Chapter 6
SIX
MAX
The smell of sweat, industrial sanitizer, and rubber flooring filled Max’s nostrils as a man grunted his exertion far too loudly, three machines over from where she stood, spotting Lynn.
“Four, five, come on…keep going.” She counted out loud to Lynn, watching for any signs of distress or need for her to intervene as she maneuvered the bench press.
“Eight. Nine, c’mon one more, ten!” Max said excitedly, reaching for the bar, relieving Lynn of the weight as she guided it back into its resting position.
Lynn wiggled her slender frame down the bench, giving herself room to sit up without smacking her head on the bar. “You were right, changing my grip made a world of difference,” she panted, taking the water bottle from Max’s outstretched hand.
When Lynn first approached Max about learning more about weightlifting, Max had been a little skeptical.
It wasn’t that she didn’t think Lynn was capable.
It was just that Lynn was a pretty stereotypical granola-eating, meditation-practicing, yoga-inclined type of person.
Up until that point, Max had never seen Lynn lift more than twelve-pound weights.
But she had agreed, because if Lynn was going to try weightlifting, Max wanted to make sure she was doing it correctly and not injuring herself.
Max whipped out her phone, opening the log she used to keep track of their lifting sets.
After recording Lynn’s workout, she flipped the screen around to show her the progress she had made.
“Look at that. Your weight and reps are up. And I can definitely see more of that definition you were looking for.”
Lynn took a swig from her water bottle before responding.
“It’s really been in the last few weeks that I’ve actually felt strong and not like I’m fumbling my way through a set.
” Max spied a small, nearly imperceptible smile she had come to know was Lynn’s tell for when she was feeling proud of herself.
“You are crushing it.” Max held out her hand, helping Lynn to her feet, the two of them moving towards the aerobic studios and away from the grunting man.
Lynn sipped from her water bottle as they walked, looking around the gym, observing in that quiet way Max always caught her doing.
Max had learned early on that Lynn was someone who liked to take in the world around her.
People watching had soon become one of their favorite activities to indulge in together.
They stopped at the water bottle refill station, where Max unscrewed the cap from her stainless steel water bottle and positioned it under the spout.
“What about them?” Max said, nodding over her left shoulder to what looked like a father-son duo entering one of the numerous squash courts that lined the back wall of the fitness center.
This was a game she had discovered Lynn was exceptionally good at.
Max would pick out random people, and the two of them would speculate together what they thought their story was based solely on what they could observe in that moment.
Lynn followed her gaze as they watched the father and son set down their bags without exchanging words.
“Forced weekly bonding time,” Lynn said quietly. “I would guess it started with good intentions, probably as a way to connect, but I’d be surprised if either feels particularly connected when they part ways.”
“That’s kind of dark, don’t you think? Maybe they’re both tired and don’t have a lot to say?” Max offered, screwing the lid back onto her water bottle. She glanced at the pair as they began to stretch, still not talking, silently orbiting each other.
“I don’t think so.” Lynn tilted her head towards the court, her French braid shifting slightly. “It’s in the body language. Look at the son. Every time the father gets close, he turns away. Not in an obvious way, but you can see there’s a wall there.”
Max cocked her hip as she watched, and sure enough, Lynn’s observation proved correct. In sixty seconds, Max watched as the son actively avoided engaging with his father.
Her phone vibrated in her hand and when she looked down she saw a new text, a broad smile instantly stretching across her lips.
Annie 8:47 AM
Thanks again for the ride home last night. Judging by the slight (and I mean incredibly tiny) hangover I have this morning, there may have been some merit to your reasoning for why I needed the ride after all.
An audible laugh left Max as she read Annie’s text again.
Max 8:48 AM
I told you yesterday…I’m usually right about most things. Hope you have some ibuprofen on hand. Drink some water and a little pickle juice, and you’ll be good to go.
Three little dots appeared, instantly sending a thrill through Max as she waited.
“I know that look.” Lynn’s voice was quietly smug, in a way only she could pull off. “New girl?”
“No,” Max said quickly. “I mean—it’s not like that. I don’t think so.”
Lynn raised an amused eyebrow but didn’t say anything as Max looked back at her phone to see Annie’s text.
Annie 8:48 AM
Ew. Disgusting. Pickle juice!? Have you no taste? I’m a firm Team No Pickle.
Max grinned, immediately typing back her response, enjoying the way Annie’s quippy responses made her want to play.
Max 8:48 AM
Shame. And just when I was starting to think you might be cool after all… More pickles for me, I guess.
Annie 8:49 AM
If we ever happen to encounter a pickle in the wild together, I will gladly make the sacrifice and allow you to have it.
Max 8:49 AM
I plan to hold you to that.
“Are we finishing our workout? Or should we call it a day so you can keep not flirting with the girl you’re not interested in.” Lynn smirked at her, taking one last sip from her water bottle before opening the door to one of the aerobic studios, with Max scrambling to catch up to her.
The pair entered the studio, placing their stuff in front of the large expanse of mirrored wall.
Lynn moved in the direction of the rack in the corner, picking up a medicine ball.
Max twisted to the side, studying her reflection in the mirror.
She’d been putting in the work over the last few months, targeting the specific set of muscle groups she hoped would help her build some semblance of an ass she could be proud to flaunt.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t liked her butt.
It was fine, kind of flat and meh, but otherwise fine.
She had always wanted to be the girl with an ass that made people stop and stare.
“I think all the work is paying off. My ass definitely looks rounder.” She grinned at Lynn in the mirror, who watched her, a medicine ball balanced on her hip as she waited.
“Congratulations. You have a badonkadonk now.”
Max shot Lynn an incredulous look, laughing. “Damn right I do,” she agreed, moving away from the mirror to begin their next set of exercises.
After the gym and the mandatory frozen yogurt stop Max insisted on even at ten thirty in the morning, they arrived back at the house, each peeling off to their respective spaces to shower and change.
Then Max was once again in Lynn’s company, set up at her dining room table with a brand new paint-by-numbers set.
Lynn sat opposite her, her latest miniature project set up in front of her—a little bakery scene she had been working on assembling.
Max loved their Saturday morning routine. And barring the occasional exception where she was forced to pick up a shift here and there, Max always prioritized Saturday mornings for Lynn.
“How’s the bakery coming along?” she asked as she worked the tiny plastic paint pots free from the box her kit had come with, setting each material on the table in front of her.
“Good. Everything’s painted and now it’s about assembling.” Lynn glanced at her over the rim of her glasses. “Can you pass me those tweezers please?”
Max reached for the tool sitting to her left, handing it off to Lynn before settling into her own project.
They worked in a cozy quiet; every so often, one of them would get up to change the record playing on the old Victrola in the connected parlor.
About an hour into their work, Lynn got to her feet.
“Time for tea and a stretch. Do you want a cup?” she asked, gently squeezing Max’s shoulder as she passed.
“If it’s your special lavender blend, absolutely,” Max said, not taking her eyes off her painting as she moved the blue paint-dipped bristles across their corresponding numbered blob.
Lynn rolled out a light purple yoga mat in the kitchen, stretching her hips and shoulders as she waited for the kettle to boil, and after a few minutes, a high-pitched whistle filled the bottom floor of the house.
Max wiped her brush clean as she squinted at the board in front of her, trying to decipher the blobs as she searched for the little 1E, her next color.
“Is this a three or the letter e?” she asked Lynn when she set her mug of tea on a coaster beside her. Lynn leaned over, studying the board as Max inhaled the comforting scent of clean linen.
“It’s an e. When was your last eye exam? I keep telling you you need to get them checked.”
Max nudged Lynn, gently pushing her away. “Shut up, my eyes are fine. There’s always been something about threes and Es that fucks with my brain.”
It wasn’t until Lynn slid onto her chair again that Max noticed a stack of papers in her hand.
“I think we need to talk about this.” Lynn’s voice was soft and apologetic as she slid the packet across the table toward her. Max reached for it, scanning the contents, her stomach dropping with realization.
Her body straightened as her natural inclination to defend herself began to creep in. “Oh, uh, why do you have this?”
“I didn’t mean to open it,” Lynn said. “The letter must have gotten mixed in with my mail, and I didn’t notice it wasn’t meant for me until I started reading it. But Max, I need to ask, are you in some kind of financial trouble? Do you need help?”