Page 11 of The Weight Of It All
He laughed again, but it was a warm, soft sound. “Henry, you’re not dying. What you’re experiencing is called ‘delayed onset muscle soreness,’ and it’s completely normal.”
“Well, I’m stuck in a standing position at my desk, and my PA thinks I look like a T-Rex because my arms can’t extend all the way out.”
Now he laughed louder. “Well, your sense of humour is still fully functional.”
“Oh great, so my cause of death will read, “Died a horrible painful death from a broken body. Sense of humour still fully functional.”
“You’re not going to die. Well, not today from muscle soreness.”
“Oh gee, thanks.”
“Do you want to come in this afternoon and I can take you through some gentle stretching exercises?”
I sighed. “No. Ignore me. I’m prone to over-exaggeration. And maybe a touch of melodrama. And it’s quite possible I can be a bit of a drama queen. Or so I’m told.” I rolled my eyes hard at that, surprised that didn’t hurt. “I’m sure I’ll be okay.”
There was a soft huff on the other end of the phone, and I could just imagine him smiling. “Keep moving. Walk around your office if you can, just slowly.”
“Slowly?” I cried. “I’m sure there are folks in their nineties who can walk faster than me right now.”
“Just keep moving,” he said again. I could tell he was smiling now. “It will help. Nothing too strenuous, just enough to get you through work. Then rest tonight when you get home, and take another bath with Epsom salts before you go to bed.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow I’ll see you back here at 7:00 a.m.”
I groaned, maybe even cried a little.
“Henry, you’ll be fine. You’re doing the right thing. You’ll be better for it, I promise you.”
My desk phone rang. “I have to go,” I said to Reed.
“You’ll be here tomorrow?”
I considered saying no. I considered going home and eating an entire pizza just to teach him a lesson. But then I knew I was only cheating myself, and worse, proving Graham right. “Yes, I’ll be there at seven.”
“Good man. See you then.”
I disconnected the call to Reed and answered my work phone. My attention was drawn to accounts, reports, and deadlines, and the distraction was welcome.
I did as Reed suggested: kept moving, just slowly, but moving all the same. And Reed was right, moving was key. Because when I stopped for lunch, it was awfully hard to move again. I sat in my usual corner of the lunchbreak room,reading the latest celeb magazine on my phone when I went to stand, only stopping halfway with a strangled cry.
Melinda was suddenly beside me. “Stand up straight, nice and slow,” she instructed quietly, so no one else in the room would hear. “We’re gonna walk out of here together, and you’re gonna push through the pain, okay?”
I blinked once for yes and she smiled. Melinda knew I hated showing any signs of weakness in front of other staff members. I was second in charge of my division, and there was a long line of people who were vying to climb the ladder, just waiting for me to stumble, professionally speaking. Literally speaking would just be embarrassing all round, and I certainly didn’t want to give any of them anything to laugh at me over.
It was a personal hang up of mine, having people laugh at me. I knew that, and thankfully, so did Melinda.
I blinked once. She took my lunch container for me, and I somehow managed to walk out of the lunchbreak room without making an arse of myself. Once in my office, I lowered my sore old body into my desk chair. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She put my lunch container on my desk and stared at what was left of my salad like it was rotten chicken gizzards. “That’s disgusting.”
“Rocket salad with sundried tomatoes and brown rice, feta, and French salad dressing,” I explained. “It was on some healthy eating recipe blog.”
“Oh God.” She looked horrified. “They’ve possessed you and brainwashed you. Exercisinganddieting. Next thing you know you’ll be saying it was actually palatable.”
“It actually wasn’t that bad.”
She stared at me, unblinking.
