Chapter 4
We head out of Plant Daddy and down the block toward our gym, Flex Lab. House music pounds softly in the background syncopated by the occasional clash of weights dropping to the ground. We wind our way through the maze of people, mostly well-toned men, and Omar smiles and flirts with every single guy. I am the opposite. Head down, baggy T-shirt and raggedy shoes. Omar is wearing shorts so short I’m not sure you can call them shorts and a tank top that shows off his perfect, hairy body. He lives for the attention. The more invisible I am, the better, which is easy at the gym, where most guys look right through me to get a better view of Omar and I’m fine with that. He knows I prefer the equipment way off in the far corner so we make our way there.
Without speaking, we load up the bar and begin taking turns on the bench. We have done this thousands of times since we met in college. Omar is a muscle god. I am more a Christmas and Easter worshipper. I don’t mind going to the gym but I miss more workouts than I make. Technically, I am some form of bear, although I don’t really call myself that. I’m a little thicker than some guys and hairy in the right spots and if being a bear means I can eat an extra slice of pie without feeling guilty, call me whatever you want.
‘What do you think of the guy in the sleeveless shirt?’ Omar asks. He pushes a massive kettlebell up over his head.
‘Omar, this is a gay gym in Hell’s Kitchen. Everyone is wearing a sleeveless shirt.’
‘The guy with the red shorts,’ he adds. ‘Isn’t his name Steve or Sean or something like that?’ He keeps his eyes focused on his target and I squint to get a closer look.
‘That’s Sven. Maggie knows him,’ I say rolling my eyes. ‘A total narcissist, she said.’
‘He’s hot,’ Omar says, smiling like he’s imagining something dirty.
I shrug. ‘Maybe, but did you hear that part about Maggie thinking he might be a narcissist?’
‘So what? If I had arms like that, I’d be a narcissist too.’
‘As a matter-of-fact, you do have arms like that. Almost exactly and you aren’t a narcissist.’
Omar puts down the kettlebell and kisses me on the cheek. ‘You are the sweetest best friend any guy could ever hope for. The fact that you think my arms are hot enough for me to be a narcissist means the world to me.’
I pick up a much smaller kettlebell and begin my set. Omar counts but his attention is on the other side of the room.
‘Holy shit! What the hell is he doing here?’ Omar’s angry. I can’t imagine who could set him off.
‘Who?’ I ask, unable to turn my head in the middle of the set.
‘No one,’ he says, shifting from heated anger to feigned innocence. ‘Hey, let’s get smoothies. My treat.’
‘Who is here and what’s going on?’ I put down the weight and before I can turn around, I see him in the mirror.
‘What’s he doing here?’ I cover my face with my hands.
‘Screw him,’ Omar says. ‘I’m going over there and telling him to get out of our gym.’
‘We don’t own it.’ Omar is fiercely loyal, and I love that about him, but I don’t want my ex-boyfriend Paul to think he has any impact on me at all. I pull Omar behind a pillar so that Paul has less opportunity to see either of us. Somehow his reflection bounces around the mirrors so I can stare at him without him seeing me. He’s wearing workout clothes but Paul has a way of making even the most casual clothes look formal. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back a bit and parted on the side. There’s even more grey in his beard than when he left which only makes him look more debonair.
My heart is pounding. Am I angry or happy? Pissed or horny? I can’t tell. Maybe I’m just in shock. After two years of dating, I thought Paul and I were headed toward something serious. He told me he was getting divorced and I believed him. He told me it was just a matter of time and that his relationship with Todd was over and I believed him. He told me he loved me and I believed him. Then he told me he was getting back together with his estranged husband and moving to Los Angeles with Todd, and I didn’t believe him.
‘I really think I should go over there and tell him to screw all the way off,’ Omar says.
I try to get a better look at him in the mirror. He’s wearing a pair of tight blue shorts and an even tighter grey Under Armour polo that shows off his mature dadbod.
‘He can come in here if he wants. We aren’t going to hide from him. I’m sure he’ll be back on a plane to California after Labor Day. Who knows what he’s doing here, and who cares?’ Inside I’m answering my own question with a silent, Me! I want to know!
Omar and I go back to our workout and I try to appear nonchalant, although I’m sure I am giving off very chalant vibes when Omar says, through clenched teeth and without moving his lips, ‘He’s coming over here. Locker room escape?’ He tilts his head toward the showers.
‘No,’ I say without moving my lips or head. I can feel Paul’s eyes on me and his body getting closer with each step. He’s at my side but I refuse to turn my head to look at him.
‘Sam? I thought I saw you,’ he says. His sweet avuncular voice wraps around me and for a second I melt but then I remember how he just up and left me with barely an explanation. My heart is ice again.
‘Hello, Paul,’ I say without an ounce of emotion. ‘What are you doing here? Aren’t you and Todd living in Pasadena now? Bit of a commute, isn’t it?’ Omar stays silent but I can tell it’s hard for him.
Paul smiles and says, ‘That’s not working out.’ He looks down at the ground and pushes his lips to the side.
‘Oh?’ I ask, my voice suddenly full of hope. I immediately regret my tone.
‘I was going to call but I figured you blocked my number.’
‘Exactly,’ I say although I would never block Paul. I can’t block anyone. There’s a telemarketer who calls trying to sell me computer virus protection once a week and I can’t even block him. It feels so final.
‘I figured you and Omar would make your way here eventually. Hi, Omar,’ he says. Omar shoots him a look, and before he can say anything I ask Omar to give me a few minutes alone with Paul.
‘Are you sure you want to be alone with this liar?’
I nod.
‘I totally deserve that,’ Paul says.
‘That and a whole lot worse. I’ll be at the calves machine,’ Omar says and then points at his eyes with two fingers and then at Paul. Paul knows Omar is a pussycat despite looking like an action hero. He can put on a good show, even if it is a tad dramatic.
Once we are alone, Paul turns on the charm. ‘Sammy, you look great. Bet you spent some time on Fire Island this summer. You’ve got those adorable freckles across your nose.’
I immediately cover my nose with my hand. This man broke my heart over and over. I do not need or want his compliments. But then I see him smiling at me and my hand slowly drops to my side. He has this way of looking at me that makes me feel protected. There’s no denying I have a thing for older guys and Paul fits the bit perfectly. More than a decade older. A professional who knew exactly what he was doing all the time. He knew how to fix a clogged drain, and he filed his taxes on time. He was able to get things done, and I found it very compelling.
‘Sam. I owe you an apology and explanation. Can I take you to dinner next week? Any day. You choose.’
I stare him straight in the face. ‘Next week is my birthday,’ I spit the words out at him. Paul would forget that.
‘Of course, what I meant was for your birthday, but of course you have plans,’ he says, trying to cover his mistake.
The truth is I don’t have plans at all. In the past I made my birthday a self-imposed writing retreat. I’d turn off my phone and refuse to see more than a handful of people. I would spend the day trying to write. This year I don’t know what I’ll do besides try to survive whatever horrible surprise my mom has planned, but I know I’m not spending it with Paul. He told me his marriage was over. That they hadn’t been together in over a year and then one weekend it all dissolved into air. Suddenly he’s been transferred to the LA office and he and Todd are going to counseling to rebuild their marriage.
‘Paul, you come back here after leaving me to go back to your husband.’
‘Ex-husband,’ he interrupts.
‘So you say.’ I continue, ‘And you expect me to just forgive and forget and go out to dinner with you? Just pick up where we were, what, nine months ago?’ I pretend to be searching for how long ago he left but the truth is I know exactly.
‘No, I don’t expect that. I just want you to hear me out. Let me explain what was going on. I made some terrible decisions. Please, Sam. I’m only here for a week this time but I’m moving back at the end of the year once things are settled. I know I made a huge mistake. I can’t stop thinking about you and what we almost had. Please, Sam,’ he says. His eyes are focused on mine searching for a way to connect and it makes me want to let him in. Then he slowly reaches for my hand and holds a few of my fingers in his palm. He gently squeezes and says, ‘Please.’
I should say no. I should shake his hand out of mine, unscrew the water bottle Omar left behind and throw the contents in his face. I’ve always wanted to throw a drink in the face of someone who wronged me but I can’t. It’s not me. I want to be Bette Davis but I’m more Doris Day. He looks so sincere, standing in front of me, almost begging. Why shouldn’t I let him explain himself? If I agree to see him, it wouldn’t be to start anything up again. I’d do it for closure. The pain has been an open wound that never quite healed correctly. If I meet him maybe I’ll finally be able to put all of the ‘what ifs’ to bed. But I know once I walk in through that door, it’s so hard for me to walk out. I can’t say yes, and I can’t say no, so I say the only thing I can think of.
‘Goodbye, Paul.’ I walk away. I can see his eyes following me in the mirrors. Paul is not one to give up so easily and I wonder if my goodbye is only temporary.