Party Wall

by Cheyenne Blue

  Decision made, she tipped Dorcas from her lap and rose from the couch. Dorcas watched her in mute affront for a moment before, disdainful of the drop, she paraded back along the rail to Freya’s flat. Lily padded barefoot into her bedroom. Sure enough, at the back of the wardrobe was a haphazard jumble of her old yoga clothes. She selected a pair of bright orange leggings. They would do fine. She paired them with a lime T-shirt and leaving her feet bare, she bounded down the stairs.

  The door to Freya’s shop was now closed and it would be rude to barge into the studio through the door from her own shop a second time, so she walked around to the rear laneway, where the gate to the small yard stood open. Lily went through to the door that led into the studio. Soft music played, not so much a tune as a collection of chords and long notes designed, Lily supposed, to soothe and focus the mind. The class was underway. A dozen women sat in the easy pose of happiness. From the rear, she saw only their upright spines and shoulders and heard the slow susurration of their breathing.

  “…bring in the awareness of your breath. Each inhale sends a wave of energy down your spine, deep into your hips, down, far into the earth beneath you.” Freya spoke in a calming monotone. She didn’t open her eyes when Lily entered.

  Lily looked around, realising she should have brought a mat, although she wasn’t sure if she still owned one or where it was. But she spied a loose pile of mats in one corner and snagged the top one. She took a place at the rear of the class and copied the pose of the woman next to her. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing and on the slow sound of Freya’s voice.

  “Imagine the sky energy pulling you upwards. Your body is light, your neck is lengthening. Relax your shoulders, rest here for several breaths. You are here, in the moment; let your body quieten from your day.”

  Freya’s voice drifted away, and the studio was filled only with the sound of rhythmic exhales and the slow chords of music. She led the class through a series of gentle poses. Lily let her body and mind sink down through the layers of the day to find the stillness within. Irritations dissipated until nothing existed but her body, this warm room, and the gentle movement of air from the ceiling fan.

  Freya’s voice was closer now. Lily opened her eyes to see Freya walking soundlessly through the women, touching them with small movements to encourage them to soften a pose, let go of tension. Freya turned, and her eyes connected with Lily’s. The jolt that ran through Lily was surely from the crackling antagonism emanating from the other woman. The flash of irritation, swiftly veiled, from those clear grey eyes was at odds with the soft tone of her voice as she touched a pupil’s shoulder. Relax, the hand gesture said, but as her eyes locked with Lily’s, the blaze burned for a fractured second before Freya closed her eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath. When she opened them, the fire was gone. Freya looked at her unsmiling, but she gave the smallest nod of… recognition, acknowledgment maybe. And there in the air a faint scent of something fresh. Sandalwood or rosemary. A hint of peppermint.

  Freya moved on and Lily felt her absence keenly. Not just the lack of her scent, but the absence of her. And, too, a lessening of static, of the fine-spun tension. Lily envied that pupil, with Freya’s hand on her, a gentle weight.

  Lily didn’t hang around at the end the class. Really, what was there to say? She slipped back through the door to her own shop before Freya could detain her.

  The class had been pleasurable. She hadn’t attended a yoga class in months, and she’d forgotten the joy of movement, of feeling her body stretch and flex. She made a simple salad for dinner, and as she ate it, she studied the studio timetable. That same class was held again in three days’ time on Thursdays. She resolved to attend.

  Lily again slipped into the Thursday class at the last minute. She took her place at the back and nodded to the woman next to her.

  “Welcome, friends.” Freya bowed over prayerful hands, and the class started. Lily focused on her body, the moment, the silent space inside her head, but even so, as soon as Freya walked amongst the pupils, placing a light hand to encourage or correct, Lily lost the focus on her inner self. Her breathing grew shallow with the tension in her chest. When Freya moved on without correction, only a quiet “Good” and a light touch on her shoulder, a vague feeling of disappointment formed and fled. Her shoulder was warm from Freya’s brief touch, and a wave of positive energy seemed to flow from it down to her core.

  Lily moved into warrior pose with the rest of the class, and her thigh trembled, unused to the position. Freya returned to the front of the class and moved into warrior pose with a steely grace. She was contained in her body, economical in her movements.

  At the end of the class, Lily put away her mat and approached the front of the room, where Freya was chatting with one of the pupils. It was the woman Lily had seen her with the first day they’d met, the one with curly hair and an open, eager expression. Freya’s grey eyes—no longer calm and peaceful, flashed silver daggers in Lily’s direction at the interruption.

  Lily placed her palms together. “Namaste. I enjoyed the class. I need to pay you.”

  “Twenty-five dollars.”

  Lily reached for the notes she had pushed into her pocket earlier. “Thank you. Is it okay if I keep attending?”

  “Of course.” The tone was far from warm, but the civility was a start.

  “Tell her about the advance payment discount,” the other woman prompted. She turned to Lily without waiting for Freya’s response. “Pay ahead and get ten classes for two hundred bucks. It’s a good deal if you intend to keep coming.”

  “I do. I’ll do that next time.” She looked directly into Freya’s eyes. “I enjoyed your teaching.”

  “Have you done yoga before?” The curly-headed woman propped her backside against the desk.

  “A long time ago. But it’s amazing how quickly it comes back.”

  “I was the same. I used to do yoga when I was idealistic in my early twenties. Then I got married and somehow amongst all the trivia of everyday life, I lost the habit. Thanks to Freya, I’m back.”

  “That’s good. I’m hoping to get back into the habit as well.”

  “Carly.” She stuck out a hand, and Lily shook her damp palm. “I know you’re Lily. I’ve signed up for your sexuality class starting soon.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

  “Oh, I’ll enjoy all right. I need something like that.” A sideways glance. “I’m trying to persuade Freya to come with me.”

  Freya shifted her feet, a side-to-side movement. “I’ve already said no, Carly. It’s not for me.”

  Lily tilted her head on one side, and studied her. Freya’s salt-and-pepper hair stuck out in a wiry mass on either side of her head. Freya was not attractive, not in a conventional sense. She was too thin, too tense, too wiry, too antagonistic, too combative. She was just too, too, Lily thought in amusement. But the memory of Freya’s small, light palm touching her shoulder burned warm.

  “Come along if you want. First class free. After all, that’s what you offer. Then, if you don’t like it, you don’t need to return.”

  “Does that apply to me as well?” Carly’s eagerness reminded Lily of a puppy: bouncy and cheery.

  “Of course. And if you bring a friend”—she indicated Freya with a nod— “to the first class, you get the second one free as well.”

  “C’mon, Frey.” Carly punched her friend lightly on the arm. “Do it for me.”

  Freya’s face was already set in the blank wall of refusal. Conversation closed.

  Lily jumped in before she could think better of it. “Actually, I was going to invite you to dinner.” Where had those words come from and what had she just done? Set herself up for a tortured night of stilted conversation probably, but she couldn’t go back now. The surprise on Freya’s face was worth it. “So that we c
an get to know each other better as neighbours.” She turned to Carly. “You’re invited too, of course.”

  “I’d love to come. It will be good to see what you’ve done with the flat. Those apartments are lovely. High ceilings and so spacious.”

  “You’ll be disappointed. I haven’t done much. No time.” Her thoughts flicked to the mural on Freya’s wall. Somehow, she thought Freya had probably painted it herself. “How about Sunday night? Will that work for both of you?”

  “Fine for me.” Carly nodded so hard, her curls bounced. “Frey?”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “C’mon. You never do anything on Sundays.” She turned back to Lily. “I’ll bring wine. If Freya snaps out of her stupor, she’ll bring nibbles.”

  “That sounds perfect.” Deliberately, Lily didn’t look at Freya in case it gave her the motivation to refuse. “Seven?”

  “That’s good. We’ll see you then.”

  It was the opportune time to leave. She lifted a hand in farewell, and slipped through the door back to her own shop. Freya for dinner. It could be interesting.

  “I’m wheat-free as well as vegan.” The reluctant words followed her through the doorway. Freya could have been talking about a visit to the dentist. “I don’t eat much sugar.”

  Lily paused, and turned back to the studio. “That’s no problem. I’m sure I’ll cope.” She was coming. Lily had expected this to be a duty invitation, but instead she found she was looking forwards to it. Freya challenged her. She wanted to find out what was behind her prickly exterior. Was she like an echidna, all spines and snout, and then inside a soft little ball? Carly too. Her chipper personality would make for entertaining company. “I’ll see you both on Sunday.”

  Chapter 7

  Sunday passed slowly. Freya started the day with her usual meditation, some stretching, went for a walk, and made a desultory attempt at housework. But somehow her soothing routines failed to have the desired effect. Instead of the usual methodology of cleaning, she found herself flitting from room to room. She stripped the bed, but then moved to the kitchen to make a cup of tea instead of putting fresh sheets on the mattress and cleaning the shower.

  Dorcas followed her meowing until Freya picked her up, and the cat settled into her favourite position: across one of Freya’s shoulders, her front paws hooked into the back of Freya’s T-shirt.

  Freya paced over to the doors leading to the balcony. She stared at a dead scarab on its back in the corner, at the drift of cobwebs above the glass. She should get the broom, dust over the coffee table, damp-mop the floors, water her plants. Instead her gaze wandered out through the glass and across to the hills on the other side of the valley. Her stomach jumped, and her grip tightened on Dorcas enough that the cat meowed in protest and her claws dug into Freya’s shoulder. She drew a slow breath, trying to regain the equilibrium that had fled with Lily’s invitation.

  Instead of a time of peaceful solitude, the end of the day loomed large. Dinner with Lily. And Carly, although that barely made it past the perimeter of her mind. After all, she saw Carly often enough in the week that it was commonplace. Dinner with Lily certainly wasn’t.

  She tipped Dorcas onto the couch, and the cat glared in affront. But when Freya’s bottom followed her down, Dorcas was appeased and tiptoed over to curl onto her lap, purring appreciatively.

  What was she thinking?

  Why had she agreed?

  She should have shut the conversation down with an abrupt no. After all, she had nothing in common with Lily, and the woman was a living, breathing affront to Freya’s own lifestyle. Just because Lily turned out to be vegan and now attended yoga, didn’t make her any more likely to be a friend.

  But, a tiny voice whispered in Freya’s head, it should do. She stroked Dorcas absently, three fingers from between the cat’s pointy ears down to the base of her tail. She’d watched Lily in the last yoga class. It was impossible not to. Wearing a bright pair of yellow leggings and a blue-and-white patterned T-shirt, she had moved through the poses with a certain amount of hesitation. But whilst she wasn’t graceful, it had obviously not been her first time in a yoga class. Her movements grew surer as the class progressed, as though the muscle memory of poses was returning. And her face… It had been hard not to watch her, to see the calmness that stole over her face. Freya had sensed Lily sinking into herself, becoming absorbed in the movement and the quiet mind space. And then, at the end of the class, the final namaste, Lily’s eyes had crinkled with the joy of her smile, and the sunshine and good humour emanating from that bright, big figure had spread in concentric circles from her still body.

  Lily radiated pleasure and that was compelling.

  Like Sarah, a tiny voice whispered in her head. Always living in the moment, taking the most pleasure from any situation.

  Carly gravitated towards Lily; other friends, such as Remy, talked about attending her workshops. But the pull Lily exerted so effortlessly attracted followers. Freya felt the tug of it, like the tide, sucking away the sand from under her bare feet.

  She shuffled around on the couch and tucked her feet underneath her. Dorcas mewed in protest but settled down again. Now Freya faced the opposite wall, where the mural dominated the room. Idly, her gaze traced the brushstrokes, the wisps of colour streaking the rainforest flowers, the curious stance of a wallaby half-hidden by a curling vine. And then, near the end of the mural, the naked figures, hand in hand. Herself and Sarah.

  She’d seen Lily staring at the mural. Had Lily realised one of the figures was Freya? Had she wondered who the other woman was? Freya snorted. Many people had seen the mural in the years since she’d started it. Friends, family, acquaintances. But their glances had been uncomfortable and polite, their sliding-away expressions accompanying their stilted words of comfort. Few people studied it openly, as to do that raised Sarah’s presence in the room, led to the necessity of talking about her. Move on, was in their awkward expressions. Find someone new. But Lily had studied the mural openly, with appreciation.

  “You miss Sarah too, don’t you, Dorcas?” The cat purred harder. The gentle vibrations were comforting.

  She should finish the mural. Carly, one of the few people brave enough to mention Sarah to Freya, had suggested that doing so might bring closure. But Carly had said that in a diffident tone of voice, as if she didn’t have the conviction of her words. “Maybe,” Freya had responded, and she must have been off-putting; Carly had never mentioned it again.

  Freya drew in a calming breath and focused on the two figures on the wall. Sarah’s smile and joy were there, her painted face alive in the way Freya remembered. The brushwork was amateurish, but love brought out the emotion in her work.

  “I love you, Sarah.” She said the words aloud to the room, and sat for a few minutes longer, gathering her strength around her. Dorcas yawned and rolled over in her lap, baring her soft-furred tummy for Freya’s touch.

  After a few minutes, Freya set Dorcas gently to one side and went into the kitchen. Carly had told her to bring nibbles. Not doing so would be impolite. And she knew that Carly was hoping she would make her rosemary biscuits and pumpkin-and-cashew-nut dip. She filled a glass from the water purifier, and set about baking.

  Freya waited until she heard Carly’s voice through the thin wall rising and falling in animated conversation. Only then did she go and knock on Lily’s door.

  “It’s open, come in!” Lily called down from above.

  Freya looked around Lily’s flat, eyeing the chaotic mess. Paperbacks lay in a toppling pile on the coffee table, and trailing green plants drooped over every shelf. Lily had placed low bookshelves along the party wall—the wall where Freya’s mural was—and the books were stacked haphazardly on their sides, or crammed into the shelves. A slouchy couch had an inviting pile of cushions with bright designs. Although when she looked closer, those desig
ns were abstract depictions of female genitalia. Freya tightened her lips; such overt display was unnecessary. She focused instead on the double french doors which were open to the balcony from where the warm air of a spring evening wafted in, aided by the ceiling fan.

  Carly came up and hugged her, the tumbler of wine she carried coming precariously close to spilling.

  “Hi.” Lily stood in the doorway that led out to the balcony. With the light behind her, Freya saw only her silhouette and the swoop of her hair, hanging loose for once and breaking on her shoulders. Then Lily came forwards and her face came into view, graced by a smile.

  An attractive face. Freya instantly set the thought aside. That was irrelevant. She handed Lily the plate of rosemary biscuits and the pumpkin-and-cashew-nut dip.

  “These look delicious. Thank you.” Lily gestured to the balcony. “We’re out here. It’s such a glorious time of day to be outside, and the view is so pleasant.” She smiled. “But of course you know that. Forgive me, I don’t mean to be patronising; most of my visitors haven’t been here before. I’m not sure what you like to drink. I can offer wine, beer, tea, coffee, or mineral water.”

  The moral high ground of mineral water was tempting, but the wine was appealing. Lily had gone out of her way to be pleasant. The least she could do was reciprocate. She inclined her head at the tumbler on the table. “Some of that red wine would be good, if you have any left.”

  “I do.” Lily disappeared towards the kitchen.

  Left alone together, Carly grinned. “I’m glad you’re here, Frey. Glad, too, you’re relaxed enough to drink wine.”

  She contented herself with a small smile and moved to the table where Lily had set her nibbles. “I made your favourite.”