Page 8 of Sort of Seeing Someone

“Nah-Imma-stay away from those freaks,” Yas riffs. “And let me tell you, I do not miss that corporate bullshit. Not for one second. In fact, I better get my booty into that room if I want my spot.”

Yas always lays her mat third from the right, second row. I’m surprised that she hasn’t resorted to taping off her section of the floor, she’s so particular about where she practices.

“Get it, girl,” I say as I stick out my hand to give her a high five.

When our palms connect, the sharp pain returns. It begins at the top of my head and splinters down both sides to my ears, resulting in a ringing sensation that nearly knocks me off my feet.

“Agh!” I involuntarily exclaim as I close my eyes and clamp down on Yasmin’s hand like I’m breathing through a contraction.

This time, the pain is accompanied by a vision. A vision of Yasmin. A vision of Yasmin laying on her mat in her usual spot. A vision of Yasmin laying on her mat in her usual spot and then all of a sudden…I let go of Yas’ hand and the vision stops, like I pressed the off button on the remote control.

“Okay. You’re officially scaring me,” she says as I open my eyes. “Do you think you’re having a stroke? Because peppermint oil won’t cut it if so. Even I can admit that.”

“I’m fine,” I reassure her. She doesn’t believe me. “Honestly, I’mfine.” I double down.

Yas cocks her head at me, not quite confident that I’ve got my mine on straight. I flick my wrists at her as if to shoo her into the classroom; I don’t want her to miss out on her spot because she was tending to my weird, fleeting headache.

As more and more people file in, I manage to get all fifteen attendees checked in with just a few clicks of a mouse and with five minutes to spare. With the rush out of the way, I think back on the vision I had of Yas in the room. What was I going to see happen to her if the vision didn’t just abruptly end the way it did? I want to say nothing and let this bizarre moment live in the past, but the inexplicable head pain drudged up a general feeling of doom and I can’t shake my sense of worry about her safety.

I think about the last time I was in the studio doing my routine cleaning. Did I notice anything off? What could go wrong? When I really think hard about the makeup of the room, it dawns on me. I shoot up from my chair and beeline it to the classroom. I push the door open so hard it flies back on the spring just as fast and slams behind me.

“Yas, you have to move,” I say, interrupting her from an eyes-closed meditative state. My voice, definitelynotat a yoga whisper.

“I’m not moving. This is my spot. You know that, Moonie.”

My heart starts palpitating like I’m driving a hundred miles an hour on the freeway.

“No, for real. You have to move. Like, right now.”

“What? Why?” Yas sits up—there’s an irritation in her voice.

“Just, please, get out of the way now!”

Finally, I resort to grabbing her arm and yanking her off her mat. We make it about three feet away before the ceiling tile above her crashes down, breaking into several pieces on the floor. Those in the room gasp and a few even scream.

“Is everyone okay?” I ask the room as I run to grab a broom we keep in the corner. No one really answers me.

I can’t help but think about the visiting yogis who are here for their team-building event. Their relaxing hour of Vinyasa has started off more like…slightly terrifying. Maybe if I sweep fast enough, I can restore some order—or at least prevent a full refund.

“Need a hand there?” one of the newbs asks. His European accent is almost as distracting as the fact that the ceiling just fell down.

“No, no,” I say. “I’ve got it. Let me just sweep up and then class can resume.”

“No it can’t,” he says.

“Why not? It’s just a little…debris.”

“Well, for one, I just heard the instructor say, ‘Fuck this,’ under her breath before grabbing her things and leaving,” he says.

At that, I look to the front of the room and notice the teacherisin fact gone. Great.

“And for another, that’s a sign of a serious structural issue.”

Without having to ask, the man has inadvertently identified himself as a member of the engineer group.

“It’s just a little water damage. I’ve seen this in my mom’s condo before.”

“Youwishit was water damage.”

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