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Luke
“You won’t beat me!” Isaac screams from behind me as we race around the track in the gym.
I pace myself well, but I admit that Isaac pushes me harder as we complete the timed mile portion of the physical test. After this run, we finish the test that will help the authorities decide who will get the coveted promotion available at the station.
Breathing heavily, I immediately go to a side bathroom to puke after I complete the final lap.
Sweat still drips from my brow twenty minutes after the physical test. All of us firemen stand around as they receive instant results. The ones who don’t like the results slowly disappear away from the crowd to avoid the inevitable questioning from the others.
I see my results and mentally pat myself on the back. Then, I fold the paper and put it into my wallet for safekeeping. I will stay to answer any questions from the others with pride.
“Did you get your test results from the physical?” Isaac asks me with a smirk on his face.
Visible sweat stains appear in the armpits of his shirt, and he continues to drink from his water bottle.
“I most certainly did. I don’t want you to feel bad, though. We have a class with a lot of tough competition,” I tease.
As grueling and exhausting as the physical test was, I know I did well, and I not-so-secretly want to rub it in Isaac’s face.
“Put up or shut up,” Isaac says.
“Gladly,” I say.
With that, I take the scores out of my wallet and slap them down on the nearby table.
“It must be difficult to stand in the shadow of an Adonis,” I pose obnoxiously and relish in my corporeal aptitude.
“I guess you beat me,” Isaac shakes his head. However, I don’t see the sense of disappointment and defeat I want from him. My superiority should make him crumble, dammit!
“Let me see your scores,” I demand.
Isaac hands them over gleefully. I see that he matches my scores in almost all areas except the mile, and I only beat him by a small percentage.
“Well done,” I congratulate Isaac, immediately feeling humbler.
I realize I need to up my game a bit if I want to remain on top, especially as I get older.
“Don’t feel bad, old man. You still beat me,” Isaac comforts me.
“I’m only a year older than you,” I remind him.
Suddenly, I get a clear sense of the way things work around here. I see the blatant favoritism and politics intertwined in the decisions, and I also see just how thirsty other people are for the position.
Isaac didn’t earn those points with his athleticism. He did something else to earn those scores. I look at him and picture the test scorer’s dick in his mouth.
The jealousy inside of me becomes apparent, and I do what I can to control my negative thoughts.
Part of becoming an excellent firefighter involved honest judgment. I know I need to look at the situation objectively, despite feeling threatened.
Looking at the facts, I know that Isaac works hard as a firefighter, does an effective job, saves an average of five lives per year, spends hours in the gym, and eats that healthy kale shit.
Looking at Isaac’s body, it makes sense he can do well in a physical test. He has defined biceps and calves that he loves to show off to the ladies. However, he doesn’t only work his “glamour muscles.” He spends time on a tight core. I can see it in his abs and the way he carries himself. I also notice him doing crunches at his bunk when things get slow.
I realize that Isaac likely deserves his great (but not quite as great as mine) score.
A lightness comes over me.
“Well deserved,” I tell Isaac earnestly.
