understand our conversation in the diner?” My volume has caused Adrian to walk into the hallway. I motion for him to be quiet.
“I did, and I also told you I wasn’t going to stop trying to make this right, November.” His voice has taken on a sharp edge.
“Look, we’re working together, and I’m choosing to play by the rules. If that’s going to be difficult for you then I can work with my boss to take me off the project.” Adrian’s eyebrows shoot up as I speak.
“Please don’t do that. Damn it. I’m sorry, November. What can I do to show you that I’m sorry?”
“You can respect me enough to leave this alone. I’ll see you next Wednesday.” I end the call and toss my phone carelessly on the counter.
I’m angry. I’m frustrated. There are coffee grounds all over the place. I bend down to start sweeping them up, and Adrian squats into my eye line. I take a deep breath and sit cross-legged on the kitchen floor.
“Cavanaugh?” He joins me on the floor with bent knees.
“Yeah. He insists on making this right, whatever the hell that means.”
“What do you want?”
“Are you kidding me? I want to do my job. I want to pretend that the last two weeks happened years ago, or not at all. I want to spend the day with you, and sing tonight ...” I trail off as I shake my head.
Hearing Bo’s voice doesn’t screw me up emotionally like it did a few days ago. It angers me. I haven’t a clue as to why he’s still pursuing something with me when we’re working together. It doesn’t make sense. It pisses me off that he’s willing to put my career in jeopardy. Once again .
“Want me to have a talk with him?” Adrian extends his hand to me as he stands, I accept.
“Get over yourself,” I joke. As I stand, my phone rings again. “Seriously?” I huff as I head toward the counter. “Hello?”
“Sweetie, it’s Raven.” Good sweet lord .
“Hey Mom, what’s up?”
“You’re becoming awfully flexible with the ‘mom’ term, don’t you think?” she states flatly.
“Yeah, and you’re becoming awfully flexible with calling me during hours when most people are sleeping.” Adrian shakes his head and takes the broom from my hand and starts cleaning up the coffee grounds as I co ntinue this back-and-forth with Raven .
“It’s getting lat e, get your butt to the beach.” Yoga. Shit .
“Crap, I forgot. I’m sorry. Now, when you say ‘beach,’ at what plot of sand in the nearly 560 miles of Cape Cod coastline am I supposed to find you?” I grin and Adrian smacks my butt with the dustpan.
“Don’t be a smartass, November. Meet me at our usual spot.” Click.
It’s true. We have a usual spot for this sort of thing. And, unfortunately, it’s the same spot I played my guitar at sunrise two weeks ago. I wish myself good luck as Adrian pretends to sweep me out the door. He’s got his computer with him, as always, and will do work while I’ m cleansing my aura with Raven. Super .
* * *
“Root your feet in the sand, Sweetie,” Raven instructs as I slip off my Chacos.
“I’m familiar with the process,” I grumble.
“Clearly you haven’t been keeping up on your practice. Start in Tadasana,” she scolds in a meditative tone. She’s already in the zone.
Raven flows through the sequences, and I realize how long it’s been since I’ve centered myself in any way. I’m off-balance and uncomfortable. I feel like a beginner. In more ways than one.
“You’re struggling...just breathe, Honey. Adho Mukha Svanasana,” Raven dips her head gracefully.
“I don’t speak Sanskrit.”
“Downward Facing Dog, Ember, just do it.”
As soon as my heels find the sand and my hips find the sun, the tears come. Peppering the soft sand, they cloud my vision. She leaves us head-down for longer than necessary and, for that, I’m grateful. I feel the last two weeks wring from my body like a saturated washcloth and I want to leave it all in the sand. It’s clear that Bo isn’t
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