Socially Awkward (22 page)

In some way, there was a certain freedom involved in dating your trainer. That’s not really something you think about, but there it is.  And for me, that freeing spirit
i
s just the thing I needed to really unwind and just be plain old Jennifer around him.  I could see myself easily becoming addicted to this feeling in the future.

****

Afterwards
, we cuddle
on the couch together
with a thin afghan
to protect us
agains
t the chill of the room. I look
up at him, his
arm wrapped around me, and grin like an idiot.  I’m
in love with Noah and he
’
s in love with me.  I kn
o
w it
already
.

“Jen…” he says
suddenly, his tone turning serious. “You and Sean, you never…”

“Nothing ever happened there, okay? Well…” I pause, and it hit
s
him like a ton of bricks.

“What?” He lean
s
away from me.

“Before y
ou and I… you know,” I struggle
with it, desperate for the words. “There was one night that Sean tried to
bring me home
. But it was only to get to Claire, which I
realize doesn’t make sense. But
… I didn’t do it, okay?”

His expression harden
s as he considers
me.  “Nothing?”

“We… made out a little bit,” I look away. “And I might have invited him
in
.”

“Jen,” his voice turns
cold.

“But then Claire was sitting here, and he thought she was Olivia and then he didn’t want me anymore. And so nothing happened…”

“If Claire hadn’t been here and Sean had still wanted you, you would have…”

“Yes!” I say
, standing up and taking the afghan with me. I wrap it like a shawl around my shoulders. “I would have, because I had no self-esteem and I thought he was the kind of guy that I wanted!”

“Okay, fine.”
H
is eyes
remain
steely. “I think I’m going to get going, okay?”

Wordlessly, he pick
s
up his clothes from around the room and g
e
t
s
dressed slowly. I watch him, helpless and unable
to speak. I
pull the blanket around me tighter
and try to pretend I do
n’t care.

“That was so long ago, Noah. I don’t know why you’re so upset about this.”

“Because, Jen. If you’d just rip your clothes off for a guy like that, how do I know that this means anything to you?”

His harsh words mak
e me tear up a little bit, I have to admit. “It does!”

“I thought you would be different,
Jen. Because of your…” he trails
off as a stunned look overt
a
k
es
his face. “Your…”

“My
what
?”

“Well, because you wear…”

“Hearing aids?” I yell it in his face, and he look
s
taken aback at my sudden rage. “You thought I’d be easy for you to keep because I wear hearing aids? Is that why you picked me out that day in the gym? Because I’d be
easy
for someone like you to attract and keep your eyes on?”

“No, no. Come on,” he stammer
s
, raising his hands in defense. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Okay, so what did you mean?” I put my hands on my hips, my most intimidating posture.

“I came over to meet you because I was impressed. I thought it was… interesting.” He let
s
the word settle, ca
tches
my look of disapproval and tries
again. “Not interesting… but, really brave.”

“Brave? I need them to
hear
, Noah. They’re not optional. It’s not like I get up in the morning and think to myself, ‘Oh man, what should I wear today with this adorable turtleneck sweater? I know! I’ll put my hearing aids in so everyone thinks I’m freaking BRAVE.”

“Come on, Jen. They brought me over to you and now we have…”

“What do we have, in your professional estimation? Huh? A really awesome time? A super-strong physical connection? A passion like you’ve f
elt with no other woman?” I wave him away from me and start
to pull the door closed between us. “Whatever pointless, sexist line you’re going to use on me, you can just forget it. I’ve already known too many guys like you.”

Before the door close
s
, Noah put
s his hand on it. I’m no
t strong enough to push it closed with him fighting me. 

“Stop it,” I rage
, using the weight of my entire body on the door. “I want you to leave now.”

“Not until you hear me out,” he sa
ys
, wrapping his fingers around the edge of the door and pushing it open far enough
for us to
clearly see each other. “Sometimes I don’t say things as cleverly as you do, and sometimes the words come out wrong, even though I know what I’m trying to say. I came over to meet you that day because I admired you. I saw you working hard and keeping up with your sister, fighting both a physical disability and an obvious difference in your fitness levels. I wanted to meet you, because you seemed strong and determined. I liked that.”

I stare him down for a momen
t, considering his words
. Noah wasn’t attracted to me that day, something I probably knew all along. But to hear him say it, and to discover that the one thing he
was
attracted to was the only thing about myself that I c
an
never, ever change no matter how hard I t
ry
—it
’
s all too much for me to process.

“I’d lik
e you to leave now, Noah,” I say
quietly. I kn
o
w I won’t have to push on the door anymore, so I drop my hands down to my sides. “I don’t want to be with someone who only sees me like that.”

He scoff
s
at first, but when I raise my eyes to him and he s
ees
the quiet anger and pain behind them, he stop
s
trying.

“Fine,” he sa
ys
, throwing up his hands. “If that’s the way you want this to end.”

I swallow
hard. “I’m not my
hearing aids
, Noah. I’m not some pet project you can rehabilitate and turn into whatever you want her to be.  I have to be myself.”

“That’s all I ever wanted
you to be. D
on’t you get it?”

I c
a
n’t look
at him, so I push
the door closed, ending our conversation with the firm cl
ick of the lock. And then I stan
d there, letting the door support my back while I we
e
p quiet tears. I don’t know how long Noah st
ands
outside, or if he c
an
even hear me crying, but I
ca
n’t really move from the door mat
anyway.  So I cry it out, until I si
nk down onto the floor in a heaping mess of running makeup, stringy hair, and damp clothing.

Look at that… it’
s raining after all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Without the regular trips back and forth t
o Tom's Workout World, I’m
a teeny bit afraid to even make eye contact with a scale. Which I kn
o
w was ridiculous. Scales don't have eyes, Jen. But you know what I mean. A few packages of Oreos and a couple of weeks of missed gym trips
i
s not exactly the right formula for substantial weight loss.

In fact, as I learn th
is
morning, it had quite the opposite effect.

"Five frickin' pounds," I t
el
l Lyla over coffee later that day. "I am a total disaster right now. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Buy a treadmill?" She suggest
s
, playing with the plastic tab on her Dunkin Donuts lid.

"Will we have room for that in the
a
partment?" I th
ink
for a moment. "Maybe if we don't have a couch. That way, we have to work out when we watch TV."

"You know damn well that we'll just sit on the treadmill while we watch TV and eat a pint of ice cream, Jen."

The girl ha
s
a point. And she kn
o
w
s
me better than I thought she did.

"All right, so now what?"

"Back to the gym?"

"I don't know if that's
such a good idea.  I can’t face Noah… not yet. Maybe not ever.
"
I sh
a
k
e
my head
,
then pulled my hair back into a pony tail against the brisk wind of the spring day. I was tired of pulling pieces of it out of my mouth, after all. This is why Boston girls always have a hair elastic around their wrist when they spend any time outdo
ors.

"Have you talked to him at all? Was there any follow up whatsoever?"

I shook my head again, as I considered the dregs of my cold coffee. "It's going to be really awkward. I have enou
gh of that in my life. I mean, we both said some unpleasant things.
"

“
Are you actually listening to yourself talk right now?  You're ridiculous." 

“Why?”

“Because you had a fight. You’re not the first
cou
ple in the universe to have a screaming match, then kiss and make up.”

“I don’t know if I want that,” I say, twisting my hair around my finger. “I don’t want to be with someone because of my hearing loss… I can’t let that define me.”

“Jen, I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” Lyla leans in, covering her mouth with one hand. I expect her to whisper, but instead she speaks at full volume, sending me reeling backwards. “Everyone has something that defines them!”

Blinking, I stare at her for a moment. I have to adjust both of my hearing aids to stop the buzzing feedback before she can continue talking though.

“Look at that guy over there,” she says, pointing to an overweight man sitting alone at a table. “He’s letting his weight define him. Her, the blonde one there, gabbing away on her cell phone at full volume? She’s letting that blonde hair define her as a bimbo stereotype. Just listen to what she’s saying, for crying out loud. And me…”

“Cold-hearted psychoanalyst?” I take a guess.

“Close, but no,” she says, grinning. “I let my sarcasm define me, my friend. But underneath that sarcasm, who am I?”

I sigh deeply, dropping my head into my hands.

“I’m a lot more than that, aren’t I?” she continues. “Just like he’s more than his weight, and she’s more than a blonde. Well, maybe. But my point remains… you
are
more than your hearing aids, but that might be what defines you for some people. Deal with it, Jen. It could be a lot worse.”