by H. A. Nicola
Chapter 7
Cayenne had always been an early riser, and so as long as she had made the necessary preparations for the children’s pre-school routine beforehand, she found she could easily fit in a 30–45 minute run to start the day. Running wasn’t her favourite form of exercise, but she had decided to commit to a regular routine in the hope that it would speed up her results. She was toning up without doubt, but what was this insatiable need to be smaller? More defined. Look a little different in her clothes. No matter how much exercise she did, she couldn’t seem to see any drastic change in her body. Admittedly she wasn’t as disciplined with her food as she could be, and the habit of a glass of wine after her evening meal was difficult to shake off, especially when it demanded the accompaniment of something sweet, complemented by a healthy portion of custard; all of which went down rather well after a little savoury post-dinner snack.
To help push through the elements and the fatigue as she ran, she chose her audio content carefully. She often took to listening to motivational videos on YouTube which helped push her to another level of perseverance with the dramatic music, impassioned speeches and testimonies of successful people.
It was in the midst of one of these speeches one morning that there was an unfamiliar notification alert on her phone which temporarily interrupted the audio which flickered momentarily, then recalibrated and continued.
She reached into the zipped pocket on her gym-leggings which was quite awkward to do whilst running. She glanced at the phone and swiped upwards in order to see what the notification was, being careful to glance up every other second so as not to run into a lamppost or another jogger or down a couple of unseen steps. It was unusual for her to receive messages when it was barely 6:00 a.m.
She almost lost her rhythm and tripped when she saw the email notification as she instantly recognised the sender.
“Hey… All okay?”
Cayenne managed to keep running albeit at a slightly slower pace as she processed what she had seen.
She had to admit that Jon had scarcely entered her mind since the episode at the North Greenwich Hotel several weeks before. She recalled that she may have felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t followed up immediately to at least enquire how she was after leaving the hotel, but she was also quite pleased that the incident had soon disappeared from memory. She remembered reflecting on the day immediately afterwards and recalling some of the cringe-worthy elements that almost caused her to regurgitate. The way in which he stood at the door on her arrival was almost worthy of a Golden Raspberry Award.
She had known instantly that he was not being his authentic self, but perhaps that was to be expected given the circumstances; and it really didn’t matter for the purpose of their terms of engagement.
Hadn’t that been the point, to escape for an afternoon from the perceived humdrum and pretend to be other people? It made perfect sense that they wouldn’t expose their true selves to one another. But somehow it still irked her, possibly because she knew that even in her most inauthentic moments, she was too honest a person to detach completely from who she essentially was.
She picked up the notion that Kenneth looked altogether too comfortable parading around in his alter ego. She wondered whether he had gotten so comfortable with it that he had confused the two. How many times had he entertained women, she imagined, in that same hotel.
She was perplexed how someone who clearly had issues with his true self could appear so self-assured to parade around semi-naked. She had to conclude that perhaps it was easier to be expressive as someone else, much like the performers who found it easier to hide behind a character and are able to be more daring than they would usually be.
By far, the most irritating thing about him had been the unmistakable snarl on his face that she supposed was intended to be an exaggerated look of desire, but in actual fact made him look as though paralysis had set in. He had held his phone in his hands almost the entire time, which was annoying as it communicated that he was clearly distracted during a task that would have required him to summon the entirety of his faculties in order to pull it off to her satisfaction; and it was also abundantly clear that he did not have a free afternoon at all, but had carelessly thought to entertain her during a few stolen moments of an obviously busy schedule. It was as though someone was alerting him to how much longer he could get away with.
Although she was pleased that she had applied herself to her ‘seize-the-day’ mantra, the episode had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. She hadn’t enjoyed much of it; and by the time she had left the hotel, she remembered feeling physically ill, and a tad sleepy which was unusual; and through the haze of her recollections, she was aware of Jon repeatedly looking into her eyes intently and enquiring, “Are you okay? Are you sure?” which she had initially put down to a caring, attentive attitude, on sobering reflection, she dared herself to question whether something untoward had been at play.
But now here he was. Suddenly enquiring if she was okay, out of the blue.
She had no intention of giving this matter any more attention and went about her day mentally and literally relegating the email to her spam list.
Unfortunately, no one had informed the stranger of this, and his diligence showed no signs of abating.
“Is everything okay?”
Re: Rules of Engagement
Hey????
Have I done something to upset you?
The least you could have done was to respond and let me know how you are?"
Chapter 8
“Come on, Mum!” Diego had his guard up, and a determined expression on his face. They were circling each other in the boxing ring, and her son was portraying two roles—opponent and supporter at the same time.
“Come oo-oon, hit me,” he punched the side of her head. “Keep your guard up.” He barked reminding her that she needed to protect herself as well as prepare her attack.
He had insisted on coming to the gym with her that day. They had discussed her recent defeat at the hands of Ali; and at the time, he had remained calm and said very little. In fact, at first he had appeared to have challenged her response suggesting that she may be overreacting. Cayenne had been a little disappointed by that, though she knew he was simply helping her to process what had happened. As was his custom, he had remained quiet about it for a few days and then suddenly told her that he was taking her for a boxing lesson, even paying the £15 day fee applicable to non-members which was unheard of for her frugal son.
Now it seemed he wanted to test her. Push her. See how much she could take and what she would do if caught in a difficult combat situation.
She saw her opportunity to throw in a jab, followed quickly by an uppercut to his stomach.
He winced, but then his face softened. “Whoah, that’s it, Mummy, come on…”
His pain pleased her. “You’ve got one powerful punch, Mummy. Not so much the jabs to my face; but when you attack my stomach, it’s powerful.” She smiled knowingly and appreciatively and thanked him with a quick torrent of punches to his head. Most of which he blocked, but she had managed to sneak a few in too, to answer his previous assessment.
He responded with several powerful punches. She felt the weight of them, but strangely they didn’t hurt. She was too focused. Too intent. Too poised. She rewarded him with her newly acquired signature shot and then another one. He doubled over and glared at her, half-smiling. They were sparring with such intensity that people around the gym were beginning to notice.
After their final round, Diego had set another challenge for her.
He stood menacingly—tall and proud—his arms and shoulders beginning to form as he entered his adult phase of life. She stood against the ropes, panting but still hungry, looking up at him awaiting her next challenge.
“Okay, you need to get me across to the other side of the ring quickly. No punching now, just with your body weight. I wanna see how strong you are.”
Cayenne stood upright and took in
some deep intakes of breath, summoning as much strength as she could muster. She glanced behind him at the opposite ring corner, gauging how much distance she would need to cover. She pinned back her shoulders and then geared herself up as she listened to his countdown. “After three. Ready? Three… two… one…”
Cayenne catapulted herself against his body and at first reverberated back a step, but she somehow knew she had more in her. She gripped the floor of the ring with her toes through the soles of her trainers and forced her mind to dominate this blood opponent. She could sense him giving in. she could tell he was surprised at how strong she was. He hadn’t anticipated this power; and whilst it pleased him, after all, that had been his objective, his competitive side was not about to accept defeat. He pushed against her, but she kept edging forward. Her body followed her mind and moved the muscle mass in her path; and within seconds, they were at the other side of the ring, with Diego pressed against the padded corner in defeat.
“Nah-nah-nah-nah,” he shook his head incredulously. “We are doing that again.”
She wandered confidently back to the other side without an ounce of self-doubt. Her new discovery fusing her with new determination. He too looked confident, obviously assuring himself that the outcome must have been some kind of fluke. Perhaps he hadn’t been prepared. Lost footing at some point. Whatever it was, he was now determined to alter it.
“After three.” Cayenne was silent. Conserving her energy for the challenge. “One… two… thr’.”
Cayenne forged forwards again. More determined now than before. She quickly gained momentum. He was losing ground again. He seemed to be amusedly perplexed that his body was letting him down. He was facing his own weaknesses whilst testing hers. He made another attempt to challenge her, but her progress rendered it futile. Once again, they found themselves in her victory corner.
They repeated the exercise another four times with the same result. “Okay, one last time. We are not leaving until I do this.” They both laughed. Unfortunately for him, he was beginning to tire, which rendered his defeat certain. They tried it the other way too. Him trying to get her to the other side. He managed it twice out of five attempts which soothed his bruised ego somewhat. By the time they mounted the stairs towards daylight, gleaming with perspiration, they were both smiling inwardly. Cayenne with a new realisation of her strengths, and her son hugely proud that his mum was a badass.
Christmas was fast approaching which brought much excitement to the Richards’ household, even though Cayenne didn’t necessarily subscribe complete allegiance to all the festive traditions. She had made certain to disabuse the children early on of any notion of St Nicholas and his reindeers being real. “No Santa Claus, no tooth-fairy… no, it was me. The presents came from me, I replaced your milk-teeth under the pillow in the middle of the night with money. ME.”
Just days before Christmas, Diego handed her her phone.
“I hope you have a good Christmas, Bethany.”
“What is it, Mum?” Diego had clocked the surprised look on her face.
“Remember I told you about that guy that approached me in Canary Wharf?”
Diego nodded, still looking at his own phone.
“Well, we met up a couple of times, but I wasn’t really feeling it.”
“Why?” Diego was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, especially as he was well-aware of his mother’s propensity to judge people quickly and perhaps harshly. Cayenne appreciated that her son was always willing to play devil’s advocate.
“I’m not sure,” she could feel her face screwing up at the memory. “He was just… not being himself, I suppose.”
“Maybe it takes some people longer to get to that point.” Diego was scratching his head. “So you just wrote him off, just like that. Damn, that’s cold.”
“He keeps messaging me, even though I don’t respond.”
“So respond.”
Chapter 9
Cayenne was averaging two gym classes a day at this point.
By now, the old tatty gear was quickly being replaced by new colourful designs. She was aware that people thought she was unusual as she always made sure that she looked her best; as to her mind, she wasn’t dressing for the occasion or the venue but for herself. She ignored the sly glances from those that didn’t understand. The people that wondered why she would bother applying makeup when she was going to sweat it off anyway. As she began to see results in her body, she paid even more attention to herself. The leggings were more fitted, the tops more revealing to show off the definition that was beginning to show in her abdominals. When the shaping began to develop in her back, she sought out gym bras and backless leotards that emphasised her progress. She knew that this would not make her popular, but she was used to that. She decided that she was going to push through the hostility, the pain, tiredness and fatigue and get it done until she was collapsed in the corner, dripping with sweat. Often, she would look up to see bewildered faces looking at her, as though they had never seen anyone work out so hard. Cayenne questioned why they even showed up, but she always showed up to win. To be prepared to face failure. To improve on yesterday, to push past her limits and compete against herself and challenge herself mentally as well as physically. She knew that if she worked on herself every day, that she was becoming stronger as a person.
Cayenne loved walking into the Yoga studio which today formed the venue for Body Balance, which was a new class she had decided to try. She learned that it had been around for a number of years, and it intrigued her because it was a combination of Yoga, Pilatés and Tai Chi.
The usual instructor was absent that day, so when she stepped into the room, she was met with someone she hadn’t seen before. A short black lady was limbering up on her mat at the front of the class. She walked with a slight bend in her back; and Cayenne was certain she could detect a grimace, as though she was masking an injury.
“’ello, my name is Claudine, and I will be teaching Body Bal-ance today. Joanne ’as been called to an urgent meeting.”
Claudine, it turned out was French, and her thick French dialect flowed poetically out of her mouth and hung thickly in the air. Cayenne warmed to her almost immediately; as when she smiled, it was coming from an honest place. Selecting a mat from the corner shelf, Cayenne lay down and waited for more members of the class to arrive and listened to Claudine having to repeat her welcoming message over and over again.
The class began to fill up as the calming hums of music filled the room. Claudine faced the waiting group and introduced herself yet again to those that had come in late.
“Is z’ere anyone who ’as not done Body Bal-ance before?”
Two of the ladies present raised their hands nervously.
"Okay, welcome to di class. Body Bal-ance is a combination of Yoga, Pilatés and Tai Chi. If you ’ave done zese practices before, you will definitely recognise some of the moves. I will be giving you two or three different options throughout, and just take the option that is better for you.
Before we start, does anyone ’ave any injuries that I should know about, or is anybody pregnant?"
This time there were no raised hands, and so the sequence of Body Balance began. The combination of the three disciplines, put together into one choreographed dance to music, combining strength, agility, core and balance.
Although Cayenne found some of the movement challenging, most of it was familiar as she had practised yoga and pilatés on and off over the years and by far her most favourite part of the routine was when Claudine instructed the class to turn to the right and face the mirrored wall, which was always handy for monitoring technique and the accuracy of the postures.
“Come into a deep lunge, reach up and into a small backward bend. Clasp your ’ands behind your back, palms togezer if you can. Come onto your front leg and lift your left leg up. Balance if you can. Hips square to duh floor…”
Cayenne knew that balance was one of her strengths, unlike the flexibility aspect of
the practice. It was at this time that she felt the attention of many behind her watching most acutely, as though they were waiting to see if she would maintain her balance throughout where many were struggling to maintain the pose.
Claudine’s next command was totally inspiring as it was expressed in a way that transformed what was usually a common yoga pose into something magical and mystical.
“Raise your clasped ’ands behind you away from your bodee, raise your right leg and dip down as far as you can. Go on, see if you can dip fur’zer.”
Cayenne managed to do just that and pressed her weight down into her toes and held her core firmly.
“Now turn to de uzer side. Deep lunge, raise your ’ands to ze sky into backbend, now come onto your left leg, clasp your ’ands behind your back and raise your ’ands away from your bodee.”
Just then the music softened to a whimsical melody. “Come forward and lift your left leg, lift your ’ands higher above your head. Come oo-oon, spread your wings, let’s flyy-yy-yy-yy-yy-yy-yy-yyy.”
Wow. Cayenne glanced cautiously around the room; the light from the stairwell above illuminated the dimness in the far corner at that moment, just as they dipped with their arms outstretched behind them like birds. It suddenly felt like they were ascending up above the clouds, towards the sun.
Chapter 10
“I sincerely hope you have a happy Christmas, Bethany, and that you and the children have a great day.”
It was going to be a quiet festive season. No Christmas parties or glittering nights out. Not that she minded too much. She was more than happy to cuddle up on the sofa with the children and watch the New Year celebrations on the television as fireworks disappeared into the sky above London, Sydney, New York and Toronto.
