“Any chance of a glass of wine?” Jameson asks.
“No, sir.”
“Not even the organic vegan shitty type?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s fine, thank you.” I cut them off.
The waiter leaves us alone and Jameson exhales. “You know, when I met you on the plane and you guessed that I was married to a vegan yoga nut, you failed to mention that you planned on turning into her.” He sits back in his chair. “Was this your strategic plan all along?”
I smile softly and take his hand over the table. “I love you.” I lift his hand and kiss the back of it. “So much.”
He gives me a stifled smile. “You better.”
My heart swells, he doesn’t hate me after all.
“Yoga starts tomorrow,” I reply.
“Oh goody, I can’t wait,” he mutters dryly.
We eat our dinner and just as promised, it’s beautiful. The fresh fruit for dessert is divine.
“I’m so sleepy from my massage,” I say with a stretch. “How do you feel?”
“Slimy.”
“What?” I frown.
“That oil bath is up in my regions; I’ve got slimy ass cheeks, I’m about to slip off this chair.”
I burst out laughing and so does he.
Tomorrow is a new day.
I wake with a start, alone in bed.
The light filtering through the windows tells me it’s early, but where is Jameson?
I climb out of bed and walk out of the bedroom to see him on the front veranda.
I watch him for a moment, wearing his all whites, he walks up and then he walks back. He walks up and then back.
Pacing, like a caged animal.
“Good morning,” I say as I walk out through the door.
“Hi.” His hands are on his hips and he’s completely distracted.
“What’s wrong?”
“They took my things; I don’t have my runners.”
“Oh.” I drop to sit on the steps. “You missed your run?”
He walks up and then he walks back.
“What time do you reckon it is?” he asks.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it fucking matters. I don’t have time to just hang around here all fucking day and do nothing.”
“There’s lots of fucking in that sentence.”
“Don’t start.”
Jeez.
He walks up and then he walks back, he walks up and then he walks back.
What the hell? Why is he so wound up?
“Good morning,” a voice calls, we look up to see a big burly man in the white uniform. “I’m Jarden, I’m here for your stretch class.” He has a yoga mat under his arm.
Jameson narrows his eyes. “The what?”
“We start our day with breath work and stretching.”
“For the love of god.” Jameson sighs. “Make it stop.”
I roll my lips to hide my smile. “He can go first.” I stand, I have to let them take over, Jameson is obviously having some kind of episode here. I walk back inside and peer through the curtains to secretly watch.
Jarden rolls out the mat onto the sand. “Lie down on your stomach.”
“What do you mean?”
“On your stomach.”
Jameson lies down on his stomach and Jarden begins to rub his back, he puts his hands in his hair and begins to massage his scalp, Jameson swats his hand away. “My scalp doesn’t need stretching, you fool.”
I put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing out loud.
Honestly.
He steps over Jameson so that he has one foot either side of his body and grabs his two arms and pulls them. “Ahh,” Jameson complains.
Jarden puts his foot between Jameson’s shoulder blades and really begins to pull his arms back.
“The fuck are you doing?” Jameson cries. “Arms don’t bend that way, I’m not a contortionist.
I watch on as they go through the moves and then Jarden instructs him to roll over onto his back. He picks up Jameson’s feet and brings them up over his shoulders until his toes touch the ground.
“Ahhh,” Jameson cries. “Are you trying to break me in fucking half?”
I do burst out laughing this time, I wish I had my phone so I could take a photo.
As they go through the moves, Jameson fights Jarden at every turn.
Until eventually it becomes too painful to watch, I’m taking a shower.
Jameson
Day three in hell.
I pace back and forth, unable to sit still. I’ve had healing sessions, I’ve had acupuncture, massages every day. Attempted yoga, had the shit stretched out of me every morning at the crack of dawn, I’ve had meditation…well, I judged the idiots who meditated. Not a drop of alcohol and I have a splitting fucking headache from caffeine and protein withdrawal.
You name it, I’ve done it.
And how do I feel?
Anxious, irritable, perspiring like a pig, and fuck this.
I’m a million times more wound up here than I ever have been at home.
I just need to leave.
“Jay, you’ve got another healing session,” Emily reminds me.
“I’m not going.” I shake my head, defeated. “I can’t do this, Em.”
“I know this is hard.”
“I just…I need to leave, babe. I’ve never felt so unhinged.”
Her eyes search mine as she cups my face in her hand. “I’m really enjoying it.”
“You stay.” I pull her into a hug. “I just can’t… I’m leaving. I’ll wait for you in another hotel.”
“You’re detoxing.” A voice sounds from behind us.
We turn to see Master Chakrii.
“Your mind doesn’t know what to do,” he says calmly.
Jameson frowns.
“Coming off adrenaline is like coming off heroin. You are effectively a drug addict whose body is addicted to stress. As your mind declutters, your body goes into a panic, unsure of what to do.”
My jaw clenches as I stare at the master.
“You’re nearly through the worst of it, don’t give up now, you’ve come so far.”
“This isn’t working,” I reply softly.
I’ve never felt so defeated.
“It is, I promise you. Your body is purging pent-up stress. If you leave before you have gone through the process you will be right back where you left off.”
“How long do you think it will it take?” Emily asks.
“Another week.”
“A week?” I gasp. “I’ll be dead in another week here.”
Chakrii puts his hand on my shoulder. “Trust me, my friend. Trust the process. You need to stop fighting against it.”
Unexpected emotion fills my every cell and I get a lump in my throat; I know I need to get a handle on the way I live.
Emily deserves more than having a workaholic stressed-out husband, and I would give anything to be that for her…but this…my eyes flick between the two of them.
“Jay,” Emily says softly as she takes my hands in hers. “You can do this, baby, I know you can. We can do it together.”
I close my eyes; the truth is, I really don’t think I can.
I’m letting her down.
“I don’t know how to stop my mind,” I whisper.
“Then you learn,” Chakrii says. “You take it minute by minute, hour by hour.”