From Here to Hidden

CHAPTER THREE | JASON

As he rounded the corner and turned toward the foyer, he could tell who his new client was right away. A younger guy, probably in his mid to late 20s with shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, who had most likely never worked with a personal trainer...if he'd ever gone to a gym at all. The newbies were easy to spot. They had a tendency to give off a vibe—part nerves, part uncertainty, but part overconfidence. Despite what most people thought about themselves, very few people knew how to work out the right way and work out effectively. He had seen too many beginners pull muscles and injure themselves within days, sometimes even minutes, of beginning a workout regime. The gym inspired confidence but it also encouraged vanity.

He cleared his throat to bring an end to the conversation he was having with one of the blondes who worked at the welcome desk.

"Travis, right?" he asked, knowing instinctively that he had the right guy.

"Yeah man, that's me;" he said, extending a hand, "Travis Johnson. I'm guessing you're Jason?"

"That's me. Jason Anderson. Great to meet you;" he replied, giving Travis's hand a firm shake before letting it go.

His dad had always told him that it was essential to establish rapport, if not dominance, both when encountering another man and especially when encountering a woman.

"Show 'em who's in charge son;" he'd bellow between shots of bourbon, "women especially need to be kept in check."

He hadn't always agreed with that ideology. In fact, he spent the greater part of his life trying to avoid that chauvinistic stigma he had been surrounded by all of his life. Wendy had helped to curb that natural inclination to dominate, as she had always been pretty independent and able to handle things on her own. Regardless, he did believe a good strong handshake spoke volumes about a man's character.

For the next hour, Jason and Travis filled out paperwork, signed training waivers, and talked about his fitness goals—short term and long term. They chatted a bit about his personal life. Travis was a military brat, his father having served 30 years in the US Army before retiring and settling his family in the Carolina's. Travis was the youngest of three, including both an older sister and brother. He had been in Alabama for roughly two years, having moved to be with his sister whose husband, also an Army Soldier, was killed in Afghanistan. Jason admired and respected a man with morality and family values and the notion that he would pack up his entire life and move to be near his sister said a lot about his character.

After handling all of the paperwork and sales aspects of Travis' training, they finally got around to the part of the job that Jason enjoyed the most: the training itself. Travis was actually a very fit guy; he wasn't lacking in cardiovascular strength or muscle definition and it was clear that he was in really good shape. Jason didn't really see where he necessarily needed a personal trainer, but he didn't push to question him. Travis did everything with relative ease and enjoyment, pushing himself harder than Jason was requiring. More than once, Jason had to warn him about muscle fatigue and the need to take things slowly to avoid injury. Travis would always nod but slowly found his way back into the rhythm of pushing a bit too hard.

"Overzealous," Jason would think. But, he admired his determination and fervor.

By the time his training session with Travis had ended, he'd filed away his paperwork and answered a dozen phone calls, it was knocking on 2:00. He needed to get a shower, run and grab cereal lest Jeremiah have a meltdown, and get back to the school by 3:00 for Gaige's soccer game. He knew Paul, the head coach, was going to be running late that day so making it back on time was imperative; especially with the new girl coming to watch. It was crucial that her parents get a good impression of the team and the school or else they may pack it in and send her somewhere else.

Jason showered quickly, the coolness of water relieving the mounting tension he felt in his shoulders. His headache had finally worn off, but Travis had wanted to focus on shoulders and back today and Jason had overdone it a bit by trying to ensure that he outdid his new trainee. Even though he was a personal trainer, much of his job was still secretarial in nature and included a lot of forms and paperwork. People often assumed that working at a gym was the same as working out at a gym. And despite how much he hated to admit it, he had gotten lax in his own physical fitness within the last six or seven months.

Raising three children by himself was taking its toll on him. His dad had died of Parkinson's about 18 months before Wendy's cancer diagnosis. After he was gone, his mom began to slowly develop dementia, which spiraled into Alzheimer's. Against her pre-dementia wishes, he had finally had to put her in an assisted care facility. With Wendy gone and no siblings to help out, he knew he could not handle the pressure and the responsibility of tending to his mother, too. Wendy's parents had packed up and moved back to Maine to be near their family after her death. While there was a lot of animosity between the three of them, he was honestly content not having them around sticking their nose in his business all the time.

They sent the kids cards and money on holidays and birthdays, but they were otherwise absent and disengaged from their lives. That was a point that created a lot of contention and bitterness within his heart; if for no other reason than the fact that they were intentionally ignoring the only aspects of Wendy that remained. He had tried to convince himself that maybe avoidance was easier and caused them less pain, but no matter how he looked at it, it still brought about feelings of disdain and anger whenever they were mentioned. Bekah, his daughter, especially looked like her mother. He was reminded of her every single day when he looked into her brown eyes; but not once, despite the pain that brought and the heartache he felt by missing his wife, did he ever consider turning his back on his children.

Jumping out of the shower almost as quickly as he'd gotten in, Jason threw on a pair of clean athletic pants and his coach's shirt, a fitted cerulean blue polo with the word WOLVES embroidered in white on the left chest pocket. As juvenile as it sounded, this was one of the shirts that he actually felt most confident in. His eyes were so blue that they were almost translucent. It was something women of all ages had always complimented him on and the blue of the shirt really brought them out. "It makes your eyes just pop!" Bekah had once told him. Not only that, but it fit snug across his chest and arms. Despite what most people thought, women aren't the only ones who like to feel good about what they wear. He knew he had slipped in his workouts over the last several months, but this shirt still made his biceps look as though he hadn't missed a single curl. Even at 42, he felt like he was still a relatively attractive guy.

With hair still damp, he tossed everything into his bag and headed for the door, chanting his short grocery list in his head as he walked.

"Cereal, pasta, sauce, and beans. Cereal, pasta, sauce, and beans. Cereal, pasta, sauce, and beans."

He climbed in the truck and shut the door, tossing the gym bag in the seat beside him. 

"Such an exciting life you're living here Mr. Mom..." he thought, "that beautiful woman you couldn't bother to speak to this morning would be so impressed." 

Jason shook his head to silence his inner monologue. Unfortunately, he knew that it was right. Though he couldn't really figure out why that bothered him.