When I got home from the meeting, Luke was installing a pull-up bar into the framework of our kitchen door. He drilled a few pilot holes with a cordless drill, and then drove the screws in, grunting manfully the whole time. I should add here that Luke was wearing leggings. I wish I was joking. Charlie scrabbled over to me on his little legs as soon as I walked in the door. I scooped him up like a wriggling goblin child and gazed at the pull-up bar in horror.
“Hola,” said Luke, switching to Spanish for no apparent reason.
“Howdy,” I said. “Hey, Mom?”
She emerged from her bedroom. “Hey, honey.”
“What the hell.”
Luke tested the bar with a grimace. “Check this out.” He bent his knees and hung from the pull-up bar. The frame of the door groaned in protest, but the bar supported his weight. Luke executed a few perfect pull-ups because of course he did.
Mom was delighted. “Fantastic.”
“Why is he installing things in the kitchen?”
“I put one in your mom’s bedroom, too,” he said, doing another pull-up. “If you want, I can put one in your room.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Upper-body strength,” he said. “Always important to maintain upper-body strength. This way, anytime you feel like it, you get on the bar, you do a pull-up. You’re in the kitchen doing cooking stuff or whatever—hey, I got a down moment, I’m gonna do some pull-ups. You will be amazed by the transformation in your body.”
“Greeeaaat.”
He released the bar, his shoulders and chest heaving and a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. “Fitness is not something you do in a one-hour period in gym class. Fitness is a lifestyle.”
I turned to my mom. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
I pulled her into my room and shut the door.
“Okay, before you start,” she said, “he’s just helping out. He hasn’t moved in—”
“But he’s moving stuff in.”
“Some things have been moved in, yes. Just some clothes and some equipment and things for his dietary needs.”
“He has dietary needs now?”
“He needs a lot of whey protein. They’re canisters. You won’t even notice them.”
I scrunched up my face in disgust. “I thought he wasn’t going to be moving in.”
“Why the hell did you think that?”
“The whole point of me getting a job was so we’d have enough money—”
She threw her hands up. “That’s like a hundred dollars a week. You decided your job meant he wasn’t moving in—you never asked me about that, you went ahead and did that without even bothering to talk to me about it beforehand.”
“Do you want him to move in?”
“I enjoy his company, yes.”
“For God’s sake, why?!”
“Keep your voice down.”
“He sucks, Mom. He’s installing pull-up bars!”
“Which will come in handy. I can do pull-ups now.”
“Well, let’s throw you a fucking parade.”
“Hey!” She flexed her jaw. “I LIKE him. I like spending time with him. And I LIKE that I actually wake up in the morning with energy and can go exercise and feel good about myself. It hasn’t always been easy for me to feel good about myself. So I know you see that as some type of weird midlife crisis I’m in the middle of, but it’s actually a choice on my part not to let myself fall apart after your father. I’m doing better than I’ve done in a long, long time. So shut your mouth for a second and be happy for me.
“You don’t have to like him. You don’t have to spend a lot of time with him. But you do have to be civil and not make constant snide little comments.”
“That’s basically my whole personality, so—”
“Goddamn it, Sydney, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t have to make everything a joke. I’m a human being, I’m moving on with my life, I deserve a little happiness.”
“Do you know that there are female sea anemones that will switch gender if there aren’t any decent males around?”
“I really don’t see what sea anemones have to do with my dating life.”
“I’m just saying—there are many possibilities.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “Please be nice.”
I sighed. “Fine. But can you seriously cut it out with my fitness journey shit? I don’t like him criticizing my body, and I don’t like you criticizing my body. I’m fine.”
“Deal. And sorry about that.”
“Okay.”
“I think maybe he’ll grow on you. Besides, Charlie really likes him.”
“The fuck Charlie does.”
Charlie, the traitor, was lying on Luke’s lap when we came out of my room. He was rolled over on his back, exposing his pale white belly and his quivering little legs. Luke was rubbing his stomach. A long trail of slobber escaped the side of Charlie’s mouth and was pooling on the ground.
“So,” said my mom. “We need to celebrate Sydney’s win at the speech tournament.”
“Hell yes!” said Luke enthusiastically, revealing his snaggletooth. “Applebee’s it is.”
Yay.
There was no talk of my fitness journey at dinner, which was a huge improvement, and I will add that nobody batted an eye when I ordered a sundae. One important nugget of information presented itself, however. Luke was planning on attending the Central Minnesota CrossFit Jamboree and Gathering of Intense People, which was scheduled for the following weekend. It was going to be in Rochester, which was not exactly Central Minnesota, but I figured geography was low on their list of priorities, right after getting swole and getting even swoler.
“That sounds intense,” I said.
“Oh yeah,” said Luke.
“What exactly… um”—and I swallowed hard, because showing an interest in Luke was not exactly my bag, but whatever—“does one do at one of these things?”
Luke’s face brightened. “There’s a lot of events.”
“Kind of like a speech tournament?”
“Yeah, except for like speech for your body. Your muscles do the talking.” He chuckled. “And your will. It’s mostly about will.”
“Luke is actually competing,” said my mom.
“Wow.” And then a tiny evil thought entered my mind. I turned to my mom. “Are you gonna compete?”
She blinked and brushed her hair behind her ears. “Oh, I’m not anywhere near good enough to compete in one of these things.”
“They have to have like an over-the-hill division, right?”
“I don’t think they call it that, but—”
“Why not? Why not go for it?”
“You should see these women,” interjected Luke. “They’re like superheroes of fitness. They’re glorious. It’s stunning what the human body can do when it’s pushed to its limits.”
“I can only imagine,” I said. “But you should go, Mom.”
“Honey, I can’t win.”
“Winning isn’t the point. Competing is the point.”
Luke pointed at me. “I like that. I like what you just said.”
Mom looked down at her plate. “Well, I have to work this weekend anyway, so—”
“You can switch a shift, and maybe I can take a few extra hours to make up for the difference,” I said. “Besides, I think the SpongeBob roller coaster will survive without you for two days. Maybe all the kids won’t survive, but the roller coaster will be there when you get back.”
“I don’t know—I’m not…”
Luke took over. “You know what Wayne Gretzky said?” Yes, Luke, tell us what Wayne Gretzky said. “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
The tiniest flicker of a smile crept onto her face. “Why not? Sure. Yes, I’ll do it. Sydney is competing in speech, why shouldn’t I compete, too?” She let out a little squeal and reached her hand across the table to squeeze mine.
Moments later, I texted Lakshmi.
Party at my place.