“Careful on the steps love”
Robert stumbled up the stone steps leading into the church hall, gripping the handrail with white knuckles.
“Robert!”
He looked up at the exclamation of his name and tried to focus on its source.
“It’s Natasha. Remember? Your yoga teacher” Sally smiled as though she’d given him a gift, anticipating gratitude and then remembering those days were long gone. Slowly he deciphered the name and allocated it to a yoga teacher. The recognition made him smile at his achievement. He skipped up the remaining steps and strode into the hall leaving his wife behind, chatting with Natasha trying to calculate how much of a burden she was enlisting, to be met by incomprehensible reassurance that Robert was no more incumbrance than any other student.
He found his usual mat in his usual place, ignoring the chatter from the young women in bright yoga pants and lycra tops. He was in his normal jogging bottoms and cotton t-shirt.
They began with meditation and a warm-up before more strenuous poses that stretched the sinews, muscles and joints. Robert was rock solid with his downward dog, tree and cobra poses whilst others around him flinched or wobbled. He fixed his gaze on an invisible object, his body flowing to his favourite jazz rhythm he had only ever heard in this class, dancing between poses.
Keywords made him react instinctively. She read every inflexion in his eyes and provided a remedy for any lapse in recall. For now, at least. There were years of practice between them. He’d been that other person once. It was something to hold on to as painful as it was.
He reciprocated the warrior pose; she demonstrated directly in front of him. He was a strong combatant, his spine vertical, his body alert.
A light encouraging brush of her hand on his shoulder triggered rare words: “I love you”
His gaze was so focused ahead she thought she’d imagined it.
“I know.” She felt so weak.
She finished with a challenge; a headstand. He’d always required a nearby wall or Natasha to hold his legs stable. He watched intently as she showed a way of achieving it. Before long, the class was all ill-disciplined limbs, flailing and falling. But Roberts’ face lit up. He did a handstand with his back against the wall, then turned a hundred and eighty degrees, shoulders straining as he lowered his head to the mat. First one leg and then the other left the wall and he stood vertical, toes in the air as though his arms had become deep roots entrenched in the earth.
It tore the breath from her lungs. “Old dog, new tricks, you trooper “she muttered
After class, his memory returned to liquid. Sally seemed a less substantial person than before. He looked at both faces to see which one was taking him home and seemed disappointed with the outcome.
She watched Natasha covertly brush away a tear, slowly turn and go back inside.
Robert stumbled up the stone steps leading into the church hall, gripping the handrail with white knuckles.
“Robert!”
He looked up at the exclamation of his name and tried to focus on its source.
“It’s Natasha. Remember? Your yoga teacher” Sally smiled as though she’d given him a gift, anticipating gratitude and then remembering those days were long gone. Slowly he deciphered the name and allocated it to a yoga teacher. The recognition made him smile at his achievement. He skipped up the remaining steps and strode into the hall leaving his wife behind, chatting with Natasha trying to calculate how much of a burden she was enlisting, to be met by incomprehensible reassurance that Robert was no more incumbrance than any other student.
He found his usual mat in his usual place, ignoring the chatter from the young women in bright yoga pants and lycra tops. He was in his normal jogging bottoms and cotton t-shirt.
They began with meditation and a warm-up before more strenuous poses that stretched the sinews, muscles and joints. Robert was rock solid with his downward dog, tree and cobra poses whilst others around him flinched or wobbled. He fixed his gaze on an invisible object, his body flowing to his favourite jazz rhythm he had only ever heard in this class, dancing between poses.
Keywords made him react instinctively. She read every inflexion in his eyes and provided a remedy for any lapse in recall. For now, at least. There were years of practice between them. He’d been that other person once. It was something to hold on to as painful as it was.
He reciprocated the warrior pose; she demonstrated directly in front of him. He was a strong combatant, his spine vertical, his body alert.
A light encouraging brush of her hand on his shoulder triggered rare words: “I love you”
His gaze was so focused ahead she thought she’d imagined it.
“I know.” She felt so weak.
She finished with a challenge; a headstand. He’d always required a nearby wall or Natasha to hold his legs stable. He watched intently as she showed a way of achieving it. Before long, the class was all ill-disciplined limbs, flailing and falling. But Roberts’ face lit up. He did a handstand with his back against the wall, then turned a hundred and eighty degrees, shoulders straining as he lowered his head to the mat. First one leg and then the other left the wall and he stood vertical, toes in the air as though his arms had become deep roots entrenched in the earth.
It tore the breath from her lungs. “Old dog, new tricks, you trooper “she muttered
After class, his memory returned to liquid. Sally seemed a less substantial person than before. He looked at both faces to see which one was taking him home and seemed disappointed with the outcome.
She watched Natasha covertly brush away a tear, slowly turn and go back inside.
