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But it’s really a bitch when it hits out of nowhere after being dormant for almost a year. And to think I was mad at myself when I woke up on my parent’s kitchen floor last fall. At least they didn’t call an ambulance or recruit an exercise junkie to drag me to the gym like Ashlyn. I sigh and look up at the big building again.
If I’d driven myself, I could turn around and head back home. Unfortunately, Blake’s driving, and she’s insistent on kicking my ass today. As soon as Ash told her exercise is good for epilepsy, Blake’s been determined to whip my butt into shape.
Lucky me.
I know she’s trying to help. I do. But this is…a lot.
It’s easier when people don’t know. When they don’t witness a seizure firsthand. When they hear the word epilepsy without tying it to a memory or an experience. But as soon as they can connect my diagnosis with a personal encounter, everything spirals. My parents are the same way. Then again, I’m their only child, so maybe they were always helicopter parents. I guess I’ll never know for sure since I was diagnosed when I turned eight. And my memories before then? Well, they’re hazy at best.
At least I had almost a solid decade of normalcy. It has to count for something, doesn’t it?
“You comin’?” Blake asks me.
I blink away the memory and smile at her. “Yup. No time like the present.” Glancing at my phone, I check the time, do the math, and add, “But I have to be home in an hour so I have time to shower before my shift.”
Blake salutes me. “Yes, ma’am. Let’s go.”
We head inside, scan the little barcodes on our keyrings, and move to the locker room to drop off our things. Once our stuff is secure, it’s weightlifting time.
Yuck.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all about physical health. But I like to walk. And hike if the occasion calls for it. Swimming? Sure. Sounds great as long as there’s a hot tub soak in my future. But weights? And huffing and puffing? And sweating? Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll pass.
Well, I would if Blake wasn’t so freaking bossy.
She helps me warm up for a few minutes. Once I’m ready, she motions to the free weights lining the wall as if I’m a contestant onThe Price is Right. “Pick your poison, Kate. We’ll start with squats and lunges, then move to deadlifts.”
What the hell are deadlifts?
With wide eyes, I give her a look like she’s crazy but keep my feet planted as a massive bodybuilder saunters around me and grabs the heaviest weights on the rack. He checks me out, glances at Blake, and smiles. “Hey––”
“I’m taken, so back off. And”––Blake waves her hand around again, this time motioning toward the opposite side of the gym––“go work out over there, dude. My girl and I are about to get our sweat on.”
“Your girl?” He looks at me a second time, his mouth lifting in appreciation. “All right. I can get in on that.”
“Nope. We’re good. Thanks, though.” Blake rolls her eyes and turns to me, effectively ignoring the meathead like he’s a pesky fly. “Let’s start light since this is your first time. Why don’t you grab the ten-pound weights? One for each hand.”
I grimace but grab the weights imprinted with a one and a zero, letting them hang at my thighs. “Now what?”
“Now, my dear Kate”––she grabs a pair of twenty-five-pound weights and rests them on her shoulders––“we get to work.”
* * *
Sweat dripsdown the side of my face as Blake stands beside me, ordering me to do one final squat because, apparently, she has a thing for torture.
Balancing the weights on my shoulders, my legs shaking, I glower. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Come on. You got this. Look at yourself in the mirror and say it. Say, ‘I got this.’”
I ignore the mirrors, staring at a spot on the padded gym floor instead, and grit out, “I got this,” as I lower my ass into my final squat.
Holy freaking crap, this is hard!
I push myself back to a standing position, and my butt screams in protest, another droplet of sweat trickling along my spine.
“You,” I pant, glaring at Blake. “Are the devil.”
She grins. “Never said I wasn’t. Come on. Let’s put the weights away.”
