Before the meeting concludes, Brenda challenges them to be good to themselves. They might not think they deserve it, but she assures them they do. So please, she implores, be kind. Be gentle.

The circle breaks, and people begin to disperse, folding up their chairs and stacking them against the wall. Kavita remains seated for a few extra moments, wrestling with Brenda’s words about self-compassion.

“How do you feel?” Hawthorn asks as he folds his chair.

She rubs lines up and down her temples. “Like I’ve been snow-plowed.”

“That sounds about right,” he grins. “So, do you think you’ll be back?”

Kavita considers. “I think so. Even though I feel exhausted right now, I also feel a bit…I don’t know how to put it, exactly. I wouldn’t say lighter. I guess like I’ve let something out.” She wants to add that she feels alone but also not alone, which makes sense inside her tired mind, but probably not outside it, so she keeps that to herself.

“Do you want to know what I appreciate the most about group?”

“What’s that?”

“Even if no one in my life understands what I’m going through, even if the rest of the world has forgotten about Sequoia, I know when I come here, I’m surrounded by people that get it. It helps.”

She nods, yes. That’s what she meant. Alone but not alone.

“Are you on your own tonight?”

“No, my husband’s at home.”

“He didn’t come with you?”

“No,” she says, not wanting to elaborate.

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but expect a raging therapy hangover tomorrow.”

“Something tells me I don’t want to know what that is.”

“Think, regular hangover, only without any of fun beforehand.”

She touches her temples again. “I can feel it building already.”

“Take it easy tonight. Maybe get your hub to get you some chocolate or Doritos or something.”

“A fan of eating our feelings?”

“I have an unopened box of Jos Louis at home with my name on it.”

She lets out a little laugh. “I’m not so good at the kindness thing.” She rises her feet.

“Well,” he says, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “If you’re looking for something to do, why not pop by and take a class.” He hands her a glossy green business card that reads: Hawthorn Woods, Certified Yoga Instructor.

She raises a playful eyebrow. “Yoga teachers have business cards now?”

“They come in handy every now and then.”

“Promise to never say na-mas-té to me and I’ll overlook it.”

“Deal,” he laughs. “The schedule’s online. I teach on Tuesdays and Fridays.”

“I used to go to hot yoga, but I haven’t exercised in months.” She slips the card into the pocket of her jeans. “I’d never make it through a whole class.”