She had no awareness of his presence, his bare knees only a couple of inches from hers. And she had no sense of time passing. If she had guessed, she would’ve said she’d been sitting in meditation for only a few moments.
“Hey, I have news,” he says. “The Biofuel project rolled out so well in Boston, we’ve been contracted to implement the same model in Portland, Oregon. The CEO wants me to go and oversee it.”
Katie feels her face drop.
“No, don’t be upset. I want you to come with me.” She looks into his eyes, trying to catch up with him, searching for more.
“I love you, Katie. You’re always talking about leaving this place, opening your own studio. Let’s go for it. Portland’s a great city. What do you think?”
His words sit between them like an unwrapped gift, his face bursting with confident anticipation.
“Wait,” she says. “You love me?”
“Yeah,” he says, squeezing both of her hands, his eyes tearing. “I do.”
“I love you, too. And I’m not just saying it back to say it. I have for a while. I’ve just been too scared to go first.”
“Chicken.”
“I know. I’m working on it.”
“So what do you think? You up for this adventure with me?”
Portland, Oregon. She doesn’t know the first thing about it. Maybe Portland is the place she’s been dreaming of, a city where there’s space for her to grow without limitations; where she can live without being judged for dating a black man; where people don’t look at her sideways for eating vegan; where she wouldn’t feel mostly invisible in the capacious shadow of her older sister; where she wouldn’t live under the oppressive and not-so-subtle expectation that she’ll marry a nice Irish boy from Charlestown and raise her many children Catholic; where people have ambitions beyond working in civil service, staying out of jail, raising a family, and getting hammered every weekend at the local bars; where she wouldn’t feel inadequate because she’s not a ballerina, weird because she doesn’t particularly care about Tom Brady or the Bruins, or uppity because her highest aspiration in life isn’t to be Mrs. Flannagan or Mrs. O Apostrophe Whatever; where she wouldn’t feel ashamed of who she is.
Portland, Oregon. The other side of the country. Another world. Her own studio. A man who loves her. This could be her dream, laid out right in front of her for the taking.
Take it.
But what if she has HD and becomes symptomatic, and Felix can’t handle it, and he leaves her, and she’ll be left all alone out there? What if Portland is like Charlestown, and there isn’t enough room for another yoga studio? What if she opens her own studio and it fails? The timing doesn’t feel right. Her dad’s HD is going to get worse. JJ’s, too. They’re going to need her. It would be selfish to leave now. What if Meghan and Patrick are HD positive? What if she is?
Let go of the leash, girl. Don’t ruin your life with thoughts that aren’t real.
Okay, here’s what’s real. She’s a yoga teacher, daughter, and sister. She is sitting across from a brilliant, beautiful man she loves who loves her back. He’s just asked her to move across the country with him. She wants to say yes. She is here now. She is healthy and whole.
And she has a second appointment to keep with Eric Clarkson.
She stares into Felix’s brown, hopeful eyes, so exquisitely gorgeous and naive, and she’s terrified of the change she’s about to see in them. She takes a deep breath and lets it go. She inhales again, and on her next exhale, she holds on to his hands, looks into his eyes, her vulnerable heart facing his, and tells him what’s real.