Rebound

by Rosemary Rey

  “How did your appointment go?”

  “Oh, you remembered. It went well. He said that I should do PT. I only need to return in three months if I’m not better. He referred me to a PT group, so I’ll schedule that soon.”

  “Good. He’s the best, so if he said that’s all you need, then that’s all you need.”

  “Is he always so serious? He was pretty quiet and kind of standoffish.”

  “Well, yeah, I can see that. He’s all about business. He did a great job on my knee, and is a pretty good guy. I offered to train him, but he hasn’t taken me up on the offer. I figure he’s busy. I heard he does a lot of surgeries overseas with professional athletes. He’s built quite a practice. He doesn’t come into the gym that often. I don’t know if he still has a membership.” He informed. Dr. Keene’s a member? I thought the information would be useful in the future.

  “I’m hopeful that I don’t need to go back. I hate doctors. But if I ever need orthopedic surgery, then I’ll make sure to go back to him. When my father decides to finally replace both knees, I’ll recommend Dr. Keene. Thanks again for the recommendation.”

  “Anytime, doll. I’ll catch ya later.” He said with his thick Boston accent, slapping the door with his thick fingers and walking away.

  My first potential member arrived soon after. After a tour and lots of questions, I sold a membership. He was a nice middle aged man who wanted to get back in shape for the dating scene. He was recently divorced and the biggest complaint from his ex-wife was that he was too fat to be sexually appealing. I listened intently and showed empathy. My best sales strategy is to listen. Usually, the decision to purchase a membership has already been made before a person walks through the door. My only role is to facilitate discussion as to their hesitancy for joining, and give all the positive offerings to counter their negative thoughts.

  As I was filing away the new member paperwork, I heard a knock on the door. “Hi, Sweetie.” Chelsea, my best girlfriend peeked in. I turned around and saw her bright, smiling face.

  “Hi, Lovey. How are you? Come in. I have a few minutes.” I waved her in. We’ve been using ‘sweetie’ and ‘lovey’ since we were in high school. She’s a year younger than me. I had the biggest crush on her older brother Christopher, but his feelings were never returned. I’m not particularly proud of the fact that I used Chelsea as a means to get to Christopher, but she has always been a great friend, and I hope that I’ve been the same for her.

  She took a seat. “How was the doctor visit?”

  “Awful! You know I hate doctors. This doctor was okay.” I beamed and brought my hands to my cheeks. “Actually, he was hot, which made it worse because I was so self-conscious during the whole evaluation. And he was so serious and indifferent. I barely got a smile out of the guy.” I spouted quickly.

  “Whoa. You haven’t even mentioned his diagnosis. You only talked about him, which confirms that he’s hot. You haven’t talked like this about a guy in years. So what does he look like?”

  “Hey. I didn’t get to my diagnosis because it’s all good. I’m fine. He suggested physical therapy. Gave me a referral. I’ll schedule a visit soon, if at all. He’s tall, dark, and handsome. Body of a God. Wavy, salt and pepper hair to match the salt and pepper, trimmed beard, and dimples. Huge hands. Dresses well. And I couldn’t smell him because he didn’t get that close. Well, except for when I slipped at the end and he held onto me. I was too distracted with his hand near my boob, hoping he couldn’t see my nipples through my bra and shirt, so I didn’t catch a whiff.” I inhaled after describing him quickly.

  “Hmm. You listed his attributes in order of your favorite qualities, didn’t you? That is very interesting. And you got a bit of a feel. You sound smitten. He must be named. What shall we call your crush?” She asked excitedly.

  “Chelz, we’re no longer fifteen. We don’t need to nickname people anymore, especially ones we never intend to see again.”

  “Yes, we do, and this one is definitely a crush. You don’t know if you’ll never see him again. How about Doctor Dashing?”

  “We live in Boston, and there’s about one man to every five women, and a lot of the hot ones are gay. Damn them for working out only to look good for their own gender. I’m sure I’ll never see him again. Anyway, he would be more dashing if he were less buttoned up.” I pondered the name; Doctor Dashing. “I’m never going to see him again, so it doesn’t matter. Changing the subject to a more important matter, Friday night. The bachelorette party. The night we do some damage by breaking hearts and taking names.” I said.

  “I don’t think that’s the phrase.” She interjected.

  I waved my hand, ignoring her. “I plan to give you the lap dance of your life.”

  “Don’t you dare. It will confirm everyone’s assumptions of our latent lesbianism.”

  “I only have eyes for you, and now I have to share you with a man. How’s Dougie?” I asked, waiting to hear her sappy gushing over her one true love. He’s a nice guy and is devoted to her, but after experiencing my marital breakdown, I’m cynical about everlasting love. And the more time that I have to assess my defunct marriage, I’ve realized that Ben was never my true love.

  “He’s great. He’s working overtime on Friday, so we won’t miss each other too much. I can’t wait to marry him.” She gushed.

  “Soon. I’m happy for you, Chelz. I’m just going to miss you being single, now that I’m single again. But you and Dougie are superb together, so I know you’ll be happy.”

  “In three days, we’ll party like we’re single . . . except for me, Patty and Marta. We won’t be doing all that dancing like you crazy singletons. Club Lumiere is the hottest new club in town, but I heard it’s like a meat market in there. You gals will have to fend for yourselves.”

  “Just make sure to fill up at dinner, so it can soak up all the alcohol we will drink. I’ve saved my sobriety for this night.” We laughed knowing that I don’t drink very often. I’m usually the designated driver, but now that I’m free of Ben and I’m approaching my thirties, I plan to catch up with all the years of fun that I’ve missed.

  I walked Chelz out and went to the lounge to heat up my leftovers for lunch. It’s the only thirty minutes of quiet that I get in my day. I spend the majority of my work hours talking and listening to others that I’m not left much time to just reflect about my life and my goals. Working four jobs to make ends meet is exhausting. I feel like life is passing me by. I’ve been trying to make up my own rules about how I want my life to proceed. Since the divorce, I’ve decided that I must be responsible for my own contentment.

  I placed my happiness in Ben’s hands. I thought that being his wife would be enough to fulfill me. I left my personal and sexual gratification up to him. When he threw me out of our home, I decided that I would be in charge of my own pleasure and happiness. If I ever happen to meet, date and fall in love with another man, my bliss comes first.

  ***

  We tend to get walk in membership inquiries during lunch, so I hurried to return to the office to ensure that I’m available for tours and questions. It would be easier if I had a partner to trade off with, but I was hoping to prove that I’m capable of managing the sales office alone. Once I get the full time position, I hope that I can convince upper management to get a part time assistant during my scheduled work hours.

  I went to the front desk and asked for the mail. As I walked back to the office, I stopped to rub my hip and lower back. I didn’t think I could do another tour today, but I knew that I would have a few more tours this afternoon, and I expected to have some walk-ins.

  I stopped at the office entry when Mrs. Brink approached me. She wanted to cancel her membership for the millionth time, and I listened. She didn’t like the fact that the whirlpool was closed again for maintenance for the third time in a month, and I nodded. I offered to give her grandson a free month membership so he could check out the club . . . again. This would make it the third time he was able to use this e
xclusive club for free. He’s a dancer at the Conservatory and has no money. He wanted to weight train his upper body for supporting the weight of other dancers. And as a former dancer at the Conservatory, I could empathize with his plight of picking up many women of varying weights, and as a modern dancer he will be picking up and tossing about men who’ll often be heavier than him.

  As I stood there listening to her and giving her my full attention, I felt very exposed, like I was being watched. I felt a chill in the air, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I quickly glanced around the gym, starting from my left and ending on my right. Doctor Dashing was standing at the service desk. He was talking to Paul who had greeted him. I looked long enough to see him look at me and deliver that curt smile again. Flutters went through my belly at his acknowledgement. I felt flushed and nervous. The damn tingling in my nether region popped up again. I clapped my hands under my chin, arms covering the pebbled nipples that strained from my lacy bra.

  Mrs. Brink snapped me to attention. I brought my gaze back to her before I could return the smile. I put my arm around her and walked her into the office where she acquired the pass. I walked her out of the office hoping I could get another glimpse of Dashing, but he was long gone. I figured he was in the weight room, which is on the back side of the gym.

  I was pleasantly surprised to see him at Duration. Paul wasn’t sure that he continued his membership. He signed in without difficulty, otherwise he would’ve been sent to my office. I went to the computer to check on his status and his attendance record. However, a knock on the door interrupted me before I could type in his name.

  Keta was at the door. She’s one of my closest friends. We became friends when I started working as an instructor at the gym. I took a few of her classes so I could learn how to create a routine. She was so helpful in creating my routine. I appreciated her constructive criticism of my first few classes, which she attended and critiqued.

  “Hey, girl.” Keta greeted. She came in and sat down. “I only have a few minutes before my class. Are you going to take my class tonight?” Her classes are always fun, the time passes quickly, and never feels like it’s a workout; more like a party.

  “I can’t. I still have this hip issue that I’m trying not to aggravate. I don’t want to shower and redress. Too much work, girl.”

  “Fine. I gotta go prep for class. I’ll see you.” Keta said while standing up from the chair and turned to the door.

  I followed her out of the office. “Have a good class.” She started to walk off. “Oh, don’t forget Friday. Dinner at 7 and Lumiere after.” I blew her a kiss. She grabbed the floating kiss in her hand. I giggled and waved my hand.

  As I turned to go back in the office, I saw Dr. Dashing running on the treadmill with a tight tank top on, muscles rippling—those biceps. ‘Fuck me,’ I thought. He stared straight ahead, and had ear buds in his ears. I wondered if he had been in the gym before today and I just didn’t notice him. He was sweaty and his face looked flushed from the exertion. He looked good, and if he looked good running, I wondered how he’d look during and after sex. I felt my insides liquefy, and I hugged myself, wishing his strong arms were around me. Lord, help me.

  A walk-in came in, and while I took a tour of the cardio workout area, I refrained from peeking at him as he ran. I tried to give all my attention to the perspective member, a young woman who lived close by and was a graduate student at the local law school, but in my peripheral vision, I tried to keep him in my sights. I took quiet, deep breaths as a means to calm my nerves. My tension eased when we moved from the cardio area to the other parts of the gym. Once he was out of my sight, I gave a thorough tour and answered all of the questions, but she was unsure if she wanted to join close to her apartment or closer to the law school. I offered her a free, seven day pass to try the gym. And when I walked her out of the office, Dr. Dashing was no longer running on the treadmill.

  I had two more tours and fortunately, both signed up for membership. It was quite a day. My libido was aroused for the first time in almost two years. My body and mind were once again in sync that I could finally move on from Ben. I wanted to start dating and be intimate with a man. I decided that I may have a lot more fun than I initially intended to have at the bachelorette party on Friday. However, I refused to settle for any guy. I would continue to be very discriminating.

  THREE

  My day was uneventful on Wednesday. I had only one tour all day. I made phone calls to previous inquiries and invited the perspective member to obtain a free week pass. Most of the calls resulted in my leaving messages. When my shift was over, I went to the locker room to change into my work out clothes. I kept my eyes averted from all the women in various states of undress. I got a few “hellos” from women that recognize me from the classes I teach. I changed quickly and went to the fitness studio to set up the music.

  After forty five minutes of Latin dancing, shaking of hips and arms, I remained in the fitness room as the women walked out chatting and laughing with each other. I usually stay behind with the music blaring. This is the only time that I prefer to listen to the heart pumping music. I generally don’t listen to music while alone at home because it reminds me too much of my mom. She had music on all day and toward the end of her life, I kept the radio on for her twenty four hours a day so she could be comforted by the songs that we’d dance to.

  As I drank from my water bottle, I felt hands on my hips. Startled, I turned to see my best friend and previous dance partner, Carson. A beautiful smile appeared on his face, and I smiled to match his enthusiasm. Carson had been touring with his dance troop and he’d been away from home for three months.

  “You’re back!” I scream as I grabbed him and pulled him into my arms. Carson and I danced at the Conservatory and we kept our friendship over the years. During my marriage, we infrequently visited because Ben didn’t care for my spending any time with other men, even if they were gay. Despite telling Ben that Carson was never going to be interested in me, I respected his wishes, breaking Carson’s heart and mine in the process. Ben’s behavior was another red flag that I checked off after the separation.

  Carson is definitely my type, physically, of course; tall, dark and handsome. His body was a work of art. He was ultra-masculine, strong and flexible. He moved lightly, like a feather. And no matter how big I was, he would pick me up like I was an errant plume. Our relationship was always platonic, but it was confusing to my younger self because we often danced sensually and I was affected by our practices and performances. Not having male attention the first two years of college was difficult on the ego and the libido. With time, I learned to detach those romantic feelings because Carson would never be physically attracted to me despite our strong emotional attachment.

  “I got back in town on Monday. I needed a couple days to veg out at home with Turner.” He replied.

  Carson emits a very heterosexual vibe. I easily understood how women could fall in love with gay men. He flirts with women, knowing the right things to say and he listens to them. When he dances with a woman, he knows how to hold her, just the right touch of rough in his grip. He brings his body close, feeling every hard and soft edge of him, and there were the times when he’d get aroused. He once explained that it’s human nature. He can get caught up in the sensuality of the piece and his body would respond, but his heart and mind would prefer a man. He explained that he found women attractive, like a sculpture to be admired and fawned over, but never to be claimed by him.

  While dancing, his beautiful face emotes a feeling that she is the only one in the world. His eyes and lips suggested that he wants to fuck your brains out, but he doesn’t. The worst was him showering me with attention by taking me out to dinner and the movies. I’d often slept over his apartment when we’d have a late night. But there was no kissing or sexual touching outside of a wooden dance floor. When Carson met Turner, I saw how he regarded his boyfriend in the same way he did women, but with more vigor; it was pure love with an extra do
se of lust. He would never want me. I only imagined he wanted me because I was desperate for love and affection.

  “I’ve missed you.” I held onto his face. “How’s Turner?”

  “He’s good. Glad to have me home. I’m thinking of staying home for a while. I have an interview to teach at the Conservatory on Monday.”

  “You do? Oh, Carson. I’m so happy for you. I will keep my fingers crossed.”

  “Thanks.” He said sheepishly. “I’m hopeful. I want to be home with Turner. We’re thinking of adopting. After we get married.” He pulled away to show me a very masculine diamond encrusted platinum band.

  “Holy shit! Carson. Congratulations.” I held his hand and looked at the masculine band with a touch of glam. I brought his ring to my lips and give him a light kiss, tears welled in my eyes. “I wish you two the best.”

  “Well, you’re my best gal, so you’ll be standing up for me at our wedding in the Fall.”

  “What? You want me to be your best man?” I beamed.

  “I do. I love you and I’d love for you to be next to me when I marry my other best friend; the one I get to sleep with every day.” I pushed him lightly. I rubbed my hand on his arms and pull him in for a hug. My heart burst with joy and truthfully, a bit of resentment that all my besties were getting hitched and I was pathetically alone. The reality of both my best friends getting married this year elicited a twinge of panic.

  While we embraced, Carson started to rock me to the rhythm of the salsa music. I knew he wanted to dance. Running his hands along my arms that wrapped around his neck, he reached for my wrist and gently put my hand in his and started leading us into some Salsa moves. Our bodies were still close until he pushed me slightly away to lead me to the next dance move. Instantly his dance face came on, the passionate, smoldering face that confused me for so many years. It was his passion for dance that created that look. We danced intricately throughout the dance floor. We went from simple salsa steps to twists, lifts and turns. He added some choreography from our old routines. It felt like we’d never stopped dancing together. Even with the hip discomfort, I didn’t want to stop. I loved dancing with him because he challenged me and encouraged me to push past my limits.