A knock breaks the silence of the room in the basement, where I might have chosen to be for its potential to hide me for 30 minutes.
“Yes?” I muffled, refusing to change position, my forehead pressed into the rug.
The 19-year-old walks in. “Just an update to let you know what’s going on in your house,” Sidney says. I concentrate on keeping my shoulders relaxed in child’s pose and breathing deeply. Stay in the yoga flow, peace, mindfulness of the breath. Though I can’t resist a mental eyeroll, a tiny ripple in my river of peace.
“I just electrocuted myself in the mouth a little bit and your phones don’t work, but I’m working on fixing that.”
“How is your mouth feeling?” I dutifully ask.
“It’s alright. It was only about 48 volts.”
I’m glad that I did not lift my head for this.
* * *
Later, I overhear Sidney and Lincoln talking . . .
“You electrocuted yourself?” Lincoln asked.
“Well, it was only 48 volts,” Sidney replied. “You don’t feel that in your fingers, but you really feel it on your tongue.”
Confused, I trip into the conversation, “Wait. How do you happen to feel it on your tongue?”
Sidney grins, “Because I licked it.”