Instead, my mind didn’t have time to think about anything other than the pull of my bicep when I did a standing wall push, or the tightening of my core as I held myself up in a plank. Drenched in sweat, I grinned during our cool down stretches.
After that workout, there is no way I’m not getting a good night’s sleep. Before disconnecting our chat, Luke starts to say something but I’d already pressed the button and he’s gone.
Smooth, Luke.
It’s then I hear my cell phone vibrating in my bedroom. Loki shifts in his sleep but doesn’t wake up when I walk in to check it.
Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to cut you off.
There’s no way I’m going to bring up the subject of thinking she should try leaving her house via text.
No worries. Just wanted to tell you to move the incline up one for the next week.
Will do. See you next week.
I toss my phone onto my bed in frustration. I had it all planned out until she disconnected the chat. I was going to ask her if she’d like to meet up in person for a session. Maybe I could help her work through her anxiety.
Flopping onto my bed, I land next to my phone. Why do I even care? I’m not a therapist. Who knows, I could screw her up even more. I just hate the idea she’s missing out on everything the world has to offer. My phone goes off again, making a muffled buzz sound against my comforter.
I glance at the screen before answering; it’s Sasha.
“Hey, baby sis.”
“Where are you?”
She sounds pissed.
“Ahh.”
“Damn it, Luke. I can’t believe you forgot,” she snaps.
All at once, it dawns on me, dinner at our moms.
“I’m so sorry, Sasha. Give me twenty and I’ll be right there.”
She mutters something unintelligible and hangs up on me. Jumping up, I drop my phone and take the fastest shower known to man. Pulling on a pair of khaki pants, I grab a navy polo shirt. I stuff my wallet and phone into my pockets before stepping into a pair of loafers by the front door.
I eye Loki’s water and food dishes, exhaling a sigh of relief because I don’t have to fill them before letting the door to my apartment close behind me. When I turn, I see one of my neighbors gaping at me. My pants are undone and my polo shirt is flung over one shoulder. She has a bag of take out in one hand and the hand of her toddler in her other. She had dinner and looks like I was the show.
“Have a nice night.” I grin before jogging to the exit, tugging my shirt over my head.
My mom still lives in the house my sisters and I grew up in. Luckily for me, I hit green lights and am there in fifteen minutes.
“Sorry I’m late,” I call out as I walk through the front door.
“We’re in the den,” my mom replies.
She stands when I walk in and I kiss her cheek. “Hey, Mom.”
Being the only son, I’m clearly her favorite.
She pats my cheek before pinching it. “Are you eating enough?”
My eyes land on Sasha and I blow her a kiss before answering my mom. “You know my body is a temple.”
Sasha rolls her eyes as my mom tsks. My muscles have muscles; I’m in no danger of wasting away.
When the oven beeps, I follow Mom to the kitchen and help her move everything to the table. She’s made this chicken casserole dish. It’s carb heavy but my favorite. On the side, she has Caprese salad and sliced cucumbers.
Once we all sit, she focuses her attention on Sasha. An interrogation might have been subtler. Since she’s still in school, Sasha hasn’t had the best track record in holding down a job till this one but she’s been talking about quitting it. She’s flighty and gets bored or fired. As far as I know, her grades are still good. My mom’s starting to freak though because Sasha will be graduating in the spring and she thinks she should have a good job before she does.
“Mom, I’ve already told you,” Sasha grumbles, “I want to find something more in line with my degree.”
“Yeah, Mom.” I put my arm around her. “Go easy on her. She has a plan.” I glance at Sasha. “You do have a plan, right?”
“Ugh. It’s like no one in this family actually listens to me.”
“Hey.” My mom and I both exclaim.
Sasha continues. “Yes, I have a plan. I want to be a counselor, with a focus of addiction treatment. I’ve applied to a new facility opening up this summer.”
I squeeze my mom’s shoulder. “See, she’s got it all figured out.”
Sasha gives me a grateful smile; it’s good being the favorite.
“So, Lucas.” My mother directs her attention toward me. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Shit. “No, Ma, I’m not seeing anyone.”
“You are a handsome young man. Why can’t you find a nice girl? I want to see you settled down.”
“I’ve been busy with work, Mom. I date but haven’t met the right girl.”
“That’s because all the girls you’ve dated have more silicone than brains,” Sasha teases.
“That’s not fair,” I grumble. “I’ve dated lots of different girls. I need a break though.” Time to throw her under the bus. “How about you, Sash, you seeing anyone?”
She pales but my mother cuts her off before she has time to reply. “Sasha is too young for a boyfriend. She needs to finish school.”
“Mom,” Sasha whines.
Mom ignores her, getting up to check on dinner. I follow her, offering to set the table; gotta keep my favorite kid status. Sasha gravitates toward people and ambles into the kitchen a couple minutes later. She's messing with her phone. Part of me wants to ask if she's talking to Lindsay.
I don't though; she'd read too much into it. My mom is an amazing cook, not the healthiest but still delicious. That's the reason I'm not over here enjoying her cooking all the time. Sasha and I somehow manage to keep the focus of our dinner conversation on Mom and not us.
Mom’s going on an Alaskan Cruise with her church group. She's never been on a cruise ship before and she's equal parts excited and scared. I'm proud of her; it was rough after my dad took off. Even after leaving us, she still thought he hung the moon. My sisters and I had to help her learn how to take care of the house.
My dad had been in charge of all their finances. He left her with nothing. It was a learning experience showing her how to pay her bills and having all the accounts converted to just her name.
I was thirteen when he left. I must have mowed every lawn in the neighborhood while my older sisters babysat to help with bills. It was rough but we all came together as a family to make it.
She's doing great now. Her church group was a big help. She's bonded with a couple of other single moms and widows. All she wants now is for me to get married, and Sasha to find and hold onto a good job.
"I'll call you next week before you go," I promise, giving my mom a kiss before I leave.
As soon as I'm home, I leash Loki up and take him for a long walk. Purposefully, I take the steep route to the dog park. Loki isn't thrilled with the exercise; but after the butter-loaded dinner I just ate, I needed it.
It's late and the park is deserted. While Loki catches his breath, my mind wanders to Lindsay, and how I can convince her to come outside.
Staring down at my scale, I don't believe the red illuminated number staring back at me. Stepping off my scale, I wait for the display to darken before tapping it with my foot to reset it to zero. When I step back on, I'm more mentally prepared for it. One hundred eighty-nine pounds. I've lost five pounds this week.
My vision blurs as tears cloud them before spilling onto my cheeks. I turn, taking in my naked body in my bathroom mirror. I can't see the difference. Yesterday my jeans felt looser but I attributed that to finally breaking them in and not all the lifestyle changes I've made. Wiping my cheeks, I start my shower, glancing back at the mirror while it heats up.
Has my brain adjusted to my changing shape? I've lost almost fifteen pounds over the last six weeks. H
ow do I look the same? With a sigh, I step into my shower. I have a training session with Luke today. After I share the good news about my weight loss, I'm going to ask him why I can't see the difference.
For curiosity's sake, I change into my workout gear from our first session. It is by no means loose in comparison to the last time I wore it but it is easier to pull on. I head to my spare bedroom and take a couple of pictures so I can compare them to the ones from my first workout. Even if I can't see the difference, I can still edit them and write a blog post about how well the clothes performed.
It isn't until I have the pictures loaded, side by side against the first set that I can see the difference. It's subtle, but it's there. I can see the most change in my legs. Groaning, I glare at my belly. Sure, I’m thrilled my legs are smaller but why can’t I lose some of my tummy?
Trying to focus on the positive, I pull out my yoga mat so I can be extra loose by the time I have to train with Luke. Stretching everyday has done wonders for my overall flexibility. On the first day I could barely touch my knees, now I can easily grip my lower calves. If I keep it up, I know I’ll be able to reach my ankles.
Growing up I envied the flexible girls in gym class, the girls who could gracefully wrap their hands around their feet and rest their cheeks on their knees. I may never get to that level of flexibility but I won’t know unless I try. Not wanting to overdo it, I stick to simple stretches and the lower back exercises Luke’s taught me.
When I’m finished, I refill my water bottle with cucumber water. I’m addicted to the stuff now. After six weeks without soda, I don’t even miss it anymore. Ice cream on the other hand, I still crave. My cravings mainly hit me at night, right as I’m trying to go to sleep. Apparently, eating right before you go to bed is a bad thing so I get to drink water instead. It isn’t the most satisfying option; but if I’m still craving ice cream in the morning, I make a smoothie.
Finishing my water, I check the clock to see how much time I have and have to hurry to hook up my tablet when I see I’m running late. Luke’s incoming connection request pops right up.
“Hey, Luke,” I smile, backing away from the screen.
The last thing he needs is my face taking up the whole thing.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Great,” I beam. “I have awesome news. I lost five pounds this week.”
When he frowns, my face falls.
“Isn’t that good news?”
As if he notices my hurt expression, his face instantly softens. “It’s great news; it’s just a lot of weight to lose in one week. It’s my job to make sure you aren’t overdoing it.”
I nod.
“Have you been skipping any meals?”
I shake my head.
He rubs his hand over his face. “We’ll keep an eye on your weight this week to see if the same thing happens. If it does, we may need to adjust some things.”
“But isn’t losing the weight a good thing?” I stammer.
“It is, but I don’t want to shock your system. The healthiest method of weight loss is gradual.”
Sounds logical I suppose. “I was wondering why I couldn’t see the difference. Since we started working together, I’ve lost fifteen pounds altogether. When I look at myself, why can’t I see the difference?”
“I’m not sure why you can’t because, trust me, I can.”
Something in the tone of his voice makes my cheeks redden.
“I’ve never asked you,” he continues, “what is your end goal for the weight loss? Not the number, but if you have some other motivation.”
I rub my lips together, sucking them into my mouth to chew on them before answering. “There’s this reunion.”
His eyes widen, so I stammer, “I know it sounds silly. I should be doing it for my health and not because I care about what people I went to school with think about me.”
“Lindsay.” He stops me. “I was just surprised you plan on going out. I think that’s a great goal.”
I can’t help but smile as I look back at him. “You do?”
“I do. The only thing I’m worried about is what you’ve told me about not going outside. Do you have a game plan for how you’re going to feel comfortable enough to go to your reunion?”
Flushing, I look away, not able to handle his eyes on mine. He’s right. I’ve haven’t even considered being able to walk out the door yet. Was there a part of me that assumed I would never accomplish my goal of looking like the woman the world saw? And no matter what I did, I wouldn’t go in the end?
“I’m taking your silence as a no. I have an idea though, if you’ll let me help you.”
I turn back to him, his warm green eyes waiting for me. “What do you mean?”
“We can talk about it while we workout. Is your mat already out? I can’t tell if I see the corner or a rug.”
I giggle as he squints at me. “It’s my mat.”
His smile takes my breath away. “All right, let’s warm up.”
As soon as we’re done warming up, he has me get into a plank.
“I was thinking we should work on getting outside.”
I want to look at him but it’s taking all of my strength to hold the position I’m in. I can’t even reply without it coming out like pants.
“You know how you jog on the treadmill every day; what if you did a lap around your block instead?”
He’s crazy. If I ignore him, there’s a chance he’ll give up. Unfortunately, once he has me in a rest position, he asks me about his idea.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I admit.
“Would it help if I drove up there and went with you?”
Gaping at him, I reply, “No, it wouldn’t.”
His wounded expression makes me want to take my words back. “People make me nervous and you’re a…”
“Person,” he quietly finishes for me.
Looking away to avoid the judgment I’m so sure will be written all over his face, I nod.
“So, if there was a way to make sure there wasn’t anyone around, would you go outside?”
I shrug, still avoiding his eyes. “Maybe, I’m not sure.”
“That’s not encouraging,” he pushes.
“Ahh. Why do you even care?” I snap.
“I only want what’s best for you, Lindsay.”
I have to look at him, have to test the sincerity of his voice with the expression in his eyes. It’s useless, though. I’ve lost the piece of me that truly trusts people. You never know when someone you have trusted will turn out to have been telling you nothing but lies. Luke has his role in my life. He’s the cute guy who’s helping me get in shape. He isn’t my friend.
“Can we talk about something else?” I plead.
He frowns. “I’m not going to give up on you that easy.”
My reaction to his words is tears filling my eyes. I rush over to the screen, turning it off before he can see them.
My phone starts ringing as soon as the connection is lost. It’s him. I ignore the call, sending it straight to voicemail. Angrily, I wipe my face. Why is he even acting like he cares? A text comes next.
Are you all right? I’m sorry if I upset you.
Peeling off my clothes, I head for the shower. I let the steaming water wash my tears away. Sinking down to the floor, I allow the water to wash everything away. Only when I’m all cried out, do I stand and turn off the water. From there I retreat to my bedroom, drying off and dragging on my most comfortable pajamas. Coco curls up next to me, softly purring.
I’m done with today. I’ll try again tomorrow.
My stomach is what finally wills me out of bed. In a moment like this, I’d like nothing better than to nosedive into a quart of my favorite ice cream. Since there is nothing that appealing in my kitchen, I settle for some cherry tomatoes and a cheese string only because I don’t have to make anything to eat them. I also fill up a glass with cucumber water, hating Luke for making me like it.
Having avoided my phon
e long enough, I check it while I eat. There are six more texts. The most recent one saying if he doesn’t hear back from me in an hour, he’s driving to my house. A noise near my front door makes me jump, knocking over my glass, shattering it. My heart beats wildly in my chest as I consider the possibility of Luke being outside my door.
It takes a couple of moments for me to check the timestamp of his text and realize a full hour has not passed since he sent it. Quickly, I reply.
I’m fine. I wasn’t feeling well.
Not even two minutes go by before my phone is ringing. I know who it is and do not want to talk to him; but I also don’t want him showing up on my doorstep, so I answer.
“Hello.”
“I’m sorry if I pushed you.”
Somehow hitting me right away with the apology causes my throat to swell. “It’s okay,” I manage to say.
“I upset you and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I only want to help you.”
Now I feel responsible for his guilt. My self-defense impulses are stronger though.
“Maybe we shouldn’t train together anymore.”
“What?” he snaps.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to keep—”
“You don’t truly mean that,” he cuts me off. “I’m not giving up on you that easily.”
Frustrated, I start pacing. “Why do you even care?”
“I don’t know,” he snaps again.
Neither of us speaks for a moment, until he asks, “Are you still there?”
I slump down onto my sofa. “I am.”
“You may not like it, but I’m going to keep pushing you. It’s how I’m wired. I can’t ignore this and I want to help you.”
How he’s wired, for some reason that actually makes me feel better. If this was how he is, then he would do the same thing for anyone. It’s the thought of him going out of his way to do something just for me that was freaking me out. If he’s this way with everyone, his motivation for wanting to help me is less suspect.
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