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And then he was gone, off high-fiving others and gathering his bag in what seemed like a rush to get out as quickly as possible. “Zoe, I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Sure.”
Constance noted a slight hitch in his gate. It was nothing anyone else would see, but Constance’s eye was trained. If she had to guess, he’d injured his right quad. He stopped in front of the whiteboard, wrote down his name and then some numbers beside it. Sweaty people queued up, taking their turns with the dry-erase pen.
“Name and time on the board,” Zoe said, once Constance was through mopping her face with the hem of her T-shirt. “Promotes community. Measures progress.”
“Right.” Her mind was still on Rhett. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite shake. He’d touched her right after he’d spoken to her, so she’d gotten the full thrust of his energy right up front. It was overwhelming, but not in a bad way. Kind of like getting smacked by a wave that was bigger than you expected. It stung, but you were so impressed you couldn’t be mad about it. He reminded her of that old adage:Never turn your back on the ocean.
Constance pressed the tip of the marker to the board and wrote her name, beneath all the others, as neatly as she could. Most of the times were between twelve and fifteen minutes, but Constance was dead last at 15:14. Most people had scaled the workout in some way, even if it was just lower weight for the lunges and front squats. Rhett was at the top, his time 8:01, with Rx written after.As prescribed, Constance thought. He hadn’t scaled at all and he’d still beaten everyone.
“I don’t remember seeing you before.” The middle-aged woman who’d also scaled her rope climbs stood before her, with a foam roller in either hand. “I’m Sally.” She offered a foam roller, which Constance took. Sally plopped down on the floor and shoved the roller beneath her butt. “You did great today.” Her dark hair was stuck to her cheeks as she braced her weight on her hands and rolled out her glutes and hamstrings.
Constance lowered herself to the floor and joined in. Nothing was sore yet, but she figured by tomorrow she might have a tough time walking. “Thanks. I’m Constance.”
“That’s not a name you hear every day.”
“It was my grandma’s.”
“Do you go by Connie?”
“No.”
Sally chuckled. “Okay.” A little pause passed, as though Sally expected her to say more. When she didn’t, Sally changed the subject. “I remember my first day—” Sally leaned into the foam roller “—and it was nothing like today. Just some air squats and push-ups. Pull-ups with a band. If I’d have been faced with that—” she gestured to the whiteboard “—I’d have left. You’re brave.”
Constance wanted to laugh, but bit down on her lower lip. “I used to be a runner. Cross-country in high school. A few marathons. Tough. But this was hard in a different way. I haven’t run in a while. I guess that’s obvious.” She gestured at her sweaty, old clothes, and was suddenly back to that day, when she’d gone out to surprise Josh. Wednesday morning, which meant a trail run in the park. Cumberland Trail. Constance hadn’t joined him in longer than she could remember, which was probably why he hadn’t been expecting her. Neither had the woman next to him—blonde, slender and stretching out her hamstrings on a tree stump.
Constance blinked, and the image of Josh with his new running partner vanished.
She turned to the whiteboard, avoiding Sally’s curious gaze. “In my dreams I’ll do this workout in eight minutes.” She thought back to Rhett’s figure as he flew up that rope.
Sally followed her gaze, then shrugged. “Don’t measure yourself by Rhett. Or go ahead...reach for the stars.” She grunted as she wedged the foam roller deep into her hamstrings. “He owns this place. He’s a war veteran. Marines. Always on top.” Sally laughed, her heavy bosom shaking. “But Rhett’s not into these workouts as much as the other coaches. He coaches the weight lifting and prefers to spend his time over there.” Sally waved at the corner with the platforms.
A combat vet. She knew that. She’d known it before she knew it. That’s why he seemed familiar. “Nice guy?” Constance peered out the doorway, but Rhett had disappeared.
“Eh, I don’t know about nice,” Sally said. “Great athlete. Great coach. Doesn’t take any shit. But motivating.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer, even though nobody else was within earshot. “I heard he was hurt in Afghanistan. Or Iraq. Or...maybe both. Hell, I don’t know. He’s got a Purple Heart.” She touched her chest. “Who knows what he went through.”
Constance rolled her hamstrings slowly over the foam tube and realized that not once, in that brief yet grueling workout, had her mind been anywhere but in the moment. She hadn’t thought about the past year at all. Not about Josh. Or Daddy’s long battle with cancer. Nothing. That workout had forced her brain to be put on hold. Her body had suffered terribly, but her brain had gotten some rare respite.
She glanced over and saw that Sally was wrapping up her cooldown.
“Well,” Sally said, rising. “You coming back tomorrow?”
Coming back? Constance hadn’t even considered it. “Maybe,” she said. “Thanks for the encouragement.”
“Hey,” Sally said. “We need all we can get.”
Sally wasn’t gone long before Zoe appeared. “Yeah? You loved it, right?” She beamed from ear to ear.
“You and I—” Constance got to her feet with a groan “—have very different definitions of love.”
Zoe laughed. “But seriously,” she said. “You did great. You’ve got heart.” She tapped her fist against her chest. “That was a tough workout for anyone, let alone a first-timer.”
“Thanks.” Constance grabbed her water bottle, which was empty.
“You can try out the week for free,” Zoe pressed.
“Thanks. We’ll see.” Constance headed to her car.
At home, she found Fezzi snoozing on the couch, his tummy fat with the biscuits she always overfed him while she sipped her coffee. Constance took a shower, then joined him. She got tired quickly these days. This morning was no exception, but as her lids drooped, Constance noted that her fatigue felt different. Rather than thick and lethargic, she felt wrung out. Rather than foggy, her head was clear, her muscles spent. She had enough time for a quick snooze before she met Sunny for lunch, so she gave in to the intoxicating pull of sleep.
Just before she nodded off, Constance saw in her mind again Rhett’s eyes—an unusual mixture of amusement, interest, resignation and pain—and heard his voice, deep and honest:Nice work, My Pretty Pony.
