Shuffle off to Buffalo - 7. Prompt 7 - Guilty

Prompt 7 – Guilty

Calvin pulled his mail out of the box and abstractedly sifted through it. There were the usual bills, gas, credit card, and a Neiman Marcus catalog. There were also a couple of advertisement packages; a penny saver and a Ruth McNally Buck Buster. The last piece of mail grabbed his interest. It was for a new yoga studio down the street.

He’d been thinking about joining a gym of some kind, but it was always a bit too daunting. Calvin was never the athletic sort. He was last picked except for dodgeball. For some reason, he had been amazing at that sport as a kid. Even though he was a bit roly-poly and not too coordinated, when the ball came whizzing at him, he could skirt out of the way at the last second.

He’d even won a couple of times.

But not at any other sport. He was terrible at basketball, accidently kicking the ball or bouncing it into the arms of the other team. Calvin couldn’t hit a flying softball or baseball to save his life. Football was an exercise in futility. His feet tangled up and he’d plummet to the ground, the oval pigskin squirting from his fingers.

No team sports had never been his thing, but perhaps something like yoga would work for him. Yoga could be done in a class with other people or alone. Yoga didn’t require catching or throwing a ball or hitting it or running with it or, well, any real fast display of physical prowess. Yoga was slow, deliberate, and though he wasn’t exactly limber, perhaps it would make him more so.

Besides, and this he hardly entertained the thought, it would be a great way to meet people. He was a bit lonely in this new city and hadn’t met people outside work. They were okay, but not exactly the chummy sort.

He noted the yoga class was held at a storefront near a local lake where he liked to walk. The cost wasn’t too high and the requirements minimal. Calvin made a short list in his phone. Soon he was off and purchasing a mat, compression shorts, some yoga pants, a loose-neck shirt, and a stretchy cord that the helpful clerk suggested would be useful.

Calvin was hopeful, determined, but beneath it all, scared to death.

***

“Okay, let’s move from easy pose to the tree pose. Really open yourself up and feel the sky’s energy flow into and through you,” the tall, willowy woman announced. Her bearing and attitude were inspiring, and Calvin was getting more excited. Shandra looked like a yoga instructor should, he thought.

She suggested starting off with some basic stretches, which he found easy enough to accomplish, so when the did the easy pose or Shuka-something, he just sat cross-legged on his mat feeling rather pleased with himself.

The tree pose didn’t look too hard, so he raised his arms and lifted his leg placing it on a block of wood. Calvin felt a bit off kilter, but nothing too uncomfortable.

“Breathe into the pose, and capture your inner strength,” Shandra called out, her eyes danced from student to student, looking pleased until her head paused at Calvin. “Breathe deeply and relax.”

Calvin did so, smiling.

“Okay, now do the cobra pose,” she called out, going down on her stomach. As the man followed, he could feel his body become looser, more limber.

After stretching upwards and ‘toward the heavens’, as Shandra suggested, then moved back to easy pose and breathed in deeply. This was going quite well, Calvin thought.

“Okay, now let’s move into child’s pose and get ready to open up your inner self,” Shandra was so graceful. Her shoulders rounded and forehead pointed downward. Calvin relaxed into the position.

“Now,” she called out, moving in a series of fluid, quick motions, “Assume the Downward Dog position, and stretch those leg and back muscles. Open up to the universe and let the stress flow out.”

Calvin arched his back, scrambling his feet for purchase, lifted upwards, and as his rear end jutted into the air, he heard a frightening sound. A terrifying rip. He felt a rush of cool air on his butt as his new yoga pants tore across the seam and split wide open.

In a frantic attempt to save face, Calvin began to lower his hips, by which he lost control. His guts constricted from his growing embarrassment and from his ass; he broke wind.

No, he farted, a huge fart, noisy like a trumpet. It rang throughout the quiet classroom. Every eye in the place looked over at him. Shandra was looking at him in horror, at first, and then in pity.

Mortified, Calvin collapsed on the mat. He grabbed his bag, his stretch thingy, his mat, and he scurried from the room into the antechamber of the storefront. He paused to catch his breath, and Calvin began stuffing his things in the tote, about to head for his car.

“It happens to us all,” a voice said behind him. It was a tall, smiling, dark-haired man, a man-bun tied to the crown of his head. He was wearing yoga clothes and they clung in all the right places.

“We’ve all experienced the relief of a good, loud, bout of flatulence.” His eyes were twinkling and he had a wry grin, but for some reason, Calvin didn’t think it was mocking. Instead, the man seemed amused by the world, and not him in particular.

“You should have heard me the first time I did a squat with weights,” the man continued. “I ripped one so loud I thought the windows rattled.”

Calvin snorted, and covered his mouth. He could just picture this handsome, swarthy man beginning to squat and honking like a Canadian goose.

Calvin started to laugh. “That’s better,” the man said. “I’m Mahmoud,” he said, offering his hand.

“Were you in the class right now?” Calvin asked, still snickering.

“I was watching. I haven’t tried yoga yet, and wanted to see what it was all about.” The man’s perfectly white teeth shone in the low-lighted entryway. “I work out next door at Jeremy’s Gym.”

“You’d probably have no problems with yoga,” Calvin said, suddenly feeling the cool breeze on his split pants and his embarrassment returned.

“I’m not very coordinated,” Mahmoud said. “I jog and lift weights by myself, but I’m no athlete.”

“Me neither,” Calvin admitted.

“I noticed,” Mahmoud nodded, but his smile seemed genuine.

“Well, I’m going home and forgetting about this experience. You could take my place if you want. I’m not going back in there,” Calvin said, pointing to the classroom.

“Naw, I don’t think it’s for me.” Mahmoud was suddenly very shy and withdrawn. His eyes wouldn’t meet Calvin’s and he kicked at some imaginary dust. He brightened and then asked, “Maybe we could get a juice or coffee?”

“What?” Calvin said. “My pants are split. I have to go home.”

“Your shirt covers it. Come on, join me at the snack bar,” Mahoud begged, pointing at the small kiosk with tables grouped around it. “Nobody will notice your torn pants.”

“Um,” Calvin said, looking at the sheepish Mahmoud. “I guess a cup of tea would be nice.”

The man brightened. “Awesome.” He touched Calvin’s shoulder and nodded towards the coffee bar. “I knew you’d be a good sport.”

“Knew I’d what?”

“Nothing,” Mahmoud said, shaking his head. “Forget I said that.”

Calvin began walking behind the other man, but then stopped and said, “Were you watching me?”

The swarthy man turned and blushed. “Guilty.”