FINE LINES

CHAPTER 3

1st of September 2013

Ayah

I arrive to the gym exhausted from self-hatred. I’ve been going to school with Pricilla for ten years now, and not once have I excused myself from class because I was afraid. No, I correct myself, not afraid: tired.

I am tired of being a target.

It wasn’t always this way. I used to be popular in primary school and the early years of high school. I even used to be friends with Pricilla – ironically, Prissy was the nickname I gave her when I was feeling affectionate. But things changed when my dad was coming home less and less and I started gaining weight. I ate my feelings. Every night when I’d hear my mum cry, I ate my helplessness. I ate my anger, my sorrow, my confusion. And eventually when my friends became my attackers I ate my loneliness. I still have friends. But it is difficult to feel the sentiment behind the word when they fear for themselves more than the head-dunking of their supposed friend. I understand, I’ve told them countless times. But they also understand that, no matter how hard they try, I will never truly trust them. They love me, I’m sure. But their self-preservation is stronger.

“Hello,” I greet the receptionist from yesterday. She annoys me only because she looks at me with pity. Did I ask for her pity?

“Hello,” she mimics with that backward, retail smile.

“Is Noah available?” It’s an emergency, I want to tell her. But I fear I’ll never escape that stupid look if I do.

She clicks the keys of her computer, making me crave my own computer back home, and looks up with a smile not entirely faked. It eases my dislike of her. “He’s just finishing up from another client but he has a two hour gap before his next one. Did you want me to tell him to book you in? I’ll be way more than happy too.”

I smile genuinely. “No, it’s okay. I’ll ask him when he looks free.” Maybe I judged her too quickly. Maybe she pities me as a means of dealing with another girl monopolising Noah’s time. I didn’t miss the reddening of her cheeks when she mentioned him.

“I’m Ayah,” I say, introducing myself properly.

She grins. She’s a lot prettier when she’s being genuine. “I’m Celine,” she says.

“Nice meeting you, Celine. Get used to my face around here!” I say over my shoulder whilst heading for the change room.

“Good attitude!” She exclaims.

Maybe Noah has the right of things: maybe acting like a winner will mean I am treated like one, too.

I get changed quickly and wait a few metres away from where Noah is working. He’s stretching an old man’s calves while chatting away conversationally. The old man says something and Noah chuckles quietly, unlike the bellowing laughs I heard yesterday. Maybe I am funny.

I scan the gym while I’m waiting, looking to see if I can do any exercises alone without hurting myself. I see the treadmills but decide against it. The last time I was on one of them I’d tripped and pulled a woman down with me. No treadmills. I see the rowers but decide to avoid that too. I pretty much have my pick of any machine given how everybody is still at work, but I deem waiting to be the safest course of action.

Across the large expanse of space in the men’s heavy weights section I see that trainer – the one I’m supposedly stalking. He stands less than a metre away from the mirror, checking himself out while doing bicep curls. His singlet can be compared to dental floss: practically two strings that barely cover the nipple and attach at the bellybutton by a centimetre of fabric around his trim waist. I feel stupid for finding such a self-obsessed buffoon attractive. Yes, his blonde hair, tanned skin and contrasting dark eyes are sexy. But in less than two encounters he’s managed to suffocate me with his arrogance. I look away when he starts grunting like a dog in heat. Does any girl find those noises attractive?