Page 17

I spent an hour reading a few chapters ofThe Bridge over the River Kwaito two men, helping a woman write an email to her daughter, and walking three different people down to the dining room for lunch. I realized I hadn’t seen Dad at any of his usual spots. He hadn’t been in the activity room or movie time or even the dining room for lunch. I went back to his room to check on him, and he was still asleep. What kind of life was that for a man who used to love to golf and paint and play poker? I silently said goodbye and headed to my car.

I put my seatbelt on and turned the heater up to seventy-eight. My car’s thermostat read thirty-six, and I was not going to be able to drive until my hands warmed up. As I held my hands over the vents to feel the warmth, my phone vibrated. It was my mother calling again. Since I had ignored her previous voicemail, I knew I should answer it.

“Did you get my message?” she said, not bothering to say hello. “You didn’t call me back.”

“I didn’t have a chance.” I was irritated by her tone.

“Have you seen your father today?”

“I just came from there.”

“Did you notice how confused he was? Jerry asked the doctor to look into why.”

“He’s a little more confused, but I don’t think the doctor needs to do anything yet.” I didn’t want to deal with her worries when I was trying to push my own down.

“I need to know if there’s something wrong,” she said.

Maybe Jerry was right. Maybe I wasn’t sensitive enough when it came to my mother. Either way, I wanted to get off the phone. “I have to go, Mom. Gia’s walking toward me.” Gia was still at school, but she didn’t need to know that. “Hi, Gia, I’m right here,” I called out loudly. “Bye, Mom.” I hung up before she could ask to speak to my daughter.

I drove to the gym. As tired as I was, exercising would give me some much-needed endorphins, and I’d eaten a family-size bag of barbecue potato chips today. It was either work out or force myself to throw up, and throwing up was gross. I put all my things in a locker except for my towel and went to find an open treadmill. When I got on the treadmill, I started moving slowly and then increased my speed to a fast walk. I hated jogging, so a fast walk was all I would do. I pushed the incline button and went up to level three but quickly brought it back down because my knees instantly bothered me.

A man was walking toward me, bouncing in his shoes like a four-year-old who was excited to be going somewhere fun. As he got closer, he smiled, and I realized it was the Yankees cap guy I’d seen the other day. He was even cuter today than I remembered. Why did I keep running into him? Maybe hehadbeen smiling at me. Why had he smiled at me?

He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt with Captain America fighting some villain I’d never heard of. He had a huge tattoo on his arm with an eagle, an American flag, and a heart interwoven. It was red, white, and blue, with the inscription “Death Before Dishonor.” I’d never been into tattoos before, but this one accentuated the muscles on his arm. I noticed he had a string hanging off the sleeve of his T-shirt. I wondered if I should tell him, but just thinking about talking to him made me nervous, so instead I stared at the television screen in front of me. I hoped he hadn’t noticed me blushing.

The next thing I knew, the hot guy was on the treadmill next to me. Out of all the empty treadmills, he got on the one closest to me? Oh God, did I say out loud how hot he was? He dropped his towel on the floor, so close to mine they were almost touching. Then he put on earphones and began jogging. The next thing I knew, my legs had started jogging also. As he jogged faster, I jogged faster. I hadn’t jogged since I’d fainted after only one lap in seventh grade. I was completely out of breath, but I was not going to show it. I wanted to look fit. He began sprinting. Holy crap, now I was sprinting. Why couldn’t he stay at jogging? I was about to hyperventilate and die when I lost my footing and tripped and fell off the treadmill. I must’ve startled him because then he lost his footing and fell off too. He was doubled over laughing, and I was trying to sound as if I wasn’t gasping for air.

“You okay?” he asked. He was breathing without a hint of exhaustion.

“I think so.” I pulled my tank top down, making sure nothing was showing that shouldn’t be. This cute thirty-something-year-old man was talking to me. Did he know I had to be way over ten years older than him?

He got up and then reached his hand out to help me stand. “I just joined this gym and have been forcing myself to run on the treadmill for forty-five minutes a day,” he said. “I’m punishing myself for something I did in a past life.”

“Then I must’ve done something criminal because I’m usually on this machine more than that,” I said, yelling over the sound of our running treadmills. I wasn’t going to tell him I hadn’t been to the gym in months. He reached around me to turn my treadmill off. I worried he’d notice I was ogling him, so I forced my gaze up and looked into his big green eyes. How long could you stare into someone’s eyes without looking creepy? I was running out of other places to look.

He rested his arm on the treadmill. His biceps were the size of grapefruits, and the muscles in his thighs were toned and defined. “With the lousy day I’ve been having, I’m happy I didn’t just break something. I’m Michael.” He bent over in an adorable, exaggerated bow.

“Maggie,” I said and tried to curtsy, which didn’t come off as cute as I wanted it to. Even though I didn’t normally have conversations with strange men, the warmth in his voice made me want to talk to him more. “Why are you having such a bad day?” I asked.Myday was now so much better.

He told me he was a writer, and an article he’d written was supposed to be in a magazine, but today he found out the magazine was folding. He worked freelance writing, mostly travel pieces, profiles of people, and human-interest stories. He sometimes taught writing classes at the community college, and someday he wanted to write a book. As the treadmills around us filled up, I shared with him how I used to be in publishing, and we discussed his writing process and what I used to look for as a senior editor. When he asked me what I did now, I faltered. How could I tell him about my boring life? I started out with the truth, about how I had a daughter and I volunteered at her school. Then I told him that I often visited my father at his senior living facility. As I heard myself talking, I realized that none of this was interesting, so I started making things up.

“I’m a freelance photographer, I rescue animals from bad situations, and I set up fundraisers for charities.” I made myself sound like a saint … a saint who lied through her teeth.

He was impressed. “Wow, it’s amazing you can still get in a workout.”

Even though he was standing so close to me, my nerves had subsided. I hated to admit it, but this was fun. Great, now I was one of those women who’d get giddy when a cute guy talked to her. I hated those women; they were so obvious. I wondered if he talked to every woman in here or if I was special. I looked down and realized I’d left my wedding ring in my locker. Was he trying to pick me up? Did he think I was single? Just in case, I thought I should cut it short.

I made a show of looking at my watch. “I better go. I need to take my dog to the vet.”

He leaned down and picked up his towel. “I work out most days around this time. Hopefully we’ll meet again, Maggie.” He exaggerated my name, or at least that’s how I heard it.

“I look forward to it, Michael.” I tried to exaggerate his name, but I sounded more like a dolt than I usually did. I made a promise to myself that I was going to get to the gym as often as I could, and it had nothing to do with this guy. Well, it did, but I needed to get in shape too. As I crossed to the locker room, I took a quick look over my shoulder. He’d finally noticed that string hanging from the hem of his sleeve and was biting it off.

DAD

Maggie usually comes on Tuesdays, so when she came in my room on a Thursday, I was surprised to see her. I think she came back to check up on me. My breakfast tray is next to the bed. I left most of the scrambled eggs and half the toast. Lately, I’m not very hungry.

“Dad, you didn’t eat much.” She pulls up a chair next to me. I love when she visits. She asks me how I am, and I tell her I’m fine and ask what’s new with her.