Page 13 of Between the Blue
And, of course…
There he is.
Like clockwork.
James comes stepping out of the men’s locker room down the hall, dressed head to toe in black, his hat on backwards, and his headphones secured over his ears.
It all seems to happen in slow motion. His body turning, his eyes glazing over me, then snapping back to me once again once he registers it’s me. The briefest of pauses. It’s maybe half a second, yet, somehow, it feels so much longer as my throat tightens and my spine steels. His reactions are so subtle, something you’d miss if your gaze wasn’t glued to his face in the way mine unconsciously and unwillingly seems to be. It’s the faintest squint of his eyes, the outer corners crinkling just slightly, and the slight curl of his upper lip, something that feels like a cross between disgust and rage, something I just simply can’t understand.
And then it’s over. After that half a second, James’s face smoothes out, his features relaxing, his eyes glazing over, and his gaze sliding right past me as he turns to head into the weight room. As if I’m not even here.
As if I was never here at all.
four
HER
Two times is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.
And if my guess is correct, I have a feeling I’m about to confirm a particular pattern in approximately thirty seconds.
I tried everything I could when I woke up this morning to not think of him, but, I must admit, I failed.
Horribly.
I’ve always loved my mornings at the gym, and he’s felt like a stormy cloud covering what is usually my blissful sunrise.
Something about James’s presence is so heavy.
It’s the way hehovers.
Yesterday, once again, he was always one step behind me, making me feel like I was going insane.
Everywhere I went, he followed.
Every machine I would use, he would use right after me.
Every time I looked at him, he’d be looking at anything but at me. But then, the moment I’d look away, I would find his gaze practically burning a hole into my reflection in the mirror. And, sure enough, every time I’d look back to the real him, he’d be looking away, his eyes vacant and indifferent.
I kept noticing other things.
Dumbbells I’d grabbed from a rack going missing when I turned away.
The weight I’d set on my machines being raised by a hundred pounds when I would walk away to grab a cleaning wipe.
And then, more obviously, when I made my way towards the water fountain only for him to cut me off, pretending like I wasn’t there as he took his sweet time filling up his own water bottle.
As I stood behind him tapping my foot, I noticed his bottle was in the same shade of dark green as his gym bag and the towel he carries with him.
Becauseof coursehe would be a monochromatic type of person. All black outfits, with everything else in the same exact oddly specific green color. I figured he’s probably allergic to patterns.
And joy.
I desperately want to just ignore him, but he’s made it as difficult as possible. And it’s beyond irritating that he seems to be just as committed to his schedule– which just so happens to be the exact same as mine– as I am.
But, today, I refuse to let him bring me down. Because it’s my favorite day of the week.
Grocery shopping day.
