I fired up Spotify, turned on the first Loverboy album, and adjusted my new over-the-ear headphones. I had moved away from the in-ear style. They always started to hurt after a few minutes. My walk usually lasted about an hour, and I had to have music, so I splurged and bought myself a pair of Beyerdynamic Amiron wireless ones. I looked goofy, but damn they sounded sweet.
I already looked goofy anyway, not that anybody cared how I looked. An overweight middle-aged man in bright blue jogging shorts, brilliant red running shoes, and a neon yellow tank top could not pull off cool. Not to mention, my white knee-high athletic socks didn't help. So, I didn't care that the large ear muffs looked so 1980's. I was a child of the '80s, and damn proud of it.
I did a few stretches on my front sidewalk as I sang along to the words of The Kid is Hot Tonight when movement caught my eye. I glanced up and saw a bluejay perched on a branch of my neighbor's giant oak tree. It seemed to be staring at me.
Bluejays had always been one of my favorite birds. Not that I'm an ornithologist or anything. It's just that when I was a kid, I grew up on a farm in North Carolina. My mother had been a bird watcher and bluejays were a rarity. I remember she got all excited about seeing one on our back deck once.
"Bluejays are special, Jimmy," she told me. "The Cherokee revere them. The bluejay usually lives in a big old oak tree year after year, no matter what happens. They're steadfast and overcome any kind of challenges that come their way. That's why the bluejay spirit animal symbolizes overcoming hardship and pulling through. Some folks claim that bluebirds are harbingers of happiness. I always thought they were my lucky bird. So, whenever you see one, something good is going to happen."
I stared at the bird, with hopeful eyes. I could use some of that good fortune now because things in the Hudson household had been pretty bad lately. My wife Mindy and I had nearly gotten a divorce after twenty years of marriage when I found out she was dating her personal trainer, a muscle-headed jerk named Derek ten years her junior. Mindy swore on the life of our kids that she hadn't cheated, yet.
I wasn't sure if I believed her, but she seemed remorseful and promised never to see him again. My trust was shattered, but a part of me wanted to forgive her. So, I agreed to get counseling and to give it a few months before I decided whether to divorce her or stay together. We were on what you might call probation. Since then, our sex life had come to a complete halt, not that it was all that active before Derek.
Maybe the bluejay was a sign. Mindy and I were going through a rough period, but if I stuck with her, perhaps we would be alright. Maybe happiness was coming to us. I glanced back at the house, where Mindy was still in bed. I drew a deep breath, smiled and nodded at the bird.
"Ok, Mr. Bluejay," I said out loud, "I'll do my best to make it work."
I mean, after all, she hadn't actually had sex with Derek. It had just been a passing infatuation with a studly younger man who flirted with her. She and I had history; we were family. Derek was just muscles. Family trumps muscles.
The Bluejay leaped into the air, darted across the street, and headed off in search of breakfast. Feeling better, I started my walk. Ever since I found out about Derek, I had become determined to lose weight and get back in shape. Twenty years of overindulgence had taken a toll on my body. I had put on forty pounds too much, most of it around the midsection. My idea of exercise had been going to the fridge to grab another beer.
Mindy had let herself go too, but about eight months ago we joined a fancy gym. "Gym" wasn't the right word for it. To me, a gym had a boxing ring in the center. This place had a spa, several pools, water slides, and three hot tubs. It was more like a resort with an emphasis on exercising.
Mindy would go there and work out, take yoga and Zumba classes. I would hit the weight room, look around a bit, then go sit in the sauna or jacuzzi until it was time to go. Sometimes, we would meet up and have a smoothie on the patio by the outdoor pool. I would sneak in some rum in a water bottle to spike mine.
Then one day Mindy got the great idea to finally take advantage of one of the perks of membership, free introductory sessions with a personal trainer. We met with Derek, and I instantly hated him, but Mindy was smitten from day one. I could see it but just rolled my eyes. There was no way, I thought, that a hot guy like Derek would be interested in a frumpy middle-aged mom of two college-age kids. Shows what I know.
I didn't go back after the first session. I'd had all of Derek I could handle, but Mindy immediately signed up for ongoing private lessons. I didn't care. It meant she would be spending a lot more time there then I would, but that was fine. I would have more time for Call of Duty and internet porn.
Well, whatever Derek had been doing, it worked. Mindy dropped weight and started looking fantastic. Her old figure came back and with it an amount of confidence I'd not seen in her in years. She started getting her hair done in stylish, shall we say "younger" ways. She started dressing sexier too. I liked the change in her, so I didn't complain. Hell, I thought it was for my benefit.
Our friends noticed the change in her too. She got compliments all the time. A couple of months ago, we had a cookout at one of our neighbors. We had to go separately because Mindy had a class that she couldn't miss. I went early to help with the grilling, but it was actually just so that I could start drinking earlier. A couple of hours later, Mindy showed up. She was wearing a bikini top and a skirt. Her whole midriff was showing, and her cleavage was on full display. I was shocked.
Mindy didn't even come over to say hello to me. I saw her across the patio talking to one of the local yentas, and we exchanged nods.
"Damn, Jim," came the gruff voice of Tom Sanders, neighborhood jackass. "What the fuck has Mindy been doing? She looks fucking hot."
I didn't appreciate his crude remark about my wife and let him know it. "Sorry, man, but shit. Look at those tits! She has that just-been-fucked look to her too. Did you bone her before you came here?"
"What?" I asked in shock. "No, she had a class with her personal trainer."
"Personal fuck-toy is more like it," Tom said laughing. "You're a cuckold and don't even know it. She's fucking that guy."
"Fuck off, Tom!" I snapped. "You're such a prick. Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!"
My friends had to step between us to keep us from getting into it. I'm not much of a fighter, but Tom was as skinny as a toothpick and a short little fucker. I knew I could whoop his ass. After they separated us, I stewed in anger for a while. I had a few more beers to help me calm down. By the time food was served, I was pretty drunk.
I took a plate of brisket and went to sit on a bench in the garden away from everyone else, still kind of ticked off over Tom's comments. Mindy found me and finally said hello. She kissed me on the cheek and sat down next to me to eat. "How was your session with Derek today?" I asked, my voice sounding harsher and more sarcastic than I intended.
"Good, as usual," she said. "Derek wore me out."
"Yeah, I bet he fucking did," I snapped.
Mindy got a weird look on her face. "You're drunk," she said, stating the obvious.
"Yeah, and you're fucking hot," I said.
