Another Door Opens

43 - Yogi Mother's Group

"My pleasure,” I said with a smile, glad that I could have been of help to her.

“You okay if I hang here for a bit with you? My next appointment isn’t for another hour and I can’t be bothered going home beforehand just to then need to leave again.”

I laughed at how unenergetic she seems to be. Her body is definitely winding down into late pregnancy mode these days. “What is it today? Breastfeeding classes?”

She looked at me flatly, as if she wanted to flick me in the forehead. "If you tease me for what I'm about to say, I'll make sure Heath fucks up your hair during your next cut," Luna threatened, which had me both terrified and intrigued as hell and I nodded my promise not to laugh at her. "I've joined a prenatal yoga mother's group," she said, though it looked like saying the words aloud was somewhat torturous for her. "None of my close friends have kids and I wanted to make sure I was still practising regularly and ensuring I wasn't about to make this hideous back pain any worse by not flowing properly during the later stages of my pregnancy."

Despite my promise, I laughed at her embarrassment; but as a personal trainer and remembering the units I had to study on pregnancy and exercise, she's done the right thing by connecting with others and actually having a proper instructor to guide her. 

"Genuinely no teasing. Only laughing at how uncomfortable you find the idea of being in a mother's group who come together to practise yoga. You're about as Byron cliché as they come, my friend."

"I know, and I loathe it. I haven't even told Wolfe yet for fear of him never relenting in his teasing, and you are sworn to secrecy."

"Well, no real teasing from me on the matter of your health and wellness. It's the smart and safe move to be making connections with people going through the same thing as you and having proper guidance in your practice at this stage."

She cocked her eyebrow at me like she didn't believe I actually agreed with her. "Thanks, Miles," she said apprehensively, as if waiting for the punchline. She's practically setting me up to tease her.

"So, what does a person do following Yogi Mother's Group? Shopping for reusable natural hemp nappies? Knitting organic, alpaca wool baby booties?" I joked, unable to help myself. Teasing Luna is just so much fun because she's so reactive.

She just stared at me with disdain. 

"No? Was it crochet, not knit? Macrame? A bamboo and coconut fibre blend, not alpaca wool?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Bamboo and coconut blend? How do you even know what macrame is? Dude, you're more Byron cliché than I am. I'll have you know I’m fine with just natural cotton nappies and acrylic wool," Luna joked, or at least I think she's joking. I can't quite tell. "Blanket though, not booties. That's a bit outside of my level of expertise."

While she can easily take a person out with her contemptuous glares, she's also as soft as butter and will make some kid an excellent mother.

"Good for you, Luna," I said sincerely. "And after your class? What else is on?"

Her expression shifted slightly with her reply. "I need to make a dessert of some kind to bring to Eden's house. We're finally meeting her new boyfriend for the first time tonight."

Well, fuck. She must be pretty sweet on this guy to be introducing him to her friends, though I do find it interesting that they’ve been dating for at least a couple months now and she’s only just introducing him to her most important people.

‘“Oh, that should be fun?” I finally said, pushing through my own disappointment to refocus back on my present conversation with Luna. 

“It’ll be something,” Luna said quietly, not seeming as excited as I’d have thought she would be given she’s meeting someone her best friend seems to genuinely care about.

“Not feeling it?” I asked, not necessarily because I wanted to know the answer but because I could tell my friend was perturbed by it.

Luna sighed defeatedly. “I don’t know that I have the energy to be the mediator between Eden and Wolfe tonight. He hates him. Like, seriously intense loathing, and I don’t understand it any more than Eden does, especially seeing as he hasn’t even met him yet.”

“Yeah, I’ve been getting the impression that he’s not keen. Poor Eden,” I said, which made Luna laugh.

“Poor me, Miles! I’m the one that has to cop it on a daily basis,” she said jokingly. Or at least I think she was joking.

And because this day really couldn’t get any worse, I decided to drop in to Tate’s on my way home and see whether we could hash this shit out, because I really don’t want this hanging over my head if it doesn't have to be.

"I'm sorry," I said, standing on her front porch after she had opened the door and not really giving her a chance to talk before I jumped straight into it.

"I thought you knew where I stood, but I guess I could have made it clearer, especially when I started to notice things had changed for you. But I have no regrets, because it was a fun time, every time, and maybe we were just both a little naive about it not impacting our friendship. A good friendship I don't want to lose, and I'm sorry for everything I did that put it at risk."

She stared at me a while, her eyebrows drawn together in deep thinking about everything I'd said, and perhaps wondering how to respond. Eventually, she sighed and her body finally relaxed in acceptance of my apology.

"I'm sorry, too," Tate said, resigned. "I was wrong before when I blamed how shit I've been feeling on you and saying that you led me to believe we could be something more. You didn’t. I know that. I think I was just looking for something---or someone---to blame after my session today, which was a rough one and brought up a whole lot of childhood shit, and you were the safest target."

"Safest target?" I asked, not really sure I understand her trail of thought and how I ended up being the scapegoat in this scenario.

"You and me, we've always been solid. You’re probably the only man throughout my whole life that I can say that about and genuinely mean it, I wasn't prepared for that changing,” Tate said, leaning against the doorframe defeatedly. “I trust you, Miles. Always have. I knew you weren't going to fly off the rails and give me the argument I was idiotically thinking I needed in that moment of vulnerability."

"Girl, that makes no sense," I said, laughing and shaking my head at her weird, incoherent reasoning, but grateful that she's at least speaking to me again.

"Miles, I'm a headcase. You've known this for well over a decade and a half now. Don't try to make sense of it. Just know I'm sorry too, and I should have known I wasn't able to make it work, and it wasn't fair of me to blame you when it didn't."

"So, mates?" I said with a less-than-energetic shrug, not because I wasn't enthusiastic about finally making things right either Tate, but because of all the other shit swimming round in my brain right now.

"Mates," Tate agreed, looking at me curiously. "So long as you tell me what else is wrong."

This is why I love her. She knows me, and usually doesn't beat around the bush with anything, unrequited-crush-emerging-from-misguided-friends-with-benefits-arrangement notwithstanding. 

"Why do you think there's something wrong?" I asked.

"We've known each other half our lives. I know when you're stressed. Talk to me," she implored, seeming sincere in her wish to hear what was bothering me.

"You're not going to like it," I warned, knowing this probably won't be a conversation she wants to hear. 

She chuckled darkly in knowing. "If we want to be mates, then let's be mates. Something's clearly bothering you. Mates talk about what's bothering them and I've been forewarned. Hell, I dropped enough money on therapy over the last few months to emotionally brace myself for you telling me you're in love with someone else. There isn't much that you get truly worked up over, so I’m putting my money on that being what this is about."

I raised an eyebrow at her, wondering firstly whether she’s a psychic, and secondly if she was being serious, and she just laughed sadistically, accepting and adapting to this friends-only reality of us moving forward and not convincing me she doesn’t have supernatural powers of telepathy.

"So,” Tate said, growing impatient. “Come on, who is she?"