The first scene of a work in progress

The flat white light from the flickering florescent tubes overhead beat down onto Shelby Frank and her Saturday night meditation class like the desert sun at high noon. She wished for the comfort of last week's room at the church across the street, the room Bill Griffin (whom everyone said was "just the nicest guy in the world") promised they would use when Shelby took this job two weeks ago. The class paid well enough, Shelby told herself, and she tried to appreciate what she got as it was getting tougher for her to find good paying work in her field.

But instead of last week's soft cushions, warm light and nice vibrations of the church sanctuary, Shelby taught this week's session in the 150 square foot employee cafeteria of Zacks All-Night Copy Center, where Bill worked as an assistant manager, across the street from the church. Shelby, Bill and one other, Rudy, sat in a small circle squirming on hard plastic chairs.

"Everyone, close your eyes and take a deep breath," she said. They heaved a sigh. "Concentrate on your breathing, think of your breathing and nothing else as you slow yourself down, take yourself away from the outside world for a few minutes," Shelby said.

A loud telephone rang at the cashier's desk, just on the other side of the half-inch-thick wall separating the copy center proper from the employees' lunch room. Bertha, who was taking opera lessons, answered the phone in a piercing soprano singsong: "Zacks All-Night Copy Center?" Shelby took a deep breath and exhaled.

     "Ms. Frank?" Bill whispered.

Shelby opened her eyes and looked at him. "Yes?" she whispered.

     "Uh, should I breathe only when you breathe like that, or can I breathe at any time?" he asked. Serious concern buzzed in his eyes.

     "Just breathe and relax," Shelby whispered.

Someone rapped loudly on the frosted glass door; Shelby jolted forward in surprise. The door opened, and a white teenager in blond dreadlocks and a T-shirt—with Bob Marley's image—stuck his head in.

     "Excuse me, but do know where the bathroom is?" he said. Bill shot up from his chair, pointed him in the right direction, and sat down again.

     "He's new," he said to Shelby, his fingertips fluttering around his lips.

     "Well, as I was saying, let's shut out everything else and become aware only of our breathing," Shelby said.

The phone rang again and Bertha sang with gusto: "Zacks All- Night Copy Center?" A customer shouted an obscenity and started kicking a self-serve copy machine on the other side of the wall. Bill bolted from his seat and hit himself in the forehead as he threw open the door. Then he dashed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Shelby took in a heavy breath and exhaled.

There was another loud banging at the door, and Rudy rose to answer it. A tattoo of an Asian woman on his formerly muscled arm jiggled as he opened the door. A short and stocky woman stood there with her hands on her waist; raised eyebrows, and an exaggerated frown showed she expected an explanation. A complex amalgam of tarnished silver dangled from her nose, clinking like wind chimes. On her beaten black leather jacket was a Zacks name tag that read "Hello I'm _____, Assistant Manager On Duty. May I help you?" She had written "Hilda" in the space.

     "Well?" she said.

     "Excuse me, but we're trying to hold a class in here," Rudy said.

     Hilda thrust a boney index finger up at his nose. "Excuse me, but you can't be here," she spat.

     "But Bill Griffin, the manager, he's got us..."

Hilda grinned like a little sister who had just caught her big brother on a technicality.

     "I'm sorry, but Bill Griffin isn't even here now. I'm the manager in charge tonight and I don't know anything about..."

The nostrils of Rudy's boxer-like nose flared, and his breath quickened, but just as he took a step forward he heard Bill calling her from the other room.

     "Just a moment. I have something important to attend to," she said and then disappeared. Rudy and Shelby exchanged glances while listening to them speaking in the main room. Hilda reappeared a moment later.

     "I just spoke with Bill Griffin and he says you can be here. But next time you have to talk with me," she said. And then she turned and strutted back to the cash registers. Shelby bit down on her lower lip, then took a deep breath and exhaled.

     "Let's start again. Close your eyes and concentrate on your..."

     "Ms Frank?"

     "Yes, Rudy?"

     "Why did we get bumped from the room at the church?"

     "Uh," Bill said, "somebody who worked with Nabil Fawaz is using the room to hold one of their mind-body sessions. They moved from the City Council Room because of an emergency meeting of the Sewage Commission."

     "Wow, the City Council Room. That must hold 500 people!" Rudy said. He looked around at the tiny employee cafeteria and scowled. "You know, they took me to see Nabil Fawaz at the Oakland Coliseum a few months ago before they made me start coming here instead."

Shelby heaved a heavy sigh and pasted a smile on her face.

     "Did they, Rudy? What did Nabil talk about?'

     "You know, meditating, breathing ... whaddya call those things you said you got in your hands there?"

     "Chakras?" Shelby said, raising her eyebrows.

     "Yeah, chakras. Same kinda stuff you talked about last week," Rudy said. Suddenly his eyes exploded and his hands gesticulated like a caveman describing a herd of buffalo.

     "But he was great, this guy! He had these flashing lights all around, and there was smoke pouring out on the stage, and there was music like angels, and then they said 'Ladies and Gentlemen, Nabil Fawaz!' And then there was this big spotlight, and there he was, and all of these women ran to the stage and gave him flowers. It was like he was a god or something."

A poppy seed cracked as Shelby gritted her teeth.

     "Ms. Frank?"

     "Yes, Rudy," Shelby said, this time with less of a smile.

     "I heard on the radio that Nabil Fawaz is gonna be talking next week in San Jose. You wanna go there instead of coming here?" Rudy said.

Bill leaned over and whispered into Shelby's ear. "I don't think Rudy's probation officer would allow it.

     "Probation officer?" Shelby said out loud.

     "Rudy's here performing, uh, community service. I'm volunteering to be his counselor on Saturday evenings," Bill said.

Shelby tilted her head forward into the open palm of her left hand, shut her eyes and sighed.

     "Rudy, are you required to come to this class?" Shelby asked.

     "You don't think we want to spend Saturday night doing this shit, do you?" he replied.

A loud commotion erupted in the copy center. Bertha the opera student shouted "Stop him! Get back here!"

From the closed cafeteria they could hear a man running toward the back room, then someone else confronting him, then a fight breaking out. Suddenly an elbow shattered the frosted glass, and Shelby could see the thief wrestling with the dreadlocked teenager in the hallway. A trickle of blood ran down the inside of the glass, and the robber ran out of the emergency exit, setting off an alarm with the teenager in hot pursuit. Two overweight security guards ran into the store. Hilda screamed "they went that way," and the guards bounded through the corridor and out the back.

After a couple of minutes of near silence, Bill walked back in to the cafeteria.

     "Uh, everything should be all right now," he said with a grin.

Shelby looked at the florescent bulb, which twittered on and off. The telephone rang and Bertha sang: "Zacks All-Night Copy Center?"

     "Ms. Frank?"

     "What is it, Rudy," Shelby answered, her teeth clenched.

     "So you can give me a ride to go see Nabil Fawaz next week in San Jose instead of coming here, right? My probation officer would ..."

Shelby kicked her notebook across the room at him and shrieked: "No, God damn it! I'm not going to cart you around to see that..."

The room was silent save for the sounds of the copy center. They sat a few moments, Shelby breathing deeply with her eyes closed. Then she looked at them.

     "I'm sorry. It's just that..." She swallowed. "Well, Nabil was a student of mine a few years ago. I taught him quite a lot, actually, so much that..."

Bill put his hand on her shoulder as he stood.

     "Let's just cancel the rest of today's class. I'll be in touch about next week."

Rudy stiffened.

     "Hey! I get credit for coming, don't I?"

     "Yes, yes, yes," Bill nodded as though having shock treatment.

As they left Shelby behind in the room, Rudy turned to Bill. "So yeah, let's go to the Civic Center next week and see Nabil Fawaz. You can get tickets through Ticketmaster. He's got a great light show with lasers and smoke and..."