I stood in the center of a small dais, surrounded by mirrors in the dressmaker’s shop. I had to fight the urge to sway my hips and swish my skirt.
I must have moved slightly because the dressmaker gave a sharp cough and reprimanding glare.
“Sorry,” I said. “I love twirly skirts.”
“This one will move nicely on a dance floor. It will also sway nicely as you walk.”
I stared at myself in the mirrors, keeping my focus on the dress. It had a beaded lace bodice with long sleeves, and the skirt skimmed my hips before flaring out in layers of chiffon, all in a dark plum color. The fit was perfect.
I hadn’t indulged myself much when it came to customized clothes in the months since my shopping trip in Las Vegas. Not my wedding, not my honeymoon, but a shopping trip where I happened to get married. I tried not to think of that trip. My entire life had changed, and not in any ways that I had expected. And not in any of the ways I may have secretly dreamed.
After admiring the dress, I needed a distraction, or I would end up staring into the mirrors and making eye contact with myself. It was too much being at the hair salon, and being stuck only to be able to look at myself with wet hair and one of those horrid capes strapped all the way up to my chin, emphasizing just how round my face was.
I began to fidget.
“You need to hold still,” the dressmaker said.
“Sorry. Standing in place in heels is a talent I don’t possess.”
“Does anyone really?” she asked.
I laughed. “Celebrities do. My mom certainly did.”
“Was your mother a celebrity? Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”
“It’s okay. She was sort of. She had been a model, and somehow that opened up opportunities to be the hostess to famous events on behalf of products and things like that.”
The dressmaker made a noncommittal grunt.
I continued. “She did things like when Pioneer, the big truck company, sponsored the opening of the new stadium and they had a big charity event.”
“That was years ago.”
“Years and years,” I said. “But, yeah. She was the celebrity host on behalf of the brand. She did things like that all the time. And she wore different gowns to each event. She could stand still getting dresses hemmed for hours. Maybe you worked with my mom back then.”
“It’s been years since I worked with celebrities. They were all too busy to hold still for any length of time. I never had the luxury of pinning an entire hem. With fabric like this, it’s so important to get the hem set properly. With so much bias in the skirt, you don’t want the hem to fall, especially not after having to stand there having it pinned into place.”
With my alterations complete, and the promise my hem would be completed in time, I changed and headed out. I had enough time to get a light lunch before my afternoon at the studio teaching demo classes for yoga curious newcomers.
I smiled as I placed my order and ate in a small corner of a local taqueria. I didn’t want to eat too much, but I also wasn’t very hungry. I had let those complicated thoughts that surrounded Vegas back into my brain. Was I condemned to forever remember my wedding every time I had clothes fitted? If that was the case, I might not do custom tailoring ever again.
Not that the memories were so horrible. They weren’t. They were beautiful and wonderful. The problem was that the Devin who married me and made love to me walked out of the hotel room, and the Devin who moved into my house seemed like a completely different person. I wanted Vegas Devin back.
When I arrived at the studio, the door was open, music played, and people were walking in and out. The lobby had been rearranged to accommodate a long table for finger foods. Our regular students stood around talking to people who had found out about the open house.
An older gentleman, in a suit, spoke with Francine, the studio owner and one of my students.
“Mr. Sanderson,” I exclaimed, “how nice to see you here. This is unexpected.”
“You did send me an invitation. I thought it would be rude to pass on this opportunity to come see what it was you did during your days.”
I gave his clothes once over. I didn’t think he was here to try a sample class. “Are you planning on joining my class for the afternoon?” I teased.
“I can barely bend over and touch my toes. I don’t think I could do what you do without hurting myself,” he said.
“I hear you, but yoga can help you with that. And If you stay to observe my class, you’ll see that I help you to find how to work with your body to regain that flexibility.”
He started to protest, but I rested my hand on his arm. “Stay, please. You won’t have to do anything, just watch.”
The truth was, I wanted him to stay and see what I did. No one from my limited family had ever bothered to see what my teaching was like. And I was keenly aware that the person most people would have expected to show, my husband of less than a year, was nowhere to be seen.
It had taken a lot of personal fortitude to ask Devin to come, knowing he would reject me. But I had asked anyway, and having put myself out there, even knowing the result, it didn’t hurt any less to not have him here being supportive.
I blinked rapidly, hoping no one would notice the tears trying to form. I’ve had so much rejection in my life, I should have been used to it by now.
“I’m so glad you came. I have to go get ready for my demonstration class. Please, do stay.”
He nodded and I left the little party and headed into the back changing area to get ready. It was too early to get ready, but I wanted to be alone. I had arrived at the studio before I needed to be there so that I had plenty of time to talk with guests, and – stupidly, I had allowed myself to hope—to show Devin where I worked.
I knew he had said he wasn’t coming. I knew I was projecting my wishes onto him. But after a few months of being married to him, I had started to have little fantasies about the two of us discovering we had feelings for each other. Serious, heavy feelings that could become something even more, and that at the end of the year, instead of happily signing divorce papers, we would decide to stick together. I knew better. So why was I surprised that nothing had changed?
I took a few deep breaths and finished changing into my teaching clothes. My normal wardrobe looked and felt like the soft stretchy fabric used in yoga clothes. And technically they were, but I didn’t teach my class in the same clothes I typically wore. Not that the casual observer could tell the difference, but I could. My teaching outfit included a thicker, sturdier pair of yoga pants that could stand up to the added strain of my sizable backside moving around. I also changed into a more supportive sports bra and a T-shirt with the studio logo front and center.
My day-time classes were typically small, with fewer than eight students. This afternoon the studio was full to max capacity. I gave Mr. Sanderson a slight nod when I saw him still hanging around. He had been around these past few months more than I ever could remember him before. While I knew he was present in my life merely to keep tabs on the whole being married to Devin for a year and a day thing, it was nice to have someone actively interested in my life. It must be what it’s like to have a family that cares.
“Hello, and welcome,” I started. “My name is Harleigh, and I teach a slower, modified class. That’s what I will be demonstrating today. This class is for people who have lost flexibility or who aren’t as mobile as we go through the movements. I see that everyone has a towel and a block. Great. We will be using those. This class does go slower because I want a chance to work with everyone on their modifications. Let’s get started.”
I guided the class through the easy movements to get their muscles warm and ease into the gentle stretching, and strength building of my class. We started standing upright with a mountain pose, and then I demonstrated our next pose, tree pose. This one with its one foot lifted caused some wobbling throughout the class.
“You can always place your foot lower against your other leg. Also, don’t be afraid to put your foot back down, and start again.”
I moved among a few students, repeating myself regarding their foot placement, and offering solutions such as balancing against a wall.
“There you go,” I said, as one of the visitors found her balance by sliding her foot almost down to her other ankle.
I tried to ignore the other noises from the lobby area, as people continued to flow in and out of the event, stopping to watch the class, and ask questions. I was doing a fairly decent job of it until I recognized a particularly deep voice.
“I’m not too late am I?’
“No, go right on in. There’s room toward the back.”
This class was already packed. I found myself blushing and biting my lower lip. I didn’t hide my smile when I looked up to see Devin in his gym clothes trying to get into the same pose as everyone around him.
He winked when our gazes locked. I wanted to skip over to him and babble with excitement that he actually came. Instead, I returned to the front of the class and demonstrated the next pose and how to use the block if the reach was too much.
As I made my way through the class helping with individual modifications, I could not keep my gaze from dancing back to where Devin was.
“What are you doing here?” I asked when I finally made my way through the class to him. “I thought you were going to be out of town.”
“I changed my flight. I’m leaving tonight. I decided I didn’t need to have dinner with the supplier the night before their presentation. I needed to come and be supportive of my wife. You were right, it’s only fair that I come to one thing you’ve asked me to when I expect you to attend cocktail parties and other work functions all the time.”
“So what do you think of my little hobby now?” I smirked.
“That was uncalled for when I said that. I underestimated your skillset. You’re doing a great job teaching all these people and giving everyone individualized attention. I’m impressed.”
Those two simple words stunned me. I impressed Devin. I didn’t think anything impressed that man. Just when I thought I had him figured out, he went and did something completely unexpected, and wonderful.
