After every yoga class, I get an erection. I used to think I got turned on by all the women bending over or arching their backs. When I do yoga at home, just a few sun salutations to start my day, I also get aroused.
I started yoga on advice of my doctor. After decades of regularly playing sports, at 43 my body began to show its wear; my joints and muscles hurt. It didn’t hurt in the way that muscles hurt after a good workout. It hurt like there was a strain. It felt like my body was caving in on itself.
My doctor suggested I lay off the running, the basketball, the weight-lifting and do activities that caused less stress to my body. I used to do a lot of those activities with my kids, but my wife and I are still trying to figure out a way to schedule visits with our young ones.
At first, I was against doing yoga. I didn’t know anyone who did yoga, except women. The guys I knew who did yoga were into astrology or didn’t eat meat. There’s nothing wrong with that, but that’s not me.
Peter, you don’t have to do yoga forever, my doctor said, just for a few months to let your body rebuild itself.
I’d been going to a yoga studio on Sunset Boulevard for six weeks now. I’m surprised at how much I actually enjoy it. There’s lots of stretching and stillness, things I like. There’s an emphasis on balance, which I have trouble with, but I could feel my body getting stronger.
I don’t get into crazy positions the way some people do in class. I don’t feel the need. If I can’t get into some weird pose, like sticking my head under my crotch, I don’t do it. Whenever I play sports with other guys, my competitive edge kicks in and I feel like I’ve got to make the shot, outrun the next guy. In yoga, I don’t feel the need to compete, maybe because we start each class meditating. We just sit there and breathe, enjoy the silence. I can’t remember the last time I heard silence.
There is one thing I’d like to be able to do in yoga though: a headstand. Even in the beginning classes, we’re asked to do headstands. With our fingers clasped behind our heads and our forearms to help support us, we’re supposed to hoist our bodies into the air, the tip of our cranium experiencing all that mass. Most people can do a headstand with the wall supporting their bodies. Some can do it without pressing against the wall. I can’t do it at all. It feels like I’ll crash right through the floor, the crown of my head crushed by the weight of my body. If I can do a headstand, I know I’d accomplish something.
On Sunday, I usually worship. I’d be at St. Genevieve’s in Panorama City, in the San Fernando Valley, with my family. I like St. Genevieve’s, because there are other Filipino families who go there. Since my wife decided she didn’t love me anymore, she took the kids and left. Rather, she stayed with the kids and the house and I was asked to leave. Now, I live in a single in Silverlake. On Sunday, I go to yoga instead of Mass.
Another aspect of yoga is that I feel the need to eat better. I buy food at the farmers market in the neighborhood. I think I’m in good shape, women at work say I’m a good looking man. I’m still aware of my midsection with a bit of my stomach hanging over my belt.
I bought some organic tomatoes. They’re supposed to be good for you. I don’t know the difference between organic and regular tomatoes, but I buy them anyway. I was reaching for some broccoli when someone said, don’t you go to Urth Yoga on Sunset?
I looked up and saw an Asian woman, mid-thirties, with hair in a ponytail. She wore a maroon jumpsuit and a yoga mat was under her arm.
Yeah, I said. I didn’t recognize her at first but I soon realized that she regularly goes to the evening classes. I don’t notice a lot of people in class and try to stay away from the women. I tried talking to some of the girls in yoga, but they keep conversation short. I know there are guys who go to yoga to pick up on girls. Maybe they think I’m one of them. I’d tell them in a heartbeat that I’m in love with a woman who doesn’t love me anymore.
Yeah, I said. I just started going to Urth a little while ago. Still feel kinda awkward doing it.
Don’t be ridiculous, she said. You’re more flexible than most guys I know. I smiled and introduced myself, Name’s Peter Dantes.
Gia Wong Goh, she said raising an eyebrow.
I don’t know where this came from but I said, Do you want to get some coffee?
Sure, she said.
I told her I was in the process of a divorce. She told me that she’d already been divorced. It’s rough, she said, but you’ll get over it. She’s on her second marriage. Gia said she’s an appraiser and that’s how she met her husband. Her husband is a real estate agent, named Martin Goh. She was appraising a house he was selling. Martin spends his Sundays showing houses in the Hollywood Hills, which leaves her Sundays to do what she pleases.
I’d meet Gia at Sunday yoga and we’d go out for coffee afterward. We did this for a couple of weeks.
Where do you live? She asked after drinking a mocha latte.
I have a little single apartment. Nothing to look at.
How would I know unless I see it?
I hadn’t slept with another woman in eight years. I would never have dreamed that I’d be sleeping with a married woman other than my wife. Then again, I never dreamed that I’d be getting a divorce. It’s the worst thing I’d ever experienced, because I don’t want my marriage to end. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with my marriage, except that my wife lost interest in me, us, and the life we were building. She even alluded to never having loved me at all.
I started yoga on advice of my doctor. After decades of regularly playing sports, at 43 my body began to show its wear; my joints and muscles hurt. It didn’t hurt in the way that muscles hurt after a good workout. It hurt like there was a strain. It felt like my body was caving in on itself.
My doctor suggested I lay off the running, the basketball, the weight-lifting and do activities that caused less stress to my body. I used to do a lot of those activities with my kids, but my wife and I are still trying to figure out a way to schedule visits with our young ones.
At first, I was against doing yoga. I didn’t know anyone who did yoga, except women. The guys I knew who did yoga were into astrology or didn’t eat meat. There’s nothing wrong with that, but that’s not me.
Peter, you don’t have to do yoga forever, my doctor said, just for a few months to let your body rebuild itself.
I’d been going to a yoga studio on Sunset Boulevard for six weeks now. I’m surprised at how much I actually enjoy it. There’s lots of stretching and stillness, things I like. There’s an emphasis on balance, which I have trouble with, but I could feel my body getting stronger.
I don’t get into crazy positions the way some people do in class. I don’t feel the need. If I can’t get into some weird pose, like sticking my head under my crotch, I don’t do it. Whenever I play sports with other guys, my competitive edge kicks in and I feel like I’ve got to make the shot, outrun the next guy. In yoga, I don’t feel the need to compete, maybe because we start each class meditating. We just sit there and breathe, enjoy the silence. I can’t remember the last time I heard silence.
There is one thing I’d like to be able to do in yoga though: a headstand. Even in the beginning classes, we’re asked to do headstands. With our fingers clasped behind our heads and our forearms to help support us, we’re supposed to hoist our bodies into the air, the tip of our cranium experiencing all that mass. Most people can do a headstand with the wall supporting their bodies. Some can do it without pressing against the wall. I can’t do it at all. It feels like I’ll crash right through the floor, the crown of my head crushed by the weight of my body. If I can do a headstand, I know I’d accomplish something.
On Sunday, I usually worship. I’d be at St. Genevieve’s in Panorama City, in the San Fernando Valley, with my family. I like St. Genevieve’s, because there are other Filipino families who go there. Since my wife decided she didn’t love me anymore, she took the kids and left. Rather, she stayed with the kids and the house and I was asked to leave. Now, I live in a single in Silverlake. On Sunday, I go to yoga instead of Mass.
Another aspect of yoga is that I feel the need to eat better. I buy food at the farmers market in the neighborhood. I think I’m in good shape, women at work say I’m a good looking man. I’m still aware of my midsection with a bit of my stomach hanging over my belt.
I bought some organic tomatoes. They’re supposed to be good for you. I don’t know the difference between organic and regular tomatoes, but I buy them anyway. I was reaching for some broccoli when someone said, don’t you go to Urth Yoga on Sunset?
I looked up and saw an Asian woman, mid-thirties, with hair in a ponytail. She wore a maroon jumpsuit and a yoga mat was under her arm.
Yeah, I said. I didn’t recognize her at first but I soon realized that she regularly goes to the evening classes. I don’t notice a lot of people in class and try to stay away from the women. I tried talking to some of the girls in yoga, but they keep conversation short. I know there are guys who go to yoga to pick up on girls. Maybe they think I’m one of them. I’d tell them in a heartbeat that I’m in love with a woman who doesn’t love me anymore.
Yeah, I said. I just started going to Urth a little while ago. Still feel kinda awkward doing it.
Don’t be ridiculous, she said. You’re more flexible than most guys I know. I smiled and introduced myself, Name’s Peter Dantes.
Gia Wong Goh, she said raising an eyebrow.
I don’t know where this came from but I said, Do you want to get some coffee?
Sure, she said.
I told her I was in the process of a divorce. She told me that she’d already been divorced. It’s rough, she said, but you’ll get over it. She’s on her second marriage. Gia said she’s an appraiser and that’s how she met her husband. Her husband is a real estate agent, named Martin Goh. She was appraising a house he was selling. Martin spends his Sundays showing houses in the Hollywood Hills, which leaves her Sundays to do what she pleases.
I’d meet Gia at Sunday yoga and we’d go out for coffee afterward. We did this for a couple of weeks.
Where do you live? She asked after drinking a mocha latte.
I have a little single apartment. Nothing to look at.
How would I know unless I see it?
I hadn’t slept with another woman in eight years. I would never have dreamed that I’d be sleeping with a married woman other than my wife. Then again, I never dreamed that I’d be getting a divorce. It’s the worst thing I’d ever experienced, because I don’t want my marriage to end. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with my marriage, except that my wife lost interest in me, us, and the life we were building. She even alluded to never having loved me at all.
*
I rushed, Elise said. My wife cried, her head in her hands. Our kids were at her sister’s. We sat in our kitchen, painted peach, a color that she loved. I rushed into getting married. I don’t want to be married anymore. I don’t know if I ever did.
She was thirty-one and I was thirty-two when we wed. We’d known each other for about a year when we decided to go for it. We agreed that we’d get married once she finished up her master’s degree. She was the most beautiful bride. I still remember her coming down the aisle, coming to me, to be with me.
I love our kids and the family we created, Elise said, but I don’t want to be married anymore. I can be a mother, but not a wife.
She swore up and down that I wasn’t a bad husband or a bad father. She just wanted another life, one without me. I sat there quietly, staring down at the dark wood of the kitchen table, remembering the day she walked down the aisle. She lifted her veil and I thought I saw a smile. I thought it was beaming, our marriage sealed with a kiss. Maybe it wasn’t beaming. Maybe it was forced, a tight smile on a woman who got married because a woman entering her thirties believed she should be married.
She was supposed to work after we got married, use that expensive degree of hers. We planned to save some money, then have a kid. Instead we got pregnant months after our wedding. She gave birth to Brian, then Amanda, then Paul. She never used that degree.
I don’t want to be one of those women who spent their lives caring for other people, Elise said, and not herself. I don’t want to be a cliché like that. I’m forty-one now and I’m becoming a cliché.
I got up from the table, walked over to the kitchen. There was a bowl of fruit on the counter. I picked it up and threw it across the room, the apples and bananas leaping into the air, then falling all over the floor.
But I’m happy! I said. I love my life. I love our life. AND I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE RUINING IT ALL!!! YOU’RE TURNING EVERYTHING UPSIDE DOWN!!!
She was frightened I could tell, but she didn’t move. She knew no matter how angry I got, I’d never do anything to hurt her.
You’re not the only one getting older, I said, trying to hold back the tears welling up in me.
She got up and ran toward me, embracing me. She wept into my chest, repeating, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I want to be more than who I am.
I held her tight. I just held her.
Gia likes to have sex. I like having sex with Gia. We have sex after yoga on Sundays. Something that Gia does during sex is talk, have full blown conversations when we screw around. I was not used to this.
Why did you take up yoga? she asked while I made love to her.
Doctor’s advice, I said in between breaths.
Hurt yourself?
Hurting myself. I’m used to more active sports.
Yoga is active, she said. Very active.
Not like sprinting, I said.
I orgasmed. So did she.
In my arms, she said, it’s active staying in a pose, staying still.
I loved the smell of her perfume. My wife rarely wore perfume.
I said, Hey, do you want to meet for lunch sometime during the week? I can call you. We’ve been meeting all this time and you haven’t given me your phone number.
She turned and looked at me. Her lovely face, serene and glowing. She said, I’m a married woman.
I’m a married man.
You’re getting a divorce. I’m not…and I’m not going to get one.
Aw, crap, I said, tipping over, landing on my left side. I was determined to stand on my head, even if it killed me. I lay on the floor, wondering how Elise was doing. I knew she’d started a new job at a museum. Regardless, I still paid the mortgage on the house that I’m not living in and give money to raise children that I only see on Tuesday nights, Thursday nights, and Saturday afternoons.
I thought of my terrific job as Director of Sales, but the two times I was passed up for Vice President. I’m married to a woman who doesn’t want to be with me and having sex with a woman who also doesn’t want to be with me.
I looked around my small apartment. It’s bare, just a bed. I hate sleeping alone in it. I’d always hated sleeping alone. Even when I was single I had roommates, the chatter of someone else in the home made me feel comfortable.
Elise said she didn’t want to be a cliché: a woman who didn’t think of herself and always cared for everyone. I didn’t want to be a kind of cliché myself: a man who thought only of himself and didn’t need anyone.
Even though my doctor instructed me not to, I put on my running shoes and headed out the door. I ran down Sunset past the fast food joints and the used clothing stores. I ignored the “Don’t Walk” signals and kept on going. I ran into Hollywood, heaving and hurting, but I kept on going.
I stopped at Sunset and Western, bent over and vomited. I thought about my life and how unsatisfied I was with it. I thought about how I was supposed to be happily married and living in the suburbs. If Elise didn’t want to be with me, maybe I need to be by myself. Just by myself.
When Elise came down the aisle at our wedding, I remembered her smile. I also remembered how I felt. I was relieved, so relieved. I was finally getting married. I didn’t have to put up with the bullshit of the dating scene. Prior to Elise, I had had only two other girlfriends and didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-one.
Elise was a great girl—smart, pretty, we wanted the same things. That was enough. She was enough for me. I thought I was enough for her. It just turned out that wasn’t true. There was more and Elise was brave enough to realize it.
You’re improving, said my yoga teacher. You were on your head for at least two seconds. I sat back up and smiled. The other members in class applauded, knowing I’d been struggling with standing on my head for quite some time now. The world looks differently from that angle, doesn’t it? My instructor chuckled. Off in the corner, Gia winked at me.
We closed the class in silent meditation. It was hard for me to meditate. All I could think about was having sex with Gia later in my apartment. On the walk to my car, I noticed Elise had left a message on my cell. She wanted me to call her back.
Hey, it’s me, I said into the cell phone, trying to work the key into my car door. Are the kids all right?
Hi, she said. I just called to see how you were.
I’m fine. You?
She was quiet for a moment, then said, I got fired. I wasn’t the right fit. I could hear the disappointment in her voice. This is what it means to try to be more than yourself, I thought. You get slammed sometimes.
There are other jobs out there, you know, I said. You’ll land another one real soon.
She said, Do you want to come over a little later? I’ll make something to eat for us. Maybe have a little family meal. The kids’ll love it.
I saw Gia waving at me across the street. It was a wave that said she’d be seeing me in a few minutes. Her husband was out of town, so she could stay longer than the few hours we usually had.
I sorta made plans, I said.
Oh, okay, she said.
But I’ll see you on Tuesday night when I pick up the kids from school.
I went to yoga class on Sunday and didn’t see Gia. I was disappointed. I wanted to show her and everyone in class what I accomplished. Halfway during class, we were asked to do headstands.
I positioned my arms around my head and used the wall for support. I hoisted myself up and kept myself there. I’d never laughed upside down before, but I did. I saw my teacher nodding approvingly. I saw them all happy for me. Except for Gia.
I went to some of the night classes that she usually attended. She wasn’t there either. I even asked the yoga studio about her. They told me that she had used up all of the classes that she’d bought. It looked like she didn’t renew. After a few weeks, I decided to try and find her. One Sunday, I drove around the Hollywood Hills looking at real estate signs. There were a ton of them. Finally, I saw one that listed the agent as Martin Goh.
I drove to the house, an English Tudor at the top of a hill. A bald guy with black rimmed glasses, sporting a vintage suit, greeted me as I walked up the driveway. He was stocky and had a confident stride.
Beautiful day, he said. The kind of day that makes you wanna buy a house. He laughed, extending a hand. My name is Martin. What are you in the market for?
I, uh, am looking to buy in the area, I said.
Do you work in the industry?
Industry?
Entertainment. Movies.
No, in downtown. Sales.
Great. Let me show you around.
He took me on a tour of the mansion, a six room home, with a den, library, and servant’s quarters.
And out here, he said, is the dining room. As you can see it has a view of both the downtown skyline and, on a clear day, you can see all the way to the beach.
Amazing, I said. Is this a good neighborhood to raise a family?
Yeah, it’s the best. There are some good private schools I can recommend. Not too many of the kids here go to public school.
I bet. You have kids?
No. My wife and I are content with just the two of us.
I have three kids. We’re looking to move.
Well, this is the neighborhood to do it. What’s your name again?
Peter Dantes.
Martin Goh stopped for a second. Are you going through a divorce?
Yes.
Were you the guy sleeping with my wife?
What?
It’s all right. We’re okay like that. Every once in a while, I’ll head out of the roost. Gia’s told me about you. Filipino guy with three kids, named Peter, getting a divorce. Are you really here to buy a house?
Actually no. I hadn’t seen Gia in a while…
Yeah. She’s like that. You met her in yoga, right? Six months ago it was ceramics. Before that it was tennis. She likes to try new things.
I looked to the floor.
I hope you don’t take her abrupt departure too seriously. That’s what affairs are about.
I’d never had one. I wouldn’t know.
Martin looked at me, almost with pity.
Can you do me a favor?
Sure.
Tell her I can stand on my head.
Huh?
It’s a yoga thing. She’ll understand.
A car horn was heard.
Excuse me. I think those are some serious buyers.
It was probably best that I never saw Gia again. I no longer get erections because of yoga. It just sort of stopped. I got into my car and drove away.
She was thirty-one and I was thirty-two when we wed. We’d known each other for about a year when we decided to go for it. We agreed that we’d get married once she finished up her master’s degree. She was the most beautiful bride. I still remember her coming down the aisle, coming to me, to be with me.
I love our kids and the family we created, Elise said, but I don’t want to be married anymore. I can be a mother, but not a wife.
She swore up and down that I wasn’t a bad husband or a bad father. She just wanted another life, one without me. I sat there quietly, staring down at the dark wood of the kitchen table, remembering the day she walked down the aisle. She lifted her veil and I thought I saw a smile. I thought it was beaming, our marriage sealed with a kiss. Maybe it wasn’t beaming. Maybe it was forced, a tight smile on a woman who got married because a woman entering her thirties believed she should be married.
She was supposed to work after we got married, use that expensive degree of hers. We planned to save some money, then have a kid. Instead we got pregnant months after our wedding. She gave birth to Brian, then Amanda, then Paul. She never used that degree.
I don’t want to be one of those women who spent their lives caring for other people, Elise said, and not herself. I don’t want to be a cliché like that. I’m forty-one now and I’m becoming a cliché.
I got up from the table, walked over to the kitchen. There was a bowl of fruit on the counter. I picked it up and threw it across the room, the apples and bananas leaping into the air, then falling all over the floor.
But I’m happy! I said. I love my life. I love our life. AND I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE RUINING IT ALL!!! YOU’RE TURNING EVERYTHING UPSIDE DOWN!!!
She was frightened I could tell, but she didn’t move. She knew no matter how angry I got, I’d never do anything to hurt her.
You’re not the only one getting older, I said, trying to hold back the tears welling up in me.
She got up and ran toward me, embracing me. She wept into my chest, repeating, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I want to be more than who I am.
I held her tight. I just held her.
Gia likes to have sex. I like having sex with Gia. We have sex after yoga on Sundays. Something that Gia does during sex is talk, have full blown conversations when we screw around. I was not used to this.
Why did you take up yoga? she asked while I made love to her.
Doctor’s advice, I said in between breaths.
Hurt yourself?
Hurting myself. I’m used to more active sports.
Yoga is active, she said. Very active.
Not like sprinting, I said.
I orgasmed. So did she.
In my arms, she said, it’s active staying in a pose, staying still.
I loved the smell of her perfume. My wife rarely wore perfume.
I said, Hey, do you want to meet for lunch sometime during the week? I can call you. We’ve been meeting all this time and you haven’t given me your phone number.
She turned and looked at me. Her lovely face, serene and glowing. She said, I’m a married woman.
I’m a married man.
You’re getting a divorce. I’m not…and I’m not going to get one.
Aw, crap, I said, tipping over, landing on my left side. I was determined to stand on my head, even if it killed me. I lay on the floor, wondering how Elise was doing. I knew she’d started a new job at a museum. Regardless, I still paid the mortgage on the house that I’m not living in and give money to raise children that I only see on Tuesday nights, Thursday nights, and Saturday afternoons.
I thought of my terrific job as Director of Sales, but the two times I was passed up for Vice President. I’m married to a woman who doesn’t want to be with me and having sex with a woman who also doesn’t want to be with me.
I looked around my small apartment. It’s bare, just a bed. I hate sleeping alone in it. I’d always hated sleeping alone. Even when I was single I had roommates, the chatter of someone else in the home made me feel comfortable.
Elise said she didn’t want to be a cliché: a woman who didn’t think of herself and always cared for everyone. I didn’t want to be a kind of cliché myself: a man who thought only of himself and didn’t need anyone.
Even though my doctor instructed me not to, I put on my running shoes and headed out the door. I ran down Sunset past the fast food joints and the used clothing stores. I ignored the “Don’t Walk” signals and kept on going. I ran into Hollywood, heaving and hurting, but I kept on going.
I stopped at Sunset and Western, bent over and vomited. I thought about my life and how unsatisfied I was with it. I thought about how I was supposed to be happily married and living in the suburbs. If Elise didn’t want to be with me, maybe I need to be by myself. Just by myself.
When Elise came down the aisle at our wedding, I remembered her smile. I also remembered how I felt. I was relieved, so relieved. I was finally getting married. I didn’t have to put up with the bullshit of the dating scene. Prior to Elise, I had had only two other girlfriends and didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-one.
Elise was a great girl—smart, pretty, we wanted the same things. That was enough. She was enough for me. I thought I was enough for her. It just turned out that wasn’t true. There was more and Elise was brave enough to realize it.
You’re improving, said my yoga teacher. You were on your head for at least two seconds. I sat back up and smiled. The other members in class applauded, knowing I’d been struggling with standing on my head for quite some time now. The world looks differently from that angle, doesn’t it? My instructor chuckled. Off in the corner, Gia winked at me.
We closed the class in silent meditation. It was hard for me to meditate. All I could think about was having sex with Gia later in my apartment. On the walk to my car, I noticed Elise had left a message on my cell. She wanted me to call her back.
Hey, it’s me, I said into the cell phone, trying to work the key into my car door. Are the kids all right?
Hi, she said. I just called to see how you were.
I’m fine. You?
She was quiet for a moment, then said, I got fired. I wasn’t the right fit. I could hear the disappointment in her voice. This is what it means to try to be more than yourself, I thought. You get slammed sometimes.
There are other jobs out there, you know, I said. You’ll land another one real soon.
She said, Do you want to come over a little later? I’ll make something to eat for us. Maybe have a little family meal. The kids’ll love it.
I saw Gia waving at me across the street. It was a wave that said she’d be seeing me in a few minutes. Her husband was out of town, so she could stay longer than the few hours we usually had.
I sorta made plans, I said.
Oh, okay, she said.
But I’ll see you on Tuesday night when I pick up the kids from school.
I went to yoga class on Sunday and didn’t see Gia. I was disappointed. I wanted to show her and everyone in class what I accomplished. Halfway during class, we were asked to do headstands.
I positioned my arms around my head and used the wall for support. I hoisted myself up and kept myself there. I’d never laughed upside down before, but I did. I saw my teacher nodding approvingly. I saw them all happy for me. Except for Gia.
I went to some of the night classes that she usually attended. She wasn’t there either. I even asked the yoga studio about her. They told me that she had used up all of the classes that she’d bought. It looked like she didn’t renew. After a few weeks, I decided to try and find her. One Sunday, I drove around the Hollywood Hills looking at real estate signs. There were a ton of them. Finally, I saw one that listed the agent as Martin Goh.
I drove to the house, an English Tudor at the top of a hill. A bald guy with black rimmed glasses, sporting a vintage suit, greeted me as I walked up the driveway. He was stocky and had a confident stride.
Beautiful day, he said. The kind of day that makes you wanna buy a house. He laughed, extending a hand. My name is Martin. What are you in the market for?
I, uh, am looking to buy in the area, I said.
Do you work in the industry?
Industry?
Entertainment. Movies.
No, in downtown. Sales.
Great. Let me show you around.
He took me on a tour of the mansion, a six room home, with a den, library, and servant’s quarters.
And out here, he said, is the dining room. As you can see it has a view of both the downtown skyline and, on a clear day, you can see all the way to the beach.
Amazing, I said. Is this a good neighborhood to raise a family?
Yeah, it’s the best. There are some good private schools I can recommend. Not too many of the kids here go to public school.
I bet. You have kids?
No. My wife and I are content with just the two of us.
I have three kids. We’re looking to move.
Well, this is the neighborhood to do it. What’s your name again?
Peter Dantes.
Martin Goh stopped for a second. Are you going through a divorce?
Yes.
Were you the guy sleeping with my wife?
What?
It’s all right. We’re okay like that. Every once in a while, I’ll head out of the roost. Gia’s told me about you. Filipino guy with three kids, named Peter, getting a divorce. Are you really here to buy a house?
Actually no. I hadn’t seen Gia in a while…
Yeah. She’s like that. You met her in yoga, right? Six months ago it was ceramics. Before that it was tennis. She likes to try new things.
I looked to the floor.
I hope you don’t take her abrupt departure too seriously. That’s what affairs are about.
I’d never had one. I wouldn’t know.
Martin looked at me, almost with pity.
Can you do me a favor?
Sure.
Tell her I can stand on my head.
Huh?
It’s a yoga thing. She’ll understand.
A car horn was heard.
Excuse me. I think those are some serious buyers.
It was probably best that I never saw Gia again. I no longer get erections because of yoga. It just sort of stopped. I got into my car and drove away.