Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

“What gives you the right to say that to me?”

“Am I wrong?”

Having not slept much, I didn’t have the energy to argue with this man. This man who, yes, was right, even though I wasn’t sure how he was right.

“No, you’re not wrong. I’m looking for someone and I—”

“You won’t be able to speak to that person in your present state. Why don’t you join us? We’re practicing mindfulness right now. Over here, in the great room.”

A quick glance to where he pointed revealed two folks stretched out on yoga mats. I’d never practiced yoga—the need to move incessantly inhabited my body—but the looks of contentment on the people’s faces...they intrigued me.

“I’m here for a purpose—” I said.

“And so am I. Give me five minutes. It will make a difference.”

“If I do, will you answer a question for me?”

“Yes.”

“Is the librarian here? Pickles Martin?”

“Is that who you are looking for?”

“In a way, yes.”

“She won’t be in until this afternoon.”

“Okay, well, then I’ll see you this afternoon.” I turned to leave, and the man touched my forearm with his fingertips. A jolt of warmth shot up my arm. What the hell?

“Please, stay. I can help.”

An image of Doc in her chair, pen poised over her ever-present notebook, jotting a list of items that might help me: breathing techniques, meditation, yoga.

Minutes later, I was stretched out on a blue yoga mat, eyes closed, random, fractal-like pictures blooming behind my eyelids. My mind wandered away from my thoughts of revenge or whatever I was trying to do with Pickles...how many digits of pi could I remember? Why had Sadie just walked away? What the hell am I doing here in the library? Did the Higgs Boson particle really prove the interconnectedness of the universe? Why do I feel so good right now? What would Doc say to—

“A few more minutes, and we’ll be finished here. Let go of your thoughts or don’t. Whatever is good for you. Now find the tingle in your right shoulder and concentrate on it.”

Tingle? In my shoulder? What did he mean?

“Follow the tingle to your left shoulder...”

Finding the tingle proved to be a problem, but I at least focused on my shoulder.

“Then the right bicep...and the left bicep...”

Yoga Man’s voice droned on, lulling me back again to a state of calm. A bell rang four times. “And come to seated.”

I looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes had passed, and I felt great, hadn’t felt this good in years, as if nothing mattered. Sadie and Andrew? No problem. We’d work through it, just like—

“How do you feel?” The man stood, hands on hips, bare feet against the floor, eyebrows raised, waiting for me to say something as the other folks rolled up their mats and walked away.

I stood, connecting my gaze with his. Something I rarely did these days. “Actually, great. Better than I thought I would.”

“Good.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I thought you were crazy when you asked me about helping. But I guess you did.”

“That’s wonderful. You just need to take time for yourself. To figure out what you need. To be selfish for yourself.” He tapped his chest. “It’s all in here. Everything you can control. It’s in there. Don’t allow yourself to get upset by what’s around you.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “You’re right. It took me a long time to be where I am. Years. And I’m just trying to help people like you, so it takes you less time than it did me.”

“People like me?”

“Those who see themselves as damaged.”

“But—”

He held up a hand and then let it fall, gracefully, to his side. “I know. I’ve worked with veterans for years. Some with PTSD and some without. Now maybe that’s not you—”

“It is.”

“Well then, all the better. And I always say, use this—what I’ve given you—but also use what you have. Your support system. This—what I do here—can help but so can your resources.”

“So, I should call my therapist?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, but if that’s what you want to do, then...maybe. By the way, do you want me to leave a note for Mrs. Martin?” He squatted near a bin full of yoga mats, rooted around inside, and pulled out a notepad and pen.

I wasn’t angry at her, just her son. Would the man give me her address? Wouldn’t that look odd?

“Nah, it’s okay. I can handle everything from here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The man put the pen and paper back and then stood in front of me. Silently, he placed his hands together in front of him and bowed. “Namaste,” he said.

I’d heard the term but never had any opportunity to say it. Despite my discomfort, the word fell easily from my lips. “Namaste.” I rolled up the yoga mat, placed it in the man’s bin, and turned to leave. I glanced back once, when I’d neared the door, but the man had already disappeared.

Chapter 28: Sadie

“It’s bad. Seriously, it’s bad.”

Pickles and I sat in the library break room for a second time that week, after I’d put in a few more hours on my project and decided staring at the computer didn’t mean the work was getting completed. Mom had said to stay as long as I needed, and I planned on taking her up on her generous offer. She’d handle the kids easily, Lena was on backup alert, and I required deep reflection. A sea of uncertainty and unknowns threatened to drown me, and finally, I truly understood how Theo might view a future. This no longer involved only an uncomfortable lust and attraction for a man who wasn’t mine; Andrew and I possessed a spark that might be more, if we let it. On the other hand, Theo had almost admitted to not wanting to follow through on the divorce, something that involved both of us. The time had come for me to grow up, make mature decisions, and think about my future, my happiness, and what