"Okay, I think I know where it is. So Friday at 6 PM?" I wrote down the address on the side of some old bodybuilding magazine. It was almost ancient, like ten or even more years old, because it was left on a shelf in my old room in the family house.
Old. That would be a key word for me for several upcoming months. Old house. Old habits. Well known, old poverty.
"Yes, I'll be waiting, Aiden. Thank you for agreeing for the home visit during such crazy times." Said a quite pleasant female voice on my phone. Surprisingly, Christine didn't sound that old, even though she referred to herself as an old lady a few times, during our conversations.
"No problem, it would be a nice change to visit someone in the times of these damned lockdowns." This joke was so dry that it could inflame itself. But it was enough to make an old lady chuckle. That was my level, apparently. My sense of humor has drastically downgraded itself recently.
"Yes, indeed. So until Friday. Goodbye!" Christine answered and hung out.
I sat down on my old couch, fighting with the urge to slap my forehead. So this is it. I'm gonna visit some granny in her house and massage her back. That's the task worthy of a few years of studying physiotherapy and taking courses to finally be able to claim myself as a personal trainer. This sounded so proudly just a few months ago, before the fucking pandemic came out.
Prior to lockdowns I was working as a physiotherapist and massage specialist in a quite prestigious rehabilitation center in Salt Lake City, but the biggest problem lied in the past tense. Since all the restrictions and bans were introduced, my poor experience and lack of professional seniority made me redundant from the start. My employers 'temporarily' suspended my contract, but of course, made a solemn promise that as soon as this madness will be over, they renew it with a full set of beneficial conditions. Uhm, sure, I'm still waiting for them to call. Looking at my phone all day long!
The same case with giving personal training sessions -- numerous gym owners simply closed their businesses, in fear of getting fined. They're also still waiting for the better times to come.
Alas, I couldn't wait forever. Losing both ways to earn money, immediately forced me to make some immediate changes. At first, I had to leave my rented small flat and move back to my father's. Yep. Twenty seven years of age and going back to my parents house. What a shame.
Secondly -- my pathetic savings allowed me to barely vegetate for two months. After that I decided to seek new employment. Many jobs to be precise. Whatever allowed me to earn... anything. Damn, I even helped Jeff Bezos fund another of his fucking rockets, spaceships or whatever he tries to achieve in his supervillain's plan, by sorting packages in one of the Amazon's warehouses. But even though all these jobs let me barely live, afford basic needs and not drain my dad's frugal veteran's pension, I felt forced by the situation to do more. I didn't want to work like this. Not after spending years on studying and preparing to work as a physiotherapist.
I hit the rock bottom... I know, I know, other people suffered worse, this and that, but this was my rock bottom, okay? And seemingly staying at that bottom wasn't enough for me, as I started to drill in it by charging some poor grandma hundred dollars more than I would have done it before the pandemic. Two hundred and fifty bucks for one visit. It made me feel like a scam artist, for about thirty seconds or so, as Christine didn't contest that stake at all. Perhaps her retirement wasn't so low. Or more likely this was a shit money for her, even though for me it was something extra than only financial injection. A glint of hope for tomorrow. Yeah, that didn't sound pompous at all.
Anyway, Christine explained to me briefly that she has problems with cramps and she recently recovered from the injury. She hurt herself during a workout in the gym. I could easily imagine some unqualified moron trainer pushing a fragile granny into exercises she should have never tried, then charging her for some absurd money. And now, another moron, this time at least a competent one, will attempt to repair the old lady. That's me, a hero without a cape.
Damn, I became bitter as fuck. Saltier than the entire Great Salt Lake. I always have been rather a cynic, but since the whole coronabullshit striked, my sarcasm reached new levels of toxicity. I could feel it seething inside me. Yet still it was probably my sole protection barrier against the pandemic blues. At least I perceived it as such. There was a great possibility that I was already ears-deep sunken into real depression.
Fuck it! I threw my phone on the bed and stood up. It was Wednesday's afternoon when Christine called me and since the employment agency had not assigned me to work in the warehouse, I had a free evening. One of the many during the last months.
I did a light workout, using my old equipment, which reminded me of my college years, and after that I turned to other activities from my youth -- online games and porn. I mentioned old habits, right?
Thanks to the Universe, at least free to play MMO games and pornsites weren't banned during lockdowns. I sucked in them (in games of course) just like I sucked in the rest of my life recently, but at least I could fume over some random people on the net. There is nothing more cleansing for the human soul than raging over anonymous strangers in the chats of online games. After all, they were all noobs. Or, alternatively, cheaters, if they happened to get better than me in game. Simple rules.
Thursday went just as uneventful as Wednesday, the only thing I did during the entire day was a dinner for me and my father. Then we spent a quality father-son time: meaning we watched a baseball game on TV in almost complete silence, interrupted only by some awkward onomatopoeias. My old man was a peculiar person, always very introverted, and he became even more antisocial since my mom passed away due to cancer, almost six years ago. Despite me visiting him pretty rare and even rarer my sister, who lived on the east coast, he seemed to manage just fine. But I felt that could be the facade, a pretense of good mood. Maybe my financial catastrophe could bring something positive for our relationship after all? Who knows. If you believe in self-help coaching crap like 'everything happens for a reason!' then possibly you can see a chance for that. I was nearly sure that it would remain as it always had been. Full of awkward silence and mutual misunderstanding.
Although, what was certain for me, even though we were far from real closeness between father and son, he cared for me. Even if he had never really expressed that. I knew that he was somehow emotionally crippled. And so was I. Thanks to him. Ah, it feels so good when we can blame others for our own flaws, doesn't it?
Friday probably would have passed as productively as previous days, but I had a few tricks to avoid the long hour anticipation. First, I've slept till noon. Secondly, I've spent the next two hours in bed on my phone, watching Youtube and TikTok. Time managing skills -- spot on!
But when I finally got up, I felt a weird nervousness intermixed with even weirder excitement. It was quite unusual, but I liked that feeling. Almost as if I was about to go on the date.
Haha! As a teen I've always fantasized about meeting a milf -- older than me, more experienced, but of course sizzling hot. Right now I was being granted with such an opportunity, but in a twisted way. A secret, forbidden rendezvous with... "gilf".
Well, maybe Christine will turn out to be really, really experienced in that kind of stuff? Like forty, forty-five years of experience? Or perhaps blowjob made by granny will be better? You know, less risk of getting scratched by teeth, if she took out her dentures.
You're such a pathetic moron -- I mirthlessly winced at my reflection in the mirror, as I was dressing up. I chose the plain blue t-shirt and loose gray sweatpants, as I preferred to have comfortable clothes while massaging my clients.
