by Brown, Tara
“What? Did I misread her? Is she not the office gossip?” He grabs the door handle. “I can go find a better person to ensure Rod knows I’m here and that you’re basically living with a doctor.” He grins. “A handsome doctor.”
“Boyfriend and living together? You really sold all that, did you?” I stand, fighting a dizzy spell by placing a hand on my desk.
“Oh, I sold it.” He walks to me and puts my lunch on my desk and kisses me.
I melt into him, partly because I can’t stand on my own right now and partly because I needed this. Human contact. Care. Kindness. I didn’t realize it until he did it.
“You okay?” He pulls back, looking into my eyes.
“Yeah, I’ve just had a headache all—” I contemplate how long it’s been. “Month? Friggin’ Rod.” I laugh nervously realizing how long it’s been. “And now James is coming to list the house. Rod wants it sold. Likely to pay for his wedding.” I bury my face in his chest. “Why does this year have to keep kicking me in the face?”
“Wait, are you serious? You’ve really had a headache for a month?” He straightens and starts examining me. “Light sensitivity?”
“I’m fine, I swear. It’s the stress.” I don’t answer the light sensitivity question. I don’t want him to worry.
If anyone walked past the office, they would see his back and me in his arms. But he’s blocking out the fact he’s tilting my face and forcing me to look to the right and left. “Hmm.” He arches an eyebrow. “I don’t like headaches that last a month. Not after your injuries.”
“What? Why?”
“That nasty concussion you had,” he says as if this is super obvious. “A month of headaches is a bad sign, Lil. Even in stressed-out people living with a bad case of the 2020s. Is this why you’ve been so against going out and doing anything all summer?”
“No, I genuinely just wanted to see Lillian.” I don’t tell him that taking our relationship out of our apartments makes it real, and I am scared of real. And of him breaking my poor battered heart.
“I wish you’d said something.” He scowls. “I thought you simply had the Covid blues and stress from the shitty year.”
“I do. It’s nothing. I swear. I’ll see my doctor if it makes you feel better.” I stand on my tiptoes uneasily and give him a kiss. “But I will bet it’s Rod and the house and the divorce and his engagement. It’s been a pretty crappy experience.”
“I know.” He holds me tighter to him but his kiss is firm and cold. “But you need to take this seriously. It could a be a variety of things after damage like you had. A secondary cyst. Post-traumatic vertigo. You need a CT or MRI.” He cups my face and smiles. “Why don’t I arrange it so we see the tech later today? After work.” He kisses me once more. “Or we could go now.”
“Oh my God, stop. It’s fine. I have way too much work to do right now. I’ll see my doctor. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Fine, but until you do, I don’t want you driving.”
“Okay,” I say. “Fine. I don’t need to drive anyway.”
“I’m taking your car home.” He reaches for my keys on my desk.
“Good, take it. I need the walk,” I challenge him. “I have to get to work though. Seriously.”
“Fine. I’ll see you for dinner? Prepare for a thorough physical.” He winks and walks out while I shamelessly stare at his ass the way Janice did.
It takes everything in me to work and not “Google doctor” what the hell post-traumatic vertigo is.
Chapter 35
August 31
Leaving work after our first day back at the office, I feel like I’m escaping prison. I sneak out a side door and hurry away from the building before I have to hear about Rod’s engagement once more.
That son of a bitch.
Our marriage is barely cold in its grave.
My feet hit the sidewalk at a pace I won’t be able to keep for long. I need to start working out. Taking my car home at lunch so I could get in a couple of walks today can’t count as actual exercise. I’m accustomed to walking around the city now. I need more.
Before I can consider that, my phone rings with a call from Liz.
“Hey,” I say, huffing into the phone.
“So James mentioned the house is listed.”
“Yeah, and Rod is engaged to Elaine. It’s been a real Monday,” I add and wait for her response.
She bursts out laughing and I join her though I don’t know why this is funny.
The two of us cackle like crazy witches.
“Oh God, that is good. Engaged already? As usual, Rod has the cart in front of the jackass.”
“You mean horse?”
“Nope. I can’t believe he didn’t try to be single for a minute. What an idiot. Jumps from one relationship to the next without so much as a pause. And to that bloodsucking she-devil? Match made in heaven if you ask me.” She continues snickering. “Did Rod tell you? Did he stride into the office and brag about this epic failure as if it’s an accomplishment?”
“No. Simone came into my office to tell me. At first I was stunned and then annoyed because he’s invited everyone, including Anthony. The poor guy popped into the office to tell me he had no intention of going. He didn’t even tell Shawnee he was invited. He was scared to.”
“That’s legit. There are few things she hates as much as she does Rod,” Liz says. “Where are you? You’re out of breath. Did you finally join a gym to get that divorcée revenge body?”
The question catches me off guard. “What? No! I was walking fast. What revenge body?” Is she calling me fat?
“You know how people always do that. Lose weight and get sexy and start posting all those ridiculous selfies so everyone can see how happy they are and how much better off they feel. But it’s just revenge on their ex,” she says as if this is a normal thing and I’m behind the times.
“No.” I start walking again. “Although now that you mention it, I do recall seeing those pictures on Simone’s Facebook page a couple of years ago. And she has lost weight and maintained it. Oh God, do you think everyone sees why Rod left me when they meet Elaine? She’s so small and skinny.” I stop again. “Do you think I should join a gym?”
“God no. You’re not fat by any stretch but getting healthy might make you feel better. And it’s really therapeutic to work out.” She is backpedaling now the way all naturally small and skinny people do. “But you don’t need a gym. Not with Covid. Use the home gym you made in your office. You could try the Peloton bikes. They offer classes with your own home equipment. You buy the bike and pay a monthly subscription. Go talk to Arthur at James’ gym.”
“Hmmm.” I contemplate that. “What one does he go to?”
“I’m sending you the address in a text.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll get Helen and go now.” If I don’t go now, I’ll put it off.
“You should go car shopping too,” she teases, knowing I love my old car.
“No. I don’t need a car payment to go with my workout payment. I’ll text you when I get home. Love you.” I end the call and walk faster again. She’s right. Getting healthy might make me feel better. I was healthy when I met Rod. I was also a lot younger.
I don’t bother going upstairs but head straight for the underground parking where Helen is sitting.
Climbing in, I take the silence and stillness of the lonely garage to mull over my feelings. Sifting through them, as I’ve learned to do, I comfortably admit I’m sad my house is for sale. I’m more curious than anything over the engagement. Rod hates marriage.
Before we got engaged, he tried to sell the whole “not believing in marriage” vibe until his mother became angry with him, saying something about me being a cow and him getting free milk.
His having an affair for years might be the reason it’s easy to move forward with Elaine.
My brain does a quiet tiptoe around the possibility that it was me. It’s another low self-esteem hiccup.
I push the feelings asid
e, my usual go to, but as I’ve begun doing lately, I agree to revisit tonight. I’ll write it all down and process it as the course has shown me.
Taking a deep breath, I start the car and open the map on my phone for the directions, and begin the short drive to the gym.
I’m nervous on the drive, already edgy from the day’s news but also going to a gym makes me uncomfortable. I feel awkward walking in. I haven’t been in a gym in a decade. And being thirty-seven and out of shape, I assume it’s pretty obvious to the trainer’s eye I don’t work out. An eye I catch the moment I step in the front door.
“Hey, how’s it going?” a stunningly handsome man calls from the counter he’s wiping with cleaner.
“Uh good. Thanks.”
“You looking for the physio office?” he says with a smile, obviously thinking I am not here to work out.
“No, my brother-in-law works out here. Apparently, you guys can help me out with getting a Peloton bike?” I offer unnecessary details.
“Cool. Yeah, we have one for you to try out. It’s right over here.” He points me in the direction I’m meant to go but comes around the corner to escort me.
“Awesome, thanks.”
“No problem,” he says it and reminds me of Joey from Friends, but shorter and thicker. He flashes me a charming smile, the kind you can’t help but sigh after seeing. Yup, Joey. I’m expecting him to say, “How you doing?”
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he introduces himself. “I’m Arthur.”
“Lilly.”
“Nice to meet you, Lilly. I like that name.” He walks over to a space with bikes and points to the fanciest one in the room. “You’ll love it. Have you done spin before?”
“Oh uhm.” I try to recall my last time. “Yeah, my sister made me go to a couple of classes maybe ten years ago.” I wince, hating this.
He smiles wide. “Why don’t you hop on and see if you like the way it feels.”
My stomach flutters. He’s absolutely flirting with me and that makes me tense. The uneasiness worsens as he pats the seat.
I take a breath and slip out of my shoes and step onto the bike, praying to the gods of all that is holy I don’t fall on my face. I’m wobbly and unsure as I climb onto the seat. It’s instant misery. My vagina is begging me not to do this to us again and my butt is threatening to go on strike. We all promptly remember spin class and why it didn’t work.
I get my feet onto the pedals and nod. “It’s nice.”
“Try pedaling,” he says with a laugh.
“Okay.” I move my feet and straightaway my thighs are against this. It’s a special kind of hell. There is no world in which I will ever do this. I am way too soft of a person to torment myself. Whatever exercise I do, it can’t hurt like this.
Liz is nuts. ‘Course, after three kids this is probably not so bad for her.
“Wow,” I add for effect, making Arthur chuckle. He has a great laugh.
“Lil?” a voice I recognize calls to me from across the gym. I lift my gaze to find Sam in a tight white tee shirt soaked in sweat and some gray jogging pants.
My feet tangle and I slip off, catching myself with the armrests but wincing as my ass meets the pointy part of the seat.
“Oh shit!” Arthur says, helping me.
“I’m good, thanks,” I lie and stand but it’s effort and requires concentration.
“You looking to start up here?” Sam asks, walking toward us. He takes a drink from his water bottle, and I try not to stare at his wet lips or the tattoo of some sort of arrow on his forearm that goes up into the sleeve.
God, I need sex.
“You guys know each other?” Arthur asks but blurts, “Oh, you’re Lilly. Sam’s Lilly.” He steps away, nodding. “Cool.” Sam offers him a look. “Let me help you off,” Arthur says and takes my hand and leads me off the machine.
Sam’s Lilly?
Oh God.
“Thank you.” I smile at Arthur and step back onto my heels, ignoring the wobble in my legs. “And no,” I say to Sam. “I’m here because my sister said I should look at a Peloton bike.”
“I gotta get back to the desk. Let me know if you want any more help,” Arthur says. The flirting is over and he’s all business now.
“Thanks.” I turn to Sam. “So you work out here?”
What a question. I am Captain Obvious.
“Yeah.” Sam points at the gym owner walking away. “Arthur and I have been friends for a long time.”
“Cool,” I say, still sounding like an idiot. “I should get going,” I add. Not sure it’s an improvement. Is there any improving this? What a Monday.
Sam steps closer. “How—how’s your sister’s baby? Lillian.”
“Good, she’s cute and healthy. How’s work?” Oh God, help us. We’re dying from an acute case of small talk-itis.
“Awesome. Still low numbers coming in. Contact tracing is going great. Most people have followed the advice of the doctors.”
I nod along, trying to act like I’m listening but the truth is I’m desperately trying not to stare at his sweatpants and tee shirt.
“How’s work for you? You guys back in the office now or still working from home?” His eyes bore into mine as though he is trying to keep focus too.
“Office. Today was the first day back,” I say.
“Was it weird being forced to wear real pants again?” he asks, amusing himself at my expense. Clearly, he remembers the stretchy pants I wore to his place for wine on the patio.
“Yes,” I admit. “Hence, the reason I’m here.” I joke but it’s not funny and I’m struggling, so I blurt the first thing that comes to mind, “Apparently, I need a revenge body for my divorce.”
Why, God, why did I say that?
He flashes that smile. The one with the dimple. “Revenge body? Is that like murder?”
“No, I don’t really understand the premise. I mean murder might be more pleasant than riding that bike.”
“I’d rather ride a real bike. I can’t do treadmills or stationary bikes. They make me crazy. Why don’t you just jog? The Couch to 5K is a great program and it’s free.” He starts walking and I find myself following and suddenly we’re strolling together.
“Couch to 5K?” I wrinkle my nose, expecting a punchline.
“It’s a running program for beginners. You download the app to your phone and listen to the run and walk prompts on your headphones. It starts slow.” He nudges me, like it’s fifteen years ago and we’re crossing the quad. “You can do it.”
We walk to the front doors and he waves at Arthur. “See ya.”
“Yeah, have a good night. Nice meeting you, Lilly.” Arthur grins at us and I can’t stop seeing Joey.
“Do you want a ride?” I ask Sam and point to my car.
“That is not your car.” He stops and stares at Helen. “I saw that thing in the underground parking, and I honestly thought the guys stealing my TV left their vehicle behind.”
“She’s a classic.”
“This is Helen? This is the car you named after your favorite aunt?” He sounds stunned.
“Shut up!” I walk to the car and unlock it. “Are you coming or not?”
“Yes, but only because you might need help pushing it home when it dies.” He laughs harder. He entertains himself all the way to our building with old-car jokes. I’m proud of Helen for taking them so well. She drives like a dream. It’s my eyes that hurt from rolling them so much but the jovial energy between us is back.
When we reach the underground parking, he closes the door carefully. “You really should consider getting a new car.”
“I love this car.” I wrinkle my nose at him.
“It reminds me of that car I had when we were dating.” He sighs.
“Oh yeah, that was a real piece of shit,” I tease him as we walk to the elevator.
“Whatever. Anyway, if you want to do the Couch to 5K, I’d go with you,” he offers as we step into the elevator.
“You would?
” I ask, not sure how else to respond. The small space shrinks in on us. He’s sweaty and muscled and so close I smell his deodorant in every inhale.
He turns to face me. It’s there again, that same steamy intensity burning in his eyes. The door opens on the main floor and an older lady climbs in with us. She has a mask on and offers us both the stink eye.
“Mrs. Weaver,” he greets her. “How are you?”
“Just fine, Dr. Christianson. I’m surprised you’re not wearing a mask,” she says bitterly.
“Right, yes.” He winces and steps closer to me, giving her space. He’s warm and we’re practically touching.
She sneers at us as she leaves the elevator. We follow hesitantly like scolded children. Evidently, she lives on the same floor as us.
When I get to my door, he pauses. He wants to say something else. And I’ll be damned if I don’t want him to say it.
My body is on fire imagining where this is going.
Sex with Sam.
I could go for that.
“Let me know if you want to run. I’m around tomorrow. I’ll be home after you get off work.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“Goodnight,” he says, lingering.
Mrs. Weaver is outside her door, watching us with her evil hawk eyes.
“Goodnight,” I whisper back and turn for the door, unlocking it and stepping inside. We stare at each other in the gap as I close the door.
This is a conundrum.
Chapter 36
September 30
My doctor comes into the room with a soft smile. She’s been my family doctor for a couple of years. I like her. She doesn’t try to explain things to me with big words. She understands I don’t know anything about medicine. “Lilly, how are you?”
“I don’t know. How am I?” I ask what is likely the most cliché expression heard by doctors.
Her smile widens. “You are great. Actually. The MRI results have come back.” She sits on the stool and folds her arms. “You have a secondary arachnoid cyst on your brain. It’s a result of the accident I would wager. It’s not common but can happen. They’re fluid-filled sacks that need to be drained if they are causing problems by putting pressure on the brain, as yours obviously is.” She sounds like this is nothing.