I’m in for trouble. “Go ahead and begin to stretch.”
“I want you moving your lazy ass today, Mel.” He smacks her behind. She squeaks and laughs. Oh, I wish to cup that ass.
“Hey, don’t start.” She pushes him away and turns to leave.
I follow Mel to the floor. Damn, her ass is so tight in those pants. I try to focus on something else, but my traitor’s eyes keep going back to her round, perfect derriere.
“Have you ever taken a cardio kick class?” She sits on the floor and pulls her leg up to her chest. Focus, Tarry.
“No, I used to have a personal trainer.”
“Oh, of course.” She switches legs, and I just copy whatever she doing.
We silently continue the stretch. The room begins to fill. Some people do a double take with me. I will myself to turn invisible. I can’t deal with people’s shit today. I want to maintain a conversation with Mel. Just so I can hear her soothing voice. But like an idiot, I don’t know what to say.
An upbeat song blasts out of the room’s huge speakers. Oh, boy, let the fun begin.
THE WARM-UP GETS Tarry breathless. I question my decision to bring him here. Worse, I regret trapping him into coming. When I mentioned the class to Portia, I anticipated she would force him to come. Exercise is the most effective treatment for depression and the least prescribed.
Honestly, I’ve never seen someone as broken as Tarry. He has lost the will to live. That’s a dangerous place. I realize the court orders for him to participate in therapy will not help him much if he doesn’t snap out of his major depression.
“Come on, guys. Push it. Push it. Make it count.” Lucas encourages his class from the front of the room as the workout intensifies.
My eyes flicker toward Tarry. I must give it to him, for someone so unfit, he’s kicking ass.
“Get some water, pair up, and drag a punching bag stand.” Lucas orders.
I point to the back of the gym where the punching bag stands are. Tarry takes a swig of his water and bends over, placing both hands on his knees. His shirt is drenched and we are only halfway through the class.
“Are you all right?” I say, gasping for air.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he growls.
I pull two sets of gloves from my gym bag and toss a pair to Tarry. After resting for a few more seconds, we drag the punching stand to the middle of the floor.
While I hold the punching bag stand, Tarry attempts a few punches.
“Is that all you got? I’m so kicking your ass.” I tease him.
Tarry smirks and rolls his eyes. He focuses, then pounds so heavily that the stand tilts and almost knocks me over. I anchor it with my shoulder and use my body weight to defuse the impact of his blows. Tarry increases the intensity of his punches and kicks. It becomes more difficult to hold.
From behind the stand, I peek at Tarry and he looks dazed. His eyes and face are vacant. My eyes search the room for Lucas who is doing a round of yelling.
Lucas must sense my silent plea. His head snaps my way. Recognizing the distress on my face, he immediately strides toward us. Tarry is pale, but he continues to deliver deadly punches.
“Hey, Tarry, are you okay, man?” Lucas asks. Tarry appears oblivious to his surroundings.
“Tarry, look at me,” Lucas orders.
“Huh.” Tarry jerks his head toward Lucas, as if snapping out of a trance.
“You look pale. Are you okay?”
“I think I’m going to puke,” Tarry says with a ragged breath.
“Take him to the back, Mel.”
I wrap my hands around his arm and guide him to the locker room. I close the door, shutting out the loud music.
“There’s a bathroom here, come on.”
Tarry crouches in front of the toilet and retches. Only water spews out. I place my hand over his forehead for support. His skin is clammy and cold. I hope he doesn’t pass out. After an endless wave of dry heaves, he inhales a deep breath of air.
He gives me an exasperated look. He reclines, sinking against the wall to sit on
“I want you moving your lazy ass today, Mel.” He smacks her behind. She squeaks and laughs. Oh, I wish to cup that ass.
“Hey, don’t start.” She pushes him away and turns to leave.
I follow Mel to the floor. Damn, her ass is so tight in those pants. I try to focus on something else, but my traitor’s eyes keep going back to her round, perfect derriere.
“Have you ever taken a cardio kick class?” She sits on the floor and pulls her leg up to her chest. Focus, Tarry.
“No, I used to have a personal trainer.”
“Oh, of course.” She switches legs, and I just copy whatever she doing.
We silently continue the stretch. The room begins to fill. Some people do a double take with me. I will myself to turn invisible. I can’t deal with people’s shit today. I want to maintain a conversation with Mel. Just so I can hear her soothing voice. But like an idiot, I don’t know what to say.
An upbeat song blasts out of the room’s huge speakers. Oh, boy, let the fun begin.
THE WARM-UP GETS Tarry breathless. I question my decision to bring him here. Worse, I regret trapping him into coming. When I mentioned the class to Portia, I anticipated she would force him to come. Exercise is the most effective treatment for depression and the least prescribed.
Honestly, I’ve never seen someone as broken as Tarry. He has lost the will to live. That’s a dangerous place. I realize the court orders for him to participate in therapy will not help him much if he doesn’t snap out of his major depression.
“Come on, guys. Push it. Push it. Make it count.” Lucas encourages his class from the front of the room as the workout intensifies.
My eyes flicker toward Tarry. I must give it to him, for someone so unfit, he’s kicking ass.
“Get some water, pair up, and drag a punching bag stand.” Lucas orders.
I point to the back of the gym where the punching bag stands are. Tarry takes a swig of his water and bends over, placing both hands on his knees. His shirt is drenched and we are only halfway through the class.
“Are you all right?” I say, gasping for air.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he growls.
I pull two sets of gloves from my gym bag and toss a pair to Tarry. After resting for a few more seconds, we drag the punching stand to the middle of the floor.
While I hold the punching bag stand, Tarry attempts a few punches.
“Is that all you got? I’m so kicking your ass.” I tease him.
Tarry smirks and rolls his eyes. He focuses, then pounds so heavily that the stand tilts and almost knocks me over. I anchor it with my shoulder and use my body weight to defuse the impact of his blows. Tarry increases the intensity of his punches and kicks. It becomes more difficult to hold.
From behind the stand, I peek at Tarry and he looks dazed. His eyes and face are vacant. My eyes search the room for Lucas who is doing a round of yelling.
Lucas must sense my silent plea. His head snaps my way. Recognizing the distress on my face, he immediately strides toward us. Tarry is pale, but he continues to deliver deadly punches.
“Hey, Tarry, are you okay, man?” Lucas asks. Tarry appears oblivious to his surroundings.
“Tarry, look at me,” Lucas orders.
“Huh.” Tarry jerks his head toward Lucas, as if snapping out of a trance.
“You look pale. Are you okay?”
“I think I’m going to puke,” Tarry says with a ragged breath.
“Take him to the back, Mel.”
I wrap my hands around his arm and guide him to the locker room. I close the door, shutting out the loud music.
“There’s a bathroom here, come on.”
Tarry crouches in front of the toilet and retches. Only water spews out. I place my hand over his forehead for support. His skin is clammy and cold. I hope he doesn’t pass out. After an endless wave of dry heaves, he inhales a deep breath of air.
He gives me an exasperated look. He reclines, sinking against the wall to sit on
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