Page 4 of The Weight Of It All

“We’ll start you off light. I really just want you to get the technical aspect down pat first. To make sure you’re using the equipment correctly so you don’t injure yourself when you work out when I’m not here.” Reed moved to the side, giving me room to take his place. “Okay, your turn.”

I did as he did, then somehow managed to get through everything he told me to do, using muscles I hadn’t used in…

well, ever. He put his huge hand on different parts of my body as I did the different movements.

Biceps, triceps, pecs, deltoids, lats. Then he showed me proper stretching techniques, doing each one with me.

I was on the floor with one leg underneath me, the other bent behind me, apparently stretching my quads but really just looking like an overweight pretzel. “Oh God, this is going to hurt tomorrow.”

He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yes, it will. And the day after will probably be worse. But you’ll get better every time, and in a week or two, you’ll be fine.”

“I have to work tomorrow,” I admitted, trying not to sound like a whiney baby. “And I can’t turn up at the office and not be able to move.”

“What exactly does a financial actuary for one of the country’s biggest banks do?”

Oh, so he read my personal information sheet I filled out yesterday. “I study statistics and trends to manage potential risks.”

He blinked. “Potential risks?”

I nodded. “Yes. I evaluate the likelihood of future events that would impact our industry.”

Reed made a thoughtful face. “Interesting.”

“You’re the first person I’ve ever met to call it that.”

“Really?”

“Most people think it’s boring, but I actually enjoy it. I like numbers. They’re constant, and the answers are invariable. ”

“Even in a hypothetical event that may or may not happen?”

Now it was me who stared at him. My God, he understood what I did? “Yes, even then.”

He nodded slowly as a smile played at his lips. “I like that.”

“You like numbers?”

“Maths was always my favourite subject at school,” he answered. “Well, sport, then maths.”

“I hated sport.”

He smiled. “Well, you did great today. Nailed the equipment. Did you have a chance to look over the diet plan I gave you?”

“Yeah. I intended to go shopping later today, but I think I might just go home and die first. I’m already starting to feel sore.” I rotated my shoulder and regretted it immediately. “Ow.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, you’re going to be sore.

But, and this is only a suggestion… go shopping before you get home.

Once you get home, showered, and sitting down, the very last thing you’ll feel like doing is grocery shopping.

” Then he added brightly, “Plus, you can get some Epsom salts or another muscle soak. Have you got a bath at home?”

“Yes.” Though I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually had a bath.

“It will help. A hot bath with magnesium salts and a drop or two of lavender right before bed, and you’ll sleep like a baby.”

I reluctantly agreed. “Anything that helps has to be a good thing, I guess.”

Reed’s perfect smile beamed. “Excellent. So, take it easy tomorrow. Do the stretches I showed you and some gentle walking, and that will help. I promise you, Henry, if you do three sessions a week, by the end of next week, you’ll see and feel the difference.

I’m not going to lie to you: it’s not going to be easy.

You will hurt; you will want to never come back.

But you will come back. You want this, and you can do this. ”

I nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

His smile died and his brow furrowed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No snarky comment.”

“That’s just because I’ve gone into an exercise-induced shock. Loss of humour is the first sign of impending death.”

He gave me a weak smile and gently clapped my shoulder. “I will see you the day after tomorrow, yeah? 7:00 a.m.”

I nodded and winced. “Nodding hurts, so can I give one blink for yes and two blinks for no? I’m pretty sure my eyelids don’t hurt, though it’s highly likely I feel so sore, my brain has sent out neural blocks and I can no longer feel pain.”

He laughed again, just as someone called his name.

He checked his watch, told me he’d see me next time, and went off to see his other clients.

I limped to my car and set about driving to the nearest Coles.

I tried not to think about the pain, lamely telling myself I was changing my life for the better.

And that worked just fine and dandy until I actually had to get out of the car and walk into the supermarket.

Oh Lord baby Jesus in a manger. Stiff and sore already, I gingerly collected all the fruit and vegetables on my list. I deliberately didn’t look at the deli section, knowing those antipasto goodies would never pass my lips again.

I said a quiet farewell to the cheese section, also never again to be enjoyed with a glass of wine on Sunday afternoons.

I always served cheese with fig pastes and crackers and wine on Sunday afternoons for Graham and I…

Not that it mattered. I couldn’t have cheese or wine, and I had no Graham.

A sob escaped me in the refrigerated aisle of Coles.

I’m pretty sure it was the cold reality of Graham leaving me that stripped my emotions raw…

Or maybe it was the loss of wine and cheese, or how my body hurt so much. It was kind of hard to tell.

A lady put her hand on my arm; concern clouded her face. “Are you okay, love?”

I tried to communicate by blinking twice.

Which meant no, but she mustn’t have been fluent.

So instead I had to speak. “I’ve just been to my first ever gym session, and I think I broke my body.

I have some stupid diet plan, so I can’t have wine or bacon, and all because my boyfriend of eight years left me. ”

She slow-blinked twice. Oh good, she was fluent in blink-speak.

“Yes, he did. He said it’s because I’m overweight.”

She blinked once.

Did she just agree with me? “Do you think I’m fat?” How rude!

“Pardon?”

“Can you communicate by blinking?”

Someone behind me laughed, and I turned to find Reed, looking taller than I remembered, holding a shopping basket and grinning that perfect smile. He stepped over to me and gave the lady a sympathetic nod. “It’s okay,” he said to her. “I’ll take it from here.”

We watched as she hurried away. “I don’t think she speaks in blinks,” I explained.

Reed chuckled again, but his eyes softened. “Are you okay?”

“No. My body has seized up. I’m pretty sure there was an old guy back in the dairy section in one of those motorised scooters. If you could just go push him out of it and tell him there’s someone much more in need of it in aisle two.”

Reed laughed. “No, I certainly will not.” Then he shoved the basket handle up to the crook of his elbow, put his two huge hands on my shoulders, and gently pushed. “Walk. This way.”

“Ow, ow, ow,” I said with each step, which of course made him laugh. He never took his hands off me and pushed me all the way to aisle six. “If you even think about telling me there’s no gain without pain, I’ll shove this eggplant right where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Only if you wash it first and use a lot of lube.” Stunned, I tripped over my feet, but he caught me. “I’m kidding,” he said with a laugh, still pushing me along.

By the time my brain had caught up to the fact that Reed had joked about arseplay, we were in the Personals aisle.

We went past the condoms and lube, and he just happened to stop pushing me in front of the strapping tape, muscle rubs, and Band-Aids.

“Here,” he declared, plucking a box off the bottom shelf.

“Epsom salts. Take a hot bath with this. It will help.”

I took the offered box. “An eggplant? Really?”

Reed threw his head back and laughed. “I was joking!”

“I should hope so. I mean, a carrot or cucumber maybe, but an eggplant is a little ambitious.”

He fought a smile. “When I gave you the diet plan that insisted on a range of vegetables, that wasn’t what I really had in mind.”

I smiled at him, glad he played along. Not everyone thought my random trains of thought and subsequent ramblings were entertaining.

Graham was used to the drivel that came out of my mouth.

Actually, he’d stopped his own quips back over the years, and if I were being honest, he’d ignored most things I talked about.

“You okay?” Reed asked. He was staring at me, concerned and a little sad.

“Yeah, sorry. Just remembering something.”

“From your ex? ”

I nodded and regretted it immediately. “Ouch. Nodding hurts. Can we converse in blinks?”

He blinked once. Yes .

I laughed then tried to bend down to grab something off the shelf and yelped. My whole body was frozen and stuck. “Oh, good Lord. I’m pretty sure I’m going to die.”

Reed put his hand on my shoulder and helped me stand upright. He frowned sympathetically. “Henry, will you be okay?”

I blinked once, for yes. Then blinked again, for no.

“Got your phone on you?”

“Yeah.” I slowly fished my phone out of my pocket, withholding the urge to groan as my muscles objected. “Why do you ask?”

He took it out of my hand and proceeded to thumb in some numbers and hit Send. A moment later, his phone buzzed somewhere on his body. “You now have my number,” he said, typing something into my phone. He handed it back to me, and I saw that he’d added his name and number into my Contacts.

Reed Henske.

“Just in case you need to speak to someone,” he said. His usual confident demeanour was gone. Now he seemed unsure. “About things like how sore is normal tomorrow and what pain isn’t normal.”

“I’m pretty sure none of it is normal.”

“And now I have your number, I can make sure you come back to the gym the day after tomorrow.”

“If I haven’t died of extreme muscle fatigue.” Oh Jesus. “Can someone actually die of muscle fatigue?”

Reed chuckled. “You’re not going to die. Come on, I’ll help you through checkout.”

“Have you got everything?” I asked. His shopping basket only had a twelve pack of eggs in it .

“I just need to go to the deli.”

He turned to walk in that direction and I tried to go with him, but the best I could do was a rusted Tin Man impersonation. “Oh, sweet Lord have mercy.”

Reed tried not to laugh. “You poor thing.”

“It’s your fault.”

He scoffed. “You’ll be thanking me in a few weeks.”

“I’d thank you right now if you find that old guy in that motorised scooter.

” He refused to toss the old guy out of his scooter for me, but he did smile a lot.

We walked―well, he walked and I shuffled―over to the deli where he ordered chicken and fish fillets.

I grabbed some meat and fish too, ignoring the cheese and antipasto deliciousness, and then we walked/hobbled to the checkout.

“You live close by?” I asked as we waited in line. “Well, I presume this supermarket is either between work and home or close by.”

“Yep. I live not far from here.”

“Me too,” I admitted. “Do you always work on Sundays?”

“Six till ten.” He started loading my groceries onto the conveyor belt at the checkout. “It’s good. I get to work out, help other people work out, earn money while I’m doing it, and be done by mid-morning. The rest of my day is free.”

He finished putting my items onto the checkout then proceeded to fill the trolley again with the bagged items. He was doing it all for me as he talked about having days off during the week in lieu of working weekends, but if someone couldn’t do a shift, he’d usually do it for them.

He obviously loved what he did. I couldn’t deny looking at the muscles in his biceps and triceps flex as he leaned and lifted.

I wasn’t actively looking, but I wasn’t fucking dead either.

I paid for my groceries and waited for Reed to pay for his few things, and we walked out together. Well, he walked and I staggered/leaned on the trolley for support, all the way to my car. I popped the boot. “Nice,” he said, nodding approvingly at my car.

“Thanks.” My Audi TT was nice. I loved it. I worked hard for my salary and splurged on myself to buy the car of my dreams. Then I groaned as I lifted a bag into the boot. “God I’m gonna die trying to go to work tomorrow.”

He gently put his hand on my arm. “You have my number. Call or text me if you need.” Then he started to walk to the edge of the car park. “See you on Tuesday.”

I called out after him. “Are you walking?”

“Yep.”

“Need a lift?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

I waved Reed off and lowered myself agonizingly into my car and watched him as he walked up the tree-lined street away from the car park.

The area was filled with newish apartment blocks, and he crossed the street and walked to the end of the road before disappearing from view.

I wasn’t really sitting there for five minutes watching him, I told myself.

I only watched him because I was unable to move, I conceded, my muscles cramped and frozen.

When he was long gone, I started the car, never more thankful for the automatic transmission, and went home.

I struggled to get the bags inside to the kitchen, taking each step with a groan. Sure, I felt productive and even a little energised for doing exercise. I’d taken the first step in changing my life. So, I kinda felt good for that, but sweet mother of God, my body, from head to toe, hurt like hell.