“Hmmm.” I contemplate that. “What one does he go to?”
“I’m sending you the address in a text.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll get Helen and go now.” If I don’t go now, I’ll put it off.
“You should go car shopping too,” she teases, knowing I love my old car.
“No. I don’t need a car payment to go with my workout payment. I’ll text you when I get home. Love you.” I end the call and walk faster again. She’s right. Getting healthy might make me feel better. I was healthy when I met Rod. I was also a lot younger.
I don’t bother going upstairs but head straight for the underground parking where Helen is sitting.
Climbing in, I take the silence and stillness of the lonely garage to mull over my feelings. Sifting through them, as I’ve learned to do, I comfortably admit I’m sad my house is for sale. I’m more curious than anything over the engagement. Rod hates marriage.
Before we got engaged, he tried to sell the whole “not believing in marriage” vibe until his mother became angry with him, saying something about me being a cow and him getting free milk.
His having an affair for years might be the reason it’s easy to move forward with Elaine.
My brain does a quiet tiptoe around the possibility that it was me. It’s another low self-esteem hiccup.
I push the feelings aside, my usual go to, but as I’ve begun doing lately, I agree to revisit tonight. I’ll write it all down and process it as the course has shown me.
Taking a deep breath, I start the car and open the map on my phone for the directions, and begin the short drive to the gym.
I’m nervous on the drive, already edgy from the day’s news but also going to a gym makes me uncomfortable. I feel awkward walking in. I haven’t been in a gym in a decade. And being thirty-seven and out of shape, I assume it’s pretty obvious to the trainer’s eye I don’t work out. An eye I catch the moment I step in the front door.
“Hey, how’s it going?” a stunningly handsome man calls from the counter he’s wiping with cleaner.
“Uh good. Thanks.”
“You looking for the physio office?” he says with a smile, obviously thinking I am not here to work out.
“No, my brother-in-law works out here. Apparently, you guys can help me out with getting a Peloton bike?” I offer unnecessary details.
“Cool. Yeah, we have one for you to try out. It’s right over here.” He points me in the direction I’m meant to go but comes around the corner to escort me.
“Awesome, thanks.”
“No problem,” he says it and reminds me of Joey from Friends, but shorter and thicker. He flashes me a charming smile, the kind you can’t help but sigh after seeing. Yup, Joey. I’m expecting him to say, “How you doing?”
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he introduces himself. “I’m Arthur.”
“Lilly.”
“Nice to meet you, Lilly. I like that name.” He walks over to a space with bikes and points to the fanciest one in the room. “You’ll love it. Have you done spin before?”
“Oh uhm.” I try to recall my last time. “Yeah, my sister made me go to a couple of classes maybe ten years ago.” I wince, hating this.
He smiles wide. “Why don’t you hop on and see if you like the way it feels.”
My stomach flutters. He’s absolutely flirting with me and that makes me tense. The uneasiness worsens as he pats the seat.
I take a breath and slip out of my shoes and step onto the bike, praying to the gods of all that is holy I don’t fall on my face. I’m wobbly and unsure as I climb onto the seat. It’s instant misery. My vagina is begging me not to do this to us again and my butt is threatening to go on strike. We all promptly remember spin class and why it didn’t work.
I get my feet onto the pedals and nod. “It’s nice.”
“Try pedaling,” he says with a laugh.
“Okay.” I move my feet and straightaway my thighs are against this. It’s a special kind of hell. There is no world in which I will ever do this. I am way too soft of a person to torment myself. Whatever exercise I do, it can’t hurt like this.
Liz is nuts. ‘Course, after three kids this is probably not so bad for her.
“Wow,” I add for effect, making Arthur chuckle. He has a great laugh.
“Lil?” a voice I recognize calls to me from across the gym. I lift my gaze to find Sam in a tight white tee shirt soaked in sweat and some gray jogging pants.
My feet tangle and I slip off, catching myself with the armrests but wincing as my ass meets the pointy part of the seat.
“Oh shit!” Arthur says, helping me.
“I’m good, thanks,” I lie and stand but it’s effort and requires concentration.
“You looking to start up here?” Sam asks, walking toward us. He takes a drink from his water bottle, and I try not to stare at his wet lips or the tattoo of some sort of arrow on his forearm that goes up into the sleeve.
God, I need sex.
“You guys know each other?” Arthur asks but blurts, “Oh, you’re Lilly. Sam’s Lilly.” He steps away, nodding. “Cool.” Sam offers him a look. “Let me help you off,” Arthur says and takes my hand and leads me off the machine.
Sam’s Lilly?
Oh God.
“Thank you.” I smile at Arthur and step back onto my heels, ignoring the wobble in my legs. “And no,” I say to Sam. “I’m here because my sister said I should look at a Peloton bike.”
“I gotta get back to the desk. Let me know if you want any more help,” Arthur says. The flirting is over and he’s all business now.
“Thanks.” I turn to Sam. “So you work out here?”
What a question. I am Captain Obvious.
“Yeah.” Sam points at the gym owner walking away. “Arthur and I have been friends for a long time.”
“Cool,” I say, still sounding like an idiot. “I should get going,” I add. Not sure it’s an improvement. Is there any improving this? What a Monday.
Sam steps closer. “How—how’s your sister’s baby? Lillian.”
“Good, she’s cute and healthy. How’s work?” Oh God, help us. We’re dying from an acute case of small talk-itis.
“Awesome. Still low numbers coming in. Contact tracing is going great. Most people have followed the advice of the doctors.”
I nod along, trying to act like I’m listening but the truth is I’m desperately trying not to stare at his sweatpants and tee shirt.
“How’s work for you? You guys back in the office now or still working from home?” His eyes bore into mine as though he is trying to keep focus too.
“Office. Today was the first day back,” I say.
“Was it weird being forced to wear real pants again?” he asks, amusing himself at my expense. Clearly, he remembers the stretchy pants I wore to his place for wine on the patio.
“Yes,” I admit. “Hence, the reason I’m here.” I joke but it’s not funny and I’m struggling, so I blurt the first thing that comes to mind, “Apparently, I need a revenge body for my divorce.”
Why, God, why did I say that?