Once at the city gym I was coming out of the ladies' lockerroom and saw the guys playing basketball, shirts and skins. The ones who should have been shirtless were hiding their bodies in baggy, saggy, and sweaty shirts. The ones who should have hidden everything except their personalities had everything on display. In my mind, I watched and played a game of Tetris: moving a shirt from player A and covering the body of player B. Over and over until they were all more appropriately attired.
There was no such basketball game here, at Jack and the Formerly Fat Man's Gym. Nope. The basketball court was hidden behind a wall with a glass door. And they had a dress code. No matter who you were, it had to be covered from prying eyes. Shame too because this place was a much better presentation than the city gym. It wouldn't have been appropriate for me to double check, though it was tempting. The fact that Chris was blocking me from the door was the other.
"Do you play, Bernie?" Chris asked.
"Nope. But I'm willing to learn," I said. "I remember that my uncle had his high school record for faking fouls. There's got to be a genetic component."
Genetic or not, it didn't matter. Uncle Henry never could sink a basket from the free throw line. All his faked fouls did was get his team a breather for about three minutes before they had to pound the boards again. He had some shame in the fact the only shots he could sink were the grannies and he didn't want to do it in public. Me? I'd never sunk a basket of any kind, so grannies didn't sound all that bad to me.
"Next weekend we'll play in your driveway," Chris said. "You've got a hoop."
And so there was. There was no paint on it and no net, but the basic hoop and backboard were above my tiny one car garage.
"Do you have any balls? I mean I know you have balls. But are they the right kind?" I asked. "Eww. That came out wrong. What I mean is-"
"I know what you mean. Not a problem. I'll provide the basketball, the lessons, and you provide the space."
Vic swatted my ass. "Come on, Bern. If you're going to take the old man on, you're going to need to build your cardio up."
It wasn't like I got winded going up a flight of stairs. "I don't like to run." I looked between the two of them. "Maybe we should find something else we can do. Play with Louie at the park maybe?"
I felt guilty whenever I left Louie, my unintended roommate. Though he really was a great security system. I have now been protected from the mailman, birds too near my windows, children selling magazine subscriptions, and even the newspaper boy. When my dad or Vic have let themselves in, Louie hasn't uttered a peep. He also seems to have a crush on my landlord. The day I called about a water heater problem, he let himself in to work on it, assuming I'd be at work. I was in the shower when the electricity went out. I barely found a towel to cover myself when I found him wandering into my bathroom. No call. No notice. Just a dog grinning at me as I dripped water all over the floor.
"Roller skating in the park?" Chris asked.
"I don't own any skates." And I've never been rollerskating. My dad never had the time and when I was in my early 20s and my friends did it, I was always working.
"Give me your size, I'll see if I can't scare some up." Between all of Chris's brothers, there were plenty of girlfriends and wives who might have something.
"Eight."
Vic snorted. "No way you're an eight. Probably a twelve, maybe a fourteen."
Thanks, asshole.
"Shoe size eight," I said. I turned to Chris. "What difference does my dress size make to you? Can I shoot him?"
Chris slowly shook his head indicating a no. "But I'll look the other way if you want to pour a bottle of Ben Gay in his underwear drawer."
"We share the same drawer," Vic said. "If it happens to me, it as good as happens to you. I'll make sure of it."
"Never mind." Chris looked a little chagrined. But not enough to make me feel better.
"Come on, Bernie. The dressing room is back there. After you change out, meet me at the front and we'll get started," Vic said. "And we want your opinion of the locker room."
The locker room was opulent. It was outfitted with more blow driers and curling irons than most salons. The full sized lockers were some kind of wood, or a great laminate that was so well done no one would notice. The showers were twice the size of the one I had in my last apartment. Dollars to doughnuts they had a bigger hot water tank than my last place.
They had even gone to the expense of making sure there was good lighting by the mirrors, I wouldn't look too scary if I put my makeup on under that light. Unlike when I did a touch up at work; I never got it right. I was either washed out or looked like I belonged on RuPaul's Drag Race. Over accentuated eyes, lips, and cheekbones. If I had great cheekbones or could replicate the look on demand, it would be one thing, but I couldn't so there wasn't much point in trying to maintain the farce.
I changed into the outfit Vic found for me at an estate sale. Poodles. Nothing but poodles. I mean head to toe. Turned out that the woman who lived in the house had been a nationally ranked compeititor for thirty years with her standard poodles. Think of what Liberace did with rhinestones, that is what she did to her house in dogs. The table lamps, table cloths, bed spreads, shower curtains, even the dishware was done in dogs. Someone from the sale decorated a Christmas tree to sell. It was top to bottom in dog ornaments, there were no bells, no angels, no santas. Just dogs.
The outfit was a little on the roomy side, but I matched. Dog tracks up and down my arms and legs. A picture of someone's best beloved dog. Done in bright pinks and greens. Well, no one would lose me in the place. Thank god I no longer had a perm or I'd look like I was trying to match my hair to the outfit.
When I came out Vic and Chris both laughed at me. "I think we can find you a shirt with a shepherd on it," Vic said. "Then it would look like you were in love with Louie."
"Better Louie than anyone else," I said. "He's so much better than Grady ever thought of being."
"Get on the treadmill and you can tell me about it."
I knew the ruse was to get me moving. It was also proof that when I worked out I wasn't overly exerting myself - no talking equals no breathing and no breathing equals no more torturing of Bernie. And we had to continue to torture Bernie at all costs, right?
I got on the machine and adjusted the incline to ten percent, started walking, and set the speed for three miles per hour. Vic twiddled with the controls on his and I don't know his speed because he went on a slow jog.
"So tell me what's better about Louie," Vic asked.
"No more dirty underwear on the floor," I said. "No more talk about how much better things were going to be some day. No more plans that never happen. No more fighting about what to do on the weekends."
"Sounds like it was a decent trade," Vic said.
"Yeah. He even cuddles at night. A nice change."
"Like the Kelly Clarkson song, sleeping warmer alone?"
"I'm not exactly alone. I have seventy five pounds of german shepherd and dachshund keeping me warm. Oh and he even sheds less than Grady. And he's no hung up that his hair will never grow back or that he'll be prematurely grey."
"Grady was worried about that?"
"No. Just putting words in his mouth. I'm moving on. I'm going to be stronger than before. Some day he'll know what he threw away." At the moment, I didn't really believe it. I did, however, know that I wanted to believe that I was going to be stronger, no matter what he thought.
"You're already pretty strong," Vic said.
"Yeah, but being a workhorse to make someone else happy doesn't work. I'm not going to wait for my turn to be happy. It's my time. And, damn it, it's my turn."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Find vacation places that take dogs and go somewhere fabulous with Louie."
"Sounds like you're making him a pretty big priority and it'll be expensive to go to places that cater to dogs."
"My last vacation was someplace to cater to Grady, and it wasn't cheap. It doesn't matter if I foot the bills. I've done it for years. But this time I want to go with someone who will appreciate the effort, even if he doesn't say anything."
I had been thinking it would be fun to drive up the I-5 corridor with the dog. Maybe use the pacific coast highway and stop at various beaches, eat some good seafood, wander in places I've never been.
"Now, let's talk about something important," Vic said. "What about the ladies' locker room? Is it fabulous?"
I gave him my thoughts. "How's the men's?"
It was about the same, down to the makeup tables. Who knew there were that many metro sexuals in the area?
"I wish they'd do something about the musical selection," I said. Most gyms I've been to or heard about had a pretty heavy classic rock beat/vibe going through them. This one was playing disco. It wouldn't have surprised me to have seen a mirror ball in the ladies' locker room, the chandelier kind of threw me.
"We're going to start to have theme nights. Monday country western. Tuesday disco. Wednesday disco. Thursday top forty. Friday back to country western. Saturday and Sunday nights will be house music and disco combined."
"Will there be a mirror ball on those nights?" I asked. I thought I was being funny until he answered me.
"I'll tell Jake about it. It might not be a bad idea. Mood lighting by the free weights and the mirrors. Good one."
Only because he winked at me did I realize he was just kidding. I'd gotten a bit worried until that point.
"We're thinking of adding a doggie day care to the place," Vic said. "Our demographic likes to cater to their animals."
"What's the demographic."
"Single or dual income and no kids. Pet parents."
"Will there be discipline on offer, too?"
The guy behind me on a stair climber said, "If there's discipline, I'll sign up."
"For pets," Vic called over his shoulder.
"I could pretend to be a dog," he said.
God, I hoped he was kidding. Probably not.
I pressed the button to slow down the treadmill. I was getting tired, my calves hurt, and I was winded.
"You need to spend thirty minutes on it, Bernie," Vic said. His feet kept pounding. He hardly seemed to sweat much less breathe hard.
"Fine." I put my feet on the metal runners next to the belt. I was still on the machine. It was still working. The clock was still ticking. And I wasn't going to die any time soon.
"You know what I mean," he said.
"When you're my trainer, you can boss me around," I said.
"I'll be your trainer," a voice that came from the rowing section said. "I like bossing women around."
I turned my head and did a double take. Daniel. The landlord. Louie's real dad.
~~~
tbc
word count 2053
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