I, Immortal

Now she giggled. “I ask these questions because, if you’ve lived this life a million times over, emotions are still emotions. There is no cap to human emotion. Pain will always be pain. We just find new ways to channel it…or rather new ways to address it.” She picked up her steaming cup of tea, “So I ask you how’d it make you feel or what did you first think about to understand where in your emotions were you when this tragedy, if you can call that, occurred.”
I lifted my shoulders and sighed. “The first thing that came to mind was, “I wished I hadn’t cooked the roast tonight.”
“You’ve just discovered that your husband was having an affair and you thought about the roast?”
“Yes,” I smirked, I had no sorts of happy emotions, a smirk was the only expression my face could muster as the thought of that night came into mind…
“When did you start taking yoga?”
He stared up at me dumbfounded as I hovered above him at the dinner table. “Excuse me,” he said.
“When…did you start taking yoga?”
He folded his napkin three times over and then finally laid it upon his lap. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “I dunno…what exactly are you,” he lightly chuckled. “Where are you getting this all...”
I smirked as his words trailed off. “Your yoga instructor called.”
“Did she?”
I paused at his affirmation, “She did.”
“I mean…when did she, who are you talking…”
“Linda. Your yoga instructor called.”
“Are you sure—
“At first I thought she had the wrong number.” I refilled my husband’s glass with Chardonnay and stood there, gripping the nose of the bottle as I glared him down. “But she asked for you by name…but what was funniest to me was, she didn’t know my name.”
He sat quietly as his eyes darted back and forth while he fidgeted in his seat. “What did she want?”
“She wanted to reconfirm your appointment. But isn’t funny honey, she didn’t even know you were married.”
“Well honey I…I dunno how she could’ve forgotten—
“No, John. She didn’t’ forget. You never told her about me.” I gently placed the bottle of wine atop our glass countertop as I went back to the night my father discovered my mother’s affair. I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders. “Why would your yoga instructor not know you were married?”
“Honey—
“Rather, why would I not know that you had a yoga instructor to know that you weren’t married? When did you get into yoga? Why is she calling our home and—
“Helen, I understand—
“What struck out the most, I might add, wasn’t that she didn’t know who I was but really when she mentioned how easy it was talking to you the night before, you know, the night you were working late, and how she couldn’t wait to do that, and more, again...tonight.”
His silenced amused me. He slurped down half of his glass of wine. Wine that smooth should be sipped, never gulped.“Isn’t this supposed to be another late night for you?” I stepped back from the table and gazed into the kitchen. I shook my head and squeezed my fist. I stared at the slew of dirty dishes, cut up potato and carrot skins, along with spilled beef broth and baked in stains. I sighed and whispered, “I wish I hadn’t cooked the roast tonight.”