It had been my gym for months, and I'd attended semi-regularly over that time. A month would go by where I made it four times a week, and then another I'd only manage once or twice. Strangely, I always made it on Friday nights. Even when I was feeling rotten and exhausted from the rest of my week, some stubborn part of me always managed to get my feet through the door on Friday night, usually walking in at half-past seven, and then out again around nine.
I think the pool was a big part of that. I wasn't much of a cardio lover, but I really loved swimming. My warm down was always a few laps in the water, cooling everything down. The water had a way of making me feel as though my whole body was being looked after, coaxing my muscles into recovery.
And in and amongst all of this was that woman. She always walked in a little after me, wearing office clothes, and she always emerged from the change rooms wearing a baggy graphic t-shirt that hung down past her waist. At first I noticed her in the way you noticed anything regular about your surroundings -- 'they've moved the squat racks again' or 'how long has that tile been loose?' -- but then I committed the cardinal sin. I made eye contact.
Not intentionally, I was just looking around between sets on a cable machine, but she just happened to be coming out of the women's change room, her chestnut hair put up in a ponytail, and the motion caught my attention. I turned my head and found myself looking straight into her eyes.
I immediately looked away, trying to make it seem like I hadn't even noticed her. If I'd pulled it off, the illusion was dispelled when I grabbed at the bar, pulled and my hand slipped, letting the weights come down with an obnoxiously loud clang. I closed my eyes and grimaced, and when I opened them again, she had moved on.
A few Fridays went by, long hot days shifted to shorter rainy ones. The gym always felt less crowded during Autumn, I'm not sure why. My routine didn't change: stretching, weights, swimming.
I had another run in with the woman in the baggy t-shirt. Just a simple thing, asking me if I was using a cable attachment nearby. When I looked it was sitting by the machine behind me, very clearly not being used by me. I just shrugged, offered a polite smile and said I wasn't. The smile she returned seemed brighter than necessary, and she lingered a moment after saying thank you. I shrugged it off. I had enough problems without developing a one-sided fixation on some person from the gym. I finished up and had my warm-down swim and enjoyed having the pool entirely to myself. Nobody else seemed to like swimming when it was cold and raining outside.
But the following Friday she approached me again. I was wiping down the chest-press bench, and she asked if I was finished. She asked if I would spot her, she wanted to go to a higher weight but didn't want to be unsafe. I shrugged and said I was happy to. She did her sets -- at a weight not far from my own preference -- and then thanked me.
Offhandedly, I said, "Let me know if you want help with anything else."
She smiled up from the bench, her face flushed, and said, "Oh, I will!"
That was the first Friday that she invaded the pool. I had just done my first lap when I saw her walk in with her gym bag. She took off her shoes and socks, tucking them away in the bag, then slipped off her oversized shirt. I saw a flash of a lean, toned torso, then dove under the water to finish my laps. The rest of the time I could feel her presence burning on the edge of my perception.
She joined me in the pool two more Fridays in a row.
On the third, the gym was virtually empty. A storm had been raging for two days, flooding some parts of the area. But I made it in, and so did she. This time, through my whole workout, I felt like I was being watched, and I swear I did catch her looking my way once or twice. When I went to the pool, she was already there, and asked if I would watch her bag while she ducked into the bathroom. I didn't see the necessity, since there were virtually no other people, but I said okay. She came back a few minutes later, and she had a strange look on her face. She thanked me for watching her bag, then after a moment of hesitation, she asked if I could check something for her. Something looked broken, she said.
I followed, hyper-aware of how gross and sweaty I was feeling, desperate to go for my relaxing swim. I hesitated at the door to the women's bathroom, but she said it was fine, no one else was in there, and it would only take a minute. I went in, and she took a moment before following. I turned around to see her pulling a doorstop from her gym bag and pushing it under the door.
