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For the ones who were told their dreams were too dreamy but who went on to make them come true anyway.
I’d empty my entire bank account just to sleep in my own bed tonight. To be alone with some fucking peace and quiet. To decompress. Instead, I am fully compressed. Every muscle feels tight, and my jaw hurts from clenching it. Even my lungs feel constricted.
you are giving off some serious stay-the-fuck-away energy.” I quirk a disbelieving brow at the woman. “Stay-the-fuck-away energy?” She hits me with a conspiratorial smile. “Yes. If you were a house, I would sage you.” Ah, more granola, woo-woo, make-lemonade, salt-of-the-earth shit. Exactly what I’m in the mood for.
“Strikes me that we’re all fucked tonight, and any open chair is fair game. If you don’t like me, then I fear I cannot help you. But if you just don’t like margaritas, then I’m happy to help you out by drinking both. I don’t have anywhere to be tonight, and I do love a good margarita.”
“You’ve got a way with words. That’s for sure.” I flip my hand in a rolling motion and tip my head forward in a dramatic bow. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night.” My head pops up, and I wink at him. “No, literally, I’m fucking stuck here.”
people often sort of pat my head when I tell them what I do. Like, That’s so cute, but what do you plan to do when you grow up? Or but what about university? Very patronizing. It’s tiring having to justify that what I do has value.”
“Do nothing?” Doing nothing is not my forte. I pride myself on staying busy, on always having a project on the go. Hell, I could take winters off since I quit going overseas to fight fires. I have enough money saved up to spend the season in Mexico, sipping margaritas on the beach. And yet, here I am, building up a contracting business and taking odd jobs over the winter months.
The way her brain works is…refreshing. And I want to know more about it. I think I’d like to spend some time in her brain just so I can get the hell out of mine.
Commenting on how fucking incredible her ass looked when she was on all fours is definitely creepy and off the table, so I shrug and tell her something else that’s true. “I knew you’d be good at your job. The snowflake thing almost worked.”
I’m sure I wouldn’t have been a good parent at fifteen, but I’d have shown up the best way I knew how. And considering my dad went to the grocery store when I was nine years old and never came back, there’s no doubt in my mind that I would have been better than nothing.
He comes from so much—what could I possibly have to offer him?
To the outside observer, it would appear that I’m staring at the guy I showed up here with. But they would be wrong. I’m staring at his dad.
This always happens to me. I meet someone who seems great, and then they slowly start to annoy me. They get attached more quickly than I do, and I end up feeling locked in, tied down, stuck. I start envisioning myself as my mother, trapped in a house with her babies and no possibilities on the horizon. And I run.
Of course, Clyde has to live way the hell and gone—up the back side of the mountain. Something about fewer cameras tracking him. As if anyone wants to track Clyde and his daily puttering around his land.
The butt of every joke. The perpetual runner-up.
What started as a casual bowling night with West and Clyde has become a hell of a lot more organized. Over the past several months, we’ve picked up two more regular members—ones I don’t hate. Ford, West’s childhood best friend, and Rhys, a stray that our local bistro owner dropped off one day.
Makes me realize all the domestic milestones I’ve missed out on in my life. Not because I’m averse to them, but because I’ve been thwarted at every turn. To avoid any further rejection, I’ve turned my focus to my career, and now it’s like half my life has gone poof before my eyes. Watching these boys makes me feel like I’ve missed out on something integral. Something I don’t know that I’ll ever have. It’s feeling like that ship has sailed.
What I love most is studying yoga abroad and learning from experts in other parts of the world. I’m on a mission to gather as much knowledge as possible, with the dream of one day opening my own studio.
The man steps forward, grumbling something that sounds an awful like that motherfucker is going to owe me as he reaches a shaky hand for the pen on the counter. I watch as he scratches in all caps, skipping entire sections, marking other ones with NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS. Woof. I can tell he’s quite the character. And tense from head to toe. “Have you done yoga before? What’s your experience level?” “Never. Sounds like a bunch of baloney to me, but I’ll try it anyway.” He pushes the incomplete form back to me, and I let out a genuine laugh at his blunt honesty. My gaze drops to his name
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I won’t be able to make him better, but I’m confident I can make him feel better.
I knew yesterday’s stretching would make Clyde feel better. “I’m thrilled to hear that. Maybe we can make a more regular appointment?” “Sure. I’ll make it for right now.”
You probably can’t even—” “Cool,” I bite out evenly, more irritated by the second as he stands there acting like I’m some incorporeal voice. Can’t. That word fires me up. It’s the word that had me walking out of my parents’ house at seventeen and never looking back. My dad told me I can’t live a “proper” life as a yoga teacher, and if I wasn’t going to university or getting married, I wasn’t living under his roof. And I said, watch me. “I’m a big girl. With a big truck. And above-average driving skills. You can take your bad energy elsewhere, Bash.” His head snaps up as Clyde chortles. “Bad
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He always asks about my yoga classes and how they’re going. Always checks if I’ve been sleeping well and eating properly. He always lights up when I walk in, and he always, always listens when I speak.
West strides out of his kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face and a kidney-shaped cake in his hands. He stops at the head of the table, right beneath the banner that reads We’re going to miss you, Daddy! “Bash, congratulations on finally finding your perfect match,” he announces to the dining room full of our friends. “None of us expected it to be Clyde, but sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. And I, for one, could not be happier for you. Or him.”
When Gwen looked at me today, I hadn’t felt like a second choice.
As is fairly typical for me, the large group atmosphere becomes more irritating than fun. The music plus the chatter makes it loud, and being the center of attention is pretty much my worst nightmare.
I like my peace. I enjoy my time alone. In fact, I don’t even usually feel all that lonely.
there’s something about coming home from a long stretch away working a fire and finding space and silence. I’ll sit out on my balcony and decompress. The birds, the lake, the swish of the breeze through the trees—that’s how I rejuvenate. Not by surrounding myself with friends. No, I do this for them. They need this. They wanted this, and as much as I love to see everyone together, my social battery drains rather quickly.
“It would be weird if you weren’t nervous, Bash. It’s normal to let your brain wander down every path of possibility. So long as we don’t let it go too far. You have to come back to that feeling of knowing yourself better than anyone. Of being so in tune with yourself that your mind always comes back to center. You need that stability. Grounding.”
I allow myself to acknowledge that I am not every person’s cup of tea. Maybe I am more than they can handle. And that’s okay because I’m quite fond of myself and no one can take that away from me. I’m at peace with who I am, so what you think of me doesn’t matter.”
you won’t be back to yoga until we get clearance from your doctors.” He responds with a petulant eye roll. “These fuckin’ clowns don’t know shit. Did you know they had to write on me with a Sharpie saying which side the kidney needed to go in on? A big X to mark the spot.” He shakes his head as he crosses his arms, disappointment dripping from every motion. “Over a decade of schooling, and these kids don’t even know right from left.”
I don’t know where Clyde gets all his money from because he’s always wearing the same dusty overalls and stained trucker hat. His truck is a relic and constantly sounds like it’s taking its dying breath. But he throws around cash for personalized services like it’s nothing.
“I know I’m a lot to handle sometimes. People get tired of me. Then they stop showing up.” I swallow roughly, feeling like I relate just a little too easily. It’s why I keep moving. If I leave first, no one can stop showing up for me.
“The energy in this truck is fuckin’ weird.” Clyde’s beady eyes bore into the rearview mirror from the back seat.
“Complicated is just an excuse. Ask me how I know. Rhys and I were complicated once.”
“Why do you have to be tied down? I tend to think the right person would be happy to go on those adventures with you. Or not. Rhys and I do lots of things on our own. Having a partner doesn’t mean being tied down.” My head wobbles, but I don’t respond. I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve never seen that kind of relationship in action. My mom was always rushing to get dinner on the table before my dad walked through the door. Packing his lunch in the morning. Pressing his clothes for him like she was a maid and not a partner. If I tiptoed around him, she catered to him. No savings, no
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“I’ve already lived in the type of household where it was preferable for me to be seen but not heard, and I’m not signing up for that again. So get your shit together and let me have a moment to myself. Maybe you should go take one for yourself too. The sand is that way.” She points down at the water. “Go get grounded.”
I flow through the poses, feeling every stretch, every ache, and every tender spot. I let myself sink into it, not pushing too far, not letting my mind wander too much. Just feeling my body, feeling the air, and feeling all the complicated emotions coursing through me.
Clyde: Will you make me those special scrambled eggs? You do them the best. Alas, my tenure as a burrowing owl has ended. Because the man paying me to help actually requires my help. Maybe if things get awkward downstairs, I can try my hand at impersonating a fainting goat.
A new day where I can try being nicer. No—kinder. Ever since that conversation, the distinction has stuck with me. I don’t know if I can force myself to have a nicer, more palatable personality, but I can always be kind.
Clyde and Gwen came here and took over my life. It’s inexplicable how well they get along. Thick as thieves, the two of them. And it’s been nice to watch. Especially knowing what I do now. He appreciates her and respects her expertise. Sees value in all the things about her that her own dad shamed her for.
I’m past pretending I don’t want this, at least—someone to wake up with. To share a coffee with. To enjoy the view with.
I’ve been relentless in my pursuit of this job, and I’ve never considered taking a break. Hell, I barely even take vacations.
For the longest time, I thought that work was all I had, but now I’m faced with the realization that maybe that’s not the case anymore. I’m terrible at asking for help, but last night, I tried to. And Gwen just knew.
She’s been gone for forty-odd years now.” My throat feels thick as I watch him speak about the wife I never knew he had. “Blood clot got her. She passed peacefully. Though I’ll never get over taking her to the hospital and being told it was a migraine. Got sent home that night. She died in her sleep. So anyway, enjoy your life while you’ve got it. That’s what I say. Tomorrow is never promised.” He says it like it’s not one of the saddest stories I’ve heard. Like it wasn’t wholly unnecessary. And suddenly, little bits of Clyde’s personality slip into place for me. His mistrust of the medical
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“I also wanted to take a moment to…” He scrubs a hand over his beard. “To apologize.” “For what?” “For being ornery. For the way I’ve spoken to you since you moved in. My call this morning made me realize this has been a long time coming. That I haven’t been myself. And that I have taken out a fair bit of my anxiety on the people around me.”
Bree, one of my favorite students, comes up to me. There’s a lightness in her body language that wasn’t there when she first began yoga with me. Back then, her energy was all turmoil, heartbreak, and sadness, but with time, she’s found some balance, and it makes my heart swell to see her in a better space. From what I know, she’d been through a lot. She hasn’t been at her best, but she’s never stopped trying. And striving to be better is one of the best things a person can do. As such, Bree is pretty badass in my books.
When I close my eyes and try to envision you, I see a frown floating in the abyss.
Clyde, who looks one second away from beating Tripp to death with the cast-iron skillet still sitting on the stove.
it’s more than that. It’s him knowing me. Knowing I don’t want roses. Or diamonds. I want this. Adventures. With him.
