Chapter 56

Ardal

“Mom. Mommy?”

I blink and look down. I realize Lottie’s been tugging on my shirt, trying to get my attention for at least a full minute while I stare out into space.

“Sorry, girly.” I crouch down to meet her eyes.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind today.”

It’s been a day since Erbao’s first dialysis treatment and the weight of it is intense. I could barely pull myself out of bed today, and I’m stumbling through this morning with the kids, but I’m not really here.

Lottie puts her hand on her hip. “I was trying,” she says, huffily, “To ask you a question.”

I tuck a stand of her dark hair behind her ear.

“What’s your question?”

Her eyes get big, brimming with excitement. “Can I go with you to work? I want to go to the gym, too.

“ Look! I have my gym outfit on. See?”

She spins around so I can appreciate her black leggings and pink cheetah print top.

Lottie is not happy with me, to say the least, when I have to dash her plan for the day. Her tear-filled eyes knock the day’s start onto even shakier ground.

I drop off the kids at school and head to work.

Surrounded by the cacophony of clanking weights, feet pacing on treadmills, chit-chat, and music spilling from the spin room, I stand in the middle of the bustling gym caught in a trance-like state.

I try to push through, but I feel as though I’m sleep-walking through my day. My thoughts are slow and sluggish, and my body feels heavy with exhaustion. The training sessions and group classes seem to drag on forever, and I find myself making simple mistakes or losing my train of thought.

“I'm so sorry, George,” I say dejectedly, my cheeks burning with humiliation. He's an elderly man who recently suffered a health scare and has been working harder than ever to get back into shape.

I totally blanked out while he was doing crunches with the stability ball. All the extra reps he was doing have taken their toll. He's laying flat on the ground, sprawled out like a pancake, utterly despondent and panting heavily.

Kadeem pauses as he walks by. Before I can settle this, he intervenes with his unnecessary curiosity.

“Everything alright?” he asks, much to my chagrin.

It’s probably the fifth time he’s heard me apologize to a client today, but his uninvited insertion into the issue irks me nonetheless.

From the floor, George squeaks out something incoherent.

“We’re okay,” I snap, glaring at Kadeem.

He stares at me with an expression of exasperation rather than anger on his face.

“Dylan,” he hollers across the room, waving over the happy-go-lucky trainer who's just walked in.

I put my hand on my hip, Lottie-style, feeling what is about to happen.

On cue, Dylan jogs over. “Yeah,” he asks cheerfully.

Kadeem glances at me before answering. “Will you fill in for Chelsea? I need to steal her for a few minutes.”

“Sure thing,” Dylan says, rubbing his hands together, before beaming down at poor George.

I reluctantly shuffle into Kadeem's office expecting the worst.

He sits regally at his desk chair while I stay standing, crossing my arms defensively.

“Just sit down,” he says, pointing to the chair across from him.

Stiffly, I lower myself into the chair opposite him.

“No need to be so tense, Chelsea," he says softly. "I just wanted to make sure you are alright."

The unexpected kindness leaves me stunned for a moment before I mumble a reply. "Oh. Well, I’m alright. Just tired," I say.

Kadeem tilts his head. “You sure about that?” He furrows his brow.

“Yes, I'm sure,” I sigh, and stand to leave. “I need to get back to work.”

“Hold up,” Kadeem says. His brows are knitted together in a look of genuine concern. “You don’t seem okay, or just ‘tired.’ I do know you - a little, I mean."

God, he's looking at me so intensely. He seems to see through me, making the air around us feel heavy. I shift nervously and drop my eyes to avoid his gaze. This all feels too intimate.

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," he says gently. "But I just wanted you to know that whatever is going on, you can..."

Kadeem picks up a pen and begins tracing circles on his desk calendar.

He clears his throat. "Well, you can depend on me," he says, clicking the end of the pen for emphasis. "As your employer, I mean. If you ever need time off or if you just need to take a break while you're up here at the gym." He sets his jaw tensely. "Or, whatever."

Warmth floods through me as I feel his genuine care and thoughtfulness. At the same time, I'm rattled by the uncomfortable electric charge hanging in the air.

I scrunch my nose and my lips curl, as I fight the ache in my throat, desperately trying to suppress the flood of emotion that's threatening to overwhelm me.

I'm looking at Kadeem, taking in the features of his handsome face, framed by his dark hair - the brown eyes staring back at me intently, the dimple on his chin that used to make my heart flutter. He is so familiar to me. Every line of him. Every inch.

But things changed. He's not mine anymore and he broke my spirit in ways I don’t think I’ll ever repair.

The kind man standing in front of me now only intensifies everything I feel for what we had once and what I had desperately wanted us to be. I feel a pit in my stomach. I'm swallowed by a longing for something unattainable and grief for what we lost.

Staring into his eyes, I am overcome with such an anguish that it is almost unbearable. This job with him at the gym is the ultimate heartache, the ultimate F-U from the universe. I thought I was over it all, but I'm not. Suddenly, my chest is tight, and I feel panicked and overwhelmed. I have to get out of here.

I suck in a rapid breath and spin around to leave. He stands up.

"Did I do something?"

"No," I say, choking back the tears. "I'm fine."

He opens his mouth to protest.

"Really," I say, as the tears spill out of my eyes. "Just please." I shut my eyes and hold up my index finger, trying to force out the words. "Just please leave me alone." It comes out in a strained whisper.

I open my eyes and look at him through a haze of tears, watching his breath catch in surprised pain. The sorrow ripples across his face.

'He shouldn't look this hurt,' I think. Confused maybe. Why, hurt?

Yet, here he stands, fragile as glass, and vulnerable in a way I haven't seen in so many years. His pained expression shatters me into a million pieces, each one heavy with guilt.

In agony, I fly out of the room. I burst through the back door of the building. When the sunlight and wind hit my face, I gasp for air, relief flooding me.

I had hoped I could bury my past and all the emotions that came with it, but here I am, reliving it all. How do I make sense of any of this? How do I keep pushing forward?