Chapter 10
I have read that if a gym is more than a fifteen-minute drive from your home, you’ll never end up working out.
Titan Fitness is a small gym that’s a ten-minute drive from my house, and I have managed to go there a respectable three times per week since joining.
I hadn’t planned on going today because of the photo shoot, but my morning has unexpectedly cleared.
Titan’s welcome desk is run by a woman named Cindy, whose shiny blond hair curls around her ears.
She’s a good ten years older than me, and her level of strength and endurance gave me hope when I first joined.
During those first few weeks, I couldn’t run for more than five minutes without getting out of breath, but my endurance has improved a lot.
I’m becoming stronger, just like I hoped I would.
“Hi, Debbie!” Cindy glances at the clock overhead as I scan the gym ID that grants me access to their two rooms of equipment. “You’re here a bit late in the morning.”
The last thing I want to do is unload onto poor Cindy about my awful day. Besides, I’ve already wasted enough time buying those beetle traps. So I just shrug and force a smile. “Just squeezing in a quick workout before lunch.”
“Good for you!” Cindy says, which actually does make me feel better about the whole thing.
I had already changed into workout clothes before leaving the house, and my purse is locked up safely in my car, so I head right into the equipment area with my water bottle to stretch out before hopping onto the elliptical. I definitely feel like I need some cardio today.
“Hey, Debbie! You’re never here on Wednesdays!”
I take a break from stretching my hamstrings when I hear the voice of Harley Sibbern, one of the trainers at Titan, who also teaches spin class and kickboxing.
I met her last month when she came over to correct my form while I was lifting weights.
I thought she was trying to pick up another personal trainer client, but she didn’t offer her services.
We got to talking about fitness, then moved on to other topics, and I found that I actually enjoyed talking to her.
Since then, Harley and I have had coffee a few times at the café next door to the gym.
Even though she’s ten years younger than I am, we have strangely hit it off.
I have friends whose children go to my kids’ school and friends who live in my neighborhood, but it feels like Harley is the first friend I’ve had who is just for me.
And she’s the first friend I’ve had in a long time who doesn’t have children, which I count as a major plus.
She has a lot more free time, plus we’re allowed to talk about other things besides… well, kids. It’s refreshing.
Plus, Harley is cool. I feel like I’m about as old as my kids when I say that, but in my forty-plus years of friendships, I’ve never had a friend like Harley.
She’s got multiple piercings in each ear, and there’s a pink streak laced through her blond hair.
I always assumed anybody that hip wouldn’t want to spend time with me.
When I was younger, I was a massive nerd—obsessed with computers and studying nonstop.
And now… Well, at my age, if I ever had a chance to be cool, those years are long behind me.
“I wanted to squeeze in a quick workout before the book club,” I say. “You’re still coming, right?”
I’m still feeling out the book club etiquette.
I wasn’t sure if I should invite Harley, because it would be mixing universes.
But I also desperately need reinforcements during these book club meetings.
One of my favorite things is discussing complex books with other adults, but I’ve come to realize I’m not very fond of any of the women at my book club.
When Harley mentioned she had already read the book, Velvet Moon, I decided to risk the invitation.
“Of course I am,” Harley says. “Are you sure I can’t bring anything? You said it was potluck.”
“No, it’s fine.” I wave a hand. “We always have much too much food. Rochelle puts out a massive spread. Don’t worry about it.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
I don’t know why she’s so anxious. Why would someone as cool and self-assured as Harley be worried about what a bunch of middle-aged book club attendees think of her? But I suppose everyone has their insecurities.
“Definitely,” I say. “Now, remind me. You said you have an allergy to…”
“Avocados,” she says. “It’s not lethal or anything, but I break out in a rash from even a bite. I know it’s everyone’s favorite healthy fat, so it’s a bummer for me.”
“No avocados,” I say. “Got it.”
Harley tugs at the Lycra of her workout pants.
Even if I spent every moment in this gym between now and eternity, I wouldn’t have a body like hers—not after two pregnancies and fifteen extra years of living.
Working out won’t get rid of stretch marks or the parts of my body that used to be firm but now sag.
I remind myself that I earned every single imperfection in my body, and I have no regrets. I sure wouldn’t give up Lexi and Izzy to have a tighter tummy and perkier boobs. And my husband doesn’t seem to have any complaints.
Harley grins at me, oblivious to the way I’m ogling her thighs. “I’m really looking forward to this. I’ve never been in a book club before.”
“Oh, it’s really fun.”
Except that’s a lie. I’m sure there are book clubs out there that are actually enjoyable, but the one I have been attending in my neighborhood is not the slightest bit fun. But if I say that to Harley, she might decide not to come.
“So I’ll see you at 12:30?” I say. “Meet at my house?”
She winks at me. “I’ll see you there.”
After Harley walks away, I climb up on the elliptical for a workout. It might not be a bottle of pinot grigio, but it will help me forget my problems for a little while.