Personal Training

118 Pages·2010·0.87 MB·English

by  Grey Andrew

Personal Training | Andrew Grey
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I

“YES, Mom, just come to the neighbors‟. You know, the ones
with the cute dog,” Holton explained as he juggled the phone
while he cut vegetables.
“But why are we having the party there instead of your
house?”
She was seventy-five, and Holton found he had to
explain things to her multiple times. He tried to be patient,
he really did, and he kept telling himself it wasn‟t her fault.
She was getting old and forgetful—although he was
beginning to suspect it was more than that. The doctors
hadn‟t diagnosed Alzheimer‟s yet, but he figured that was
coming anytime.
“They have a pool and a shaded deck, Mom. They
volunteered to let me have the party in their backyard. It‟ll
be nice for you and Dad to sit in the shade, and the kids can
have fun in the pool. Are you and Dad about ready to leave?”
Holton asked, trying to keep her on track. She could only do
one thing at a time anymore, and if she got off track, it took
her a while to get caught up again.
“Yes, I have my coat on, and your father is yelling at me
to get a move on,” she told him. “I‟ll be there in a minute,
you old goat!” she yelled at her husband before returning her
voice to a normal tone. “I‟ll hang up now and get in the car.”
The line went quiet, and Holton waited to see if she‟d
hung up or was just being quiet, but the phone
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disconnected, so Holton set it on the counter, going back to
work. He still had food to prepare and take over to the
neighbors‟ for his father‟s seventieth birthday party.
The doorbell rang as he was finishing up the vegetable
tray. “Come on in, it‟s open,” he called, and he heard the
front door open.
“Holton?”
“Hey, Brian, I‟m in the kitchen,” Holton said as he
started what he hoped was his last task.
“Is there anything you‟d like me to bring over? Heather
has the tables out and set.”
“You guys didn‟t have to do all that,” Holton said,
warmed by his friend‟s helpfulness. His Mechanicsburg,
Pennsylvania neighbors were some of the nicest people he‟d
ever met.
“You know Heather—she loves playing hostess,” Brian
said, and Holton opened the refrigerator, setting some of the
food on the counter. Brian picked up two bowls and began
walking toward the door. “Leave the others on the counter,
and I‟ll make another trip,” Brian said, his voice carrying
through the house.
Holton finished up the cold-cut tray he‟d been making
before picking up two bowls of his own to carry over to the
party. Leaving the house, he walked through his yard and
around to the neighbors‟ gate. Brian met him there, taking
the bowls from him, and Holton returned to his house to get
more. By the time he‟d made three trips, he was sweating
profusely, and once he‟d taken over the last of the food,
Holton went to his bedroom to change his sweat-soaked
clothes.
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Fifteen minutes later, feeling fresh and clean again,
Holton walked next door, entering the fenced-in backyard.
Tables with bright tablecloths decorated with flowers had
been set up on the deck. “I took the dishes inside. I figured
in this heat it would be easier to keep things cool if we
served the food in the kitchen,” Heather explained as she
surveyed her handiwork for a second before giving Holton a
hug.
“Thank you for doing this.”
“Oh, you‟re welcome. You do so much for us all the
time. We‟re just happy to help, and it‟s going to be so hot
today that everyone is going to be happy we have the pool.
Did you bring your suit?” Holton nodded, but doubted he‟d
go into the water until late in the afternoon or he‟d burn in
two seconds. The sound of a car horn out front drew their
attention, and Brian stuck his head out the door.
“I think your parents are here,” Brian told him before
pushing the door open, and Holton followed him through the
house, meeting his mom and dad on the sidewalk.
“There you are,” his mother said when she saw him,
looking thinner than she had the weekend before. “I couldn‟t
remember where we were supposed to go.”
“Susan, I told you it was this one,” his father explained
to her, pointing to Holton‟s house.
“We‟re good, Dad. Heather and Brian are hosting the
party at their house.” He led them inside and through the
house as his mother talked the entire time.
“This is lovely. I didn‟t know your house looked like this.
Oh, right, we‟re at the neighbors with the cute dog. Where is
he? I don‟t see a dog.” The litany went on and on and only
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stopped once Holton got her seated in the shade on the deck
with a cool drink. She sipped it and put the glass on the
table next to her before looking around. Holton knew she‟d
probably fall asleep soon. She always seemed to do that now.
“Dad, I‟m going to help get things ready. I‟ll be right
back. There are drinks in the coolers, and the other guests
should start arriving soon. Okay?”
“Sure,” he answered. “I‟ll keep an eye on your mother.”
Holton saw his dad head for the cooler, fishing out a diet
soda before sitting in the chair next to his mother. So maybe
they yelled at one another occasionally, but they also looked
out for each other without even thinking about it. Holton
made sure they were okay before joining Brian and Heather
in the house.
“Holton, honey,” Heather said when he got inside, “I‟ve
got this.” The doorbell rang. “Why don‟t you make sure your
guests make it to the backyard? We‟re almost done here, and
then we can get this party started.”
Holton spent the next little while directing aunts,
uncles, cousins, friends, and assorted former colleagues of
his father‟s to the backyard. Once he was sure all the guests
had arrived, Holton joined the party himself.
“You look just like your father,” Holton‟s Aunt Clare told
him as soon as he emerged onto the deck, just before giving
him a gentle hug. “Doesn‟t he look like his father?” she
asked everyone gathered around, and Holton tried to keep
himself from rolling his eyes. Gleeful squeals and yells
floated up from the pool where the youngsters were already
splashing away, having a very happy time. “This is so cool,”
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one of the kids yelled, just before diving from the side of the
pool.
Holton smiled, very pleased that everyone was having a
good time. Stepping to the food table, Holton filled a plate
with munchies before sitting in an empty chair to talk for a
few minutes with some of the relatives, reminding himself to
look for Heather and Brian if they didn‟t join the party soon.
Holton didn‟t want them doing all the work, even though he
knew Heather was in her element. They joined the party a
few minutes later, and Holton relaxed, mouthing another
thank-you to the couple, who smiled. Holton made
introductions, explaining how all the myriad relatives were
related to one another. Most everyone knew each another,
anyway, and the level of conversation ratcheted up. Holton
didn‟t mind at all. He sat on the deck, near the edge of most
conversations, listening to snippets, but not generally taking
part.
“My son just graduated from Dickinson Law with….”
“She mustn‟t have been very good at it. They caught her
with the money, and she got twenty years….”
“He really looks like his father. But Holton is so quiet,”
one of his older relatives said. Holton couldn‟t determine
quite who it was, but he knew they were talking about him.
Holton heard parts of many conversations, especially his
father, once he got going. George Hillman loved to tell jokes.
“Did you hear the one about the toothbrush salesman?”
his father would ask someone he‟d just met before launching
into one of his classic jokes, complete with funny voices.
He‟d pull everyone around him into the story, spellbound,
until the punch line. “This stuff tastes like crap—what is it?
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It is crap. Wanna buy a toothbrush!” Everyone laughed, and
Holton found himself laughing along. He‟d heard the joke so
many times, but he still laughed, mainly because it made his
dad happy.
“The food is ready!” Heather called from the doorway,
and everyone lined up, circling the island in the big kitchen,
filling plates while the conversation continued to flow along
with the guests, outside, inside, and back outside. Holton
helped his mother with her plate, getting her settled at one of
the tables next to friends she‟d known for years before filling
a plate for himself. Taking an empty chair off to the side in
the shade, he ate and watched the kids playing in the pool.
They were having too much fun to even bother with food.
After cleaning his plate, Holton got a refill, resuming his
place in the shade as he finished eating. Throwing away the
trash, Holton made his way through the house and out the
front door, hurrying to his house, where he pulled a
professional-looking chocolate cake, his father‟s favorite,
from the refrigerator, placing candles on the top before
carrying it to the neighbors‟. Holton climbed onto the deck,
presenting his creation for everyone to admire. His baking
was one of the things he was most proud of.
Heather lit the candles, and everyone gathered around,
even the kids, taking a break from the pool, to sing happy
birthday. Once the off-key but happy singing was done,
Holton set the cake on the table near the plates and began to
cut, handing out pieces to everyone, with a small slice to his
diabetic father. Holton‟s dad loved cake, but he couldn‟t eat
much without it wreaking havoc with his blood sugar, so
Holton was very careful how much he got.
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After the entire cake had been divided and devoured,
people continued sitting and chatting until the sun began to
go down. Then, one by one, couples said their good-byes
with hugs and handshakes. Holton helped his parents to
their car, watching as they pulled away, before returning to
the house to help with the cleanup. It was just Brian,
Heather, and himself when he returned. They sat on the
deck talking softly for a while, relaxing. “Your dad is a real
hoot,” Heather told him as Brian refilled her wine glass. “He
tells the best stories, and you really do look a lot like him.”
“He always did tell a great story,” Holton said softly.
“When I was a kid, we used to belong to a camping club.
Mom worked nights for a while, and I can remember Dad
sitting around the fire, telling stories. One time Mom had to
work, so Dad kissed her good-bye and told her he loved her.
It was really sweet. He even waved to her as the car pulled
out of the campground. Then he rubbed his hands together
with unabashed glee and said, „Now for the Sue stories.‟
Dad‟s storytelling subject was Mom. Every one of her foibles
got broadcast to everyone.” Holton took a gulp from his glass
before reaching for the wine bottle. “I always wondered what
stories he told about me when I wasn‟t around.” Holton sat
silently, trying to keep a lid on his resentment. He loved the
man, but he‟d hated being the butt of his jokes. Draining his
glass again, Holton stood up and began throwing away the
trash to have something to do. He‟d let a little more of
himself out than he‟d intended, and he needed something to
cover his discomfort.
Brian and Heather began to clean up as well, all of them
working quietly. Holton gathered his things before helping
with the rest of the cleanup. After thanking Brian and
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Heather once again, Holton carried his dishes home. Placing
them in his kitchen sink, Holton decided to leave them until
morning, and walked down the hallway to his bedroom.
After spending all day outside, Holton decided to shower
before bed. Pulling off his clothes, he threw them in the
hamper before going into the bathroom. Closing the
bathroom door, he turned on the water, shutting the shower
door again. He turned around and stopped dead in his
tracks. In the mirror that had been behind the bathroom
door since he‟d bought the house, Holton got a good look at
himself. Reaching into the shower, he turned off the water
and stared. He did look like his father. Almost exactly like
his father. Same face, eyes, and damned near the same
body. He had nearly the same body as his seventy-year-old,
diabetic father. Standing in his bathroom, Holton blinked as
he stared at himself, wondering what had happened. He was
over forty years old, alone, with no prospects. Hell, he hadn‟t
been on a date in… God, he couldn‟t remember the last time
he‟d been out with anyone. Turning away from the mirror, he
started the water again and got under the spray, washing
quickly before getting out of the shower and drying himself
off, making a point not to look in the mirror.
Pulling on light clothes, Holton wandered into the
kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, scanning the contents
before closing the door. Opening the freezer, he pulled out a
half gallon of mint chocolate chip. Pulling up the top of the
container, Holton grabbed a spoon from the drawer and
scooped out a good-sized dollop of his favorite flavor.
The spoon stopped halfway to his mouth, and Holton
held it there, wondering just what he was doing. All his life
he‟d turned to food whenever he was unhappy or upset, and
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today was no exception. Ice cream, cake, chocolate, you
name it. Dropping the spoon into the sink, Holton closed the
ice cream container and put it back into the freezer before
walking back down the hall to his bedroom. Stripping down,
Holton climbed into bed and went to sleep, trying not to
think of the image that had stared back at him from his own
mirror.
Holton woke the next morning, Sunday, thankful he had
one more day before having to go to work… although he had
no idea what he was going to do with it. Getting up, Holton
wandered through the house, settling in the living room and
turning on the television. After half watching whatever was
on, Holton got up to get cleaned up. In the bathroom, he
tried to avoid the offending mirror, but he couldn‟t turn
away. He knew he was looking at himself, but he kept seeing
his father. Brushing his teeth and shaving, Holton decided
enough was enough. Leaving the room, he hurried into the
kitchen, grabbing the phone book. Thumbing through the
yellow pages, Holton found a listing that fit what he was
looking for and dialed the number.

HOLTON parked his car outside the flashy, new-looking
health club, wondering just what in the hell he was doing
here. He‟d called on impulse and made an appointment, so
Holton got out of the car, wondering if he should carry in his
small bag of clothes. He didn‟t really have anything to work
out in, but he‟d found a pair of shorts and an old T-shirt
along with some of the other things he‟d thought he‟d need.
Getting out of the car, Holton looked up at the façade of the
building. It was a temple dedicated to the thin, healthy,