THURSDAY

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I must have drifted back to sleep at some point, but as I heard my alarm it felt like I’d only slept a few minutes. The early morning sunlight crept around the curtains and turned the room that dreaded blue gray color that meant it was time to get up and face another workday. “Turn it off!” Kevin grumbled from his side of the bed. I guess eventually he made it into bed…at some point last night? He doesn’t start work until ten a.m. on Thursdays, and gets to sleep in. I, on the other hand, needed to get Jonah ready for school and make myself presentable for work.

  Kevin is the store manager of Kailua Hardware. It’s a cute little old fashioned hardware store right in Kailua Town. Home Depot and Lowe’s may have better prices, but you need to go over the mountain to the other side of the island to get there. It’s a 30 minute drive even in light traffic.  Besides, those big box stores didn’t have quite the charm Kailua Hardware possesses. Everyone in our community shops there, from the independent contractors purchasing lumber, to smiling old tutus that cling to their shopping carts to avoid falling over as they shopped the narrow aisles in the tiny outdoor garden area. You were always bound to see one of your neighbors shopping there. It was one of the few stores left in Kailua that wasn’t consumed by the commercialism of tourism and still catered mostly to locals. Kevin started working in their lumber yard back in high school and never ever left. He worked his way up to cashier, then supervisor, and finally store manager.  Kevin’s become as much of a fixture at Kailua Hardware as the gnarly overgrown shower trees that line the parking lot, whose roots push up through the asphalt, making it more like an obstacle course for work trucks than a smooth parking lot. Kevin knew where every screw, nail, and fastener could be found, and would give you tips on how to complete any project in the most time and cost efficient way possible. Customers would seek him out with their questions which he would take the time to answer. The store had a perfect Yelp score, with most of the comments mentioning Kevin as the reason they shopped there.

   A few months ago, when my friend Sarah mentioned she goes to yoga on Wednesday evenings at Buddha Body Yoga, I told Kevin I wanted to take one night a week for myself. It worked out perfectly, since Kevin opened Kailua Hardware on Wednesdays and got home earlier those days than the rest of the week. He could take care of Jonah, get him fed, bathed, and put to bed. I was able to take an hour and a half with my fellow yogis. Since he didn’t have to work until ten the next morning, Kevin acted like a bachelor most Wednesday nights while I was gone. He’d drink beer, smoke weed, eat junk food, watch some car show, or surf YouTube and comment obsessively on reddit. I would come home to a mess in the kitchen and an intoxicated husband. Coming home to that usually took any zen I may have accomplished in yoga away, instantly. I must admit though, sometimes I’d get jealous of how carefree he was about everything.  That and the fact he could have free reign of the house, get drunk during the work week, and still be able to sleep off his hangover before heading to work.

   For me, sleep was a rare commodity. Many nights, I would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of our son Jonah shrieking from his terrible night terrors.  I’d run into his room to find him with his eyes wide open, face bright red from screaming that spiders were crawling on him, or that “dark men” were chasing him, but he still be sleeping.  Some nights I would be up for hours caressing my little boy, soothing him. The nights he didn’t wake me up, I would try to catch up on sleep.  Many of those times instead of falling asleep, I would just lay there and stare out into the darkness, waiting to hear him scream. Kevin rarely got up during the night to help me. I still haven’t figured out if he’s a just a heavy sleeper a really good actor.  I’d shake him, poke him, call out his name, begging for help, and I would only get a snore in return.  Sometimes Jonah would scream so loud I swear he would wake up the Moore’s next door. And Kevin, he wouldn’t even stir. In the morning he’d ask me why I didn’t wake him up. I’d explain that I tried, and he was even harder to wake up than Jonah.  Even on the rare occasions when he was awake during one of Jonah’s episodes, the only way he seemed to help in the situation would be to second guess whatever I was doing.  Kevin was utterly useless.

    I slapped my hand on the snooze button of the alarm clock. Today can wait eight minutes. I need this time to gather my thoughts.  Yesterday was just like any other, as far as anyone else knew. I attended evening yoga and came straight home. No big deal. Today will be another perfectly boring day in paradise. I got this.  The eight minutes passed and the alarm sounded again, and I must face the day.

   “Mommy! Mommy!” Jonah beamed. “Daddy let me have Cheetos for dinner!” Great. At least Kevin fed him something last night.  Last Thursday morning I found out the two of them simply forgot to eat, and Jonah woke up ravenous.

   “Cheetos, darling? Well that’s not very healthy,” I kindly patted Jonah’s head. “Let’s get you ready for school.”

  Jonah jumped out of bed and started his morning routine. Thank goodness uniforms were mandatory at Kailua Prep. It made mornings with a stubborn five-year-old a little easier.

    I walked into the kitchen and started the coffee grinder. The machine whirred to life, rattled the beans in the hopper, and shook with force.  I winced as the noise reverberated in my head, which was still pounding from last night. I needed an Advil. A few too many mai tai’s followed by something wonderfully bad and then just awfulness. But I made it home on time, so I’m good.

  Jonah bounced into the kitchen, with his uniform on slightly askew. I helped him tie his shoes and served him some Lucky Charms in milk. I know it’s hypocritical criticizing Kevin for feeding Jonah Cheetos when here I am giving him Lucky Charms. At least Lucky Charms is somewhat disguised as a cereal and not just labeled junk food. It also enables me a few minutes to get his snack ready and finish getting myself put together before we run out the door. Sometimes it’s not worth the battle. I have bigger things to worry about than what my son is eating for breakfast. 

“Ok, darling, time to go,” I signal towards the door.

   “Oh mom, come on,” Jonah whined. It was always difficult getting Jonah to school on Thursdays. He knew his daddy was still home sleeping. He thinks he’s going to miss out on something fun. He hasn’t quite grasped the concept that mommies and daddies work while kids go to school.  The rare occasions we are home without them are the times we end up scrubbing the toilets or doing some other monotonous errand that can be completed in half the time it takes when you have a child “helping.”

  “Jonah! Now! We can’t be late. Mommy’s got a showing. Daddy’s sleeping in because he’s working late. Time to go. Now!” “Okay,” he huffed. He put on his Spiderman backpack and waited at the door.

   We walked to the car holding hands. Once we get out of the house, Jonah concedes usually and his mood brightens up a bit.

   “Wow mommy! What happened to your car?” Jonah pointed at a small dent on the rear right bumper.

   Shit. This kid doesn’t miss a thing.

   “Oh, it’s nothing honey. Don’t worry about it. And don’t tell daddy.” Crap. The last line came out before I could stop myself. Never tell a five year old not to tell, because they always will. It’s programmed in their brains to do the opposite.  “Daddy already knows, so he’ll get mad if you mention it to him again,” I lied. Good recovery.

   I looked at my bright yellow Jeep Wrangler. There it was. A little dent, one that proved last night really did exist. It looked like those dents you get when you hit a pole while trying to back into a parking stall. Horizontal reddish lines scraped across my custom painted yellow Spyder bumper and puckered in to a six inch gash. It would have been one of those annoying dents you won’t ever get fixed because it’s not worth the time, but this wasn’t that kind of dent. I had to fix this before anyone finds out, especially Kevin.

   “Jonah, please get in the car,” I opened the door, lifted him into the jeep, and buckled him in. As I walked around the back of the Jeep, I tried rubbing the red paint off with my thumb and a little saliva. To my surprise, most of it came right off. Awesome. Now it just looks like that could have happened anywhere at any time.

   I start up my car and begin driving Jonah to school. I hate this Jeep. When Jonah was a newborn, Kevin insisted that we trade in my BMW Z-4 convertible for something more “practical.” He explained that I needed something big enough for family driving, but still cool.  When we first settled on the Jeep, I had no idea Kevin was going to build it up to the monstrosity it became. He added a 5.7L Hemi, 37” BFG KM2 Tires, $600 custom bumpers, and a unique yellow Lamborghini pearl paint exterior.  The thing was a beast, had a stupidly loud exhaust, and was way too fast for its size and height. I hated driving it. The car was well known around Kailua, so whenever I’d be grocery shopping in Foodland, someone would later tell me they saw me parked in the lot. I’ll find Japanese tourists gathered around my jeep taking selfies around it. The cars in Japan must be much smaller or something. Maybe just not as brightly colored.  Sometimes I felt the whole town knew where I was. Kevin’s going to be pissed about that back bumper. It was a special order that took six weeks to arrive on island. When he replaced my stock bumpers with the fancy yellow Poison Spyder ones, I asked him what the point was. He justified it by saying if we’re out on the beach and someone else gets stuck, we can throw our jeep into 4WD and tow them out of the sand. Well, since we’ve owned it, we’ve never went four wheeling and never had to tow anyone.  I should have never agreed to him tinkering with the Jeep. Why couldn’t we just have a normal, boring silver Honda CRV like everyone else? I park my monstrosity of a car in the school parking lot. Jonah takes his usual two and a half minutes to undo his seatbelt, open the door, climb down on the chrome running board, and finally on to the ground.  We start walking through the lot toward his classroom. My friend Sarah was closing her car door at the same time.

   “Morning, Jessie,” Sarah waved. She had two Barbie bookbags slung over one shoulder, her six month old in her baby bjorn, and two blonde twin girls each fighting for her free hand.

   “Hi Sarah! Do you need help?”

  “Nah, we’re good. Thanks,” she smiled. I don’t know how she can handle all those children by herself while her husband is deployed in Afghanistan.

   Her girls noticed Jonah and starting running towards him. He jetted off, trying to avoid them. He found the girls annoying since they were always hugging him and trying to give him kisses. As the three kids ran towards class, Sarah and I chatted about our day. “How was yoga last night?” Sarah asked. “Sorry I missed it but my sitter had a report due so she had to cancel.” “Oh, you know, the usual,” I lied. “Akhilesh had us doing a million sun salutations again.”

  Sarah laughed. “Was Mitch there? Did you catch him staring at your ass again during down dog?”

   Sarah knew that even though I was married to Kevin, I enjoyed flirting with Mitch, a coworker of mine, who happens to be my nemesis, Ashley’s, ex-husband.  I had suggested to Mitch that he should start coming to evening yoga once a week after his divorce was finalized. The first time Mitch walked into that evening class, all the classes eyes fell on him. Their divorce was pretty well known in Kailua. Anticipating drama, everyone’s heads turned towards Ashley, who was meditating on her mat. When she opened her eyes and saw Mitch, holding his brand new yoga mat, she went ballistic.

  “Ah shit no you don’t! This is MY class! You need to leave! The judge said no contact! I’m gonna call the cops!” she yelled.

   Akhilesh calmy spoke, explaining the yoga studio is a place of peace and harmony, and Ashley was disrupting it. She grabbed her mat, stormed out the door, and she never showed up at evening yoga again.

   I know Ashley was upset that she had to adjust her schedule to avoid running into Mitch. I did the happy dance just thinking about how mad she is, knowing he’s at yoga every Wednesday night with me and a bunch of other beautiful women, while she’s probably at home reading the latest gossip on KailuaKrimes.

   “No, Mitch wasn’t there. I think he had a late showing,” I didn’t outright lie. Mitch wasn’t at yoga last night.

   Sarah, probably the sweetest, most optimistic Southern belle I’ve ever met, grew up in Georgia. She married her high school sweetheart Michael, and are still madly in love. Michael joined the Marines straight out of high school, and they’ve been moving around the country every few years. I met her during Pre-K orientation. She had just moved here and looked so naïve to Hawaii. Kailua hadn’t gotten to her yet. She still thought of it as being on an extended vacation, full of pineapples and hula dancers. One day Sarah will get bored like everyone else and do something bad. Or maybe she’ll get lucky and Michael will receive orders to move out of here before that happens. Either way, the less I tell her about last night, the better.

   “Oh well, maybe next week,” she winked.

   “Sarah, you know I’m married.” I nudged her.

   “I know that, doll. There ain’t nothing wrong with a little booty shaking though,” she drawled. Maybe she’s not as innocent as I thought. 

“Anyway, what are you doing this weekend?” I quickly changed the subject. “Kevin, you know, my husband, is working until 5pm.  So I was thinking of taking Jonah to the beach, if you girls would like to join?”

  “We’d love to! Cool! See you later.” Sarah loved coming to Kailua Beach with me on the weekends. Although she wouldn’t admit she was lonely, she never turned down time to hang out with me. I was one of the only non military moms in Kailua who had befriended her. She considered me sort of her guide who helps her navigate through the sharks of the other Kailua moms. We usually like to laugh cattiness of the other moms whose kids go to the prestigious Kailua Prep.

   “Bye,” I waved. I had ten minutes to get to the Realtor’s open house at Kaapuni Drive. It was a beautiful .25 acre property with a five bedroom five and a half bath ranch and a mother-in-law detached studio, on the market for $3.5 million. The perfect house for one of my clients who planned on moving to Kailua from Burbank once we closed on the right property. The realtor showing the property was Patricia Weinberg, who specialized in luxury homes and rentals in the Kailua/Lanikai area.

   I pulled into the horseshoe shaped driveway of the open house and parked. There were a few other cars already there, but I didn’t see Ashley’s red BMW or Mitch’s black Prius. I beat both of them, for once.

   All the realtors chit chatted and noshed on the fruit plate provided by Patricia while we waited for the tour to begin. Mitch walked in, looking as if he just woke up. He was wearing a wrinkled aloha shirt and slippers. His eyes were bloodshot.  He glanced me a knowing look and I smiled sheepishly back. His eyes shifted away from me and towards the door.

   “Good morning, everyone. Thank you for coming to view this lavish estate. Is everyone here?” she paused, fully expecting to keep going on with her speech.

   “Wait another minute, Patricia. Ashley’s not here yet.” Mitch interrupted.

   Patricia huffed and rolled her eyes. “Well then, let’s wait one more minute. But then we must move on. I have a renter arriving at one of my other properties in an hour.” Mitch moved closer to me. I felt his nervous energy as he neared. “I wonder where she could be?” he asked me guiltily. “Why should you care? She’s your ex,” I scowled, sounding too much like a jealous teenage girl. I needed to watch my tone. I crossed my arms and tried to ignore him, but we were stuck next to each other waiting awkwardly for his ex-wife to arrive.

  Mitch shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand,” he whispered.  “She was acting all crazy texting me nonstop last night.”

   “I remember. I was there, with you” I stared into his brown eyes, searching for some of the softness I saw last night. He turned his head away. How could he have become so distant after everything? “Well, it looks like Ashley isn’t going to make it today. Shall we move on then?” Patricia’s shrill voice cut through the air. She started guiding us through the house, pointing out the various features of this “faaaabuloooous find with a priiiivate gate to Kailua Beach.”

  Age had not treated Patricia Weinberg well.  In the 1980’a she was a petite blonde with long curly blonde hair who clients would pick based on her cute realtor picture. Now she weighed in at over two hundred pounds. Her curls, now grey, cut in a severe style close to her head. She favored large flowered mumus that resembled outdated drapes my grandmother used to hang.  Due to her vanity, Patricia no longer shows her picture next to her real estate listings.

   People don’t want an overweight wrinkled old lady selling their luxury home. The other agents and I nicknamed her The Bulldog, after her sagging jowls and gruff stare. I often wonder how she still gets an affluent roster of clientele. Her listings were some of the most exclusive properties Kailua has to offer.

   “The cabinets have been upgraded with Burnt Mahogany finish to give a more modern feel to the airy kitchen,” Patricia rambled. “The French doors open to a private lanai and custom kidney bean shaped heated saltwater pool, perfect for entertaining guests.” Her flabby bingo arm jiggled as she motioned towards outside. “There’s a studio out back too, which makes a perfect rental for supplemental income. I will walk you out there after we’ve toured the rest of the home.”

   Moving through the luxurious house with Mitch and the rest of the realtors, my mind started drifting back to last night.  I didn’t plan on skipping yoga. But Mitch had approached me in the parking lot, and he seemed so vulnerable.

   “Jessie, so glad you’re here. We need to talk,” he was dressed in athletic shorts and a t shirt, but did not have his yoga mat. He seemed anxious, worried.

   “Sure, Mitch. Let’s go inside,” I started walking towards the yoga studio.

  “Not here,” he shook his head. He grabbed my hand and smiled nervously. Outside of the normal work handshakes and high fives, this was the first time he initiated touch. I instantly felt a rush of heat circle through my body.  The last time I felt that type of energy was the first time I met Kevin ten years ago. He was helping me pick out a new electrical socket for my apartment and sparks literally flew.  I knew that feeling was special.

  Ever since Ashley and Mitch divorced, I secretly lusted after Mitch. Mitch, the easygoing windsurfer, a haole born and raised Lanikai, with perfect salty brown beach hair, perpetually tan, toned body, and extremely outgoing. We’ve been friends and co-workers for five years, both working at Real Kailua Realty. Ashley worked with us too. The two of them started a secret office romance and got married less than six months later. Unfortunately for them, their whirlwind marriage only lasted two years before Ashley realized Mitch didn’t want to settle down and make babies with her.  She became a divorcee at 32, a tough age to be a single woman when your biological clock is ticking.  Ashley became damaged goods, while he turned into a 36-year-old playboy.

   Mitch did take the divorce pretty tough, but not because of his love for Ashley. Mitch was a pretty wealthy bachelor before marrying her. He inherited his parent’s house on Mokulua Drive in Lanikai. Commonly known as “the loop,” it was the main stretch of road that circled around Lanikai. The house alone was worth over $10 million dollars, not including all Mitch’s acquired money through real estate commissions, his windsurfing equipment, sailboat, and all his other ocean toys. Ashley sued him for half his wealth, and they were still going back and forth through the courts. The house was passed down two generations, and Mitch wasn’t about to give that up. Seeing how stressed he was over the possibility of losing his inheritance to her, I had invited him to Wednesday evening yoga at Buddha Belly Yoga.

  I thought maybe Mitch would meet a pretty woman at class who could distract him from Ashley. I didn’t expect it to be me. I had the best intentions of keeping our relationship platonic. I’m married to Kevin, for goodness sake. But something about the way he took my hand in his outside in the parking lot last night, made me want to be bad. Just this once.

   I knew when we crossed that territory my life would never be the same. I’d be those women I hated. Those women who when you find out what they did, you gossip to your lady friends over margaritas at Mexico Lindo, appalled of their behavior. How could those women do that to their family? Their husband? Their children? Homewrecker. Bitch. Slut. Those women needed to be publically humiliated on social media. Those women shouldn’t be trusted at our child’s soccer games talking to our volunteer coach husbands.  Well, wear that scarlet letters proud, ladies. You never know when you’ll become one of those women.

  Yes, I did consider these things before skipping yoga. I thought about the repercussions if we got caught. I know it would be commented on KailuaKrimes, I knew it would tear Kevin to pieces. I’m not naïve. Something was drawing me to the dark side, as Luke Skywalker would say.  This would be my little secret. Something for me, empowering me, since it’s something so out of character, nobody would ever suspect boring Jessie would be one of those women.

   Mitch had been giving me subtle hints at work, surprising me with my favorite Green Dream from Lanikai Juice in the morning, leaning over my computer while I drew up a contract. Little smiles across the room, extra compliments, and I loved the attention from him.  Ashley would glare over her iMac at us whenever we giggled like teenagers. She acted like she was typing but would we would feel her icy stare on us. Probably just more ammo for her alimony case against Mitch.

    I will admit I did play into the flirting when she was around, just to aggravate her. I’d even talk about Jonah, and how awesome it is having a child, knowing she was yearning for one she’ll probably never have. “Mitch, look how cute Jonah looks in his soccer uniform! He wanted his Uncle Mitch to like it on facebook,” I’d brag. Sure, it was mean. I couldn’t help myself.

   Ashley and I were never friends. You couldn’t even call us “frenemies”. We straight up despised one another.  She moved to Kailua from downtown L.A. four years ago, right after her previous boyfriend dumped her. She arrived in Kailua a single twenty-eight year old, ready to start her life over in paradise. Her intentions might have started pure, but coming to Kailua as naïve and entitled as she did was not the way to win over the locals. Hawaii, Kailua in particular, is pretty laid back. When she acted like a brat and insulted the clerk at Foodland for following protocol by charging her $0.10 for a paper bag, the whole town found out quickly. The clerk ranted on KailuaKrimes, and Ashley was ridiculed on social media.  In person, everyone would still have their plastic smiles on their faces, but behind the facade they had no respect for her.

    Ashley was an aggressive real estate agent. She treated all of us at Real Kailua Realty like her competition, rather than her allies. Agents like to work together and help each other out on properties. We enjoy talking to each other about upcoming listings, our client needs, etc. Ashley kept to herself, hell-bent on becoming top agent.  She never seemed to embrace the aloha spirit that is essential if you want to be successful in the islands.

   I tried befriending her by inviting her out to Zippy’s one day for lunch, but she declined. “Their chili is awful,” she explained. I had a hard time trusting someone who didn’t like Zippy’s chili. She would pronounce kalua pig KAILUA pig, and took no respect in learning the proper way to pronounce Hawaiian street names. She acted as though she was forced to move to Kailua, like it was such an inconvenience being here. I am amazed she ended up staying here, especially after her and Mitch’s divorce. She had no real connections to the people or land.

   The worst was when she stole my client not too long after she started working at Real Kailua Realty.  Jonah was only a baby and Kevin was in Dallas for some hardware convention. Jonah caught a fever, and I had to stay home with him. I kindly asked Ashley if she would do me a favor and bring my client to a new property listing. Buying property in Kailua could be difficult. We live on an island so there’s only so much land. Property values keep going up and if you don’t put your bid in for a property even before its first official open house, you will miss out. I had been working with this client for almost a year, patiently showing them house after house. They had already seen the property they wanted and were excited to see it one more time before putting the bid together.  All Ashley had to do was unlock the door and escort them on.  With my sick child in my lap, I started putting together the bid, trying to get a jump on their paperwork.

   Ashley called me afterwards and calmly stated that she would be working with them from now on. “They felt you weren’t giving them enough attention. I mean, really, Jessie, who blows someone off like you did?” she claimed.

    I slammed the phone down and called my clients, but the damage was done. She offered to take 1% less commission to help bring the cost of the house down if they went with her. Money talks, and off they went. My commission on the $2 million-dollar home was 5%, so I lost out on $100,000 thanks to that bitch. All the time I took with those clients, driving them to houses on the weekends and after hours, the gas I paid out of my own pocket escorting them around, the hours working with financers on getting them pre-approved. All that effort, and she swoops in on the eleventh hour because my kid gets sick and it’s all gone.

   I approached our boss, Connor Real, about the situation. After talking with both of us separately, he said Ashley agreed to give me 1%, a measly $20,000 for my “preliminary” work with the client. I was completely screwed over, and just had to swallow the loss. All the other agents in the office found out about Ashley’s unethical tactics, so she became an outcast. Mitch befriended her because he felt bad about how we were all ignoring her, and before you know it, they started dating and then got married. I’m glad he realized after two years what we all knew early on. The woman was rotten. She used him for his wealth, his looks, and her desire for offspring.

   So I guess the whole reason they got together was indirectly my fault. If I had just left Jonah with a caretaker and taken that client out that day, none of us would be in this mess. I wouldn’t be thinking of the bad things I did last night because there would have never been any motivation to piss Ashley off through Mitch. It was my little payback to her for screwing with me. Nothing makes a woman angrier than another woman with their man.

   “I’m surprised Ashley’s missing this,” Mitch interrupted my thoughts as our group walked down the koa staircase.   “God, seriously Mitch. Enough about Ashley. You should’ve stayed married if you still cared that much,” I shook my head and started walking towards the door.

  “Hellllloooo, Jessie. Leaving already? You haven’t seen the guesthouse yet. It’s lovely,” Patricia called out. All the other realtors froze, watching me go.

  I gave a quick smile. “Sorry Patricia. Yes, this house really is fabulous. I got to run though. Another appointment. Thanks again!” I lied and walked out the door without even looking back at Mitch.  I’ll find another house on the market for my clients. I couldn’t handle another minute there. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I slammed the door to my Jeep and pounded on the steering wheel. I held back a tear. It was not supposed to be like this! Mitch should be caring about me! Don’t men bring flowers the morning after? Obviously, that was out of the question for us, but still. He could have at least acted his normal flirty self. Instead, he’s only talking about Ashley! We discussed everything last night. Neither of us would be emotional and it would be a one time thing. Everything would go back to normal. Our little secret.  If we gave off any weird vibes, people would gossip on KailuaKrimes, just like Ashley’s run in at the Foodland.  And here I was, making a scene by leaving like that.

   I checked my phone. It was a little after nine a.m. Kevin would still be home, probably just waking up, still hungover, and be getting ready for work. I couldn’t go there and risk him seeing my dented jeep. I know if he even tried to argue with me now, I would lose it and end up telling him everything. I needed to go somewhere else. I looked up Buddha Body Yoga on my phone and there was a vinyasa yoga class starting at 9:30 a.m. I started heading over to the studio. I always keep an extra bag of various clothes in the car just in case. You never know when Jonah will throw up and need fresh clothes or we decide to head over to the beach and want our swimsuits.

   I changed in the bathroom at the studio and walked into class. It’s not a class I usually can make so there were a lot of unfamiliar faces in attendance.  I was about to put my mat down and someone poked me from behind. I jumped.

  “What the,” I turned, and saw Sarah, bursting with happiness. She was wearing bright pink spandex pants, pink lipstick, and matching pink headband. She looked more like workout Barbie than the new age mom she dresses like on our Wednesday evening classes.

  “Yippie! I didn’t expect to see you here. You must be sore from last night,” she innocently said.

  “Sore? Uh, yeah….From yoga last night…Yup.” I stuttered. Sarah is so sweet and genuine, I felt horrible lying to her.

   Akhilesh turned the lights down and walked to the front of his mat.

   “Sorry I missed class last night, Akhilesh,” Sarah explained, “but I didn’t have a sitter.”

  Akhilesh frowned. “That is not a problem, my child. I missed last night also.”

  Sarah scrunched her face towards me and motioned a wtf look with her hands. The first of many lies to Sarah that are necessary to keep my plastic façade unblemished.

  I shook my head and whispered, “I’ll explain later.” I had originally planned on Sarah to be my alibi for yoga class in case Kevin gets wise. I may need to eventually let her in on a few things sooner than I thought so she can cover for me.

   “Let’s sit in asana and begin our practice,” Akhilesh started.

  I was having a difficult time concentrating on my yoga practice today. My balance was off, and my breaths were choppy.  Akhilesh counted out the holds in our sun salutations, but I couldn’t keep pace.

   After what felt like 1,000 sun salutations, Akhilesh took a deep breath, closed his eyes and signaled for us to go down to our mats. The class was almost over so we all laid down on our backs to prepare for the last pose of the practice. “This morning, when we prepare for savasana, relax while I guide you through some meditation, my friends,” Akhilesh began.  “The past few sessions we’ve been learning about Yama, and how the five Yamas relate to our external ethical behavior. Yamas are the restraints, the things we must avoid to find inner peace. We must all practice developing a balanced personality in order to grow in our yoga practice. As you go about your days, you have to live in harmony with your surroundings, with the right social conduct. You might find harmony around you during a sunrise walk up the Lanikai pillbox. However, the key for spirituality is not just what you surround yourself with, but also your own ethical restraints.” His voice, though barely a whisper, filled the entire room.

   “Today we will focus on the Yama, known as Brahmacharya. Brahmacharya means celibacy, or a control over one’s senses. I want you all to think about how Brahmacharya effects your life. For some of you, it might mean avoiding sexual indulgences. Resist the temptation to stray from your life partner, for lack of control will drain one’s energy and vitality,” he walked around the room, talking softly, and would stop at each student to apply oil on their foreheads.   As Akhilesh continued with his dharma talk,  I felt as though he was speaking directly at me. He hadn’t reached me yet to apply oil, but I felt his presence coming closer. I could feel his soft footsteps across the wooden floor come closer, then over, then closer again as he spoke.  I tried focusing on my breath and staying as still as I could, as his voice grew more near. I was scared to open my eyes. My heart was pounding. My hands clammy. The scent of patchouli wafted over, and I could tell he was really close now, but opening my eyes would show him I’m not serious about my yoga practice. Suddenly, I felt Akhilesh’s breath over my left shoulder. I kept my eyes closed and laid as still as I could as he leaned over me.  “Remember the words from a wise Buddhist monk,” he was squatting over my head and whispered in my ear as he touched my forehead with oil. A chill went down my spine, and through my body, chicken skin. “Every thought you produce, anything you say, any action you do, it bears your signature. Remember how damaging Brahmacharya can be in your life.”  I continued to stay as still as a statue. Even though it was supposed to be a cooldown, I could feel my body heat up. Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead. Just breathe. He was still leaning over me, his breathing slow. He finally padded to the next student. I stayed frozen on my mat until the lights turned on and class was over. I heard the class dissipating around me, but I still couldn’t move. “Wow Jessie, did you fall asleep?” Sarah broke my trance.

    I leaned up on my shoulders and let out a sigh. I needed to put on that fake smile again and somehow explain to Sarah why I lied to her about missing yoga last night.  “Wowzers. I guess so. That was some class,” I said.

  “Yeah, for sure,” she paused, waiting for me to expand. Behind Sarah I caught Akhilesh’s icy stare. “Hope to see you next Wednesday night,” he said towards me. I nervously nodded to him and turned my eyes back to Sarah. “We’ll talk on Saturday,” I said to her, never apologizing for the lie.

   I rolled up my mat and rushed out of the studio.  Something was off, or maybe I’m just being paranoid. I turned my phone back on and saw that I had several missed calls.

  One was Mitch. He probably wants to apologize for our disagreement at the open house. I hit the voicemail button, anticipating his suave voice saying sorry.   “Hey Jessie. It’s me. Listen, we need to talk. I can’t reach Ashley.  I was driving The Loop back home and saw her BMW parked in front of her property listing near the Kuailima Drive beach access. It was banged up like she was in an accident. I checked her car and walked the beach path, but there was no sign of her. Call me.”  I dropped my phone in shock. I grabbed my steering wheel and drove right home. There was no way that was Ashley last night. My day was getting worse by the minute.

  As I was waiting for our loud gate to open, I spotted Mrs. Moore watering her palms. She scowled at me and shook her head. She disapproved of everything I did, and hated it when I came home during the daytime. I was disrupting her peace with my obnoxious car exhaust, creaky gate, and loud phone voice. If she hated neighbors so much, maybe she should move to the Big Island where there is more space. Around here, houses were pretty close to each other, everybody keeps their windows open, and you get used to hearing your neighbors sneeze.  I was not in any mood to deal with her chastising me, so I got to my front door as quickly as possible, and avoided looking her way.