Chapter 1 #3
He shook his head as I neglected to use his first name yet again, but smiled at me. “Just talk to Linda about what day you would like to start at the beginning of January. We’ll begin your training after that.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. That’ll work.” Shouldn’t I think about this first, or consider other offers? Not that I had tried for other offers. “Sure. January should be fine.” I placed my miniscule hand in his and let him shake it emphatically.
“Wonderful. I will look forward to seeing you in January, Brooklyn.” He grinned at the use of my full name.
“Until then, have a great Christmas. Be careful out there tonight. I just glanced out the window, and the roads are looking bad.” With one final grasp of my hand, he turned and walked out of his office, this time leaving the door open.
After confirming a start date for the eighth of January, I got into my car, put the key in the ignition, and just sat there.
What had just happened? Had I really just accepted a job?
What had Lester seen in me? What could possibly make him ask such bizarre, random questions?
And if he really had those concerns, what would make him hire me?
I’d worried about the questions I’d have to endure during an interview for a church, but I doubt any of them would have been about masturbation.
However, I was excited that I already had a job, and I wouldn’t have to stress about going to more interviews. Having the next couple of weeks off before I’d have to begin working was an added bonus.
His questions left me feeling confused and dirty for some reason.
Was I so easy to see through? I prayed silently for some clarity and peace.
As always, everything remained as it was; if anything, my emotions grew more intense.
I turned the key, put the car in drive, and left the parking lot, heading downtown.
There was more than one way to get a clear head.
My mind still spinning from my interview, I ambled through the masses of the five o’clock crowd making their way along the sidewalks on Denver’s 16th Street Mall.
The December breeze was biting and did little to soothe my nerves.
I wrapped my copper-colored scarf tighter around my mouth and nose and buried my gloveless hands deep into the pockets of my coat.
The sleet hitting my face made it easy to block out the people around and continue obsessing over the implications of my interview.
As I turned right onto Welton Street, the breeze became a gale and caused me to close my eyes tight as I continued to move forward.
I collided into something. The strap of my workout bag slid off my shoulder, and the bag landed with a splash in a pool of dirty slush.
“Fuck off, prick! You too good to look where you’re going?”
I forced my eyes open to look toward the voice. An obese man with a patchy beard, multiple layers of greasy clothes, and a cardboard sign that was unreadable through the wet streaks of color running down the front bared his teeth at me. He was clutching at his right shoulder.
“You rich assholes think yer better ’n everyone else. Yer shit stinks same as mine!”
I bent down and picked up my bag from the puddle. Mumbling a hurried apology, I brushed past the man as he continued to rant until I was halfway down the block and something or someone else caught his attention.
At last, I stood in front of the large glass double doors of the towering building that held my gym.
Doing my best to brush most of the sludge off my bag, I only managed to flick it onto my pants.
With a growl, I wiped my hand off on my jacket and pulled open the door.
I hit the up button of the elevator, my breath escaping in frustration.
It always took forever for this elevator to arrive.
I contemplated walking up the six flights of stairs to the gym but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.
I’d probably trip or manage to drop my bag down several flights of stairs.
Might as well wait and build up a sweat on the stair-climbing machines—less height to fall from.
After three or four minutes, a ding announced the arrival of the elevator, and the doors slid open. I took a step forward, then stopped. My eyes widened as I took in the scene in front of me.
Inside the compartment, a man faced toward the rear of the elevator with his back to the door.
He looked to be around six feet tall and wore a tweed jacket and matching pants.
A briefcase was lying on the floor blocking the entrance.
He had his arms bent in front of him and was swiveling his knees in what looked like his own version of the twist.
I watched as the man proceeded to shrug his shoulders and grind his hips.
I wasn’t sure if I should walk away so I would not be caught staring, or if I should say something to make my presence known.
I felt my face flush. This was humiliating.
Walk away; I should definitely walk away.
As I took a step back, at that moment, the man’s eyes opened and met my gaze through the mirror in the back of the elevator.
We stared at each other, trapped in our own awkward universe.
He paused in midgyration; an uncomfortable smile began to cross his face.
I continued to stare stupidly while trying to figure out something to say.
The man dropped his arms to his sides, turned around to face the front, gave me a little wink, and bent to pick up his briefcase.
As he straightened and began to walk through the doors, he gestured to one of his white earphones.
“Nothing like the Beach Boys, right?” His voice was deep and overly loud due to the earphones, causing me to jump a little.
Speechless, I managed to make my head create the smallest of nods.
Flashing me a brilliant smile, he slapped me on the shoulder as he stepped past. I continued to watch the man as he straightened his shoulders and walked casually through the lobby and out the front doors.
The man cut off my stare when he turned the corner and moved out of sight. I stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the sixth floor. The elevator started its silent journey; I shook my head and muttered to myself, baffled by the man’s bizarre behavior.
Still thinking about the man in the elevator, I showed my ID to the woman at the front desk, changed clothes in the locker room, and headed to the workout area.
The unexpected distraction of the scene had already helped me relax somewhat, and I quickly got lost in the country music serenading me through my iPod.
I did a quick shoulder workout, doing my best to watch my form in the mirror while not really taking in my appearance.
I was stressed enough; I didn’t need to make a list of all my imperfections.
After finishing my fifth shoulder exercise, stair-climbing didn’t sound good after all, so I hopped on the treadmill and ran.
As the speed continued to increase, my brain was finally able to shut out everything around me.
I didn’t have to worry about my interview with Lester and what his questions implied.
It didn’t matter that in a couple of weeks my life would be changing, going in a completely different direction than I’d been planning for years.
It didn’t bother me that I’d be spending Christmas alone, with the phone turned off just in case someone uncharacteristically might decide to call.
It didn’t matter that I’d once again be going home to another night of frozen leftovers, endless sitcoms, and the prospect of rereading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban for the fifth or sixth time.
There were no thoughts of who I used to be, where I came from, all my plans that never came to fruition, or of how my family and I would probably never be able to live together in peace again.
I barely noticed that several of the men and women in the sparsely filled workout area would occasionally glance in my direction.
All that mattered was the adrenaline rushing through my veins, the sweat running down my back, fiddles wailing in my ears, and the pounding of my feet.
I awoke the morning of January 8 in a cold sweat thirty minutes before the alarm began screeching.
I glanced out the window; sunrise was just beginning to show promise, the snow on the ground illuminating my front yard.
I lay there, trying to calm my heart. It seemed as if I could feel every molecule in my body, and each one of them was screaming in terror.
I stayed in bed, the sheets down around my shins, trying to focus on breathing, trying to pray, trying to simply think.
What if I just stayed in bed? What if I simply never left my house again?
What if I just quit breathing and drifted away?
The alarm at the foot of my bed began to wail at the same moment the alarm in the bathroom let out its own high-pitched scream.
With a groan of anguish, I leapt out of bed, punched the alarm closest to the bed, and proceeded to do the same to the one in the bathroom.
I immediately made my bed and brushed my teeth.
Before getting into the shower and shaving, I simply stared at myself in the mirror.
I glared into my blue eyes, criticizing what I saw within.
Not the man I thought I would be. I took in my auburn hair and pale skin and the freckles that dotted my shoulders and back.
Maybe they were cute when I was a kid, but they looked rather ridiculous on a grown man.
I grimaced at the muscles that stretched across my chest and wound around my arms. The more I looked, the more I felt my muscles made my five-foot-seven-inch frame seem even shorter and boxier than it already was.
Not for the first time, I considered the possibility of quitting working out and trying to get skinny in the hopes of appearing lankier.
I knew that wasn’t a real option for me.
I would never have the discipline required to be slender.
It was either stout and boxy or pudgy and round, and I had barely survived my childhood in such a state—I wasn’t going back.
What did it matter what I looked like, after all? I was a counselor now, and that’s one of the perks. I didn’t have to look good or attractive. I simply had to counsel.
I wished it were so simple. If I could be left alone with a room full of kids, I would have been fine.
Even if they were mean kids and wanted to hurt me.
It was dealing with the rest of the staff I was dreading.
Adults are a lot more terrifying than kids.
What if Lester wanted to play twenty-thousand questions again?
What if other people saw the same things in me Lester must have seen?
What could I do if this didn’t work out?
I gave a growl of disgust as I pushed away from the mirror with a curse and stepped into the shower.