by Lucy Coleman
Mel looks at me expectantly. ‘And then you’ll consider giving online dating a go?’
‘Definitely maybe.’
‘Even I know that’s bad grammar and it doesn’t make sense. I’m not letting you slip backwards again, Brie. If I can find a decent guy, then perhaps he’ll have a friend who is also looking for love. I can’t believe all the solid, hard working and reliable guys are taken. That’s just too depressing to even consider.’
I roll my eyes. Mel is right, of course, and there are probably a lot of great, available guys out there, but I hate first dates. They’re such a lot of effort and then there’s the awkwardness when you know within the first few minutes it’s going to be a complete waste of time.
‘Okay. Let’s wait and see what happens. In the meantime, I’ll continue to live in hope. I promise. Maybe I’m destined to meet the guy of my dreams when I’m waiting in line at the supermarket. You never know.’ I can see by her expression she’s not impressed, and now she’s on my case she won’t give up easily.
But my thoughts are already trying to write the opening paragraph for my love story. A second, lingering glance at our meltingly broody waiter is enough to convince me that he’s going to be my inspiration for the character whose name is Ethan. Ethan Turner. I close my eyes for a moment and I can feel that connection. I don’t need a dating website because I’m going to enjoy spending my days with Ethan. In between discovering the sexual exploits of the larger than life, Jed Jackman, to keep Carrie happy. A feeling of writerly excitement begins to surge through me. Once I have my hero the story practically writes itself and it seems I now have two voices in my head, which means I can do this! I’m back in business.
*
I end up throwing a sleeveless, baggy cotton top over my Lycra gym wear to disguise that barrel like middle section. It feels like I’m wearing a padded jacket all the time that constricts my movement. When I catch sight of fitness guru, Rob, I’m grateful for that foresight. He’s hero worthy, that’s for sure, and all credit to him because you don’t get a body like that unless you work very hard indeed. He’s also charming and although I’m feeling rather self-conscious to begin with, as the hour slips by I stop worrying about how I look and focus on the exercises. Mel is doing a circuit and looking good. This is a natural environment for her and I can see a few male heads turning to check her out as she struts her stuff.
‘I’ll print out the full programme for you, Brie. As I explained, once you’ve shed that excess weight, if you start to pile on the pounds again it’s down to two things. One, you aren’t doing enough exercise, which also means you are probably losing muscle density. Two, you’re eating the wrong foods. Everything in moderation when it comes to treats, so no comfort eating. Instead, try exercising rather than reaching for the chocolate as that’s a natural high, not a sugar induced one.’
I nod; knowing something is one thing, adhering to it is the bit I now have to put into practice. Rob has one cute smile though, and when he folds his arms across his chest like that who can keep their eyes off those guns of his? I bet he could lift me up as if I was a feather and not two stone overweight.
‘Thank you, Rob. It’s been a wake up call and I’m on it now.’
He grins back at me and I find myself involuntarily moving my head a little so that my hair flicks around the side of my face. In my mind I see it in slow motion and then our eyes engage. But when I focus I can see that he’s actually looking over the top of my head and he raises a hand to wave to one of the guys working out behind me. I hear a loud grunt and a bang as weights hit the floor merely feet away, almost lifting me off the ground.
I don’t like attending gyms where the weights area isn’t in a separate room. There’s something about all that testosterone flying around in the air that’s a little too Neanderthal for my liking. I mean, I love the results, obviously. Most women drool over a muscular physique but watching a man train puts me off a little. Unless it’s The Rock, of course.
‘I’m sure you’ll stick with it, Brie, and you’ll love the results. You sound like one committed lady. Pop in sometime so I can see for myself how you’re getting on; we could grab a coffee.’
I don’t know whether I should be flattered or whether that’s his standard sign off after a session. I bet he does get some takers, though.
‘Thanks, maybe I will.’
Mel sidles up to us and flashes me a look. As I gather my things and we walk off, she leans into me.
‘And who are you trying to kid? He’s most definitely not your type.’
I laugh and shake my head. ‘No, but he’s perfect casting for the role of Jed. Maybe it’s time I featured a cage fighter – what a challenge for my heroine.’
‘Oh, don’t! The thought of all these semi-clothed, perfect specimens around is just too much to take, as it is! Let’s get out of here and grab a drink at the juice bar before we hit the showers and head back home.’
‘Sounds good. Have you had a chance to go online at all since we arrived here?’
We stroll down the corridor and out into the open café area.
‘Yes. And I’ve had a little email interaction.’
Her cheeks are glowing, but I can’t tell if it’s solely down to the workout.
I’m next in the queue and the woman behind the counter looks across at me with a smile.
‘What can I get you today?’
‘One Mango Vitamin Boost please.’
‘Make that two,’ Mel echoes.
‘Take a seat and I’ll be with you ladies shortly.’
We head over to a table and both flop down, rather gratefully.
‘Well, are you going to share?’
Mel looks a little reticent.
‘His name is Ross.’
I purse my lips, nodding my head in silent approval.
‘He’s quite sporty though and you know me, I’m not a spectator, that’s not my thing. I will happily spend time working out in the gym, but standing in the cold watching a football match, or even watching any sport on TV – that’s a no. But when I saw his photo there was something about him. He has a very friendly face. He’s very tall so we might look like a bit of an odd couple and we’ve only exchanged one email so far.’
At five foot one Mel is a good two inches shorter than me. I think that’s why we gravitated towards each other at school, commiserating while our peers were growing like weeds and outstripping us. We never caught up and those long legs we dreamt of having just didn’t materialise.
Our drinks arrive and silence reigns for a few moments. As soon as the waitress walks away Mel looks across at me.
‘So, this little period of writer’s block is over?’ I can see the concern she’s trying to hide.
‘Last night after dinner I went back to my room and wrote five thousand words before I literally fell asleep at the keyboard.’
Her eyes light up.
‘Oh, Brie, thank goodness! Although you would have been more than welcome to move in with me if it had come to that!’ she offers.
‘I’ll bear that in mind, thank you, my lovely friend. But for the moment I still have a publishing contract and an agent, so now I have to prove I’m over the hump.’ What I should have said is I’m over what ails my heart and I’m ready to get back to work. The only fix for that is not to be writing a love story but to be living it.
4
Team Work
My thighs are screaming but Mel goes on counting. How can she do this and talk at the same time?
‘Five, four, three, two and rest.’
For a moment I can’t speak.
‘Did you feel the burn?’ she enquires.
I burst out laughing. ‘Feel it? I thought my muscles were on fire.’
‘Well, it’s true what they say – if you don’t use it, you lose it. Spending lots of time in bed and then sitting for hours on end in front of the PC doesn’t do your body any favours. Your system gets sluggish and you need to get the blood pumping to keep everything working
properly.’
I must admit, I’ve never really thought about it like that.
‘The solution has to be easy, Mel, as I have to fit it in around my work. You know me, I wake early and I’m straight on the iPad. When I’m writing the hours fly by, but as long as I know what I have to fit in and when, I can do it.’
Mel begins some gentle stretching exercises and I follow suit.
‘Okay. So, we’ve set you up a routine which includes half an hour, three times a week on this new exercise programme. And you’re still committing to your daily walk?’
I nod. ‘You could set your clock by me.’
‘Good. And I think now is the time that you should invest in a fitness tracker like this one.’
We stop for a moment and Mel proffers her wrist, demonstrating by pressing a button and flicking through some screens.
‘This will be your reminder to make sure you keep up that daily count. It’s gentle exercise but if you choose a circuit with an uphill gradient it really helps you to get the most out of it. Start off with say, five thousand steps a day, as your goal but aim to increase that to ten thousand. If you want to burn off more fat, then up the pace at which you walk, or adjust your goal. But it’s a visual reminder and as you like to set yourself targets, I think it will work well for you.’
Hmm. ‘That makes sense. And walking is a good activity for me as I can use the time to mull over what happens next in my work in progress. I can’t do that when I’m having to count repetitions,’ I admit, pulling a face.
‘Whatever regime you take on has to work for you, or you’ll give up. Actually, this little piece of kit will also alert you if you’ve been inactive for too long. See this bar at the top? It will turn red if you are immobile for an hour and that signals it’s time to move around.’
That makes me smile. ‘Yours isn’t red and I bet that doesn’t happen very often, anyway.’
She flashes her eyes. ‘I do my fair share of sitting. But for you this is vital, given the nature of your job. Get up, walk around, grab a glass of water, whatever – just so you stretch your legs.’
‘That works for me. In fact, I could walk around reading my iPad and proof checking. I often read chapters out loud to pick up typos. That food diary app you put me onto is working well, too. It took me a couple of days to really get into it but now it’s brilliant. I log everything I eat and drink. Upping the water really helped and my energy levels have soared. I kidded myself it was just the comfort eating to blame, which didn’t help, but my general diet before that wasn’t good.’
Mel throws her arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze.
‘You are what you eat,’ she says, softly.
‘I’ll never go back to my old ways. This is so simple. When I type in a food item and see what’s in it, I’m often shocked. The amount of cheese I’d nibble while making a spaghetti bolognaise is more than I’d sprinkle over a jacket potato now. I’d happily polish off what was left of a piece of Stilton while waiting for the pasta to boil. Now it’s green pea or lentil fusilli for me and I love it.’
‘Cutting down on the gluten helped, then?’
I pat my stomach. ‘Look, no bloating. I mean I still have body fat but I was definitely bingeing on bread and pasta. Doctor Carter said gluten intolerance is quite common and frequent headaches, as well as bloating, are two of the tell tale signs. I just feel better having cut down in general and, ironically, I’m less hungry. I factor in my daily treat and, you know me, that means ice cream every single day.’
Her smile is broad.
‘My treat is a toasted muffin with butter and jam,’ she admits.
‘Normally, talking about food would make me hungry and I’d dive into the cupboard to grab whatever was at hand. It’s different now as I plan the whole day’s meals first thing. I never get tempted to skip breakfast any more and that change alone means I don’t need snacks between meals.’
‘Well, you are looking and sounding so much happier, Brie. That’s all that matters.’
I know what she’s referring to. I haven’t been online surfing my social media accounts, but I will have to return soon as I’m sure there are lovely readers who have left messages that need to be acknowledged.
This whole fiasco has been a wake up call in so many ways. And, actually, it’s done me a favour. It wasn’t just the Paul thing, but I was in a rut. When you make bad choices the only person who can turn that around is you.
‘I owe you, Mel. This last two weeks haven’t been easy and you’ve been so patient with me.’
‘Hey—’ she looks at me pointedly ‘that’s what friends are for. You’ve always been there for me and it’s been kind of nice to be able to return the favour in a meaningful way. It has been a bit scary, though, as you aren’t the sort to crumble and that was quite shocking the day of the visit.’
I nod, having to agree with her. It’s only with hindsight I can see how appalled they must all have been when I answered the door.
‘Denial is a strange beast but having tangled with it once, I don’t want to go there ever again. I feel re-born. A bit like giving the cottage a spring clean from top to bottom and then seeing it with new eyes – all fresh and lovely. It feels good and even though I’m still carrying a little over an extra stone in weight, I’m back within the healthy range for my height – just. I’ll chip away at the rest, slowly. The main thing is that I’ve reversed a dangerous trend that was putting my health in jeopardy. I stopped looking in the mirror and now I realise that was really stupid of me, because I was neglecting myself. That spa treat gave me back a huge dose of confidence at precisely the right time.’ I stop, feeling a little tearful, and clear my throat. ‘But look at me now!’
*
Lying in bed I gaze up at the ceiling and think about how lucky I am. How many people go through a crisis and have no one in whom they can confide? Human nature can be very wily at times. What made me want to run away from the truth when it was staring me in the face? I don’t think it was laziness; apathy, maybe, because I felt like all of the sunshine had been sucked out of my life. After all, everyone was laughing at me, or so I thought at the time.
I remember my matted hair and those puffy, dark shadows beneath my eyes. And the breakout of spots, which I hadn’t had for years. And my nails kept splitting. I could go on and on. All of the signs were there, and I chose to ignore them.
The last thought that runs through my mind before I sink into sleep is that if you can’t be honest with yourself, you aren’t living your life, you are merely existing.
5
My Fingers Are Flying Over the Keyboard
Who would have thought that writing two very different stories at the same time would be the motivator I needed to shake myself up? It’s a daily challenge and it’s fun. To enable me to split my day and refocus my mind for the switch, I’m now going for a run just before lunch. No more working in my PJs. Planning my meals and portion control, together with regular exercise, means I almost have a sort of waistline again instead of a doughnut ring. I’m feeling and looking better than I have in a long time.
Ironically, it turns out that sex is much easier to write than romance. Jed Jackman is the man Bella Hart is determined to tame. And he will end up falling at her feet. However, the enigmatic Ethan Turner is harder to read – precisely the opposite of the attention seeking Paul Turner.
I usually write in the third person. For some reason I’m writing the story through Ethan’s eyes only and in first person, because he’s rather cautious about discussing his innermost thoughts. So, instead I have to let the reader know what’s going on inside that complex mind of his. Even after two very productive weeks I’m only a couple of pages into Ethan’s story, whereas I have a solid, thirty thousand words written about Jed and Bella. It’s going well enough now for me to produce a synopsis ready for my meeting with Carrie at the Eclipse restaurant in an hour’s time. That, together with the first five chapters, should be enough to reassure her I’m back on track.
I take particular care when getting ready today as I feel I scared Carrie a little and she has been a tremendous support. My bank balance reflects her sterling guidance and she was right. I believe that without her steer I’d probably be working two jobs to make ends meet. Instead I have a steady stream of royalties coming in from my backlist and for that I’m very grateful. All I need to do now is to focus on getting that work-life balance right. Which is harder than it might sound. Closeting myself away to write is easy, whereas going out and mixing with people requires a lot of effort.
I’m still a little surprised each time I catch a reflection of the new me in the mirror, but I can’t wait to see Carrie’s reaction. And when I walk up to her in the very smart restaurant she does a double take.
‘Wow! Mel said I wouldn’t believe the change in you, but this is amazing.’
I catch myself doing the head turning thing, letting my hair swish across my cheeks for full effect.
‘You’re back, lady and with a real sense of style. And you’re looking trim!’
‘Almost a stone lighter already,’ I confirm.
We hug, and I take the seat opposite her. It doesn’t take long to peruse the menu and order a healthy salad.
‘Right, tell me what’s going on with you.’ She leans forward, eagerly.
I place a manila folder on the table in front of her.
‘Synopsis and first five chapters of Jed and Bella’s story. I’ve also emailed it to you, but I thought you’d like to see it in print.’
The look of relief on her face puts me on a guilt trip.
‘Well, I can’t pretend I didn’t have a few doubts there for a moment but it’s great to hear you’re back on form. And the other story?’
A little smirk begins to creep over my face. ‘I think you were right. This is where my strength lies,’ I tap my fingers on the folder lying between us. ‘It’s what I do best. Now I have a firm picture in my head of Jed, the cage fighter, the words are flowing. I have made a start on the love story with the heart meltingly gorgeous Ethan Turner, but it’s slow going at the moment. It might be a while until I have anything at all to show you. If ever.’