The difference between my two dogs was striking. Bird was the quintessential good girl, a sweet and loving companion who after a lifetime of big ball-fetching energy had mellowed into the perfect couch potato. Edith was clever to a fault, catlikewith her affections, and way too big for her black and white britches. Things were stable between the two opposites, but I was still bummed that they weren’t besties yet.
I picked up my phone again. I liked a full-screen scroll when shopping and I kicked myself for leaving my laptop at work. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, a forced separation from the demands of self-employment, but that was before, when I had a full day of socializing and eating ahead of me. Now I needed to stay busy, to keep my brain from fixating on how different everything was.
To prevent the bleak feelings from taking over.
Exactly ten minutes later I pulled into the parking lot at Frolic expecting it to be empty but no, of course Andrew’s Jeep was there. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about my newly craptastic holiday so I ran in and threw my laptop in my backpack. I was about to dash through the front door when I saw him through the glass, talking animatedly to someone out of my view. I shrank back so it wouldn’t seem like I was spying, which I totally was. Who was with him on Thanksgiving morning, and where was the person’s car?
I envisioned the possibilities and wasn’t at all prepared to see a young man in a wheelchair roll into view. Andrew paused and seemed to demonstrate some kind of arm exercise for him, pointing to his triceps and then encouraging the guy to try it himself. I watched them and realized that the guy in the wheelchair had been in theGames of Thronescostume at the Halloween party, with his chair decked out as the Iron Throne.
A Subaru pulled in and parked near them. I felt bad for watching, but I couldn’t look away as the woman who was clearly the guy’s mom got out and gave Andrew a hug. The guywheeled himself over to the passenger side and Andrew opened the door for him and stood by as he maneuvered himself into position by the car. I could see Andrew coaching him, but gently and without the rah-rah cheerleading he’d done the day I had to lift the ladder. Andrew nodded and did a single satisfied clap as the guy made the transition from wheelchair to car, then broke the chair down so quickly that it was clear that he’d done it many times before. The mom popped open the hatchback and Andrew slipped the thing in like it was made of paper. They laughed about something and Andrew waved as they drove away.
I waited for him to head back into Crush and dashed out when he’d disappeared from view, speed-walking toward my car with my Nantucket hoodie pulled up and my head down like I’d just shoplifted something.
“Hey.”
I whipped around and there he was, arms crossed and leaning back against the building.
“Hey. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Same to you. What are you doing here?” He headed toward me, scanning me for clues.
I did a half spin so he could see my backpack. “Forgot my laptop.” I figured it was better to not go into detail.
“You’re working today?” His eyebrow arched.
“Look who’s talking.” I gestured to where the car had just been parked.
“Yeah.” His expression shifted as he nodded. “That was Aiden. High school sophomore who was in a car accident. Fell asleep at the wheel. He’s transitioning from rehab to strength training with me. Incredible kid.”
“Oh, wow.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
The corners of Andrew’s mouth turned down. “He was a sprinter on the track team.”
I hugged myself against the cold and thought about all the ways life could turn upside down in an instant. “Is it going... okay? I mean, training with him.”
“Better than okay. He’s strong as hell mentally and he’s got more grit than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Is it a stretch for you to do that type of work?”
He shot me a confused look.
“Post-rehab stuff. Like, focusing on health and wellness instead of physique.”
I saw the hurt flash over his face before he managed to right his expression. “You really think all I do is powerlift with the bros, huh?”
“No, that’s not what I meant at all.” I backpedaled even though it was exactly what I’d assumed about him.
“Let me enlighten you about what I do at Crush.” He deployed the Gibson Glare at me. “Yeah, I work with a lot of people who are in it to look good, but I’ve got half a dozen clients over seventy who know that motion is the lotion for long-term health. I’ve got a yogi who lifts to complement her practice. I’ve got a guy who’s a caretaker for his father with Alzheimer’s who needs to be strong enough to lift him if he falls. I’ve got a guy who almost destroyed his shoulder doing CrossFit with a trainer who got his certification online. Crush isn’t just about vanity, Chelsea. And people who are interested in fitness aren’t all muscleheads. What I do isscience.”
I felt my cheeks go hot as he called me on my assumption. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
We stared at each other as our cold breath made little storm clouds around our faces.
“Speaking of training, you and I both need to get back to it. Back to our agreement.” Andrew said it gently and I understood that it was his olive branch, a way to move past what could’ve been another argument.
“Next week,” I offered quickly. “I’m wide-open Monday night.”
“And I can swing Wednesday morning before nine or Friday before eight.”
