“You don’t have to start out with weight. You can even do it without the bar.” I knew that, but I also wanted to prove myself a little. I wanted to prove that my yoga muscles could do something other than yoga.
“And you don’t have to do every single hard pose that I suggest. You can do the basic one and I won’t think less of you.” She made a face.
“Yes, but I don’t like doing that. You don’t know this about me, but I’m a little competitive.” She bumped my shoulder with hers.
“Yeah, no, I got that from reading between the lines of your personality.”
We finished our protein bars and then it was time to leave, but I didn’t want to.
“So, I know I asked you if you wanted to do dinner and left it kind of open-ended, but do you want to come over tonight? I was going to make a steak stir-fry, if that’s something you’re into.” That sounded amazing right now.
“Let me tell my roommate.” I almost never missed dinner with Zee, so that was going to throw a wrench into their dinner plans, but I could just have leftovers tomorrow. I sent them a message that I was going to have dinner with Tuesday, and they wrote me back in all caps that they were mad since they’d already started making dinner, but also that I was going to have to give them full details when I got back.
“I’m good to go,” I said, after I answered Zee. Since they practically made all my meals, the least I could do was tell them about my dinner with Tuesday.
“Great. Let me just clean up a little and I’ll be ready.” She wiped down a few things and organized the equipment. I asked if she needed help, but she said she was fine. I fiddled on my phone and waited. Tuesday turned out the lights and we walked out to the parking lot.
“You can just meet me there. I have a driveway, so you can just park behind me.” Wow, lucky. My dream was having a driveway so I didn’t have to do street parking ever again.
Tuesday sent me her address and I got in my car.
“Is this a date?” I asked myself, but I didn’t know the answer. I didn’t want to be a dork and ask Tuesday, but this had all the hallmarks of being a date. Right?
She lived about twenty minutes from the gym, but with traffic it was more like thirty minutes. She beat me there, so I parked behind her car and looked up at the cute building. This was much nicer than where I lived, that was for sure. The neighborhood was everything you’d think a gorgeous Boston neighborhood would be. Brick houses with window boxes, adorable little mini parks and lots of people walking dogs and pushing strollers.
Tuesday buzzed me in, and I walked the narrow stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door.
“It’s open,” she called, and I walked in, immediately slipping off my shoes. I didn’t want to damage the gorgeous hardwood floors. This was an apartment where an adult lived. She had rugs and picture frames and large potted plants on the floor.
“Wow, this is gorgeous,” I said, walking into the white and gray kitchen that had little pops of gold and yellow. It was so clean; I didn’t want touch anything. Tuesday handed me some wine in a stemless glass.
“Thank you. I’ve only lived here for a few months. Everything is new because I had to start over.” That was news to me. I swirled my wine around the glass and took a cautious sip. I wasn’t used to drinking red wine, but this was lush and sweet. Delicious.
“Why did you have to start over?” I asked, leaning on the white granite countertop. Tuesday paused as she sliced some carrots.
“I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk about that yet. I probably need a few more drinks.” She’d changed into a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on her hips and a tank that showed just a little of her chiseled belly. Her hair was up in a messy bun and, even though I’d seen her in similar clothes before, it was different seeing her barefoot in her house. I still had my clothes on from work and asked if she could show me to the bathroom so I could change. I always had a spare set of regular clothes in my bag so if I wanted to go out spur of the moment, I was covered.
I got distracted on my way to the bathroom by the presence of a giant tank.
“Turtles!” I said, and dashed over. She had quite a setup with fancy lights and lots of fake logs and places for the turtles to rest, and plenty of room for them to swim.
“Hi Percy and Mary,” I said as they wiggled around the tank. “Which one is Percy and which one is Mary?” I called to her.
“You won’t be able to tell the difference, but I can,” she yelled back. I watched the turtles for a few minutes. There was something meditative about seeing them swim around the tank. Then they both got out and sat on one of the rocks in the corner, right under the heat lamp.
“You’re cute, but not as cute as the kittens,” I whispered before I went to the bathroom to change. When I came back out, Tuesday was throwing steak into a wok.
“Wow, you don’t mess around.” She turned and looked at me over her shoulder.
“I take food very seriously,” she said. I was getting that. She had all kinds of kitchen tools that I had no idea what their purpose was for.
“You should meet my roommate. I think you’d get along really well. They said thank you for the cake, by the way.” That cake was almost completely gone. I’d looked for a little bit for breakfast and there was a sliver left. Zee had snuck a bunch of it late last night. Jerk.
“You’re both welcome.”
“Is there anything I can do? I’m not used to helping because Zee never lets me do anything.” Zee had thrown me out of the kitchen on more than one occasion and I was still a little bitter about it.
“No, I’ve got this,” she said, and I huffed.
“No one wants me in the kitchen. Do I give off a bad cooking vibe or something?” Tuesday laughed a little and checked the steak.
“No, I just like doing things the way I like doing things. If you really want to help, you can grab that bowl of vegetables and then toss them in the pan when I tell you to.” She cracked a ton of pepper on the steak and the smell was making my mouth fill with saliva.
I stood there with a bowl of carrots, snap peas, bok choy, and broccoli, waiting for my turn. Tuesday threw a bunch of other seasonings in the pan and then pointed at me.
“Ready, set, go,” she said, and I threw the vegetables in with gusto. Of course, a few of them jumped ship and landed on the stove.
“Sorry,” I said. “I got really excited about vegetables and tossed a little too hard.” Tuesday stroked my shoulder.
“It’s okay. I’m not mad.” I met her eyes and she seemed concerned.
“Sorry, I’ve just been yelled at a lot in kitchens throughout my life.” Thanks restaurateur mom and dad. Tuesday handed me the spatula and motioned for me to stir.
“Are you sure?” I asked. I didn’t want to mess this up.
“Absolutely. I need to go get some rice anyway.” I stirred the way I’d seen Zee do a thousand times and made sure nothing stuck to the pan or burned. Tuesday came back with a bag of instant rice and threw that in the pan.
“Okay, just a few more things and we’re good,” she said. “You can keep stirring.” I wanted Tuesday to take video of me stirring and send it to Zee to show them that I could do something in the kitchen.
Tuesday threw some fresh herbs in the pan and a few dashes of sauce and then she declared that dinner was done.
“Do you want to just eat on the couch?” I definitely wasn’t fancy enough for the lovely dining table that looked like it had been made from reclaimed wood and had a bowl of limes on it that I was pretty sure were fake. It even had a runner on it.
“Yeah, couch sounds good,” I said, but then I looked at said couch. It was a light gray color with lots of cute pillows in bright colors. Understated and whimsical at the same time. I liked her style. Also, I was worried about dropping food on the couch and making a stain. I suppose if that happened, I’d just have to create a diversion. Maybe take my shirt off or something. That could work.
I sat down gingerly and put my plate on the coff
ee table that had a stack of bodybuilding books on it, two remotes, and a candle that smelled like wood smoke. Classy af.
Tuesday handed me a cloth napkin and I placed it on my lap. I wasn’t a total cretin; I did know to put my napkin on my lap.
“Should we toast?” she asked, and I held up my wine glass.
“Sure? What should we toast to?” I still didn’t know if this was a date or not, and this didn’t seem like the best time to ask.
“How about we toast to doing things that scare us?” she suggested, and I liked that.
“To doing things that scare us,” I echoed, and we tapped our glasses together and drank.
“Would you mind if I put on some music? Silence makes me uncomfortable sometimes,” she said, and I told her to go ahead. “The turtles also like music. They dance in the tank when I play certain songs.”
I could believe that. She’d sent me video evidence of it before. They were especially fond of EDM. Instead of that, Tuesday put on a woman singing a folky song with a guitar. I hadn’t heard this before, but it was nice.
“This is amazing,” I said after my first bite. I didn’t know what she had flavored this with, but she must be some kind of sorceress. This stir-fry might put Zee’s skills to shame. I should make them do a cook-off and then I could judge the results. That sounded like a fabulous plan.
“Thank you. I got really into cooking after college, right around the same time that I got into weightlifting. I was a little obsessed there for a while, but I like to think I’ve simmered down with age.” I snorted.
“Yeah, because you’re so old.” Tuesday sipped her wine and then put it down.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m a thousand years old.” I asked her what she meant. “I’ve been through a lot. It’s exhausting when I think about it.” Right. She had the whole thing with her parents. I had the feeling there was more than that, though.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” She looked into her wine glass as if it was going to give her an answer.
“We’ll see. I don’t open up easily, Sutton. I’ve been burned before and it’s caused me to be cautious around people. As a result, I’ve become isolated, but at least when I’m alone, I know who I can trust, and that person is me.” Beneath the hard exterior, Tuesday was sheltering a bruised heart. Maybe even a broken one, a heart that had been broken multiple times. This whole time I’d been concerned about getting hurt myself, but now I needed to think about her as well. I couldn’t be yet another person who caused her not to trust. The very idea made me feel sick.
“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. I understand if it’s hard to trust people. I’m not offended or annoyed by that. At all.” I stroked her arm and she gave me a tight smile.
“Thanks. That means a lot. I’ve had people get mad at me before when I couldn’t open up, but it’s not an easy thing for me to do, at all.” I could completely respect that. We’d go at her pace, doing whatever this was that we were doing.
“What made you get into weightlifting?” I said, steering the conversation toward something a little lighter.
“I did it for a girl,” Tuesday said, with a wry smile. “If you can believe that.”
“I can. I have a long list of things I’ve done to impress girls. Including, but not limited to: getting a tattoo, skydiving, pretending to enjoy math, pretending to be bad at math, and pretending to like a host of things I actually had no interest in. So I get it.” I completely got it. Tuesday stared at me for a second and then laughed.
“Okay, you win.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to derail your story. Continue.” She shook her head and then started again.
“So, I was in college, and there was a girl I had a huge crush on at the gym and she was a lifter. I would be on the treadmill and I’d see her across the room doing squats and overhead presses and I was just in awe of her. After a few weeks I started using the machines near her and hoping she would notice me. Then I started using the weights near her, but that didn’t work either. So, I got up my courage and asked her if she would spot me for a bench press, and that finally made her notice me. Her name was Clarity and I was completely in love with her, but she was completely heterosexual, as I came to find out.” I winced. Been there, done that.
“But, it sort of worked out because I started weightlifting and met my first real girlfriend doing that, so it turned out okay in the end.” I wondered what had happened to that first girlfriend, but I wasn’t going to ask. I finished my plate of stir-fry and took it to the kitchen. Tuesday went for seconds.
“I’ve got some ice cream, if you want. I tend to not keep desserts in the house, except for ice cream, because then I’ll just sit and eat them in one sitting. It has happened before after a rough workout.” I could imagine. I’d seen her put it away before. Even more than Zee.
Speaking of, I had a few unread messages from them and I checked and they were just wanting updates. So ridiculous, but I knew they just wanted to know because they were happy for me and maybe a little bit because they were living vicariously. They needed a boyfriend, bad. Maybe I could find someone at the gym to set them up with. There had to be at least one decent dude there.
“Everything okay?” Tuesday asked.
“Yup. Just my roommate. They’re really supportive and protective at the same time, and you haven’t been vetted, so they’re curious as to what’s going on.” There had been people before who hadn’t understood my relationship with Zee, and I hoped Tuesday wouldn’t be one of those people.
“That’s really great you have someone like that in your life,” she said after a long time.
“Do you have someone like that?” I asked tentatively.
She sighed and finished her second plate of food and took the plate and napkins to the kitchen instead of answering, which was an answer in itself.
“You’re just really lucky.” I knew that, which was why I didn’t complain too much when Zee ate all the food in the house.
Silence, with the exception of the music and the hum of the filter in the turtle tank, descended on us.
“I would like some ice cream, what flavor?” I asked, following her into the kitchen where she was industriously cleaning the wok.
“Cookie dough brownie,” she said, and I thought I was going to pass out. That sounded like the most amazing flavor combination ever.
“Do you have any sprinkles?” I asked. She set the wok down to dry on a dishtowel and opened a cabinet.
“What kind?” She had at least five containers of sprinkles. Sugar, the big chalky ones that they made for different holidays (in this case, hearts for Valentines), the long rainbow sprinkles, the little round ones, and chocolate sprinkles.
“I will take those,” I said, pointing to the shaker with the little round multicolored sprinkles.
“Cone?” She asked and I saw she had a lot of those too, and when she opened the fridge, she had chocolate and caramel syrup and whipped cream.
“Did you raid an ice cream stand?” I asked.
“No, I just like to be prepared for sundaes at any moment.”
“Were you a Girl Scout?”
“Yup. How did you know? I got a Gold Award and everything.” Wow. I’d always wanted to be a Girl Scout, but my parents were too busy to drive me to any of the meetings or events, and I didn’t want to ask. They worked so hard and were always so busy that I often didn’t ask for anything, even if I was sick, because I didn’t want to burden them.
“You get more impressive by the moment, Tuesday,” I said.
“Do you want to make your own?” she asked, as she got out the ice cream.
“No, you can do it. I’d like caramel, sprinkles, and whipped cream.” Tuesday made up my sundae and then made one for herself, topping it with two waffle cones stuck upside down, chocolate syrup, caramel syrup, two kinds of sprinkles, and whipped cream.
“I don’t even care,” she said, sticking a spoon into the bowl and then breaking off some of the waffle cone
and using it like a chip to scoop up some of the ice cream and toppings.
“Me neither,” I said, taking a huge spoonful of my sundae.
We finished eating our sundaes standing up in the kitchen. I was officially full and wanted to curl up on her probably expensive couch and take a nap.
“Thank you for dinner and dessert. That was amazing.” Tuesday put the dishes in the dishwasher and then there was nothing left to do.
She rested her arms on the counter and looked up at me.
“Are we doing this?” she asked, clasping her hands together.
“Doing what?” I still had no idea if she would consider this a date or not.
“I don’t know,” she said, smiling a little. “What are we doing?”
I sighed in frustration. Enough beating around the bush.
“You’re attracted to me and I’m attracted to you and we’re here at your house and we just had dinner, so I’m guessing, correct me if I’m wrong, that we’re dating. Is that way out of line to say?” She stared at me for a second and then laughed.
“Leave it to you to be direct. Yes, I guess we’re dating. If you want to put a label on it. I’m not sure that I do. And I’m not sure if I want everyone to know. I’m still . . . I had a breakup that was really bad and I’m still dealing with the aftermath of that.” I knew it. I knew there had to be something like that in her past, in addition to her parents passing away. Damn, Tuesday had been through some shit in her life. I wondered if there was more.
“That’s fine. We don’t have to do anything right now. We can just hang out and make out and see where it goes. You’ll come to yoga, I’ll go to CrossFit, we’ll exchange pictures of our pets and kiss and that’s it. Okay?” She inhaled through her nose and stood up.
“Okay.” Tuesday walked around the counter to the side that I stood on. “What is all this talk of making out?” Her arms went to my shoulders and she pulled me close. Her breath smelled like sugar and chocolate.
“Did I say making out?” I said, putting my hands on her waist. Anytime I got to touch her it was like an anatomy lesson. An image of Tuesday naked and me with a Sharpie labeling the various muscle groups flashed through my mind. Science had never been so sexy.
Anyone but You Page 13