I Never Liked Lemonade

by Ashlynn Strider

(I have no idea what to title this yet, sorry)

The warm, morning sun coats the room as time ticks lazily by.

Everyone here is either relaxing or working on some part of their body that needs strengthening. The trainers are nice and easygoing as they teach their clients new techniques and the yoga instructor draws out every word softly and quietly to create a pseudo calm environment. There is a small waterfall fountain next to a mural of a peaceful body of water resting underneath a sunset that would make Thomas Kinkade proud. In the back corner with the rest of the yoga participants quietly breathing away their troubles you can hear the faint melody of The Offsprings, youre gonna go far kid.

Every time the instructor says another word I slowly breathe in and out. every unspoken swear word I can think of. What part of my personal survey indicated that I would like yoga as a way to relax? I say to myself trying again to think of ways to get out of another class. Its the last one so just get it over with. Al, Allison as her parents called her when she was in trouble, sat there with the other cancer patients doing relaxing stretches and only half listening to the instructors guided imagery story; something about a snow covered cabin. She didnt like the cold; she loved the snow but just couldnt handle the cold like she use to. This is thanks to her new friend and live in roommate; cancer. Her surgery was tomorrow, the big one, but that did mean these slow death yoga classes would end so apparently every cloud does have a silver lining.

Although it was a fitness room for hospital patients it actually was somewhat welcoming. There arent any big machines or hospital beds just exercise equipment and massage tables. A massage sounds great right now but of course I get the cancer that hurts when when someone touches me too hard. Stupid bone cancer. I say under my breath as the yoga instructor goes into another location. Now we are at a beach. I knew we would get there eventually. You say something? Jeff asks. He is the only, and I mean only, person I talk to here. Not to be self-centered but I do have my own cancer to worry about and I dont really want others to pile on theirs. Jeff doesnt talk about his side effects though. Maybe because he doesnt want to talk about it or he knows people have their own problems or whatever the reason, he does not emit self-pity I like that.

Stupid cancer. I say just loud enough for him to hear. Apparently there is no sickness allowed at the beach or the cabin or wherever we are now.

"Stupid cancer. He smiles and raises a pretend glass in salute and I do the same.

Getting up from my spot on the floor after an hour is harder than it seems when you are sick. Sick, being an understatement. I walk over to the corner that has the colorful stretchy rope things and grab one to begin my exercises. This part I actually like doing, moving in a way that doesnt cause more pain and actually helps calm my nerves. I skip to the next song on my stick it to the man playlist as I call it, Eye of the Tiger is always appropriate when you want to conquer something. Although sometimes playing it around here has the opposite effect and reminds me what I wont be able to do anymore. Plus it is kind of tired and used in movies and books too much. Next song, Cherry Bomb much better.

Setting up to do arm stretches I see the door leading outside open and a man walk through. Man is the only descriptive word that is coming to my mind right now because this man is so attractive it almost seems unnecessary. I would say plastic surgery but I want to be hopeful. Blackish brown short cut hair, blue eyes, medium skin color, and stubble that doesnt look like he has a hangover or a slob. Yep, my every turn on. I havent even looked below his neck bingo; muscles that dare you not to be impressed. And there goes my focus, out the door followed closely by my dignity as I realize I am staring because he is also staring and smiling back. Smirking is more like it, probably because he is used to girls ogling and his male Im invincible ego soars like an eagle on weed. I wasnt ogling by the way just staring, like a creep. Remembering that these unnatural good looks often come with a personality out of the dark ages I find my focus and listen to my music which oddly sounds very different now. Figures.

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