Page 9 of Resistance Training
In the time it took me to get to work, I had gone from promising myself that I’d stay positive, take the high road, and never, ever go on Facebook again to vowing to ruin Jeremy and Duckface’s lives to mentally composing an email to Jeremy that expressed my gratitude toward him for leading me to the tiny house I love so much, that is within walking distance of the greatest artisanal ice-cream shop on earth, and wished him love, happiness, and success. When I parked, I asked Siri about voodoo revenge spells, but it gave me directions to Voodoo Donuts instead. Because my iPhone and all of foodie Portland conspires to get me to eat my feelings instead of dabbling in the dark arts.
Well played, Siri.
Well played.
I have every intention of stopping by Voodoo Donuts after work.
When I get out of my morning meetings, I head directly to the break room for a desperately needed protein bar and tea sesh with my work bestie, Marlo. That is when I realize my sister has other plans for me, and her plans are clearly going to be the exact opposite of me going to buy donuts after work.
There are fourteen texts and as many missed calls from Aubrey.
My chest tightens.
But the text that followed the first missed call readsNobody has died. Call me back ASAP.
Perhaps she has important news about a really gross and humiliating thing that happened to Jeremy and Duckface in public!
But no.
The wordsgymandpersonal trainerandappointmentjump out at me, the way numbers and symbols float around for Matt Damon inGood Will Hunting. Except instead of solving the problems, I want to put my phone in the microwave and walk away in slow-motion, straight to the nearest food truck.
Groaning, I unwrap a protein bar, return to my small office, shut the door, and call my sister back on her cell phone.
She answers before I even hear it ring. “Okay, the gym is called Good Form. I sent you the address. It’s in Kenton. That’s sort of near you, right?”
“Not really.”
“Right, but it’s not out of your way or anything.”
“It kind of is.”
“Anyway, I got you an annual membership—but—I’m also paying for personal-training sessions with the owner of the gym. He’s usually impossible to book, but he just had a cancellation, so you have to go tonight.”
“Ihaveto? I had plans for this evening.”
“Really? Do these plans involve other people, or do they involve pastries?”
“They involve other people serving me pastries.”
“You need to get out of the house and meet new people in that city that you refuse to move from.” She is not wrong about this. She is not wrong about very many things. Like, ever. “Your appointment is at seven. With Mitch. Okay? You have to go.Have tohave to. For me. I’ve already paid for three months of personal-training sessions with this guy and it’s nonrefundable.”
“Everything is refundable if you annoy the right people for long enough.”
“Vivian.”
“Fine. I will go. But if I hate him I will get you your money back.”
“Deal! I have to jump on another call—get there early so you can fill out intake forms and call me as soon as you get home from your appointment. Make sure you look cute when you go to the gym, okay?! Love you!”
She hangs up before I can ask her what level of cuteness she is prescribing. 7:00 p.m.? Tonight? This means I don’t have time to go home to get my workout clothes and shoes before the appointment. Which means I go to the downtown Target during my lunch break. Which means I spend twenty minutes finding parking, which means I have to eat Starbucks food for lunch, on the run. Which means I don’t have time to do any Googling of this Mitch person. It means I don’t have any time to vent to Marlo about my ex. It means that when I finally call my parents to discuss Aubrey’s upcoming nuptials I am simultaneously driving, putting my hair up in a ponytail, and eating a grilled-cheese sandwich, which apparently makes me sound depressed because I don’t have a date to the wedding. Which means I have to put the sandwich down to get my mom to stop crying and lie to her about how excited I am to hopefully meet some new people at this gym I’m going to.
More importantly, it means that when I arrive at the gym at exactly 7:00 p.m., unshowered and hungry, in my new workout gear that is an unfortunate shade of neon lime green due to the limited sizes and styles available at the small urban Target, I do not look or feel my best when I walk in and try to remember what looking cute feels like. Also, they didn’t have any sports bras ortank tops with built-in support in my size. And I refuse to wear the push-up bra I wore to work under a tank top, so once my jacket comes off, I will be one layer of ribbed cotton fabric away from pointing at everyone in front of me without my fingers, if you know what I mean. If the air-conditioning is turned up high in there, that is.
And it is.
Of course it is.
It is definitely cool, verging on cold in here.
