Page 1 of It's in the Contract
One
It’s the first day of school, Monte Ville High. We can’t wait to see everyone!
TikTok caption by @CassidyandBrianMVH.
“Remindme why I do this with you again?” I groan.
“Because you love weight lifting!” Mom accentuates each word with a punch into the air. “And I just broke a personal record!”
I blearily pump out my warm-up jumping jacks. My eyelids droop, begging my body to go back to sleep. The clock on the wall reads 5:30 AM.
Mom picks up her dumbbells for another set of squats. She grips a forty pound dumbbell in each hand, staring at the floor-to-ceiling mirror that makes up one wall of my mom’s personal exercise studio. She squats down, and the muscles in her quads bulge. Her arms holding the dumbbells at her side are toned and defined.
The lights in the workout studio are blinding, and the air smells like sweat and iron. On the wall is an enormous rack of weights from fives to one hundreds. The coating on the lightersets of weights are peeling from so much use, whereas the one hundreds have a fine layer of dust. Various workout machines line the back wall—the bench press, the leg press, the chest press. A lot of presses.
Mom finishes her set and places the weights back on the rack. She turns to me and watches me jump. “Good form, Callie. But pick up the pace.”
Sweat is beaded on Mom’s forehead, and the underarms of her purple tank are dark despite the ceiling fans blowing overhead. Her auburn hair is pulled into a low bun, but a few wisps are coming out around her face, sticking to her moist temples. Moist. Ewww. Her sometimes-brown-and-sometimes-green eyes shine from the exhilaration of conquering a challenge. Even the blushing pink camellia tattoo on her shoulder is glistening.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say, but I increase the speed of my jacks. About a minute passes, and I’m out of breath when Mom finally nods, and I stop. “What are we working on today?” I tighten my high ponytail and check the clock on the wall. “I’ve got twenty-five minutes before I need to shower and get ready.”
Mom frowns. “For today we’ll make that work, but tomorrow could you get up earlier?”
Irritation flares in my stomach, but I hold in my sigh. I nod.
Mom scrolls through her phone to her workout playlist, and Sabotage by Beastie Boys blares over the sound system.
“Aren’t we going to wake up Dad?” I ask.
Mom smiles. “He’s welcome to join us. And he needs to get up soon for his flight to LA, anyway.”
She coaches me through the bench press, spotting me through every rep and adding extra weight with each set. She makes me do push-ups until failure for a burnout. By the time we’re finished, my chest muscles are quivering. I follow her tothe weight rack and do single-arm tricep presses and dips on the bench to finish.
Finally, I roll out my tie-dye yoga mat on the ground, sweaty and breathing hard but feeling good about how many reps I was able to eke out. I smile at Mom, but she’s checking her Fitbit.
“I guess that’s all we have time for today.” She rolls out her own yoga mat, a serene sky blue, and bends down for child’s pose.
I copy her, stretching out my tight muscles, and the rubbery smell of the mat fills my nose. A droplet of sweat rolls off my forehead and plops onto a blue spiral.
“Eat a high-protein breakfast,” Mom says, her voice muffled by the mat. She rolls onto her side, opening her arms into a twist, and I mimic her movements.
“I will, Mom.”
“There are protein shakes in the fridge, and I’ll make you some eggs while you’re in the shower.” Mom rolls onto her other side, and I follow. “I got you the sourdough bread that you like for toast, but only have one piece. And no butter. There are avocados on the counter you can use instead.”
It’s because she cares.I force my jaw to unclench.“Got it. What do you have going on today?”
Mom sits up and leans forward for a hamstring stretch, reaching a hand’s distance past her feet. I copy her, but I can barely reach the tips of my toes. My light brown hair is coming loose from the ponytail, and my bangs stick to the sweat on my temples.
“I have two new clients that I’m training this morning, and then I’ll teach a new kickboxing routine at Trim & Fit.” Mom’s eyes shine as she tells me about the songs she’s incorporated into her routine and how much she thinks the group ex members are going to love them. I smile and nod.
“Good luck at school, Cal,” Mom says, standing and reaching overhead for a stretch. “I hope it’s an amazing first day.”
“Thanks, Mom. That was a great workout.”
Mom’s eyes sparkle. “Maybe I’ll use it on one of my clients later.”
“Good idea.” I stand and turn toward the door, but Mom pulls me into a hug. She’s sweaty and warm, but I hug her back.
