The Trainer

by Shey Stahl

  It took me the better part of the day before I tweaked the article, added some more details to it so that I was satisfied with the article on Destry.

  If he read it, he’d understand and I could make him see why. We agreed to meet at six that night. Destry said he had something to do tonight, but didn’t say what.

  When I got there, he was in front of a black punching bag throwing jabs, hooks and uppercuts, his eyes trained intently on the bag. Each hit was more powerful than the next as Nine Inch Nails blared in the background.

  My moves were hesitant as I approached the far wall where I usually left my bag on most days. As I rounded the corner, that’s when I saw Adam standing ten feet from Destry leaned against the wall watching him.

  Destry was hitting the bag so hard and fast that he had no form. Just anger. It sent a chill through my blood to see him like that, his menacing scowl set ahead. He stopped, panting and let his gloved hands fall to his sides.

  “That’s enough, bro.” Adam said, pushing himself from the wall.

  Destry hung his head forward seeming lifeless and defeated, his gloved hands resting on his hips. His eyes squeezed shut as he nodded, never looking up.

  Adam reached over and patted his back. Nothing was said to him.

  After retrieving a bag, Adam approached me next, only my eyes were focused on Destry. It took me a moment but my stare gained focus on Adam.

  My body froze when he lightly bumped my shoulder and stopped beside me, never looking at me. “You… should have told him.” He whispered.

  My breath caught, my vision blurred when my eyes rose to Destry as he sat down on the weight bench and began unwrapping his gloves. I was humiliated in so many ways, my head pounded, eyes burning as I stared at a man I just might have destroyed.

  Adam left, the metal door slamming shut echoing through the room and Destry looked up from his place on the bench.

  I froze, unsure of what would happen next. My body trembled with fear.

  How did this happen? How did I get so blindsided by thinking I could help him that I forgot to realize by not telling him I was no different than Stella or any other woman who’s ever let him down.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  I moved on instinct toward him, an apprehensive weight giving me hesitation.

  At first, he didn’t look up. And then, slowly, he lifted his head and looked at me. There was an uncensored pain there that he wanted me to see. There’s no indifference now. Just pain.

  It was quite possibly the silence that was my undoing. I think that waiting during the calm before the storm was the worst. The fear of the unknown. What was he going to say or do when we finally talked about this? Would he even talk or just leave me standing here feeling helpless to do anything about this situation that I’d caused?

  You could feel the tension rising from him. He didn’t make a movement or a sound until I said something. His eyes closed and then he slowly opened them when I spoke.

  “Hey.”

  Hey? That’s what you say right then. Tell him. This is your chance.

  When our eyes finally met, he sat there and stared at me for a moment. The rush of reality crashed into me right then. With the way he looked at me, he knew. The air changed, I could feel it being sucked from the room. His confused expression caught me, his brow creased as he ran his hand across the back of his neck. He was hesitating. I tasted bile, my skin pricked with needles, my heart sinking.

  Say something. Explain. Do something. Our eyes caught again. Destry was normally so sure of himself, but right now he was none of that. He looked uncertain. Something flickered behind the usual indifference, then he gave me a fleeting look.

  “No work out today.” His voice was grave and tense as his jaw flexed. He stood, as though he was going to leave.

  I wanted to cry, right then, but I didn’t deserve the tears. I was so shocked and appalled with myself that I couldn’t move. I felt hopeless.

  With his back to me, he let out a heavy growling breath, his palms swiped down his face and over his eyes before he spun around to face me, his head lifted arrogantly. “I know about the article.” Wanting to see my reaction, he spun around to look at me.

  And then he waited for the retaliation of my words, but they didn’t come. Trying to hold on to some dignity, I told myself not to cry. It wasn’t easy. There was a certain amount of significance behind those words, though I knew they were coming, it rendered me speechless. I was trying to remain calm, but I couldn’t help my voice from trembling.

  “What?” I asked with a justifiable amount of hesitation.

  He swept his trembling hand across the back of his slick neck and then suddenly, his fist slammed into the wall. “Did I fucking stutter?” He was silent again, his body taut and motionless as he stared at me.

  I jumped back at the sound his anger caused and fell back against the far wall where my bag was.

  Destry closed his eyes, shaking his head, his breathing was heavy and uneven.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you.” I reached inside my bag for the article I printed. “But if you would just read it—”

  He picked up the bar on the bench beside him that had at least two hundred pounds on it, raised it over his head like it weighed nothing and threw it. “Goddamn you! I fucking… I…” he was struggling for words to express how he felt. “Get out! Leave!”

  Anger replaced the disbelief in his eyes. There’s a wicked side to Destry. I haven’t even begun to see it and maybe I didn’t want to. It’s harsh and I wondered how often others saw this side.

  When I didn’t move, he shook his head.

  “I can’t fucking believe you.” He said flatly, desperation turning to anger. “You, of all people.”

  “Destry… I’m your friend. If you’d just read it you’d understand.”

  “Fuck you.” He turned to face me, shaking his head. I could see now that his body was shaking. “I never asked for you to be my friend.” He started to walk away and then stopped suddenly. “And you can tell that no good piece of shit you work for, the next time I see him, I’m going to not just clock his ass, I’m going to kill him.”

  I didn’t realize how he would perceive that story. I didn’t even think that he would imagine I would hurt him like that. He kept his eyes on mine as if he was challenging me to reply. I wasn’t going to. I wasn’t going to let him know how bad that hurt.

  Destry and I hadn’t defined our relationship, and I didn’t see where we really needed to. Neither did Destry, or so I thought. I still hadn’t told him how I felt, though I was sure he knew. I just hadn’t said the words out loud. How could he have thought I would do that to him? I think because of my silence, he felt that there were some underhanded reasons for me writing this article. He just has to read it.

  “How long have you known?” Timidly I stood there, unsure if I should leave or stay. I knew by the look on his face he wanted me to leave.

  “Three days.” His gaze was fixed on the ground as he spoke. I felt relieved not to have that stare on me.

  “And last night, you knew?” A silence spread over us as I waited for him to answer.

  He gave a tip of his head, his anger harsh. “Yep.”

  “So you slept with me anyway?”

  “You were willing. Who was I to deny you?”

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I felt like he used me for his own pleasure. A little taste of the pain I caused him. “You’re a bastard.”

  “Maybe so.” He gave a bitter laugh. “But you’re the one who used me first.” He tore his eyes away from mine and turned to walk away but stopped abruptly. He spun around to look at me before he got to the door, he looked at me with dark eyes, his breathing heavy, his anger slow, silent, but so strong. “Are you still meeting him?”

  I said nothing. What the hell would I say right then?

  “What are you going to do,” he pressed, “So what, are you gonna fuck him and think of me?” he said, his face turning puce with infuriating anger that briefly ov
erpowered the slur.

  He really was a cocky bastard, wasn’t he?

  He stepped closer with nothing more than harsh breathing and silent words for a moment. Wounded green eyes fringed by dark lashes settled on my face, studying me with an unnerving intensity. “Did you, or did you not, write an article about me.”

  I swallowed but said nothing.

  He tipped his head and his hand raised and lifted my chin. “I asked you a fucking question and I expect a goddamn answer. No bullshit.”

  “Yes. I wrote an article but can you at least let me explain and read it?”

  “Get out.” He looked like he couldn’t breathe and wanted to vomit. I nearly did.

  Destry’s eyes searched mine as I grasped the meaning behind his words.

  “Fine,” was my only response, tears streaming down my face. I reached inside my bag and then hauled it over my shoulder, handing him the article and the remaining three hundred I owed him for being my personal trainer.

  I was hurt and humiliated, only I knew the reason and I deserved those feelings.

  A knockdown occurs when a boxer gets hit and touches the floor with any part of his body other than his feet, is being held up by the ropes, or is hanging on, through, or over the ropes and cannot protect himself or fall to the floor.

  The next morning, I called him, no answer. Nothing. There was an envelope slid under our door with the money I’d given him last night, but no note. Nothing.

  I stopped by the bar hoping maybe he’d read the article and would talk to me, only Danny said he hadn’t seen him. My heart ached thinking about never seeing him again, never getting him to see what my intentions were behind what I did.

  The thing was, you make eye contact with thousands of people every day. Some you remember, others you don’t. I would always remember the first time I made eye contact with Destry Stone. He made sure of that. I would remember that stare and the way he squinted when he focused on something. That indifference. That coldness. All of it.

  I wanted to run to him and make him listen to me but I knew he wouldn’t give me the time of day.

  My body ached. I wanted the pain to stop. Hell, at this point, I’d give up my lungs not to feel this pain anymore. I didn’t need them anyway. It hurt too bad to breathe.

  The truth was, I couldn’t and didn’t know how I would ever move on from this. It was so much different than what I felt when Silas left, surprisingly. Maybe it was because I was older and my heart had already been broken once, a crack. Now it was splitting in two. A complete break.

  When I got back to our apartment, I decided that I was either going to sit in front of the television and cry all day, or bake.

  I love to bake. Which would explain how I gain weight so easily. I constantly bake. My favorite?

  Peach pie. I make it all year long too. My favorite is in the summer, peach pie, with fresh peaches. Canned ones work too though. I’m not that picky. Baking is my specialty and pretty much the only thing I’m good at.

  As I made it, I thought about when I first learned to make pie with my mom when I was seven. She explained in detail every process, from the picking, to the baking. I remember being enthralled in every word she said, knowing someday, I would be doing this very same thing. Only now, as I repeated the steps to myself, I found a little different meaning in the process.

  Have you ever watched a peach fall from a tree?

  Deep in the heart of summer, so ripe, so pretty, soft, juicy, and delicious, it was ready. The peach lets go, free falls, and maybe it falls into dirt, so rich, so warm, wrapped in the Earth’s heart. Or maybe it falls on grass, shiny blades of grass green wrapped in wet, refreshing drops.

  The gentle hands that found it decided how it would end up. Peach crisp, pie, cobbler, jam, and any other sugar-sweet or salty treat—it let go and just fell. Fell where it needed to fall.

  I wasn’t sure how I would end up. Pie, cobbler, jam, or maybe even crisp. But I fell from that tree.

  Ready to be made into something.

  I had fallen for Destry. I wasn’t sure what falling meant but for the first time since I’d been with Silas, my heart was beating that way. I was that peach.

  The thought of how badly I hurt Destry like I did was such a consuming feeling that it destroyed me. Deep down, Destry was a nice guy. He was just misunderstood in many ways. This article was something I needed to print. I’d go against his wishes but I didn’t need his approval to print it.

  There I was elbow deep in peaches and pie crust when Jared walked in and smiled. It was only six in the morning and I was baking.

  He set his gun on the counter along with his bullet proof vest as he buttoned his shirt.

  “Good morning.” I said, never looking up and then showed him my pie. “Peach pie?”

  “You know the way to my heart.” He laughed.

  I stopped what I was doing and gave him a look. One he knew. “If I can’t find anyone to marry me by the time I’m thirty, will you?”

  Jared smiled and sat down at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. “Arranging marriages now?”

  “More like back up plans.” I put my hands back in the pie crust and took the fork to get the crust the way I wanted it, flat and smooth.

  Jared took a bite of his cereal and then looked over at me. “I don’t want to be a backup plan.”

  “Would you marry me?”

  The look on his face, the one of amusement said a lot. “Are you asking me?”

  “No.”

  He turned back to his bowl and the paper now in his hand. “Well, there’s your answer.”

  When the crust was ready, I put it in the oven to brown it and then took my bowl of peaches and cinnamon over to the table. “Jared, why does this shit always happen to me?”

  “Because.”

  I fisted the peaches in my hands. “This is what I feel like!”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Say what?”

  “Nothing.”

  Jared stared at me trying to understand how my situation was related to peaches. “Did you really see this going differently?”

  “No.” I sighed leaning my head against the wall. “Deep down, I knew.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  It took me a moment but then I spilled my guts to my best friend. “I’m frustrated. I had this plan. I had a plan for a lot of things in life and nothing has ever turned out the way I wanted.”

  Jared, as usual, wasted no time in telling me how it was. “That’s something you have to change, Tallan. You want to write for magazines instead of blogs and newspapers, but you never submit anything. You’ve talked about writing a novel, but have you ever made the effort to do so?”

  All valid points. I did just enough to get by and when it didn’t work out, I thought it was the world’s way of letting me know happiness wasn’t in my future.

  He leaned forward. “You can’t control life, Tallan. What you can control is how you live it.”

  “Fine.” I threw a peach at him. It smacked him in the cheek and fell into his lap. “Kick me while I’m down.”

  Sometimes I think we have this version of love, and life for that matter that doesn’t exist. And if it does, most of us never find it. Maybe too scared, we shy away from it. We’re too cynical and refuse to see what’s right in front of us.

  Deep down, we want to laugh nervously, hold sweaty hands, believe in love, be passionate, be fearless but we can’t unless we believe it can happen. And let it fall where it is supposed to fall.

  Pushing with or using the bottom side of an open glove where the laces are to rub the face of an opponent. Lacing can cut the face.

  Today was the day of the concert. I spent most of the day trying to talk myself out of going but then eventually I thought about what Jared had said. “You can control life. You can control how you live it.”

  I had just gotten my dress on staring at myself in the mirror when Jared appeared behind me leaning in the door frame still dressed in his uniform.

 
“Am I going to have to cut you out of it?”

  “You tell me.” I turned to face him, my hands smoothing down the side of the dress.

  “I lost a lot more than weight the past six weeks…weight I may or may not put back on but losing Destry, I’m afraid, was forever.” I said as my eyes started to well up.

  Jared sighed. “It’s a shame we never worked out.”

  “Such a shame.” I agreed with a laugh as I swiped at my eyes, trying not to ruin my makeup.

  Jared stepped forward. He was naturally protective and had been since I’d met him. He never met Silas but rock star didn’t exactly give him the vibe he wanted.

  I really didn’t think Jared had anything to worry about. Then again, I didn’t know Silas anymore.

  “I’m going to be a big brother right now. I don’t want you going tonight. I’m not comfortable with you going. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Jared.” I reached out and touched his cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to talk to him and then I’m leaving. I’m not staying for the concert.”

  He still seemed uneasy, but asked, “Have you heard from Destry?”

  “Nope. He left the money I paid him under the door and he’s basically disappeared.”

  “Yikes.”

  I stepped around Jared and down the hall, he followed. “He’ll never forgive me.”

  “Did you give the article to Marcus?”

  “Not yet. I told him I wasn’t ready to submit it yet.”

  When I reached for my purse, Jared sighed again, his uneasy features evident. “Call me if you need me.”

  I forced myself to breathe evenly. “I will.”

  He didn’t leave right away, he couldn’t. Jared was scared.

  “Go ahead, tell me I’m an idiot.”

  He gave a slight smile and opened the door. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Thank you.”

  When I stepped out the door and waited for a cab, that’s when the reality of what I was about to do hit me.

  I loved Silas more than anything when I was eighteen. Five years later, my heart still held a place for him. I didn’t know what that place was, but it was there. Almost like a void.