Fit for You

by Cynthia Tennent

  He had me at chocolate.

  * * *

  While Louise and Ivy watched an old Cary Grant movie, and Edge worked at the Dairy Cow, I sat on the floor of Edge’s bedroom talking on the phone and playing with the carpet fibers.

  “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!”

  “Oh, thank you, honey! Chip is here and we just face-clocked Ned.”

  Mom’s English was perfect, but she mixed up words sometimes. “You mean face-timed?”

  “Yeah, I looked pretty good in that little square.”

  I heard Chip laughing in the background. Of course Chip was the one to fly in for Mother’s Day. He was a suck-up. While Ned probably sent two dozen roses and a new appliance for the kitchen, Chip had flown in and taken Mom out to a buffet, Mom’s version of a five-star restaurant.

  “Did Chip take you out to eat, Mom?”

  “Oh yeah. All you can eat crab for fourteen ninety-five. Can you believe it? What’s the price of crab out there?”

  “We don’t really have an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet in town, Mom.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Did you get the new tennis shirt I ordered you?” Mom was a good athlete for an older woman. My brothers took after her side of the family.

  “Yeah. Thanks, honey. Then Chip took me shopping for a new warm-up suit and a new tennis racquet to match it. The ladies are going to be so jealous of my new graphite. How is your knee?”

  “Fine. I have all my range of motion and I’ve graduated to unlimited walking without a brace.”

  Chip grabbed the phone. “Just be careful you don’t fall off the sidewalk, hippo legs.” Oh God, I hadn’t heard that nickname in at least ten years.

  “So how is that little town—what’s the name of it again?”

  “Truhart.”

  “Are you getting them to touch their toes yet, or is that too much for them?”

  “Actually, they are doing really well.”

  “Oh yeah? Are they wrestling pigs and playing cornhole now?”

  Smart ass. Chip was the last one to talk about cornhole. At our last family gathering he had not only won the cornhole toss, but he had managed to drink the most beers in the process.

  “Ha ha. You should see it. They’re taking to the fitness training very well, Chip. In fact, we have a whole Memorial Day Weekend Warrior Challenge going on with the other half of the county. There’s a weight-loss challenge and a cook-off, and even a ninja warrior challenge on an obstacle course. Everyone’s really excited, and it’s getting quite a bit of press around here.” It took up the entire left-hand column of the local Harrison County Courier last week.

  “Sounds fun. Maybe I should enter.”

  “You couldn’t do half the obstacle course my team is training for. I’ve even got a gourmet chef. The food is going to be phenomenal.”

  He whistled. “Impressive, Lily. Send us more information when you get time.”

  I promised him I would. And I made a vow to conveniently forget. Then I caught up on all the news in his life. The whirlwind of conferences and recognition events. And, of course, there was the part that had to do with saving the world. It was amazing that Chip could fit so much into a single lifetime. He even managed a girlfriend. Although he hadn’t introduced her to Mom yet. Chicken.

  I heard about Ned and his beautiful wife. His career. And the fact that Chip and Ned had managed to meet for dinner in Florence a week ago. “The Chianti was absolutely amazing, Lil. You would have thought you’d died and gone to heaven.”

  Lite beer was more my style these days.

  It had been weeks since I let myself wallow in self-pity. I had forgotten that sense of failure that overwhelmed me when I spoke with my family.

  By the time I hung up, I realized I had drawn hundreds of tiny circles in Edge’s bedroom carpet with my hands. I rubbed my fingers back and forth, covering the tracks of my frustration.

  LESSON NINETEEN

  Monitor Your Progress

  One of my younger Lollipa-Losers, the name the weight-loss participants had officially christened themselves, stepped on the scale and held her breath. I peeked over her shoulder and wrote down her weight. “A pound down, Amber. That is fantastic.”

  She stepped off and her eyes welled with tears. “I can’t believe I didn’t lose more. I’ve been eating right all week.”

  I hugged her. “You have been working out a great deal this week. Remember, muscle weighs more than fat.”

  “Why bother to lose the fat weight if I gain the muscle weight right back?”

  “Your real goal is health. Just remember that and don’t worry about the weight. It will all work out in the end.”

  Her lower lip puffed out. “It will all work out? I hate that saying. My aunt says it to me whenever I don’t have a date on a Friday night.” She walked to the other side of the partition, her shoulders sagging and her head down.

  I made a note on my clipboard. This was one of the hardest parts of weight loss. Everyone measured the scale as if it were the holy grail of progress. But the real goal was muscle tone and loss of fat. With Dr. Manning’s supervision, I had recorded each participant’s weight when I first came to Truhart. The added pressure to beat Harrisburg was not helping my team lose weight in a slow and steady manner. I reminded every participant over and over that the real game was over a lifetime. Not just a few short weeks.

  Edge appeared at my side. “Amber looked upset. Isn’t she losing weight?”

  “Everyone loses weight at a different rate.”

  He tilted his head to read the clipboard and I hugged it to my chest. “This is private. No games this time.”

  “It’s a competition. We need to know where we stand. Besides, we have more participants than the required number. If they aren’t losing weight, we can remove them from the team with no penalty.”

  “Do you hear what you’re saying? That’s ridiculous.” I walked around the partition and waved the next person forward. There was only one person left. “Step back behind the partition, Edge.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s me. I’m a team captain.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the flippin’ president. This information is confidential.”

  Edge stomped off and I heard the door to the gym slam on his way out. What a baby. Last night Louise had tried to explain to me how competitive Edge used to be during his skiing days. “I thought he had outgrown it. I should have known it was still inside him.”

  Tracy had added, “Yeah, like a dormant disease, waiting to take over his body. Seriously, Mom. Someone’s got to stop him.”

  Louise had raised an eyebrow at me. “Maybe someone can give him a few gentle reminders what this challenge is all about.”

  I thought about what she said now. Gentle? No way. Someone had to whack Edge upside the head with a long pole. Then I frowned at the direction of my thoughts. What a terrible thing to think about a man who had suffered from a concussion. My brothers were competitive. My colleagues in fitness were competitive, although they covered it up by talking “health” talk, like I had just done with Amber. But the fact was that we all were competitive to some extent. Some of us just did a better job of covering it up than others.

  Marva O’Shea walked around the partition. “I sure hope I have a good weigh-in today, Lily. Last week we celebrated Jenny Scott’s birthday and I couldn’t help myself. I had two pieces of cake.”

  She stepped up on the scale and refused to look down. “If I weigh more I’m just going to quit this stupid challenge. I try and try, but every time I lose one pound I gain two. Last night Corinne and I got into it because she tried to stop me from eating the second serving of lasagna at dinner. I don’t know what happened to me. I just went off on her.” I thought about my conversation with Corinne several weeks ago. What had she called it? Blovering? This new disagreement sounded more serious than bickering. “Corinne never gains weight. She eats and eats all day long and she still looks like a skinny old stick. All I have to do is look at a Twink
ie and it’s on my butt. It’s not fair. She has it so easy—”

  She stepped off the scale and covered her face with her hands. “Oh Lord. I can’t believe I said that . . .”

  I put my arms around Marva’s shoulders and let her cry it out. Weight loss was such an emotional issue. In a culture that is so focused on looks and body shape, being overweight was almost paralyzing. I held Marva in my arms and thought about how long it had been since I had experienced the agony of long-term weight gain. My own struggle as an adolescent had motivated me to become a fitness trainer. Then the impact of my father’s death had taken a toll that I remembered too well. It was one of the reasons I had been excited to work on Just Lose It. But as soon as I was on the set, the lights and cameras made me more focused on my own success rather than my client’s gritty anguish over trying to lose weight.

  Maybe L.A. and Hollywood weren’t where I had ever belonged.

  I tucked that thought away and put Marva out of her misery. “You lost three pounds.”

  She jumped back. “I did?”

  “You did.”

  “Even with the two pieces of cake?”

  I nodded. “Yup.”

  She jumped back on the scale to make sure. “Oh my God. I did! Wait until I tell Corinne. Imagine what I would have weighed if I hadn’t had the cake.”

  Marva ran out the front door and left me alone in the gym, grateful to witness a victory that had nothing to do with winning.

  * * *

  Our first meeting for high school students struggling with weight issues went very well. At first the kids were shy. When Rocky, of all kids, revealed his own embarrassment over his body, however, the floodgates opened. We talked about very small changes we could make until next week’s meeting, and the students walked out carrying more energy and optimism than when they arrived.

  Afterwards, Rocky dropped me at Lakeview Adult Day Care. “Ms. Shue, I can’t tell you how much fun I am having practicing the obstacle course with the River Hogs. They’ve all been super nice and I can do all the obstacles. Can you believe it?”

  “Yes, I can believe it, Rocky. Not only is the weight coming off, but you are strong now. Getting stronger every day.”

  He gave me a spontaneous hug before driving off. I was so proud of him. Proud of so many people in town. I couldn’t remember the last time I had enjoyed this kind of satisfaction in my career.

  The campers at Lakeview loved dancing with me to “Call Me Maybe.” We replayed it three times at their insistence, and now I couldn’t get it out of my head.

  After Louise brought me home, I walked across the street, looking for Edge. I wanted to tell him about my amazing day. The garage door was open, but Edge’s truck wasn’t there. Edge had been so busy with his obstacle-course team and working at the Dairy Cow that he hadn’t worked on the ranch all week. Last night he had been late getting home. I had fallen asleep without sneaking across the street to be with him.

  Now I wandered around the house trying to figure out where he had gone. The ice on the lake had melted. But the water was still frigid. Next to the shoreline was the large patch of land that made up Ivy’s garden. It was just beginning to show signs of life. I stared at the clumped-up dirt and the sprouting perennials that poked out of the soil and wondered when people planted in this part of the world. Surely it was time to tend the soil and plant the first seedlings. I leaned down and surveyed the rose bushes near the house. Tiny buds were visible on the stems. Good. They survived the winter.

  The garden needed tending to, before the weather warmed up. Especially around the perennials.

  I went to the garage, where the garden tools were hanging on a rack, and pulled out a hoe. For the next half hour, I worked the soil loose and evened out some of the areas that the winter wind had eroded. I grabbed some shears that had been lying on a shelf in the garage and cut away the burlap on the rose bushes. Edge should have done that weeks ago. They needed light. I clipped a few dead branches so that the plant’s energy would go to the new growth.

  I would come back when I had time and bring a few hardy annuals to brighten up the borders. I leaned the hoe against the side of the garage when a movement in the picture window of the Callahans’ living room caught my eye.

  Ivy sat in her wheelchair gazing at me. She raised her hand and waved. It was the first time I had ever seen her do that.

  I waved back. One gardener to another.

  LESSON TWENTY

  Stay Positive on Bad Days

  “She likes it, Lily. You are a genius.” Louise captured me in her arms and kissed my cheek.

  “It wasn’t that big a deal.” I sat down next to Ivy and watched her drink the smoothie I had prepared for her. Yogurt, strawberries, bananas, almond milk, and my protein powder. I had grown tired of watching Ivy feed her toast to the dogs and scowl at her eggs. This morning I had asked Louise if I could make Ivy breakfast.

  “I should get one of these for the day care. I can’t tell you how many seniors have trouble eating hard food and meat.”

  “The best part is you can customize it, Louise. Protein and vegetables, fruit or yogurt. There are all sorts of recipes you can modify.”

  A horn honked from the driveway, “Oops, gotta go.”

  “Tell my son to come in and share a cup of coffee next time, will you? He’s hardly been around all week.”

  I felt her pain. Edge was running himself ragged. I kept telling him to take it easy. But some sort of virus had taken over him. It was called the Warrior Weekend Challenge.

  When I climbed into his pickup, I said, “I missed you yesterday.”

  He leaned across and gave me a kiss. “Busy again. Sorry. I got home late and crashed as soon as I walked in the door.”

  I wanted to talk to him about the garden, but he was more interested in talking about the challenge. “We’re in countdown time. Less than a week to go. How are things going with the walkers?”

  “Great. If we were to map it, they would have made it all the way to Chicago on foot by now. They’re really pleased.”

  “Chicago? That’s all?” He scraped a hand over his eyes and turned onto the main road. With his clean face and hard jaw, he should look great this morning. But his eyes had tiny coils of red circling the irises and he had dark circles under his eyes.

  I stared at his profile. “What do you mean that’s all? That’s pretty darn good. You can practically see the progress on their worn shoes.”

  “I just—” He shook his head. “Never mind. We’ll beat them at the obstacle course.”

  “Never mind? We can beat them on the road, too. Who knows how far Harrisburg has walked so far?”

  He grunted. “What about the Lollipa-Losers? Any progress there? Aunt Addie says she’s lost twenty pounds so far.”

  More like fourteen. But I didn’t want to correct her testimony. It was important for her to feel good regardless of the details. If the rounded-up number of twenty made her happy, then so be it.

  “Our Lollipa-Losers are still losing, and I’m really proud of them.”

  “Their BMIs—Do you think we stand a chance if Harrisburg has, say, lost . . . I don’t know, an average of twenty-five pounds per person?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know, Edge. I would have to crunch the numbers. We’ll just have to wait for the weigh-in on Saturday.”

  He tapped the steering wheel. I got the fact that his dormant competitive nature was coming out. But I wanted to make him understand that everyone was a winner. No matter what happened. I opened my mouth to explain and stopped. Mentioning the competition seemed to do nothing but add tension to our relationship.

  I reached for the knob on the dashboard and searched for classic rock on the radio. I passed a sports-talk radio station and he said, “Wait, I want to hear how the Wings did last night.”

  “They won.” I was surprised he didn’t know that. The NHL playoffs were a big deal around here, and last night the twins and I had watched the game in the recreation room. By the third quarter w
e were practically throwing our popcorn at the officials, who kept giving us penalties that resulted in a power play by the opponents, the Colorado Avalanche. We screamed so loud during the shoot-out that Louise yelled at us to quiet down.

  I was just about to tell him to stop working so hard on the challenge and enjoy the finer things in life, when his phone rang. The caller information read “Uncle Pete.” The elusive uncle I had yet to meet.

  Edge took the call on the speaker system. “Hey, Edge. Any chance you can take the truck Friday? I’ve got a meeting with a guy in Pinconning who thinks he can sell my candy at his cheese store. It might be pretty lucrative if I clinch it.”

  “Sorry, Uncle Pete. The challenge is Saturday. Remember? I’ve got a lot to do to get ready. Maybe next time.”

  “It’s really an important opportunity. What if you just take the morning for a couple of hours? I should be able to make it back by then.”

  “Can’t do it. I’m reviewing some of the finer points of the rope climb with my team at noon. Besides, I can’t risk overworking myself before the big day. “

  Pete tried all sorts of incentives to persuade Edge to take a shift, but Edge wasn’t budging. Uncle Pete sounded so disappointed by the time he hung up that I almost volunteered myself.

  “I can help go over the rope tactics with the team if you want to change your mind and help Uncle Pete.”

  Edge had the audacity to laugh. “God no, Lily. Ropes are hard to explain. I’ll do it.”

  My whole body tensed. “I am a trainer, you know.”

  “Yeah, but this is obstacle-course work. It’s different. We’re in the home stretch here. Uncle Pete will have to understand. Trash and chocolates can wait.”

  I crossed my arms in front of me and turned my head to watch the landscape out my side window. It had rained last night and there was more drizzle in the forecast. The grass was greener every day now. The buds on the trees were opening up and silvery-green leaves rustled in the wind. With the promise of summer around the corner, the landscape was far prettier than it had been when I first came to Truhart. I couldn’t wait. Not just for summer, but for things to get back to normal. Whatever that was. Edge was obsessed with winning. So was the whole town, for that matter. A twinge of anger flared deep down, and I pushed it back, not wanting to give in to the emotions that threatened to ruin my new feelings for Edge.