Chapter 5

Chapter Five

River

THE SUN BEATS DOWN on me as I lounge in my hammock. Tripp Lake is spoiled with green, open spaces, but today I selected one within walking distance of my apartment. A warm breeze washes over me, stirring the leaves overhead. The trees break up the sunlight, but it patters through regardless, warming my mostly bare skin. I wear nothing but baggy hemp pants, soaking in as much of this perfect day as I can.

I came out here to read, to meditate, to clear my head of the thoughts that have been chasing me since Sunday, but it hasn’t really worked. Every time I search for peace, every time I attempt to empty my mind, thoughts of Clark sneak back in.

It’s concern, I tell myself. There’s so much more work to do there, but I worry I won’t get the chance. He seemed so eager to run away after class on Sunday. I gave him that flyer, but I assume he threw it out immediately. It’s probably crumpled up in a trash bin outside the café on Main Street.

I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, trying to exhale these repeating thoughts into the world. I don’t know why I can’t get past this one student, why I can’t stop thinking about him. Some piece of me is fixated on that tangled bundle of tension. My hands tingle with the desire to work it out of his muscles, to feel him relax under my fingers.

I’m still trying to settle my thoughts when my phone rings. I almost fall out of my hammock when the sound shocks me out of my unsuccessful meditation. I roll to the side and stretch to reach the device, which I left on the ground beside my bag. The number on the screen comes up as “unknown” and has a Seattle area code.

“Hello?” I say, more a question than a greeting.

“Hello. Sorry to bother you. One of my employees gave me this number,” the woman on the phone says. “Are you River?”

“Yes?” I’m only growing more confused with every word out of the woman’s mouth.

“I’m Hannah,” she says. “I’m calling about the retreat. I know I should have contacted them directly, but Megan suggested I talk to you. I have a few questions I’m hoping you can answer.”

I almost fall out of my hammock all over again. Hannah. Who’s Hannah? I rack my brain, but I don’t remember a Hannah from my class. Wait, did Megan mention someone named Hannah once? I can’t tell if the memory is real or wishful thinking. Because if it’s real that implies my flyer made it all the way to Megan’s boss — to Clark’s boss. Did he really keep it? Hope wells up within me before I can temper it.

“I’m interested in bringing my team to the retreat,” Hannah says, “but there are a few details I need clarity on before I can commit our budget to something like that. Is that alright?”

“Um, yeah, totally. Happy to help.”

It’s a struggle to pull myself together and answer her questions. You can hear the years of corporate HR speak in her every calculated word. It explains a lot about Clark, actually. He talks like this as well. Not that I should be thinking about Clark again. Shoot. What did she ask? I struggle to tune back in, but fortunately, Hannah’s queries are pretty basic. When is the retreat? How long is it? Where is it? Is there space for her entire team? What should people bring with them? Within a few minutes, I’ve given her all the details she could hope for and more. At least, I think I have, but my head is so mixed up I’m only half-aware of what I’m saying.

I want to ask her a couple questions of my own. First and most important: Will Clark be there?

I hold back somehow. I’m sure she’d find it strange if I asked about one employee by name. But I’m bubbling with excitement like a shaken up soda bottle by the time I get off the phone with Hannah. I hop out of my hammock, pacing barefoot over the grass. The park I chose is pretty empty in the middle of the day. It’s small; from my hammock, I can see all the way to the street at the other end. I make I loop around the two big trees where I set up my hammock, walking around them three times before I finally stop myself.

Calm down , I urge myself. It doesn’t work very well. When Clark left my yoga class the other day, I really believed that was the last time I’d ever see him. He hated it, or he believed he hated it. That sigh that issued from his lips when I cracked his back suggests some part of him enjoyed the practice. Either way, I knew I wasn’t ready to give up on him, and this retreat might offer me my chance. I’ll have him for an entire week, and he won’t have work or family or any other obligations to run away to.

I can barely keep myself from pacing. Somehow, I manage to scoop my phone out of the hammock and make a call to the people organizing the retreat. I’m not in charge. I’m just one of the instructors. I need to call the actual organizers and make sure they have space for another group.

“Twelve, you said?” the man on the phone says.

“Yeah, twelve.” That’s the number Hannah gave me. Twelve people from her team, though I’m only really thinking about one.

“That squeezes in just under the limit,” the man on the phone says.

I don’t know him. Never met him. I just know he’s the guy who does all the business-y stuff for these retreats.

“They’re lucky they called when they did. Normally we wouldn’t have space left for that many.”

They aren’t the only ones who are lucky. I was looking forward to the retreat — I always look forward to opportunities for more intense and in-depth practice — but it was just a job before that call from Hannah. Now, it feels like a mission. I yearn for another opportunity to work with Clark. I’ve never met someone who needs me so badly, and who I know I can help so much. He’s aching for a chance to set down the burden he lugs around with him, but I’d bet anything he’s scared to let it go. I’ll have one week to convince him to release it, and I already have some ideas about how to do it.

My mind is whirling when I get off the phone with the retreat coordinator guy. I dig a notebook out of the bag I left on the ground with my phone, hop back into the hammock and start jotting down notes. There are specific classes I’m supposed to teach, but there will be free time in between those. With several instructors present, I certainly won’t be working the entire time, and I know the retreat builds in free time for the students too. If Clark will let me, there’s so much work I could do with him when our downtime aligns.

I can already hear him refusing, but if I was able to reach Cameron, I’m sure I can reach Clark as well. People like them seem hard on the outside, but they’re often yearning for someone who will fight to get close to them. It’s a defense, not a genuine desire for isolation. All you have to do is be patient and kind, and sooner or later you’ll break through.

The hammock sways, the rocking serving to soothe my restless excitement. I go through the list I jotted down in a fit of inspiration. Most of the ideas are physical things. I’m betting that’s an easier way to reach Clark than something more esoteric or spiritual. If I can teach him to feel through the physical motions of his body, he might put up less resistance to the practice.

There are some ways to go even deeper and keep it physical, but I doubt I’ll get a chance to explore those options. It would also be … somewhat unprofessional since I’m a teacher. I swallow at the thought. Maybe the retreat can be a beginning, a way to crack open the door. If I was working with Clark outside of official channels, then it wouldn’t be inappropriate of me to…

I cut off that chain of thought before it can spiral out of control, but I’m not one to deny myself natural human desires. Clark is definitely attractive, and if I got my hands on him, it wouldn’t be solely for his benefit. There’s no denying that, but I couldn’t possibly do something like that at a retreat where I’m working as an instructor, even if Clark didn’t seem to despise me.

I try to calm myself, but nothing is working. I hop back out of my hammock and start packing everything up. Sitting here is too peaceful for once. I came here to search for serenity, to dispel the surge of desire that welled up within me from the moment I met Clark, but Hannah’s call set me several steps backward. What can I say? I’m young, Clark is attractive and the fact I know I can help him is only strengthening my desire.

Natural or not, however, those feelings aren’t helpful. I have to go into this retreat believing Clark isn’t going to give me so much as a second glance. At the very best, I might get to do some extra work with him — purely platonically, just to help him — but that’s all. I’ll be his teacher, and he my student. Besides, he’s definitely a bit older than me. He feels like more of a real adult than some stupid twenty-three-year-old who doesn’t even have to wear a shirt to work. He’d probably see me as frivolous and childish. A serious adult like him would never give me a second glance.

Resolved, I pack up my hammock and slip my flip flops back on. It’s a short walk to my apartment, so I didn’t bother with real shoes. Plus, it’s nice letting the grass tickle my toes as I make my way out of the park.

I have one more call to make today. Chloe, my boss at the café, will need an update on the retreat. I already told her I’d be gone for a week next month, but the details were hazier when I first brought it up. I should give her the real dates so she can plan around my absence. Not that Rainbow Rescue Cat Café has a second yoga teacher to schedule around. I’m one of four “real” employees, and I only show up now and then for a yoga class. Plus, we all sort of expect Cameron to leave when his band takes off, which Julian assures us will happen any day.

Three weeks. That’s how long Chloe has to plan around my absence. That’s how long I have to formulate a plan for reaching Clark. Three short weeks. Then I’ll get my best, and probably only, chance at really reaching him. He’s going to be a challenging student, I can tell already, but I have three weeks to set my intentions.

The sun is warm. The birds are singing. I return to my apartment with a bounce in my step, kick off my sandals and flop onto my couch with my notebook to plot.

You aren’t slipping through my fingers next time, Clark, I vow.

Then I start writing.