“I’m hoping to learn more about Buddhism,” she admitted. “My yoga instructor is super into meditation. He’s super one with the cosmos, like he just is, you know?”
“Mhm,” I hummed, maybe a little flatter than necessary. I raised my eyebrows and nodded along. “Totally tubular, dude.”
Molly chucked a pecan at me. It ricocheted off my navy blazer’s lapel, landing in my mashed potatoes. “Are you making fun of me?” she huffed. She wasn’t angry though. I could see a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
“No, not making fun of you.”
“Anyways,” she continued, “I’m hoping to get a better appreciation for their culture. Maybe dedicate a whole video to exotic street foods. Stuff like that.”
“That actually sounds pretty cool.”
“You mean it?”
“Yeah, I’d watch it.”
“Don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe,” she joked, stifling a bubbly giggle. She looked way too pleased with herself, but I wasn’t about to spoil her fun.
I lifted my Scotch glass and held it out, clinking it against Molly’s Bellini.
“To new experiences, then,” I cheered.
“To new experiences.”
I wasn’t actually that into yoga. But the studio was literally a block away from my apartment and they had an excellent membership plan that was non-committal. Besides, I figured that I would need an outlet for all my stress, what with the new job and all. I wasn’t going to be one of those attorneys that sacrificed their health for the sake of their career. I found that health and work often function in tandem to one another. I couldn’t succeed at my job if my body and mind weren’t up for the task. So here I was out of necessity, lying on my back in savasana, stupidly excited for what awaited me the next day at my brand-new job.
“Remember to breathe deeply,” instructed our yogi, Trent. He was up at the front of the class, sitting upright with his legs crossed, keeping a vigilant eye over us. “Concentrate on the sensation of your blood pulsing through your body. Breathe in. Breathe out. Give your mind the gift of silent reflection.”
But I wasn’t able to. The last week and a half had been a whirlwind of frantic packing, moving, workplace outfit shopping, and apartment arranging. I had just moved to New York in what I could only describe a miracle of organization, determination, and coordination. When I found the email from Richardson & Sachs waiting for me in my inbox, my heart had been in my throat. After years spent studying for the LSAT, surviving four years of law school, volunteering and interning wherever I could, and finally passing the bar, I was finally getting the chance I had been waiting for. All I ever wanted to be when I was a little girl was a brilliant, powerful attorney –just like my mother before me. And now, at Richardson & Sachs, my dream career was finally about to start. And if I didn’t have a crazy roommate to deal with, things really would have been perfect.
“Alright,” started Trent calmly, bringing his palms together in front of his chest. “That’s class everyone. I’m very happy with all of your progress this week. Good stuff. I’ll see some of you tomorrow. But until then, namaste.”
“Namaste,” the room chorused together.
I stood up, feeling the stretch in my legs. I bend over, rolling up my purple yoga mat in time to see Molly approach. She claps me on the back, chipper as ever.
“Hey girl,” she greeted with a smile, “great class today, huh?”
I stood, tucking my yoga mat in the crook of my arm. “Yeah, pretty good.”
“How’s that high-strung roommate of yours treating you?”
I giggled nervously, throwing a cautious glance to my left toward the studio’s front doors. It was a spontaneous action, like I was subconsciously worried the mere act of mentioning Jenna would summon her.
“She’s not high-strung,” I cleared my throat. “She’s just particular.”
Molly rolled her eyes, the corner of her lip ticking up into a smirk. “Sure,” she said, unconvinced.
“She’s not that bad,” I lied.
“Are we talking about the same woman?”
“This is the lady who screamed out at you for leaving the toothpaste cap off.”
I winced at the memory of Jenna’s shrill voice first thing in the morning. We received a noise complaint filed by our neighbors later that day. It was a, for a lack of better words, a shit show.
“Yeah, well,” I mumbled bitterly, “I sure learned my lesson.”
“What does your roommate do again?”
“She’s a school librarian.”
Molly threw her head back, laughing so loudly that her voice shook the room.
“Come on, let’s go grab some breakfast mimosas and fear for the poor young souls who mistakenly wander into her library.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I began to protest, rubbing at the back of my neck with my palm. “The move kind of drained my budget, and–”
Molly wrapped her arm around my waist and ushered me toward the studio door, nodding her head at Trent as she passed by. “Come on,” she said. “My treat.”