Page 9 of The Weight Of It All
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.
Four
Pain wokeme up in the middle of the night. I must’ve tried to roll over and my muscles protested loudly. Still half-asleep, I tapped the other side of the bed, trying to wake Graham. It wasn’t until my hand found nothing but cold sheets that I remembered Graham was no longer here. My heart ached along with the rest of my body, so it was kind of fitting, I guess.
I very gingerly got out of bed, letting out a long “owwwww” as I stood. Making my way to the bathroom like a ninety year old, I popped some Advil and very deliberately didn’t look at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t deal with how pathetic I felt. I didn’t need to see it in front of me.
My whole body hurt. My legs, arms, chest, back, everywhere. I shuffled back to bed, still surprised to see it empty, Graham’s side unslept in, and felt the pang of longing and loneliness in my heart intensify that made all my other aches and pains seem insignificant.
I wasawake before my alarm, staring at the ceiling and trying not to move. I didn’t even have to move to know what hurt. Everything hurt without trying. Today was going to be hell. I had no way of knowing if soaking in the bath last night helped at all, and I had to wonder how I would’ve felt if Reed hadn’t told me to do it. But knowing that moving and gently stretching out the muscles, along with a hot shower, would help, I made myself get up.
“Jesus Herbert Christ.”
I groaned loudly with each step to the bathroom. And if I thought for one minute I was sore yesterday, today was a whole new level of pain. Reaching for the shower taps hurt, the hot water hurt, trying to wash my body hurt, drying off hurt, getting dressed hurt. Putting on shoes and doing up my laces was a feat worthy of the Masochist Olympics.
Everything hurt. Every fucking thing.
I washed some Panadol down with my coffee and somehow managed to drive to work. I walked like I wore razor wire underwear. People eyed me weirdly, but I was always quiet at work, more reserved, so no one in the foyer really spoke to me. I mean, I’d worked there for six years under the chief actuary, and somehow managed to engage my brain/mouth filter, or rarely did I speak at all. It was safer that way. I think most people thought I was unapproachable or cranky even, but it allowed for a professional distance which was for the best really.
The only person who was accustomed to my verbal diarrhoea was my personal assistant, Melinda Chen. She was a young mathematical wiz, the eldest daughter to Chinese parents, with a brilliant mind for detail. She had shoulder-length, straight black hair, John-Lennon-style glasses, a penchant for Korean pop music, and Japanese comic books. She knew I was gay, never batted an eyelid, and knew I was very recently single. I’d been a shell-shocked zombie lastThursday and Friday after my disastrous initiation back into singledom. Apparently I looked a lot worse today.
She took one look at me, the papers in her hand forgotten. “What the hell happened to you?”
“It’s a long story.” I shuffled past her into my office and lowered myself slowly, painfully, into my desk chair. “Shut the door?”
She did as I asked and sat across from me. Her concern was clear on her face. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head. “No, not really. Graham left me.”
She frowned, but there was confusion in her eyes. “Yes, I know.”
“Told me I was fat, basically.”
Melinda’s nostrils flared. “Well, if that’s how he treats you after eight years together, then good riddance, I say.”
Did I mention she had the tact of a bull in a china shop? “That’s not the reason I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.”
She brightened. “Did you go out and hook up? Two days of sex is quite a workout.”
“What? No!”
“Oh.”
“I joined a gym. I have a personal trainer.”
“You what?!”
“I know.”
“Did you lose your mind?”
“I think so. And my dignity. And my ability to move without excruciating pain.”
“I’ll pick something up for you,” she said with a nod. “Coffee first?”
“Yes, please.” Then I thought better of it. “Just one sugar. I’m cutting back.”
