Page 11 of Changed By You
“Nope, I’m good.”
“You can’t grow if you don’t try.”
“I don’t want to grow.”
Alice’s cheekiness makes me smile. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be here. I bet Farrah makes her come. But I guess if Farrah wants part of Alice’s workday to include yoga and meditation, that’s between them.
“Let’s challenge ourselves with handstand scorpion,” Farrah says, bringing her feet back down to the ground.
Alice drops her knees to the sand, keeping the front of her body in the plank position.
“Al, at least try!” Farrah scolds.
“Nope. I’ll injure myself.”
“I can guide you.”
Alice rolls her eyes. “That position is insane. I’m not doing it.”
Farrah sighs. “Fine. But this one really helps keep you limbered up for...activities.”
Her tone is mischievous. As JP and I watch, she gets into downward dog, moves her shoulders over her legs and lifts her legs--together--from the sand. It takes some time for her to stay balanced enough to get into a handstand position, but with her forearms flat on the ground. Then, she keeps moving her legs slowly until they’re curved. She lowers her toes until they touch her hair.
“Holy...” JP murmurs.
He’s right. It’s fucking crazy. Farrah is trying to prove she can bend in any direction, and I think we know why. She looks like a Cirque do Soleil performer, her gaze serene.
“I’m not trying that,” I say. “No way, man.”
“Yeah, I’m out, too,” JP says.
Farrah holds the pose, showing off at this point. Finally, she kicks her legs back into a handstand and lets them fall back to the ground.
“You’re a dancer,” JP says, a note of admiration in his tone.
She grins, clearly pleased. “I was a long time ago. Should we try sleeping yogi?”
Sleepingyogi turned out to be ridiculous, too, unless you have a body without bones. By the time Farrah finishes the yoga session, we’re all sweating heavily. It’s not only the exertion but also the humidity.
“Let’s take a quick break before the workout,” Farrah says.
We walk up to the beach house, all of us taking a seat at a patio table.
“I could go for a swim.” I eye the pool, an enormous rectangle shape with rocks, a waterfall and two hot tubs.
“Ugh, the chlorine would ruin my hair,” Farrah says.
She looks over at Alice. “Can I get lavender water? And I’m craving cantaloupe. But only if it’s super ripe.”
“Sure.”
I lower my brows, watching as Alice gets up from her chair. Did Farrah just ask Alice to fetch her a water, like Alice is a dog?
“I’ll grab you a water,” I offer, getting up.
Farrah waves a hand. “No, let Alice do it. She knows how I like it.”
I remember the bag of Voss water Alice was carrying, and the lemons and lavender. Surely Farrah isn’t this much of a diva.
