AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER6
AARON
Every time I accepted interns, I was underwhelmed by the candidates. I was sure the students could turn out to be successful kinesiologists and trainers, but their essays were all the same. I asked for five hundred words on why exercise was important. Fifty-three times out of fifty-four, I got the no brainer of ‘it keeps you in good shape and looking hot’. I wanted to beat my head on my desk while I was reading them over.
These were not imaginative or well thought out responses. I usually at least got a couple about self-esteem and one or two about how they used to be overweight or their relative who was sedentary died of a heart attack—some kind of personal connection with the topic. This year’s crop was pretty shallow. It was enough to make me feel depressed about the future of the industry.
The only one I had set aside to read again was a response featuring ‘responsible’ exercise and how it should be integrated into holistic treatment for those recovering from eating disorders. So many therapists discouraged exercise or used the word ‘moderation’ as if exercise were a potential addiction for those struggling with anorexia or bulimia. That recovery was about healing the relationship with the body, not only with food but with movement for the joy and rewards of it, not just to create a calorie deficit.Thatwas what I wanted to see more of, students who had thought critically about the benefits and pitfalls of exercise. I returned to the essay and read it twice more, knowing it was the one.
The intern would fit with the mission of A+ Fitness. Except there was no name on it. It was a handwritten essay with no name on it anywhere. I’d have to post an announcement in the online discussion for anyone who submitted a handwritten essay to comment below. I’d eventually figure out who wrote it.
For the time being, I tucked my university work back into my bag. I was considering whether I could justify a microwave burrito and some ESPN highlights since I’d had a green smoothie at lunch. During that debate with myself, my doorbell rang. I found my sister Cory on the doorstep with a six-pack. I stepped back to let her in.
“Why don’t you ever use the key I gave you?” I asked by way of a greeting.
“What, and find you in here with some chick? No thanks. Some things I don’t need to see,” she replied.
“There are no chicks here. Trust me,” I said with an eye roll. “The last time a woman was in this house, it was the cleaning lady who comes here on Wednesday mornings. Before her, it was you.”
“That’s pretty sad, bro,” she said, nudging me as she walked by and set the beer on the table. “I would’ve thought a guy like you, in good shape, owns his own business, that you could get a woman at least once in a while. I guess I gave you too much credit.”
“I can get women. I just haven’t had much luck lately.”
“Is it because you’re getting older?” she teased.
“No, it’s because I’m not going out as much." I shrugged and popped a beer, handed it to her. “Tell me about you. What’s up?”
“Not much since we talked yesterday at the gym,” she said, kicking off her shoes and flopping on my couch.
“If you’re just here because you’re bored, I’m honored. I was looking at applications for the gym internship, so I’m not exactly number one on the list of fun people you know,” I joked.
“Not true. You’re great. Or you were before you got so old. And a cleaning lady? Really? You can’t pick up your own socks?”
“I do pick up my socks and do my laundry, thank you very much. I’m not helpless. I’m a busy man. One who can afford to pay someone to clean the kitchen and bathroom and vacuum and mop the floor.”
“Well la-di-da, Mr. Fancy,” she giggled. “Here I am scrubbing my own toilet like a peasant.”
“It builds character,” I told her. “Is the roommate still getting on your nerves?”
“Yeah, but we’ll survive. I mean I lived in a house with you for years and never smothered you in your sleep,” she said.
“You know if you want your own place—” I began.
“That you’d buy me one in a heartbeat and a car to go with it? Yeah, I know. And you’re the best brother in the universe already, and I’m not taking any money from you. I mean it,” she insisted. “Having a roommate helps pay the rent so I can save up to buy my own place. That’s what I want. I’m fine. Work’s going well, and I like the new manager a lot.”
“Good. Is she giving you enough hours?” I asked, my protective instinct flaring. “Because I know you were worried about that since you didn’t have much seniority yet.”
“I’ve got plenty of hours, and a lot of clients request me because of my powder dip work.”
“That sounds like drugs. Is it drugs?” I teased and she laughed.
“Yeah, manicure drugs.”
“She’s not giving you a hard time at all?”
“He,” she corrected. “Brad has been really encouraging and supportive.”
“Oh,Brad,” I said, getting up and grabbing a bag of Takis out of the cupboard.
