch?” Kelsey asks and Vivian nods.
    “Oh my god,” gasps Kelsey while