I stumbled upon a picture frame. I must have been about six,holding Grandma Chen’s hand as we gazed up at the cherry blossom trees in Jackson Park.
“See the blossoms, guaiguai.”She said the same thing every year.“They are fragile, like people.Show them love and respect, and one day, they might bloom for you.”
A sudden sense of shame had clawed its way into my belly. If she had still been alive, if she hadseenthe way I’d been treating people, she would have been so disappointed.
Since then, I learned much healthier coping mechanisms for my chronically disappointing ways: diagnosing my issues with self-help podcasts, sweating my tears out at the gym, and self-medicating with trashy reality T.V.
A bona-fide, foolproof plan.
However, Mr. Namaste-at-your-place-or-mine is testing said plan. I know I’m still too messed up to maintain any sort of adult-like commitment. You know, the kind that lends way to movie subscription-sharing, his and her towels, etc.
The closest thing I have to that is sharing my WiFi password with my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Kovolchuk.
But the instructor’s coal-dark eyes smolder across the room, and I sigh the sigh of averysingle girl. I guess some habits die harder than others when you’ve got twenty-seven years of daddy issues under your belt.
He eventually stands and swipes a fuzzy mallet across a set of chimes. We all offer a hushed “namaste” before standing and collecting our things. After rolling my mat and spongeing sweat off my forehead, I look up to find Mr. Namaste-at-your-place-or-mine grinning at me.
“Hey, maybe I could get your number and take you out sometime,” he says.
As a rehabilitated man eater, I’ve decided to only give myrealphone number to men with potential—a.k.a. not an obvious psychopath, married man, or serial killer.
I complete a quick scan. Empty ring finger. Eco-friendly water-bottle beside his yoga mat. His duffel bag seems to have a light dusting of some type of pet hair. A dog maybe? If he’s responsible enough for an animal, maybe I can trust him?
“Sure.” I take the phone he offers me, typing my number into it. Itack on my usual caveat. “But I’m not looking for anything serious.” His face falls the tiniest bit.
Crap.
He may as well be holding a neon sign that screams “commitment-minded.” I dunno, maybe most eco-friendly guys are?
My phone rings from the pocket of my spandex shorts. Mr. Namaste-at-your-place-or-mine retrieves his phone as I claw mine out.
Irritation verging on teenage petulance fills me at the sight of Mom’s contact photo. A groan escapes. I would rather wear wet socks for the rest of my life than answer, but I made a promise to Liza that I’d try harder to be amicable.
He nods toward my ringing phone. “You need to take that?”
“I do,” I huff at the innocent, pet-loving stranger, then quickly paste on a sweet smile so I don’t freak him out. “I’ve… gotta go. Talk soon.” I run out of the room.
I’m going to kill Liza.
The memory of last week sends a rock into my stomach. If only I had taken the “L” train instead of a taxi, I would have gotten back to our condoaftermy mom’s unexpected visit.
After college, I had mistook Mom’s suggestion that I move back into my parent’s investment condo with Liza as a sign Mom was finally accepting my life choices. It didn’t take long to realize she was the same she’d ever been: a wolf in sheep’s Chanel.
During our chance run-in, Mom and I conducted our ninety-millionth argument, yada yada yada. Thinking back, I probably should have eaten a bigger lunch so I wouldn’t have been so volatile.
Being hangry should be a medical condition.
But afterwards, Liza uncharacteristically whirled on me after Mom slammed the door.
“Kate, this is getting ridiculous. It’s beensixyears! I know you guys have your differences just like I know Mom can be a lot. All I’m asking is forcivility. Is that too much to ask?! Mom and Dad aren’t going to be around forever, and I don’t want to keep living like this.”
Liza raked back the bangs that I warned her not to cut. The light brown strands stuck up like a cockatoo. “You know how much I love you. But I also love them. They aren’tallbad, andyouare a wonderful person. You all need more time together to see that!”
“I can’t decide if you’re delusional or just plain wrong.”
“Kaaate!” She snapped her fingers and shoved one in my face. “Enough of this! Promise me you’ll try.”
“Who says I won’t lie?”
