“Can I do anything to help?” came the woman's voice from behind me, over my shoulder. Not automatically assuming it was for me, I ignored the question and continued unloading my scooter from the back of my van in the Clayton Center gym parking lot on a mid morning in May 2015. Then, an extremely attractive woman wearing sweats, obviously just having worked out, appeared beside me and asked if there was anything she could do to help. I stood up, and with a big smile replied, "Yes, you can stand there and continue to look gorgeous. "
Just then, my three-year-old popped her head out over the backseat and said, " Hi ". With a tone of sarcasm, the woman commented, "Oh my, she looks nothing like you. She's absolutely beautiful." "She's not mine. " I retorted, “She came with the car. "
I introduced myself. She responded in kind. Resuming assemblage of my scooter, our conversation continued. She told me she had just finished teaching two fitness classes at the Clayton Center, was also a dance instructor, and had 3 kids, ages 16, 14, and 12. Hearing the ages, I internally jumped for joy. “She is about my age,” I thought to myself.
We parted ways,she to her home, me into the gym. During my workout, I could not stop thinking about her. She captivated me. Before leaving the gym, I found out her work schedule. Her next class would not be until Friday, four days away. I’d have to wait to see her again. Patience is not a virtue of mine.
It felt as though the days went by so slowly. Those four days seemed like an eternity . I found myself constantly thinking of her. It was a nice reprieve from the loneliness and constantly thinking about my failed marriage. I noticed a lightness in my gait, a smile on my face again. I felt like a teenager all giddy with excitement and anticipation.Parts of me that were dormant, I thought dead, awoke. I felt alive .
Friday finally came. After getting Andrew, Liza, and Oscar off to school, I quickly got Abby dressed and hurried to the Clayton Center gym. I checked Abby into the childcare and scurried over to the aerobics room. Her class was still in session. Maybe it was my anxiety and excitement, or maybe the diuretic, I had to go to the bathroom.Thinking I still had time, I did. Upon returning, I found the lights off and the door locked. I missed my chance. I raced down to the front desk and was told she had not left yet. I sat in a chair by the door, hoping to catch her as she exited. I waited as people streamed in and out of the gym, 5 minutes...10 minutes…. 15 minutes….. finally after around 20 minutes of sitting, she appeared. I told her I had been waiting to see her. With a big smile she sat down in the chair across from me.
For the next 40 minutes we talked. We talked about our backgrounds, what brought us to St. Louis, and our kids.There was an ease to the back-and-forth of the conversation. As we talked, I began to fear there was a husband, father of her kids , still in her picture. With a bit of anxiety, and a deep breath, I asked her if she was still married.
I motioned as to say, “shucks,” when she answered, “Yes.”
