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“Speaking of monkeys?” I said, and he laughed. We kept up a steady conversation while he continued to lift. I felt weird standing and watching him work out, so I started stretching. I was acutely aware of my body and how I was moving it. I had to make sure nothing creaked or snapped or screamed out my age. He said it was great that I worked out so often. I told him it kept me sane, which he related to. “I have to work out in the morning or at lunchtime because the end of my day is taken up by homework and listening to my daughter’s drama,” I said.

“Let me guess. Who has a crush on who, who’s mean, who says she’s a vegan but eats chicken for lunch.”

“I thought you didn’t have kids.”

“I don’t. I date younger women. After my last girlfriend, I swore I’d only date women my own age.”

“How old was your last girlfriend?” I asked.

“Twenty-two.”

“Twenty-two?” I exclaimed, putting more emphasis on the twenty than I intended.

“You think I’m some dirty old man, don’t you?”

“If you learned your lesson, I’ll pretend you aren’t creepy.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Why’d you and the twenty-two-year-old break up?” I couldn’t stop bringing up that number.

“Every time I had a writing deadline, she’d say I was too busy for her. I told her I had to work to pay my bills, unlike her, whose parents still paid for everything. She kept saying that I wasn’t any fun.”

“My husband and I’ve had a similar conversation. I’m the one saying marriage should be more fun.” Maybe I shouldn’t be telling Michael this.

“I don’t know if I could ever get married again,” he said, putting the fifty-pound dumbbells back on the stack and picking up slightly heavier weights. He lay down on the bench and did chest presses. I was bored with stretching, so I got on the bench next to him and copied what he was doing but with ten-pound weights. Before I knew it, an hour had gone by, and I had gotten a good workout and was having an enjoyable time doing it. I didn’t want to leave, but I needed to get some errands done before Gia came home. I also knew tomorrow I was going to be so sore I might not be able to walk or brush my hair.

“I promised my daughter I’d pick up supplies for her science project before she gets home today.” When I stood up, he did also.

“It was nice having someone to work out with,” he said.

“It was. Then again, you could always work out with one of your young girlfriends.”

“They don’t have their driver’s licenses yet.”

“Ha. Good one.”

Michael picked up my towel and handed it to me. “See you soon, I hope.”

I turned toward the mirror in front of me and saw that my hair was hanging out of my ponytail, my mascara was smeared, and there were sweat stains down the front of my tank top. I dreaded to think there might be sweat on my butt too. I couldn’t wait to see him again, which when you’re married, is not a good sign.

CHAPTER 11

On Monday, Michael wasn’t at the gym. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, no sign of him either. I went in the morning. I went at lunchtime. I even asked the receptionist if he’d been there, and she hadn’t seen him. I was not motivated to work out without him, so not only was I obsessing about him disappearing, but I was obsessing about the extra pounds I was gaining.

The more I thought about how much I missed him, the more anxious I got, yet I couldn’t get him off my mind. I knew deep down that he shouldn’t be this important to me. Jim noticed I hadn’t been in a good mood, but I told him it was anxiety over my father. I’d never lied to him, and now I was becoming pretty good at it.

By the end of the week, I was beside myself not knowing what happened to Michael. On Saturday I showed up at the gym twice, but no Michael. I did run into Gia’s friend Taylor though. I hadn’t seen her since she went to college, and I almost didn’t recognize her. When she graduated from high school last year, she had frizzy brown hair, a unibrow, and an ample midsection. The girl standing in front of me had blond straight hair, perfectly plucked eyebrows, and was wearing a cropped sports bra and tight running shorts. Her abs were giving my abs a heart attack. I made an excuse and left quickly because her young, beautiful body was depressing.

Later that afternoon my flabby belly and I were standing in front of the Lacy Dream boutique. I was there to buy lingerie for my anniversary trip. I hoped it would make me feel sexy, so I could get my mind back on Jim. I also wondered if it would help his lack of a sex drive. Or would I need to resort to using handcuffs, a blindfold, and a leather flogger? That’s something he wouldn’t expect. I’d readFifty Shades of Gray; I’d learned how to use that stuff. I looked at my reflection in the boutique window and imagined myself as a dominatrix. My reflection blushed and said,No way. He needs to marry his second wife for that.

I hated lingerie shopping, not because I didn’t like pretty things but because trying them on in a dressing room under florescent lights and in front of a three-way mirror was worse than getting my varicose veins stripped.

The mannequin in the window was dressed in a white, lacy chemise. I envied her perfect body curves, except for that part where her two halves were bolted together. Would Michael think I looked sexy in that chemise? Wait, I meant Jim, Jim, my husband, Jim. As I berated myself for confusing them, I saw Ellen getting out of her car. She’d volunteered to come with me today to talk me through my insecurities. She was also a good buffer between me and some sales lady who’d try to convince me that a negligee with a weird cutout where my butt hung out would look fabulous on me.

Ellen was on her cell phone, gesturing wildly, which could only mean she was talking to her mother-in-law. We still hadn’t figured out how to get off the phone with our mothers-in-law. With our own mothers, we would say goodbye, and if we “accidentally” hung up on them, oh well. Mothers-in-law were a different beast.

“Sure, yes, we’ll try to be there for Thanksgiving this year,” Ellen said and gave me her look forHelp me!“No, no, you’re right, we’ll more than try.” She mimed a gun to her head.