“Is it Saturday or Sunday?” I ask, worrying about my walk with Lindsay.
“Sunday. Is that okay? You aren’t going to church or anything are you?”
Laughing, I reply, “Nope, Sunday is good. Can you text or email the start time?”
Times like these, I wish my other sisters still lived close to home. It’s been awhile since I talked to either of them. When I hang up with Nat, I send them a combo email. We’re all friends on Facebook. It’s sad that’s the place I go to so I can see pictures of Melissa’s new baby, Alexis.
I fire off a quick email, letting them know I’m thinking of them. After my dad left, it was up to me to be the man of the house. I’ve walked both Nat and Melissa down the aisle and will be there for Jen and Sash when the day comes, if they want me to.
After that, I text Lindsay for no other reason than I was thinking of her.
Hi
She texts back right away.
Hey
How are you?
Good. You?
Long day. Hung out with Sasha.
Did you tell her you came and saw me?
This question was a test.
I don’t talk to her about my clients.
At all?
At all.
Thank you.
A test I passed, as long as she never finds out I talked about her to Clay, Courtney, and my mom. I’m finally getting to the point where I understand her. She’s beyond shy, choosing to live apart from the world instead of dealing with people in it. With time, with me, I want to convince her, they, me especially, aren’t all bad.
Luke is going to be here any minute. I hardly slept last night; I was so worked up about it. The last time he was here, he caught me off guard. This time I’ve had almost a week to stress out over it. If I hadn’t lost another three pounds this week, I might have even canceled on him. I don’t know what scares me more, seeing him, or not seeing him.
I’m a creature of habit, a lover of routines, an embracer of familiarity. He’s becoming a part of my life, beyond being my trainer. We now have web session live trainings on Tuesdays and Thursdays and this will be the second Saturday we’ll walk together. He hasn’t been absent from my life the other days of the week either.
He’s texted me, or called me. I’ve found myself almost calling him too. He’s started sending me songs. It started as playlists for me to jog to, but then morphed into just songs he likes in general or ones that made him think of me. Now I’m just as guilty of sending him songs I think he’ll like.
I’ll never know if he’s telling the truth or not, when he tells me he likes them. It scares me to think I know him well enough to send him songs at all. I’ve only known him two months. What happens when he finds a new charity case to spend his time on, one less messed up than me?
After the reunion, will he still train me or devote as much time outside of training to me? If I’m already starting to become attached to him after two months, I can’t imagine what I’ll be like by my reunion. I should sever ties now. I should.
Instead, I’m checking myself out in the mirror of my spare bedroom. I haven’t worn make up for our training sessions, per say, since Luke called me out on it that one time. However, I am wearing a tinted moisturizer with a built in SPF and a smidge of mascara. I doubt he’ll notice the mascara; and if he notices the moisturizer, I have the SPF to fall back on because it’s healthy.
The jogging pants I’m wearing are snug. Since I only seem to be losing weight in my legs, even I have to admit they’re starting to look pretty good. My tummy is still my problem area. For that, I’m wearing the equivalent of a girdle. I’m not even sure why, beyond stupid vanity. It’s December, the t-shirt and hoodie I have over it disguise my bulk just as well.
That doesn’t mean I’m taking it off. It’s like battle armor. I’ve lost about twenty pounds since contacting Luke. I still have a long way to go but whatever he is doing is working. Keeping him in my life now is worth the risk of losing him later.
My thoughts flee when I hear the knock on the door. After one last look in the mirror, I gulp before turning to answer it.
He’s still annoyingly beautiful. Workout clothes should not be so distracting. It isn’t fair for the rest of us. How he can make gray sweat pants, a black hoodie, and black knit hat look so delicious. My food cravings have morphed into craving Luke.
“Ready?” he asks, his green eyes wary.
They should be. I’ve talked myself out of opening this door at least a hundred times. I motion for him to start walking and watch him inhale deeply before he turns to move.
Halfway to the soccer field, he looks over his shoulder at me. “Will you always walk behind me?”
His words snap my attention from his backside, their movement unfortunately not lost on him.
“Don’t push,” I plead.
His lips move as though he’s about to respond, but never open to free the words into the air. He nods and turns back to look forward. There’s a good chance my behavior, my refusal to be near him is insulting to him. Explaining why I’m this way would only further complicate things. It’s better this way.
I prefer confusion to compassion. When we get to the park, I continue to follow his lead. After stretching, he moves straight to the track. He sets a pace I can easily match. The track around the field is flat. I’m used to running on an incline these days. I don’t tell him this since I’m not sure how long he plans for us to jog.
The chill in the air does nothing to dull my excitement at being outside again. The physical evidence of my breath is like a poof of steam as I jog behind Luke. It’s overcast, the sun’s rays battling to melt the frost glistening on the soccer field. I’m surprisingly peaceful, so far from the one place I feel safe. Here, I’m free to focus only on putting one foot in front of the next and not falling behind.
I have the control to decide how close I am behind Luke. The pace he set from the start, he’s kept. I stay far enough back I’m lulled by the rhythm of his steps in front of mine. I don’t notice until he’s led us off the track and to a grassy area near the walking path that another jogger has entered the track.
“You okay?” His eyes are on me.
I shake my head, not stopping and continuing to my house. Now he’s behind me. I just need to get to my house. Once I’m there, with the door closed behind me, I’ll be fine.
I stop abruptly when I hear voices approaching us and look back at Luke, panicking. He must hear them too because he glances around and motions for me to follow him off the path and into the woods. I don’t even think about it as I follow him.
He stops after a minute and turns to face me. “They’ve probably passed us now if you want to head back.”
I gulp, turning around to look for the path.
He must sense my hesitation. “Do you want me to go first?”
I lift my hand to press against my chest, hoping it can keep my heart from galloping from it and nod. When he moves to pass me, it is the closest I have been to another human being in, I’m not sure how long. Close enough that I can smell him. His scent is confusing, the clean of his soap mixed with the musk of his sweat.
I should be repelled, but instead, I mourn its absence once the distance between us is reestablished. There are no other people run-ins the rest of the way back to my house. Luke leans up against what I can only assume is his car and pulls off his knit cap before pushing his fingers through his hair.
“Is that your car?” What? Why haven’t I gone inside yet?
He looks up at me as I stand next to my door and nods.
I don’t know a lot about cars, but it’s a cool looking car. It clearly needs work though.
“Is it safe to drive this far every week?”
He laughs, looking up at the sky exposing the strong column of his throat before looking at me. “Did you just insult Sally?”
My eyes widen and I shake my head as I stutter, “I-I didn’t mean—”
He cuts me off. “I know you didn’t. Th
e engine is in great shape. I’m still working on the outside though. Once it warms up, I plan to fix her up some more.”
“Her?”
He grins and nods, smoothing his hand across her hood in a clear caress. I gulp.
He pushes up, standing. “Same time next week?”
I’m too flustered to form actual words and quietly nod my reply before dashing into the safety of my house. Peeking through the blinds, I watch as he stands there a moment or so, seemingly lost in thought, before he shakes his head and gets into his car. I don’t move until his car is out of sight.
My chest is tight, my breathing labored. I strip, rejoicing the moment I’m free of the girdle like contraption that smushed all my soft parts for the last hour. I opt for a bath instead of a shower. This is the most comfortable way to shave my legs. I could easily edit any leg hair but I like having smooth skin, all over.
Pampering, plucking, makeup, nails, I love all of it. If I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t still have a blog. A couple weeks ago, I thought about changing my hair color; but for now, I’ve decided to leave it blonde. After my bath, I change into a soft cashmere tunic over a pair of striped leggings. I dry my hair, massaging hair serum to the ends and twist, loop and braid its length into different patterns, stopping to take a picture between each look.
Finally, after my appetite demands attention, I stop. It’s later than I realized. I’ve started doubling the recipes Luke sends me, and eat the second portion the next day. Last night I baked lemon pepper salmon with steamed rice and brussel sprouts. With each bite, I replay the day. It’s silly to deny my attraction to Luke; I’m only left to be embarrassed by it.
If Luke weren’t so nice, it would be easier to consider him an object. Strange, right? It would be easier for me to like him if he was a jerk. Since he’s so nice, I feel like I’m objectifying him and I don’t like that feeling. It’s along the same lines of having a hard time lusting after celebrities with girlfriends or wives. I feel guilty for being attracted to them. It’s as though their attractiveness is already claimed.
Luke deserves more than having some pathetic, chubby nutcase like him. He’s been so nice to me. I need to accept that and treat him with the respect he deserves. I wash my shame down with some cucumber water and get ready for bed. I usually plug my phone in to charge, next to my bed when I sleep; however, when I reach to do this, I realize I don’t have it. .
I have to search for it though and find it in the pile of clothes I wore earlier today. There’s a text and a missed call from Luke. The call, with no left message, came in before the text.
Wanted to check in on you.
He sent it hours ago, probably when I was caught up braiding my hair. I hurry to reply, not wanting him to worry.
Sorry, my phone was in a pile of clothes. I’m good. U?
I don’t have to wait long for him to reply, the phone buzzing in my hand before I even have a chance to hook it to the charger.
I was starting to worry about you. Good to hear you’re all right.
Thanks for checking up on me.
It’s nice to know someone cares I add, to myself. That only allows the seed of doubt to awaken. How could he care about you?
What’s your plan for Sunday?
He knows me well enough not to ask if I’m doing anything fun or if I have big plans.
I have a workout to get in. After that, I’ll probably read or watch a movie. U?
I also have a workout to get in plus my nephew’s soccer game.
I knew Sasha didn’t have any kids, but apart from Luke, we’ve never talked about her family.
Is Sasha going too?
Probably.
Do you only have the one nephew?
My curiosity is shameless.
I have two nephews and one niece.
Do they all live nearby?
My nephews do, but my niece lives in Virginia. Do you have any nieces or nephews?
No, I’m an only child.
I’m sorry if this is forward, but are your parents still around?
I’m not sure what he means by that.
Do you mean alive or nearby?
Both
They’re alive. They live about an hour away.
Do you see them?
Not often
But you do see them? Do you go to them?
They come to me. I’m tired. I’ll talk to you later.
It served me right that my question about his life evolved in to him asking about my own. I need not to be so curious in the future. I’ve already told Luke more than any other person on the planet knows about me. There’s power in that information. Sure, he acts like a nice guy. I learned the hard way; the nice guys are the ones you have to watch out for the most.
After Lindsay ended our text conversation, it took me a couple of minutes before I could do anything else. I was still in awe over how many details of her life she revealed. I wasn’t surprised she was an only child. It’d be hard to become a recluse with brothers and sisters. I couldn’t reconcile her parent’s behavior.
They still saw her, but they weren’t trying to help her. Did that mean they knew what caused her to retreat or even worse, were the cause themselves? Even when my mom was at her lowest, she still pushed my sisters and me to work toward our goals. Making her proud was important to all of us.
Even with her parents not far away, Lindsay has made herself an island. With each text, call, web chat, and walk I’m doing my best to build a bridge. She may not want rescuing just yet, but I hope, one day she will. Before I go to bed, I pull up my email. It’s not unheard of for me to get cancellations or requests from clients to reschedule sessions.
What I wasn’t expecting was an email for the weight loss show offering me a spot as one of their guest trainers. This was huge, potentially life changing. Even though it was late, I call my mom.
“Luke, is everything okay?”
I can’t stop smiling. “Yeah, Ma, sorry to worry you. I have good news I want to share.”
“Oh, thank God. I was scared for a moment there.”
“Remember the weight loss show I auditioned for months ago? They just offered me a guest spot.”
“Honey, that’s amazing. Tell me everything. Where do you film, and when?”
My eyes re-skim the email. “Filming takes place in Southern California; and if I accept, I’ll have to go out there in three weeks and be there for four weeks.”
“If you accept it? Why wouldn’t you accept it?”
Lindsay, but I can’t say that. “I’d feel bad leaving all my clients here for that long.”
She tsks. “I’m sure they would understand. They would all be just so proud of you.”
She’s right. I know she is. I’m sure the other trainers would be willing to cover my sessions while I was gone.
“It’s a lot to think about, Ma.”
“Of course it is, honey. When do you have to let them know?”
“This week.”
“I’m here for you if you want to talk pros and cons. Are you going to tell your sisters? Will you be at Chris’ soccer game tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there, and I plan on telling Nat and Sasha there.”
“So, I’m the first person you told? You know how to make your mother feel special.”
“I love you, Ma. Of course, you’re the first person I’d tell.”
“That will change one day,” she teases.
Given the time, after she congratulates me again, we hang up. Falling asleep is almost impossible. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll lose all the headway, I’ve made with Lindsay those four weeks I’ll be gone. I’ll have to have free time of some sort while I’m there where I could still train her through web chat.
The last thing I’d ever want her to feel is abandoned. Since I’m in a position of trust, or as close to what could be considered trust in her case, the attachment I’m forming to her is an issue. My sole concern should be her health, not how good her legs looked today. She’s wore baggy cl
othes her last few web sessions so it’s been hard to tell how her body is changing.
There was nothing disguising her legs today. The hoodie she wore covered her ass and the top of her thighs. It was loose on her so I’m going to have to wait until the weather warms up for her to wear something less bulky on one of our walks. Right around the time, I’d be getting back from California, if I take this job.
Of course, I’m going to take this job. I’d be crazy if I didn’t. Why is it so hard to decide?
As I sit in my car, waiting for it to warm up, I wonder if it’s too cold for the game and call Nat to check.
“This is the last game of the season. We got pushed back a couple of weeks after all the rain we had in September. It was as if every game was rained out that month. I’m bringing folding chairs, hot cocoa, and stadium blankets so we should be fine. Wear a hat.”
I didn’t get a chance to share my news with her because she had to hang up and get the boys dressed. I figure I can just tell her once I get there. Turns out, my mother is not the person to share a secret with. Both Nat and Sasha are freaking out by the time I get to Chris’ game. After seeing their excitement, their pride, I know I have to go. I’ll have to figure out a way to break it to Lindsay. When I woke up this morning, I read and reread the email and contract from the producer.
There is nothing in there saying I can’t continue to train existing clients. There is a stipulation I’ll have to fly out to California to film the finale. Based on the schedule they’ve provided, it would be a couple of weeks after Lindsay’s reunion. My plan is to be upfront and honest with her and hope she won’t freak. Who knows, she might think it’s cool.
Yesterday's Half Truths Page 11