Yesterday's Half Truths Page 6

  They live less than an hour away and make a point to come to visit me a few times a year. My mom has had some health issues with her weight, so they haven’t been out yet this year. I should go see them. I should. It would make both of them so happy, but I can’t. Even when I try to guilt myself into it, I know I won’t.

  The toast and cheese have filled me enough for me to leave the kitchen without contemplating eating my cupboards or stove. I get right to work. I’m freelance and could work anytime, but I like to keep a Monday to Friday, eight to five schedule. It keeps me organized and focused.

  Short of a design emergency, which can happen, it’s nice to clock out mentally at five. I forgo my usual morning sweep of the web for my blog since my schedule is already off. The post I put up today I should have conceptualized last night. Wanting to die after my workout is what kept me from it.

  I’ll get back on track tonight. I’ll sweep at five and write my blog post for tomorrow. Then, tomorrow, if I can eat lunch quickly, I can write my next post so I’ll be safe to veg out if Luke kicks my ass again. Routines are important to me.

  Having fail-safes in place ensures I get everything done that I need to keep me sane. Well, at least as sane as a person who doesn’t leave their house can be.

  “Buddy, you’re gonna have to stay in here during my training session.”

  Loki squints at me, probably wondering why I woke him up, before turning over and going back to sleep.

  Today was a crap day. Some roided out asshole tried to get into a flex off while I was with a client. Amy, my extremely hot, happily married to an NFL player who could bench press my ass, was the real focus of his attention. He kept interrupting our session, claiming he was just helping out and his technique was better.

  I was so close to losing my temper and putting him through a wall. Luckily, it didn’t have to go that far; Amy caught on to his game and started telling him all about her husband.

  He went off in search of another target not long after that. When I apologized to Amy for having to deal with that asshole, she shrugged it off, fully committed to getting her workout in. People like that guy are the reason women only gyms exist. He gives a bad name to all of us non-douchebag guys.

  So after dealing with that, all I wanted to do was decompress when I got home. Bringing work home with me in the form of my online training sessions with Lindsay messed with that. Before her when I got home, I could let go of anything bugging me. Other than my runs, I do the majority of my working out at the gym.

  I shut the door to my bedroom, where I hope Loki will sleep through the whole session. My living room isn’t huge so I push my sofa and coffee table as far back as I can to free up some more space. After a quick glance around the room to make sure everything looks clean, I attach my tablet to my TV and web-call Lindsay.

  She answers right away, stepping back to give me a half wave. Her pale blonde hair is up in a ponytail this time. Our first session she wore it in a bun so I had no idea it was so long, halfway down her back, even pulled up. I’ve always had a thing for long hair.

  “How are you?” she quietly asks.

  It’s then I notice how stiffly she’s standing and how slowly she moved to where she now is. “How bad are you feeling it?”

  She gulps, lifting one shoulder. Crap, did I go too hard on her last time?

  “Lindsay, I need you to tell me what hurts. I don’t want to aggravate anything.”

  Her eyes drop to the floor. “It hurts to lift my arms and my lower back has been bothering me.”

  I grimace. I’m thrilled she’s being upfront with me, but her back pain has me nervous. “I’m going to change my original plan for today, so we can hopefully relieve some of your back pain, but still get in a decent workout. Sound good?”

  She nods, tilting her chin up until her pale blue eyes meet mine; and for a moment, I’m tongue-tied. It doesn’t look like she’s wearing makeup today but she’s stunning. Did I even notice it two days ago?

  “You have a yoga mat right?” I ask.

  “I do.” She approaches the screen, reaching for something on the right side of it. When she backs up, she has a grey mat in her hands.

  Once both of our mats are laid out, I have her lie flat on her back with her knees up, pressing her lower back toward the floor.

  “This is low impact. If your lower back bothers you, I think you should incorporate this and the next few stretches into your daily routine,” I explain.

  Next, I have her lift one foot off the ground, pulling her knee to her chest and holding it. Then I have her repeat the stretch with her other leg, then both legs at the same time. While she’s holding both of her knees to her chest, her cat comes over and starts sniffing her ear.

  “Coco, go away.” She laughs, turning her head.

  Her cat doesn’t listen and starts tapping Lindsay’s face with her paw. Turning to her side, Lindsay slowly gets up, scooping her cat as she stands.

  “I’ll be right back,” she murmurs, walking out of view.

  I stay on the floor and wait for her.

  She doesn’t take long, apologizing when she gets back. “Sorry about that. I should have thought to put her in another room for our session.” She pauses. “Is that what you did with your dog?”

  I roll over onto my side, facing her. “Yep, he was asleep though. He’s a lazy bum most of the time.”

  When she laughs this time, she covers her mouth, hiding her pretty smile. I roll back over, staring at my ceiling as I try to focus on my job and not my desire to make her laugh again.

  I keep her workout floor based, yoga heavy. Part of the reason she may be in pain is because working out is a shock to her system. I thought the walking would have helped limber her up; but as I’ve learned, each body is different.

  That doesn’t mean I went easy on her. By the time we’ve reached our cool down stretch, she’s breathing heavily.

  “I want you to increase your water intake. If the carbonated ones aren’t doing it for you, try slicing up a cucumber and putting half of the slices in your pitcher. Add a couple lemon slices if you’re feeling adventurous.”

  “Experimenting with cucumbers and lemons, you are such a thrill seeker,” she teases.

  “I lead an extremely exciting life,” I deadpan. “Yours is probably more exciting,” I add.

  She stares at me blankly for a minute, just blinking. “Kinda hard to out excite you, life-wise, since I don’t leave my house.”

  “Ever?” I ask.

  She pulls her lips into her mouth and shrugs.

  “Why don’t you?” I blurt, my curiosity overpowering the awkwardness of asking such a personal question.

  She looks away, I start to speak, to attempt to apologize for prying, but her soft response stops me.

  “People make me nervous.”

  My mouth drops as my brain hypothesizes what she must have dealt with to hide herself away, instead of subjecting herself to its possibility.

  I don’t know what to say.

  She approaches the TV, a sad smile shadowing her otherwise pretty face. “See you next time.”

  Then, she’s gone. My screen goes black. It’s a moment before I can move. Her comment, a response to my inappropriate question, stunned me. I disconnect my tablet, taking it with me as I sit on my sofa. I don’t even bother pushing it back before I open a search browser.

  What’s it called when someone doesn’t leave their house? I type. Hundreds of thousands of results pop up. I click on the first one. It’s titled, Agoraphobia, an anxiety disorder. A person with agoraphobia is afraid to or experiences anxiety in leaving environments they consider known or safe.

  The world can be a scary place. Remembering Lindsay’s soulful blue eyes, I can’t help but wonder what scared her enough for her to stop being a part of it. A scratch at my bedroom door pulls me from my thoughts.

  “Coming,” I call out, so Loki will stop scratching.

  I take him for an early walk since I’m meeting up with Clay for dinn
er at his place tonight. Loki has more energy than normal, maybe a side effect of sleeping the afternoon away. It doesn’t go as far as playing though; he gives me an almost disgusted look when I offer him a stick to fetch. At least I don’t have to carry him on the walk back to my apartment.

  After a quick shower, I head over to Clay’s house. It’s nice out so he’s probably grilling. I don’t eat a ton of red meat but I’ll make an exception if Clay’s grilling.

  Maggie answers the door when I knock. I’ve always known Clay had a niece, just never met her until she moved in with them. She seems to be adjusting well, she went through a whole mess of crap when her mom took off and some guy came forward to claim paternity.

  Turns out Maggie’s mom lied to the guy, milking him for cash over the years. Nobody knows who Maggie’s real dad is and her mom hasn’t come back. Sure, my dad might have ditched us but looking back, I was blessed with my mom and the childhood I had. My sisters might be crazy but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

  “Hey, Luke.” Maggie grins, motioning for me to follow her.

  “How ya doing, Maggie?” I ask.

  “I got braces. See.” She turns to show off her mouthful of metal.

  “Look at that!” I exclaim, making her giggle. “When did you get them?”

  “Last week. My mouth is still sore,” she complains.

  I ruffle her hair as we walk into their kitchen. “It’ll be worth it in the end.”

  “I miss chewing gum,” she mumbles.

  Courtney turns from the sink, drying her hands on a dishtowel before walking over to kiss my cheek. “Hi, Luke, Clay’s out back.”

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Stop flirting with my wife,” Clay shouts through the open window.

  “You shouldn’t have married such a looker,” I joke, making my way to the French doors leading out to their back deck.

  Clay gives me a chin nod as I close the door behind me.

  “Do you want a drink?” he asks, pointing to a bucketful of ice and beer.

  I look through the options they have and grin when I see a cider he knows I like. “Thanks, man.” I turn toward the kitchen window. “Courtney, can I help with anything?”

  “Stop sucking up. She’s taken,” Clay jokes.

  “I don’t know,” Courtney replies, joining us on the porch. “Maybe I should trade you in for a younger man.”

  Clay glowers as Courtney and I laugh. “Yeah, old man.”

  “Keep talking and neither of you are getting any steak.” He points his tongs back and forth at us.

  Rolling my eyes, I groan, “Fine, no more hitting on your wife. Just don’t mess with my steak.”

  He shrugs. “Like I would ever mess up a steak.”

  I help Maggie carry the side dishes out to the patio table on their screened porch. Once we’re all seated, I bring up Lindsay and her anxiety.

  “So she never leaves her house?” Courtney asks, her forehead wrinkling.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How does she get her groceries?” Maggie asks.

  “She has them delivered.”

  Clay shakes his head. “That seems extreme, man.”

  Nodding, I look around the table, a perfect example of everything Lindsay is missing by locking herself away. “I want to help her.”

  “Why do you care?” Clay asks.

  Even though his question seems harsh, I know he’s only looking out for me.

  “I can’t explain it. She’s just so funny. Her emails crack me up. The idea everything outside her front door scares her, makes me want to protect her.”

  Clay squints at me. “You like her.”

  “What?” I smirk. “I don’t even know her.”

  He glances over at Courtney, his expression softening.

  He reaches for her hand, lifting it and brushing his lips across her knuckles as she blushes. “Doesn’t matter, man.”

  My body was changing. I was only four weeks in to my websessions with Luke; but even though I couldn’t so much see the difference, I could feel it. I had more energy than I knew what to do with. While Luke only wanted me to walk two miles a day at a level two incline, I was walking three. I emailed him to let him know and he seemed okay with the change.

  It bothered me I wasn’t dropping weight though. This week I had only lost one pound. It’s better than gaining weight but there’s no way I can go to the reunion looking like this. I’ve lost nine pounds overall and people say muscle weighs more than fat. While I don’t dispute the logic, I didn’t think it applied to me.

  The extra energy is keeping me from becoming completely unmotivated; that and I like getting to see Luke twice a week. If I gave up, I would miss him. I know he’s only nice to me because I’m one of his clients. It’s still nice to imagine he cares about me.

  He’d probably be thoroughly creeped out if he knew he’s been starring in my dreams nightly. Ones where he tells me I’m beautiful exactly as I am and he’d never hurt or humiliate me. He’d probably drop me as a client if he knew I picture him as the hero of every book I download.

  I have a compulsive personality; routine, structure, and control are what keep me from spiraling. When I first left school, I didn’t trust anyone. I used my college savings to rent the little house I now own because I couldn’t even handle my parents. Every single person on the planet was, in my mind, capable of hurting me.

  My depression during those days was the worst it has ever been. It was while contemplating taking my own life that I decided if I never allowed anyone the opportunity to hurt me then I could live. Once the parameters of my safe existence were clear in my mind, I was able to consider living again.

  People can argue the way I choose to live my life. I still am the ultimate decider in the end. I laugh to myself thinking of the scene from Pretty Woman when Julia Roberts says, ‘I say when; I say who.’ For me, the answer will always be never and no one.

  Coco jumps onto my lap, bumping my chin with her head before rubbing her head against my jaw line.

  I stroke her back, her tail lifting each time I reach it. “We don’t need anyone, do we?”

  As usual, she has no answer for the questions I ask her. Either way, I feel better asking it. She’s safe; by not being able to answer me, I never have to fear I won’t like what she has to say.

  I slowly spin in my chair and check my notifications. There’s a new one from Sasha.

  Rant incoming! Gino is an ass. You will not believe it. He’s been asking out girls on every floor of our building thinking none of us would find out about the other girls.

  Shut up!!

  I wish I were joking. Ugh! Why am I attracted to assholes?

  I’m so sorry, Sash! What an asshat.

  Sad thing is I thought he actually liked me.

  Goosebumps crawl up my arms as bile climbs up my throat at her words. Startling Coco, I franticly reach for my drink and gulp some down as my heart pounds. Was it her words, so reminiscent of the darkest period of my life alone, which caused my reaction? Or that the outcome of those days had so recently been in my thoughts?

  I push away from my desk before standing. I need to feel clean. Even though I showered this morning and haven’t done anything to justify feeling unclean, her words send me to my shower, stripping as I go. It’s not until I’m standing under the scalding water that I can breathe again.

  Thankfully, my work is done for the day. All I have to do now is pull myself together so I can be ready for my session with Luke. I remind myself I have all the control now. No one can hurt me. I’m safe here.

  After my shower, I put on another exercise outfit. This one is much simpler than the failed first outfit I wore. It’s loose fitting, something I never thought I would be comfortable wearing in front of someone as handsome as Luke. My twisted emotions have invaded the part of my brain, which cares if he thinks I’m pretty or not. So what if these clothes make me look bigger than I already am.

  Pulling my wet hair back in a tight braid, I gla
re at my reflection, angry with myself for letting the pain resurface. Our training session isn’t for another hour. To relax, I do a second web sweep for the day. When I get to Pinterest, I dive in searching for new style forward pinners to follow.

  It’s been a while since I’ve done anything drastic to my hair. Short styles are all the rage, but it’s too much of a commitment for me. Maybe I’ll color my hair. Brunette to caramel blonde ombre was huge last year. Lavender hair a la Kelly Osborne could be cute but already done. I need to come up with a different idea.

  Losing track of time as I scroll through and pin pics, I’m almost late for my session. Either way my unscheduled surf break had its intended effect; I’m no longer distracted by the past. Right now I’m wondering how I would look with Jessica Rabbit red hair fading in to an orange blonde ombre. All I’m thinking is how hot that would look.

  I hurry to connect my tablet to my TV, almost dropping it when Luke dials in. Pushing the accept button I try to compose myself.

  “Hi, Luke.”

  He squints at me. “You okay?”

  Damn. “What?”

  “Your eyes are all red.”

  A to be expected side effect of crying in a super-hot shower. “I, um, have awful allergies.”

  “You went outside?” He sounds surprised.

  I shake my head; that’s just crazy. “I opened a window.”

  Frowning, he stares at me in silence for five nerve-wracking breaths before nodding. “Ready to work out?”

  Feeling as if I dodged a bullet, I grin. “So ready.”

  This session is without a doubt more intense than the last two. He stops frequently though, to check how I’m doing. Sometimes mid-movement, he asks which muscles I feel working. Most of the time, he’s pleased with my responses. A couple of times though, he frowns and has me correct my stance or movement until the muscles he wants are targeted.

  Working out after my earlier breakdown is even more distracting than web surfing was. It’s all Luke. As much as I crave control, turning off my brain and simply following his directions is more freeing than I could have guessed. My first assumption was if I wasn’t actively controlling the direction of my thoughts, they could drift to unpleasant things.