Page 63 of The One Where They Fall in Love

“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, the lump in my throat getting bigger.

“Where did he come from?”

“It feels like he came from out of nowhere, and suddenly everything was different.”

“Good different?”

“I guess I wasn’t sure at first. He drove me crazy. But now—”

“Now you’re sure,” she finishes for me.

I nod against her chest. “But it’s not the right time,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I can’t say my mother and I have conversations like this very frequently. Our heart-to-hearts are a little rusty.

“And why is that?” She squeezes her arms around me a little tighter.

“I thought we were on the same page, but I guess I was wrong. I’m not sure how things could move forward after this,” I explain, tears welling up in my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time this week.

“I know everything seems confusing right now,” she says. “But if this is something you really want, and any part of your heart tells you it’s right, then don’t give up on it. Maybe give it some time, but don’t let it fade away. You have to chase—”

“The stars,” Nick finishes from the couch.

“Go to sleep you weirdo,” I say, throwing a pillow at him. He giggles from under his blanket. When I lay back down next to my mom, I look down at the tattoo on my wrist. “Do you know why I got this?” I ask her.

“I always thought it was because of all that astrology shit you believe in,” she replies.

I snort. “I guess partly, yes, but it was also for you. To always remind me of how you believed in me. How you told me to chase the stars, like it was the easiest thing I could ever do.”

“I never said it would be easy, but it’s almost always worth it.”

However hard our life was growing up, or however tough things got with Nick and his health conditions, my mother never held me back from doing anything I loved, including moving to New York.

“Chase the stars, Chicken,”she would always tell me.“Your dreams are like the stars. They might be in the distance, but if you can see them, you can reach them.”

Even after my mother has drifted off, I don’t sleep at all. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, imagining Oliver above me, and the time I spent sleeping on his couch. There was a comfort in falling asleep with Thor beside me, knowing when I woke up Oliver would be in his bed, snoring away. But now that the floor separates us, I feel… hollow. Unsure.I don’t know what will happen when I wake up tomorrow, but I know I won’t see Oliver. And those thoughts make me the most empty of all.

*

By Thursday, I admit to myself that I’ve been trapped in a cycle of negative self-talk since my mom and brother left on Tuesday. I’ve spent every waking hour trying to understand Oliver’s reasoning for doing what he did. Up until last week, there was no possibility of us as a couple. I knew I was developing feelings for him—how could I not? But I know myself. When I meet a guy I like, I get my hopes up, picture the possibility of a future with him, a future of happiness, and then it never happens. It’s the constant feeling of rejection that dating creates that really causes so much hurt for me.

I try to turn my attention to seeing Lucy next week and being present for her. I’ve thought so much about planning activities for her pre-wedding week just to drown out the reminder that I’m going to this wedding alone.

I sign myself up to teach as many yoga classes as possible, so that I don’t spend my evenings in my apartment wondering if I’ll hear Oliver or Thor upstairs. When I start the class on Thursday, I see some of the regulars who were at the class that Oliver took, and a wave of sadness rushes over me. I feel a tightness in my throat, my lower lip quivers, and I have to remind myself that I’m in front of a room full of people, people who are looking to me for guidance. I almost cackle out loud at the irony of that thought. I feel more lost inside my mind than I think I’ve ever been, and yet I’m supposed to teach a group of strangers about inner calm.

Well, here goes nothing.

“I want us to start in Hero’s Pose,” I tell the class, taking a seat on my shins. I look around at the small space, admiring the light from the sunset streaming through the glass windows at the top of the far wall. There’s an orange hue outside tonight, and it’s lighting up the studio and surrounding us in a heavenly glow. I smile at the simple things that nature can provide for us—light, peace, a sense of purpose.

“Let your hands lay gently in your lap,” I say, demonstrating. “And close your eyes, if that feels safe for you today.” I pause, giving everyone a moment to follow the instruction. “Today, I want to focus our practice on compassion and stillness. I recently reviewed some of the aphorisms from the yoga sutras, and one of them tells us that the aim of yoga is to settle the constant fluctuations of our mind. It encourages us to become a witness to our thoughts, so we can watch them, rather than be controlled by them.”

I pause, looking around the room to make sure everyone is following. Then, I close my own eyes. “Imagine a sky during a storm,” I say, trying to put on my best meditation voice.

“The wind blows the clouds at a rapid pace, maybe the clouds are varying sizes and shapes, some higher than others, some darker. Then, think about what it looks like once that storm has passed. The stillness in the clouds. Those high white clouds that appear in a thin layer in the sky. And then imagine the clear blue sky that finally emerges. Yoga helps us find that blue sky state of mind.” I internally commend myself for that metaphor. “We know that the storms willalways come, but if we can control our reaction to those scary skies, maybe we can weather the storm just a bit better.”

I take a deep breath, encouraging the class to do so as well. I keep us there for a moment, inhaling and exhaling, finding a rhythm in our own bodies. My throat feels dry after my speech, and a knot forms in my throat, thinking about my own reactions to recent storms.

“Slowly flutter your eyes open, friends. Let’s flow.”

Twenty-Eight