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himself walking in the cemetery. “Maybe,” he mumbled.<br />
“No,” Desirée said, stopping her barefoot dance. “No, not ‘maybe.’ Yes. Yes, yes, yes!<br />
You have to do it, baby. You just have to. It’s so amazing! Remember that day?” She tapped<br />
the photo on the fridge. “You were freaked out at first. Then we got there, and you felt it?<br />
Remember? You could feel that way again.” Desirée opened the fridge. “To be surrounded<br />
by all that death and to be standing there…so alive! You’ll feel the whole world. I know<br />
it’s in you. You just have to let it out, baby.” She took a slice of cheese from the fridge.<br />
“Want some?”<br />
It was Jacob, the Irish ex-pat “corporate mystic,” who suggested Desirée walk through<br />
cemeteries barefoot. He started this whole thing. Desirée mentioned him one night as she<br />
and Gil sat on their front porch enjoying the warmer weather.<br />
“We’ve got this new guy at work, Jacob,” Desirée said as she stood and threw her<br />
arms wide. “Yeah, the bosses brought him in from Ireland – can you imagine? Ireland.<br />
Huh. Anyway, he’s some sort of motivational guru who does these workshops on how to<br />
be more spiritual at work. Crazy, isn’t it?”<br />
Gil laughed and watched his girlfriend reach her arms up toward the porch ceiling.<br />
She was on her tiptoes but was still too short to touch. She wobbled there for a long time.<br />
“I mean, it just seems weird because a company doesn’t seem like the type of place<br />
where spirituality should matter. Now, you know me – I’m all about spirit and emotion.”<br />
Desirée turned back toward Gil, a strand of her hair curling around her softening eyes.<br />
“And passion. Yeah, you know about that, huh?” She laughed and shook her behind. Gil<br />
raised an eyebrow, blushed, and watched as she shook, twirled, then shook again.<br />
Desirée sat next to him, throwing her leg over Gil’s lap. He enjoyed the warmth of<br />
her thigh. “Jacob had us take our shoes off today. Can you believe it? Right there in the office<br />
– in the big conference room. I’m always kicking my shoes off under my desk anyway,<br />
so it was no big deal to me, but the others – you should have seen their faces!”<br />
“What did he have you do then?”<br />
“Oh, man, it was wild! He had us stand there with our shoes off, and then he says,<br />
‘Close your eyes now’ with that Irish accent, you know?” Gil did not know, hadn’t met<br />
Jacob, but Desirée’s attempt at an Irish accent was cute. Awful, but cute.<br />
“‘Relax your eyes,’ he told us. ‘Let your breathing slow down. Pay attention to your<br />
body. Your brow. Relax it. Let it fall. Now your fingers. Relax them. Now your feet. Pay attention<br />
to the here and now. Pay attention to what your feet are telling you. They are your<br />
most direct connection to the world.’”<br />
Gil studied Desirée’s face. She had closed her eyes. Her Irish accent was already getting<br />
better. “And, damn, if I didn’t feel it,” she whispered.<br />
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