Thanks to the hearty drama provided by reality TV reruns in DVD form, my day off slipped by in a surprising blur.
I shucked my usual date to Chipotle with Rachelle in favor of a yogurt container and another episode of watching other people sweat like pigs. Keeping my insatiable appetite reined in seemed easier when I saw results from other people. Their weight loss transformations made my eyes bug out.
If they did it, I could do it.
"What?" Mira asked Monday morning when I climbed into her car and waited for her to drive to the gym. "You're not going to snap at me? You're not going to get angry? Not even a glare?"
I glanced over in surprise. "About what, Mira?"
"Working out."
Her lips, which had an unnatural amount of bright lipstick for so early in the morning, were pressed into a bundle of hot pink disapproval.
"No. Why would I get angry?"
"Because you hate the gym. You hate early mornings. And you hate exercise. At least, you have the past couple of days."
Well, she's certainly wasn't wrong. I still had a pit in my stomach just thinking about exercising around other people, my less-than-svelte frame perched on a machine that could buck me off at any moment, sending me to the ground in a fluid pile of fat and bones. My mind reviewed the TV episodes I'd been glued to, recalling the personal trainers yelling at the contestants, motivating them to lose weight and be healthier people, and I shook my head.
"I'm not exactly excited about working out so early, but I'm not angry either."
Mira studied me like an alien life form, her eyes tapered, hands clenched on the steering wheel, one eyebrow ticked up. She must have decided I wasn't a hostile invader because she backed out of the driveway without another word.
"I went over my calories yesterday," she said once we parked in the gym lot, looking as forlorn and lost as a child. My seat belt snaked across my belly with a hiss. I stared at her.
"That's okay. I'm sure we'll all have less-than-perfect days."
Mira just sighed. "Yes. I suppose."
I put my hand on the doorknob, mimicking her sigh. Here we go again. "Let's get this over with, Mira."
#
Hey! I didn't get a chance to talk to you all weekend. Seemed weird, didn't it?
Bradley's message popped up while I sat in my computer chair, printing off the homework I'd been ignoring all weekend. My printer chugged away, spewing pieces of paper onto the floor. Steam from my bathroom still curled into the bedroom from my shower after the gym, and I dreamed of a Jimmy Dean sausage sandwich that I wouldn't let myself eat because Bitsy's drill sergeant voice rang in my head.
Yes! I typed, wondering if I should have left the exclamation mark off. I was pretty busy hanging out with some friends. How about you?
I cocked my head to the side, nearly breaking my towel turban, and wondered if all the contestants on the TV show could be qualified as "friends." I sent it with a shrug. He'd never know.
Homework mostly for me this weekend, he replied. Hanging out at my dinky apartment by myself, trying not to feel like a loser while my friends make their way across Europe.
My heart clenched. His friends were in Europe? How wonderful would that be!
Oh? I returned, my heart hammering. Where in Europe?
Everywhere. Sounds like a blast, huh? I would have gone but I had to stay for school and practice.
I swallowed a little lump in my throat. Dad and I had always talked about travelling. Talked, mostly, because we didn't really do much. But he'd always wanted to see Spain, and I'd always wanted to see the British Isles, so we'd agreed to do a week in each place. Then he'd died, and I hadn't really gone anywhere.
At all.
I hope you get to go one day, I replied quickly, lest he think I'd forgotten him while I fell into reveries. Sounds great.
How about you? You're so motivated to be an editor, you must have something going on this weekend, right?
"Right," I snorted. "The only thing I have going on is watching other people lose weight and live their lives while I try to figure out how to open a package of Donettes."
Donettes. Mmmm. Powdered sugar wrapped around a sweet, light pastry that—
Didn't you say something about an internship a few days ago? Bradley asked, jerking me from my daydream. Sounds like that could really put you on the trajectory toward the editing career you've always wanted.
My eyes fell to the flyer advertising the new internship that Rachelle had found. I'd tacked it on the corkboard behind my desk, where it stared at me every day. My eyes narrowed on it.
Three Slots Available. Applications Due April 15th.
Competitive Two-Month Publishing Internship with Delta Publishing in New York City. Available for all English, communications, and creative writing majors.
Since winter still raged outside, I had time to ramp up my resume a little bit. If anything had motivated me in life, my career was it. I didn't want to be a writer, necessarily. I wanted to help other people find their words, perfect them, hone them, and release them into the world. The idea of being a cog behind the wheel appealed more to me than being visible, where people could critique and judge me. I resolved to speak with my advisor that afternoon and ask what I could do to get that internship.
Perhaps I wasn't totally lost.
Yet.
Yeah, I typed. I'm actually speaking with my advisor about it this afternoon so I can give myself the best chance to win it.
Awesome. Keep me updated on how it goes. Hey, I actually had a great idea the other day. Since you love to read, and I want to love to read (but I don't necessarily, I'd rather play sports) what if we both read the same book and then discuss it? I think I'd do more reading if something actually came from it afterward. I notice all the Goodreads reviews you do on Facebook and thought you might enjoy it.
I stared, unblinking, at his words. Was he serious? Did college guys read outside of textbooks and swimsuit magazines?
Uh, that sounds amazing, I replied, grateful he couldn't see the drool forming at my lips.
LOL. I don't really read for fun, so this will force me to take more time for it. It's a double bonus knowing you won't make fun of me for it. But let's read something cool, right? None of this romance, Jane Austen kind of stuff.
Obviously not.
I do have a tough guy image to maintain. :)
"Yeah," I agreed, pulling my towel turban off and letting my drying hair fall onto my shoulders. "The image of a perfect man."
How about we start with Mary Shelley's Frankenstein? I suggested. She started writing it at eighteen. It does have a little romance in it, but is mostly a gothic thriller. Stellar writing. You can't get better than the line "It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my trials."
He started typing, then stopped. I waited with bated breath, berating myself.
"Stupid suggestion." I ducked my head into my hands. "I should have suggested something more manly like All Quiet on the Western Front!"
Sounds perfect, he said with the little chime of the chat notification. I'll stop by the library today. Let's say we'll report back in two weeks for our online book chat?
I released all the air from my chest in one great whoosh.
On my calendar.
Perfect. TTYL.
I stared at the computer screen with a happy, crooked smile. Discussion of a book. How wonderful. I hopped up from my computer chair, walked past my secret stash of Mallowbars tucked deep in the closet that called to me—what could further my joy except eating?—and into my bathroom.
I had an advisor to speak to.
__________
Now that Lexie and Bradley are going to read Frankenstein together, I think I'm going to have to review this classic piece of literature as well!
Anyone else here read Frankenstein and enjoyed it? If not, what is your favorite classic book? One of mine is definitely Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray. Huge, but worth it!
Thanks for reading (sorry I skipped last thursday, it was my birfday and Mom was in town!) Don't forget to click on that little star to vote if you want to read more of Lexie and Bradley!