Grace said goodbye to her last client of the evening with a high five. The gym was bursting with testosterone-filled males puffing their chests and flexing their biceps at her, readying themselves for their Friday night processions. Men stopped heaving as she walked by and congratulated her on her latest endorsement: Puma. The news came through this afternoon. The emblazoned tracksuit she’d been sent was another layer with which to cover her skin, because she hadn’t learned to shed it yet.
It was her little taste of fame and she wasn’t sure if it was welcome. She hadn’t done anything differently. She hadn’t won a Nobel Prize, or invented something important, or even written a book. She’d just been validated by yet more logos. She thanked those who were interested and keen for her best advice on topics covered in her latest video.
‘When I took a day off yesterday, I felt so much better about going forward,’ one young man told her. But then he smiled at her and looked at his gym shoes, which warned her that his interest in mental health was less to do with her videos and more to do with bagging a date. She sighed as she walked away.
It had taken six months for her to return to work after the incident. Vincent had been her most loyal client. He’d been training for a competition and he paid well. He looked like any other man training here tonight. Which is why she trusted none of them.
Occasionally she looked at the men peering at their own reflections in the huge mirrors, admiring themselves, pulling up their bodies, or squatting with ever-increasing weights, and considered herself a true survivor. To be able to work in this business again, after what she’d suffered, was a miracle. Doctor Alex told her so. Today’s panic attack had taken her by surprise, but she figured it was the fear of the fate she imagined Monika had befallen. What were the chances of a woman going missing these days and for her not to turn up dead? Slim. Sexual predators were everywhere.
When she’d finally emerged from the toilet earlier, after she’d thrown up, Ignacio had been there, tenderly doting on her. She’d dismissed him brusquely and watched the hurt written all over his face. Now, as she came out of the staffroom, he was there again. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and felt her habitual repulsion. She didn’t like looking at her body, and she hated other people peering at it even more. Ignacio approached her.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
She turned to him briskly. ‘You’ve asked me that about ten times today,’ she said.
‘Sorry,’ he said, looking hurt. ‘Are you still upset?’
‘Don’t you have off days?’ she asked him. ‘I’m hungry and tired and the news about my client was a shock,’ she added. It was the police who’d told her that Monika Thorpe was missing. But she’d been watching the Sky News reel on the giant screens. A body had been found by the river Cam, in Grantchester, and her gut churned over with scenarios.
Ignacio stood in front of her, unsure of what to do. She felt trapped. Suddenly her hands were clammy, and she felt weak and irritated that she hadn’t kept any food down today. Purging was a choice and she did it on her terms. She still needed to retain some fuel. She was vaguely aware of Ignacio coming towards her and catching her as she fell. Noise and fuss surrounded her and she felt queasy. Ignacio felt her wrist and put his hand on her forehead as he laid her down gently. She pushed it away ungratefully, but she was too feeble. She was sat up, given water, mollified and told she needed to rest. She went to get up but her body was too fatigued. Ignacio held a nut bar in his hand and offered it to her, asking if everybody would stand back. People stared at her and she heard them theorise about why she might have collapsed, as if they were experts.
‘She needs more carbs in her diet,’ one said.
‘She’s overtraining, that’s a classic sign,’ another chipped in.
‘She’s pushing herself too hard.’
‘I thought she was into wellness, not looking after herself…’
Then she saw Henry. He was a regular, friendly and polite, but that’s as close as he got. He knelt next to Ignacio. Her queasiness dissipated and she felt awkward from all the fuss.
‘Everybody seems to know what’s best for you,’ Henry said. He smiled at her and she rolled her eyes and took the nut bar from Ignacio, chewing on its chocolaty saltiness. It was just what she needed. Clearly the vomiting had got rid of the little nutrition her body retained and she had nothing left in the tank.
She hated drawing attention to herself, but the drama was coming to an end. Over the past two years she’d created an intimate relationship with her anxiety, and she could normally see it building. But tonight, like earlier today, it had taken her by surprise. That was twice in one day and it worried her. She got to her feet and thanked everyone for their concern, showing Ignacio the half-eaten nut bar. Ignacio and Henry took an arm each, as if she were some maiden in distress. The touch of their skin on hers was like lightning bolts.
There was an awkward moment between the two men, as to who was going to walk Grace to her car. Henry argued that Ignacio should stay in the gym. Ignacio argued that she was his responsibility because she was a colleague. Grace listened to them squabbling over her. Anyone interested in her fall had dispersed now, and headed back to their workouts. She backed away. Henry and Ignacio didn’t notice her turn the corner and trot down the stairs to the exit, and out into the night, dumping the rest of the nut bar in the waste.