Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined

by Patricia Rockwell

  “Yoga, here I come!” she announced.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  “Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.”

  —Jeanne Moreau

  Departing the elevator on the second floor, Essie turned in the opposite direction from the arts and crafts room and headed down the opposite hallway which led to the small gym at the other end of Happy Haven. ‘Gym’ was actually a misnomer. It was not as if they had a basketball court with bleachers. There was only a small, open room with bright lighting. As Essie rolled into the large room that she’d only been in a few times before, the difference in the atmosphere was noticeable.

  The room was now dark. Several candles placed on a table near the far end of the room provided the only light. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Essie could see that a number of residents had already arrived and had gotten into position for class, or she guessed that’s what they were doing. A few women were lying down on the hard floor on some sort of colorful mat. Essie glanced around the room. Near the door, residents had parked their walkers and dropped their canes. She could even see that one woman who used a wheelchair had stationed it near the far side of the room and she had scooted out of her chair and was also lying on the floor on a mat.

  The yoga teacher—or yogi—or whatever she was called was visible near the far end, just finishing lighting one of the candles. She was a young woman, her hair in a ponytail. She was wearing a lavender leotard with white tights. She smiled warmly at residents as they all found a place and unrolled their mats. As she glanced up and saw Essie, she held her hand up in the air as if to say, just a moment. She put down her matches on the table and headed over to Essie.

  “Greetings,” she said softly, her hands together and bowing politely. “Welcome to yoga class. I don’t believe we’ve seen you here before.”

  “I’m Essie Cobb,” replied Essie. “I signed up downstairs.”

  “Of course,” said the yoga instructor. “We’re delighted to have you join us, Essie. I’m Nora. If you have any trouble keeping up, please don’t be discouraged. Just proceed at your own pace. Remember, the purpose of yoga is for your enlightenment and peace.”

  And hopefully, to catch a drug dealer, added Essie in her mind.

  “You can leave your walker by the door and grab a mat over there,” said Nora, pointing to the pile of colorful rubber mats by the entrance. “Just pick a spot and make yourself comfortable. We’ll begin in just a moment.” Nora bowed again, in that formal Indian manner and Essie nodded, feeling somewhat guilty that she didn’t return the appropriate yoga class greeting.

  Essie rolled over to where the other residents had parked their walkers and deposited their canes. She pushed hers to a prominent position as close to the entrance as possible. Now how would the drug dealer know this walker was hers? she thought. So many of the walkers looked alike. Of course, she always recognized her walker, but then she never was really parted from it. Giving her basket seat a little good luck pat, she carefully inched over to the group of residents already on their mats near the far end. Her bones creaked as she lowered herself to the floor and unrolled her pink mat. Once flattened, the mat had a squeaky, bouncy quality. Essie crawled cautiously onto the mat and smiled at the residents nearby.

  “Welcome to yoga,” whispered one lady on her right, her right leg up in the air. Essie wondered if the leg raised perpendicular to the floor was the traditional yoga greeting. She attempted to force her leg into the air, but she was able to extend it only as far as her knee.

  “That’s as far as that one will go,” she noted. “Maybe the other one has more stretch.” She put the first leg on the floor and attempted to raise the other leg to no avail. Plopping the leg back onto the mat, she lay there exhausted from this minimal physical exercise.

  “And class hasn’t even begun,” she said to herself.

  At that moment, Nora came away from the candles and out to the front of the group. She performed a deep bow, the top part of her body remaining clutched to the lower half for a painfully long period of time. At least, that’s how Essie viewed it.

  “Greetings, students,” Nora said in a gentle, almost inaudible voice. “Are we ready to begin?” The residents nodded and some made sounds of agreement. Nora then began by announcing various positions. The first seemed relatively simple to Essie. At least, at first. Nora demonstrated. She lay face down on her mat and pushed upwards with her hands, looking at the ceiling. She then seemed to hold that pose as if she were frozen. The residents—most of whom seemed to be regular attendees—repeated Nora’s pose, although none of them looked as lovely and relaxed as Nora did. Most of the residents had looks of pain and torture on their faces.

  Essie rolled over with difficulty until she was on her stomach. How hard can this be? she wondered. She pushed her body upwards with her hands, looking at the ceiling, but glancing down at Nora at the front of the group to see if she was capturing the pose correctly. It seemed to be right. So why did it feel so uncomfortable? Surely, no one could remain like this for long, and yet when she glanced around the room, most the residents were holding Nora’s pose. Egad, Chad! moaned Essie to herself. There’s just too much of me to hold up like this for this long. She could feel her elbows starting to sway back and forth. Please, don’t buckle! she urged them. She clenched her teeth in an attempt to maintain the pose that everyone else appeared to be holding smoothly. All of a sudden, she collapsed and her chin hit the pink mat with a thud.

  “Don’t be upset if you cannot hold the pose for long,” droned Nora as if she wasn’t referring at all to the fact that Essie had just plopped noisily onto her mat. “It’s the effort not the time that counts.” Essie panted on her mat in a prone position, her face to one side. Finally, she rolled over onto her back and sat up while she waited for the group to conclude the pose. Now, how could that woman talk and hold that pose at the same time? thought Essie. It was all I could do to keep my head above my shoulders for more than two seconds. I thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing. Ha!

  Eventually, Nora gently pulled out of the pose and the other residents followed.

  “Now, for our second position,” said the yoga leader. She stood up on her mat and bent down and touched her toes. The class followed her actions. Then gradually she walked her hands forward and away from her feet until they were at least several feet in front of her. When she had reached the correct location, she appeared to freeze in place. The residents followed her, although Essie detected quite a number of grunts and groans along the way, particularly as they reached down for their toes.

  Essie hadn’t stood up and touched her toes since—well, she couldn’t remember ever standing up and reaching down to touch her toes. She couldn’t think of a practical reason to do such a thing. Now, obviously, there was a reason. Slowly she bent her body, dropping her hands lower and lower towards the mat. She could see the floor in the distance, but she couldn’t quite reach it. She realized that she couldn’t even begin this second pose until she was able to touch her toes. She bounced up and down, figuring she might give herself a little push, but her hands refused to hit the floor. She continued this procedure over and over. The other residents had all been able to reach the floor and had moved their hands out to form the little triangle that was created by this body position. Nora spoke soothingly to encourage the class. At one point, Nora calmly stood from her pose and moved to Essie. She whispered in her ear.

  “Don’t feel you have to reach your toes, Essie. You can aim for further out in front. Here, let me help you.” Nora grabbed Essie’s waist and held tight as she directed Essie to reach out. Essie stretched her arms out and Nora gradually lowered Essie’s body until Essie’s hands were on the floor about three feet in front of her feet. “There you go. Now just hold this position as long as you can.”

  Easy for you to say, Essie wanted to snap back at the sweet-natured yoga teacher. Essie now found herself in an uncomfortable position that she had no idea h
ow to extricate herself from. If she moved a hand, her entire body would plummet to the ground. She seriously thought she might break a bone if she so much as moved a finger. Nora came around again.

  “Let’s bring you up, Essie,” she said. She pulled up on Essie’s waist again and Essie suddenly was upright. Forces of horses! she thought. This little woman has a lot of strength.

  After these opening poses, Nora had the class lie down on their mats. As she lay on her plastic mat with her legs stretched at an odd angle, Essie felt as if there would be no way her poor leg would ever return to its normal position. She’d probably need orthopedic surgery. When her classmates carefully extricated their legs from their poses and put their feet back on the floor, Essie realized that her feet were permanently stuck in this position. She probably looked like a human pretzel. She’d be ready to join the circus once she graduated from this class.

  Lovely Nora appeared as if from a cloud and amazingly performed her magic again. With a quick pull on Essie’s feet, Essie suddenly found her body in one piece and herself lying in a prone position on her back, panting as if she’d just run a marathon. The instructor smiled sweetly and returned to the front of the class.

  Finally, after a few more of what she referred to as “simple” positions, Nora announced that class was finished. She rose and calmly bowed to the class. The class returned her gesture and then rolled up their plastic mats and placed them back in a pile by the door where they came in. Some of the residents remained, chatting with one another. Nora disappeared as ethereally as she had come. Essie had not seen her in the building before. She assumed that Nora was an instructor who came in from the outside to conduct these classes and not one of the regular staff members at Happy Haven.

  Essie hobbled over as best she could to where the walkers were parked. She found her walker and realized that she had not looked up even once throughout the entire class to see if anyone was disturbing her walker while she was doing yoga. She quickly but discreetly opened the seat cover and glanced inside. The cream-colored envelope remained on top. She lifted it up and looked inside; the homemade fake valentine she had concocted was still there. Apparently, the dealer had not used this opportunity to steal it from her. She would have to figure out another way to entice him to come looking for it.

  As she rolled out the gym door and towards the elevator, she felt every muscle in her body. And this was not a good thing. Some parts of her body she never wanted to feel. So much for yoga being a gentle activity. Could all that weird yoga stuff really be beneficial? she wondered. Certainly, she’d never need to use any of those weird poses to do anything. None that she could think of anyway.

  The elevator door was open for which she was grateful. The cab was crowded with people. As she glanced at her watch, she realized she had plenty of time before dinner. After all that activity, she’d surely need a nap.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  “One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. That word is love.”

  —Sophocles

  When she exited the elevator on the first floor, she could tell there was something going on. The number of people gathered in the family room was far greater than normal. The noise level was much higher too. As she pushed and shoved her walker through the massive crowd of people, many of whom were not Happy Haven residents, and rounded the corner into the main lobby, it dawned on her what all the commotion was about. This was the crowd that had gathered for that Dr. Love, the authority on the history of romance.

  Essie wanted nothing more than to make a beeline for her room and take a nap. Every muscle in her ninety-year-old body had made itself known during the yoga workout. Ouch, she cried out loud as a man bumped into her and almost knocked her down. She pushed ahead and could see the cause of the excitement.

  Standing at the fireplace was a tall, dark-haired man of movie-star good looks. He had exquisite posture and just a touch of grey at his temples. His beautifully tailored suit was probably made in Italy, Essie surmised. It fit every curve of his body to perfection. Now if this man were her secret admirer, she might actually consider giving him a tumble. Sue Barber was standing next to him, apparently waiting for the starting time. Essie glanced at her watch. It was a few minutes before two.

  As she stood frozen, staring at the guest speaker, she heard her name called out. Looking up, she spied Marjorie, Opal, and Fay—all seated together on one of the long sofas near the fireplace. Marjorie was patting the seat between herself and Opal and motioning for Essie to sit there.

  Nefertiti’s nipples! she mumbled to herself. There goes my nap! She maneuvered her walker through the buzzing crowd over to the sofa where her friends were seated.

  “Come on, Essie!” cried Marjorie. “Sit here with us!”

  “Put your walker by the wall,” ordered Opal. Essie looked over to a nearby wall where her pals and several other residents had parked their vehicles. Essie was too tired to argue so she nudged her walker among the others and limped over the few feet to the sofa and plopped down between Marjorie and Opal. Opal had the end seat and Fay was beside her in her wheelchair.

  “Quickly, everyone!” shouted Sue Barber. “Take your places. We’re about ready to begin.”

  Essie could see a local news team positioned near the front entrance. A woman was holding a microphone and she was accompanied by a young man holding a large video camera.

  “So this is a big event?” Essie asked her friends.

  “We may be on television!” said Marjorie, fluffing her hair and peering over her shoulder at the camera behind them. From another location, a camera flashed. Phyllis and Violet stood watch over the entire event from the front desk. Some of the kitchen workers had even stopped preparing for the next meal and were standing in the doorway of the dining hall, some even with a dish towel or pan in their hands.

  “I told you Dr. Love was a big deal, Essie,” explained Opal. “Where were you, anyway?”

  “Yoga,” said Essie with a deep sigh.

  “Yoga?” asked Marjorie. “What would possess you to go there?”

  “That’s what I’m asking myself,” replied Essie. “I have a new appreciation for contortionists.”

  “Okay, residents and guests!” announced Sue Barber, using her loud stage voice. “Happy Haven is delighted to have with us today a world famous expert on love and romance. And how appropriate is that! Being it’s Valentine’s Day!”

  The crowd tittered appropriately and the attractive guest speaker smiled benignly.

  “Our speaker is Dr. Emmett Flynn—otherwise known as Dr. Love. He is the head of Grace College’s Anthropology Department and is an expert on the history of romantic love. Dr. Flynn speaks all over the world on this topic and we are especially lucky today that he is able to stop by Happy Haven to regale us with some of his fascinating research. He even tells me that he is happy to answer specific questions about love and romance from audience members. So, residents, if you have any love problems, here’s the guy who can provide the solution!”

  The man chuckled humbly at this last description as Sue Barber held out her hand for him to take over.

  “I was going to say ‘ladies and gentlemen,’” began Dr. Love, his chiseled features making him look almost like a fabled Roman statue. “However, it appears there are far more ladies here than men!”

  The women all laughed.

  “Truthfully,” said Dr. Love in a confidential tone, “I prefer it that way.” With that, all the women in the audience produced audible sighs. From this intimate beginning, Dr. Love continued to weave a spell over the large crowd that was jammed into the lobby, with quite a bit of overflow in the family room. He used stories from history and from his own research to explain how various romantic practices and terms had come to be. Every once in a while, he would suggest that people today experienced similar things and ask the audience if any of them had any examples to share. The residents were quick to open up to the gregarious speaker and soon began sharing their own personal romantic stor
ies. Essie was entranced. At one point, Dr. Love began discussing the giving and receiving of valentines and this elicited several residents to offer examples of interesting valentines they had received over the years. Dr. Love then mentioned the history and development of the concept of the ‘secret admirer’ and Dave Esperti, from somewhere in the family room, shouted out.

  “Have Essie Cobb tell about her secret admirer, Doc!” yelled Dave.

  Oh, no, thought Essie, scrunching down in the sofa in an attempt to hide between Marjorie and Opal.

  “A secret admirer?” asked Dr. Love, looking around. His piercing blue eyes captured Essie, now in a little mound on the sofa. “Would that be you, Miss?” he asked in a voice dripping with intimacy as he tipped his head of thick hair in Essie’s direction.