Page 30 of Class Act

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I sat back against the seat and tried not to cry out at the way she was taking corners and gunning it off stoplights. Her driving fit her mood this morning. It only took a few minutes to get to a park that she deemed worthy, which most likely meant empty. This wasn’t something hard to come by at 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday in cold temperatures. She cut the engine and shoved open her door, so I followed suit. Maybe she’d talk to me during the exercise portion of our morning adventure.

“What’s that?” I asked her when she stood from getting her things out of the backseat. “It looks like a foam mattress camping pad.”

She held up the three-inch-thick piece of yellow foam and gave me a look. “It’s what I had.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “It’s not really going to be useful for yoga.”

Her own lips pinched. “It’ll be a lot more comfortable than that towel you’ve got.”

I looked down at my plastic mat and then back to her. “What kind of towels are you using at your house? Mine are a little less plastic.”

“Shut up and follow me.”

She started walking, creating a hilarious picture as she schlepped a six-foot-tall foam pad across the dewy grass towards a pavilion that housed two picnic tables. It was then that I noticed more fully what she was wearing--a knit cap, puffy coat, mittens and sweatpants with boots. What on earth was she going for here? This was not yoga, but it was going to be entertaining.

She entered the pavilion and leaned her gigantic pad up against one pillar while going to shove the picnic tables to the side. “Come help me,” she grunted.

I set my nicely rolled mat next to her mattress and went to help. “When is the last time you did yoga?”

“In college,” she replied as she shoved the table. It squealed in protest, but we were able to get it moving.

“That’s quite a while ago.”

“That’s because I don’t like yoga.”

Yep. I knew that. In fact, I’d mentioned that earlier, but, yeah. “I think we have enough space now.”

She put her hands on her hips and nodded. “Good. Shall we?” She moved to where her mattress was and hefted it to the now open space. “You’re going to have to lead, and I’ll do what you do.”

I nodded and situated my much smaller, much more plastic pad next to hers. “We’ll start with a simple warm up.”

“Nope. Let’s get right to it. I want to sweat out all this negativity.”

I guided her through a few simple moves, and she did her best to keep up, but she kept falling off balance on account of her mattress not supporting her without giving way. Her boots were too heavy to hold her legs in the right position, and her knit cap kept falling over her eyes. Before too long I was the only one doing yoga, and she was lying on her mattress, looking at the ceiling of the pavilion while I exercised.

“I never thought I’d turn into a shrew,” she said thoughtfully, clasping her gloved hands against her stomach. “I don’t actually like being seen as evil.”

“I don’t think anyone sees you as evil,” I replied, holding a pose.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Maybe a little fierce.”

“Brooks VanOrman called me ‘bitter’ last night and accused me of attending the HOA meetings with no other purpose than to antagonize him and slow down the democratic process.” Her voice was tight, and I was able to hear what she wasn’t saying. The words had hurt. “All I did was ask why they were voting on a rule that would require people to carry their pets when in the common areas. Carry their pets. No walking your dog or letting your cat meander around if you’re in a public space.”

I blinked a few times and transitioned into another pose. Once I was centered in it, I asked for clarification. “I don’t understand. You can’t let your pets walk on grass?”

“Yeah. In the parks or common areas, like the community clubhouse lawn or playground areas. If someone has a pet, they have to lift them off the ground and carry them until they’re off the grass.”

“Why?”

“To, and I quote, ‘preserve the integrity of the grounds.’” She scoffed. “It’s insane.”

“And Brooks VanOrman agreed with this policy?”

I glanced her way when she didn’t answer and saw her shrug. “I don’t know where he stands on it. I simply know that he called for a vote, and when I objected he accused me of being a stumbling block in the process.”

“What did you say when you objected?”

---