Beyond the Point(122)

“Don’t,” Avery said, her voice even and sure. Her arm moved out from under his hand. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” Even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew they were a lie. She had so many things to say to him.

“Avery . . . ,” he began, looking back at the interested teen behind the Smoothie King counter. “Lower your voice—”

“Does your fiancée know that we went to California? Does she know you met my friends? My family?”

“It’s not what you—”

“It’s not what I think? What is it then?”

Silence. Noah lowered his chin and shook his head—it was the first time she’d ever seen remorse on his face. “I told you, you weren’t in the plans.”

“Oh my God, you and your plans,” Avery said, letting the tears come to her eyes. “You made me into a cheater. And a fool. But you know what? Those days are over. So thank you. Thank you for opening my eyes. I just pray that your fiancée sees the light before she marries you.”

Noah held his hands up to his temples. “If you would just listen to me,” he said, his voice suddenly loud and defiant. “I need . . . I need my uniforms back, okay? I think I left two of them at your house.”

Avery blinked twice, and then started laughing the way you laugh when it’s two in the morning and you’re so ridiculously tired that everything sounds like the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “No,” said Avery. “You need help, okay? I don’t have anything for you. Go home to your fiancée, Noah. And please don’t talk to me again. If you see me, just keep walking.”

With that, she turned to the teenager and pointed her Styrofoam cup toward Noah’s shocked face. “He’s gonna pay for this one.”

SHE ARRIVED AT her yoga class fifteen minutes later, her limbs still shaking with adrenaline. A stream of lithe women walked through the door with rolled-up mats tucked under their arms. Avery watched from her car, slurping the cold smoothie into her mouth, shivering. Finally, she turned off the engine and walked inside. The instructor, a woman half Avery’s height with a long brunette braid running down her back, pointed Avery to the center of the room.

“So you can see me,” the teacher said.

And so I can fall flat on my face in front of everyone, Avery wanted to reply. But instead, she smiled, sat down with her legs crossed in front of her, and tried to breathe.

Much to her surprise, she felt an immediate resistance to the simple task of sitting. Her legs wanted to move. She wanted to bolt out the door and call Hannah and rehash everything she’d just said to Noah and the shocked expression she’d left on his face. She wanted to leave this place and go back to her office to accomplish the hundreds of tasks that she’d left undone over the holidays. Her unit had started SRP paperwork, in preparation for their upcoming deployment. Before Tim had died, Avery couldn’t wait to get her turn overseas. But now, the prospect of getting on a C-130 for Iraq terrified her more than she wanted to admit. Noah’s face interrupted her thoughts about work. She pushed that away, only to immediately feel overwhelmed by a deluge of things she needed to get done before her trip with Dani and Hannah. They’d decided to spend a week together in February, a last hurrah, before they all parted ways again. She’d thought about the trip, then realized all this yoga wasn’t going to help her get the beach body she wanted.

“Breathe in, and breathe out,” the instructor said. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Avery opened one eye and peered around at the rest of the class. Most of her classmates were older women, sitting with their eyes closed, breathing, looking perfectly at peace. She had no idea how they were doing it. Maybe they were faking. Maybe inside their minds, they were fighting battles, too. After all, you don’t have to be in the Army to be in the middle of a war. She had no combat patch to show for it, but she’d fought tooth and nail in the last few months to reclaim her life. Her sanity. Her dignity.

“The voice in your head will try and defeat you, before you’ve even started,” the yoga instructor said. “If you feel an itch, instead of scratching it, try and welcome it and let it be there with you. It’s just your body after all. The itch will eventually go away.”

Avery took a breath and closed her eyes.

“In the same way, if you have a thought—even a negative thought—just let it come,” the instructor continued. “Your work. Your relationships. All those demands you’ve put on yourself? Let those come to your mind. Welcome them, don’t resist them. We spend so much of our lives in a state of resistance. Why don’t you release your grip? Welcome the discomfort. Welcome the distraction. Thank it for reminding you that you are alive. And then let it go.”

Avery tried welcoming the part of her body that wanted to run. The part of her that was hurting, and the part that was healing. The part that still wanted Noah to love her, and the part that had told him never to speak to her again. Both were real. Both mattered. The first was a girl with desires, the second was a girl content, even if those desires went unfulfilled.

This was the work her counselor wanted her to do. To stop running.

To breathe. Forgive. And live.





39


Winter 2007 // London, England

I don’t understand.”