Lorna felt too vulnerable flat on her back, her eyes closed. Anyone could come right up and kick her and she wouldn’t see them coming. And when the sound started, it startled her almost to a comfortable seated position. She opened one eye to see three people dressed in white using wooden mallets to ring the bowls. She closed that eye and listened to the dozen Tibetan singing bowls of various shapes and sizes reverberating through the room.
After a few minutes, she could feel the sound reverberating in her, just as the instructor had said she would.
She didn’t know how, or at what point, she was able to stop worrying and let herself exist in the moment. But it happened. She concentrated on the vibrations and felt herself grow light of being, like she was floating away from herself. Her mindfilled with images of sun-drenched mountain valleys. Of butterflies and trees and flowers and puppies. She felt drowsy, like she was hovering between sleep and lucidity. It was peaceful. Maybe as peaceful as she’d felt in a long while.
“You are invited to reach deep into the vault of negative thoughts and take hold of one to release. Feel it sliding up and away. When you are ready, release it into the ether,” the instructor whispered, and the Tibetan bowls sang.
Lorna drew a long breath. She took hold of the most prominent negative thought, felt it sliding up and away, floating like a bubble to the top of her head, and when she was ready, she announced to one and all, “I hate myself.” She realized, of course, the moment she said it, that it was not supposed to be said out loud.
“Are you okay, hon?” A cold hand slid onto her arm, and Lorna startled up, clumsily putting herself into a cross-legged position. An older woman next to her smiled kindly.
“I thought... I understood we were to release the thought,” Lorna whispered.
“You were,” the lady confirmed. “But silently.”
Lorna nodded and settled onto her back and closed her eyes again. The bowls continued singing, but the moment was lost for her. She sat up once more on her mat, her mind racing, her mortification climbing up her neck and into her scalp. Did she really hate herself? The thought had come from somewhere so deep that it had seemed like more than an occasional annoyance. It startled her. Unnerved her. She didn’t want to hate herself. She wanted to like herself. Because if she didn’t, what was the point to anything? What was she trying to save herself for?
When Montreal came for her, he cocked his head to one side and looked her up and down. “You look... different.”
“Really? Maybe because I just made a fool of myself.”
“No, you look as if the sound bath was relaxing. Was it?”
“Not exactly. I followed instructions and let myself go in the moment and caused a stir.”
Montreal smiled. “Interesting.”
Lorna snorted. “I’ll say.”
“You’re definitely leaning into those yoga pants, girl.”
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Oh, Lorna,” Montreal said with a grin. “You should know by now that hope is always sky-high around here.”
Chapter 16Lorna Now
Bean was not his usual cheerful self when he arrived home from school that afternoon. He dragged in through the door looking like someone had kicked his puppy. He went down on his knees and wrapped his arms around Aggie, burying his face in her fur. It alarmed Lorna.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look terrible. Are you sick?”
Bean shook his head. “I just remembered today that my best friend Diego is moving.”
She’d forgotten too. “That really sucks, Bean.”
“It feels like someone stabbed me in the stomach,” he said, and enacted the motion, then fell over onto his back, arms spread wide in death. “I forget sometimes, but then I remember. I don’t want him to move. I won’t have any friends then.”
“Of course you will. I’m your friend and Aggie is your friend.”
“Yeah, but I mean at school.”
Lorna was still clad in her yoga pants and came almost effortlessly to sit beside him on the floor. Cross-legged, of course. “The cool thing about that is you get to make new friends.”
Bean sat up, idly stroking Aggie. “Did you make new friends?”
The memory of that year without Callie hit her hard. “Well... I was a bit older, and, um...” She didn’t know how to explain tothis kid that making new friends when you were sure everyone was talking about you, and if not you, your addict sister, was harder than it looked. “Hey, wanna make some cupcakes?” she asked.
Bean brightened. “Yes!” He pounced on his backpack and withdrew his notebook for his field notes.
