Page 61 of The Weight Of It All
Physically, he was better than perfect.
Personality-wise he was pretty damn close, and I had to wonder what his fatal flaw would be. The flaw that killed how perfect he was to me. There had to be something…
He lifted the bar in some kind of Olympic snatch, everymuscle straining, his nostrils flaring, and pure concentration on his face. He did that five times, then dropped it, only to walk over to the overhead bar and do chin-ups like they were the easiest thing in the world to do. He did five of those, then went back to doing more weight lifting, alternating for five rounds.
It was insane and an incredible feat of human strength and determination. Seth was close behind him, then Emily and the others, but Reed was the clear winner. When he let go of the chin-up bar for the final time, everyone clapped and cheered, but he simply walked back to his barbell and dropped to the floor. He sat, taking deep breaths, sweaty, exhausted and spent, and watched his friends get through the routine. He clapped as each of them finished, and he cheered the final guy through.
And as I watched him, doing what he clearly loved surrounded by people he called friends, I figured out what was his one and only fault.
Me.
It was me that was wrong here. And I realised, with a stab of hurt and foolishness, that I was kidding myself if I thought for one moment Reed could be interested in me.
As the five trainers all caught their breaths, they high-fived each other and gave each other hugs. Seeing them with their hands on him and him with his hands on them, with their perfect bodies, it only further cemented the realisation that I was well and truly out of my league here.
Lachie wrote finishing times on the board, and when Reed was announced as the winner and as the crowd gave him high-fives and shoulder claps, I stood back and let them swarm him. When we made eye contact, I gave him a smile and nod, but before he could get to me, I slipped out the front door.
I drove home,and when lying on the couch wasn’t reclusive enough, I kicked off my shoes and climbed into bed. I wrapped my blankets around my head, and wallowing in self-pity and misery, I took my phone and sent Reed a text.
Well done on the trainer’s challenge. You deserved to win it. Sorry I had to leave. Wasn’t feeling well. Will have to cancel dinner. Sorry.
Ten minutes later my phone rang. It was Reed’s number. I wanted to answer it. I wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice. I wanted to make him laugh, I wanted to touch him like the other people had touched him. I wanted to tell him how proud I was of him for winning today, and I wanted more than anything to have our non-date tonight.
But I’d had a sharp reality check today, and my heart was hurting, and my ego was in a dark corner somewhere, licking its wounds. I pulled the covers over my head and let the phone ring out, only to have it beep soon after.
It was a text from Reed.
Henry? You okay?
“No,” I spoke out loud. I didn’t reply to the text.
My phone beeped again a little while later.
Henry, I hope you’re okay. I’m sorry you had to cancel dinner. Can we take a raincheck?
I didn’t reply to that either, and some hours later, I was still cocooned in my bed covers when my phone beeped again.
I hope you’ll come in for our 8am session tomorrow. If not, I’ll understand.
I didn’t reply to that either but added a soul full of guilt tomy self-pity and misery, and with a heavy, heavy heart, I rolled over. Buried in my blankets, I fell asleep.
There’ssomething to be said about falling asleep at five o’clock in the afternoon, because I was awake at three in the morning and had nothing but guilt and low self-esteem to keep me company.
I felt awful for leaving Reed like that. It didn’t change my place in his world, but I still felt bad. I wondered if he celebrated with his trainer friends last night, and then I had to wonder how fitness trainers “celebrated.” Did they sit around eating quinoa and drinking kale juice, talking about negative calories and telling fat people jokes?
I sighed. That wasn’t fair, and I knew it. Reed wasn’t like that. And from what I’d seen of the trainers, none of them were. It was purely my perspective, not of them, but of myself.
I glowered at the ceiling until my internal anger threw me out of bed. By six o’clock, I’d cleaned my bathroom, mopped the floors, scrubbed the kitchen, and rearranged my Tupperware drawer, finding matching lids and neatly stacking containers that I promised myself to keep that way forever, but I knew in my heart of hearts it’d be a plastic catastrophe again by Tuesday.
I was at the gym a few minutes early with frustrated energy to burn and an apology for Reed at the ready. He was going through some weights with the two women who were normally leaving as I got there. When he saw me, he looked a little surprised, and it took him a few seconds to force a smile. I knew then that I’d hurt him, and the weed of guilt in my chest sprouted a few more vines.
“Hi, Henry,” Emily said from the reception counter. “Reed’s running a bit late today.”
“Oh.”
“He won’t be finished for another twenty minutes.”
“That’s fine. I can wait.”
