The Trainer (8 page)

A
s he approached him on the basketball court, Chris had no idea how close Mason had come to cancelling the next morning’s session.

“Hey, morning,” Mason said, acting casual.

“Good morning,” Chris said, working up a smile.

“How’d you sleep?” Mason said
, making no eye contact as he turned a medicine ball around in his hands.

“Good, good ...” Chris said, anxiously wondering if he would ever look up, and if he
would acknowledge that something happened between them, or, if worse yet, that they had made a mistake.

“So, I thought
we’d do something a little different today,” Mason said briskly. “Tossing the medicine ball back and forth is a great way to get that core strong.”

“Sure, sounds great,” Chris said, sounding distracted. Incredible feelings of hurt  were beg
inning to sting in Chris’ chest.  Even if things weren’t sexual yesterday, he still thought that at least they had made a strong connection as friends: Mason was acting as detached as a dentist or an airline employee.

“So, catch,” Mason said
, tossing him the ball. Chris almost lost his balance, but caught it and spun, the strain and effort snapping him out of his trance.

“So...I don’t even want to mention her name...but I see about your ex,” Chris said, cracking a smile.

“Oh, my God. I was so embarrassed, man,” Mason said. “Now you see why I’m ready to pull my hair out when I’m around her.”

“I’d
do worse than that,” Chris said. “I’d probably leap to my death.”

Mason laughed darkly.

“Your ex and my ex ought to get together.  What a team they would make,” Chris said.

“Is he that bad?” Mason asked.

“He’s awful, Mason. I don’t like to talk badly about people. It was never a habit before he dumped me, but he’s just so cold and heartless. I can’t believe I didn’t see it in him. We were together for almost four years.”

“Four years, wow
. So, if he came to you, apologized, and said he wanted you back, you wouldn’t take him back in?” Mason asked, as if he were testing the waters of what things might look like in Chris’s future.

Chris hesitated just a tad too long for Mason’s taste before he blasted, “No. God, no.”

“Ah, your heart’s still with him. That’s sad if he really is as terrible as you say.”

“What makes you say that?” Chris asked
, defensively.

“Just a feeling I get. I’m pretty good at reading people.”

“Yeah?” Chris said. “And what else do you read about me?”

Mason shrugged, tossing the medicine ball back
. “I don’t know. That you’re a good guy. That you care about people. I haven’t even read any of your writing, and I can tell you’re an amazing writer. I bet you’ll be a huge success. That you’re smart. I know you said you wanted to have kids one day, and I can tell that you’d make an amazing dad one day if you wanted to.”

“That’s all?” Chris cracked a smile, tossing the medicine ball again. “Jeez, you make me sound amazing.”

“No, it's just...your ex was stupid to dump you, that’s all. And you’re lucky he did, because you deserve better. You’re a real catch.”

The words lingered with Chris
, and he felt the tingle of excitement, the warm glow of happiness at Mason’s praise. When he walked over suddenly, his expression changing to one of sober concern, Chris felt panicked. Mason stopped when he was close enough to kiss him, leaning down conspiratorially, with the shadow of his tall frame shielding Chris’ eyes from the bright sun.

“Hey, I’m sorry...
” Mason said, stepping up to him. “I can’t keep acting like nothing’s up. It’s weird and disrespectful.”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked, fishing for more.

“I mean, we should probably talk about yesterday,” Mason said in a low tone, as if
there were other people around he didn’t want to overhear.

“What about it?” Chris asked, not sure what he was going to say next.

Mason took a deep breath, “I’m not sure, really. You’re a really great guy, Chris and I like hangin’ with you. I like training you and I don’t want that to change.”

Oh, great. I’ve heard this speech before,
Chris thought.

“So...” Chris said
, fishing for more information.

“It’s just...I've never...
I’ve never done anything like with a guy before, and...”

“No, I understand,” Chris cut him off.

“And it’s just my daughter. If we ever did anything and my ex found out, she could...”

“No, you’re right
, we should...we shouldn’t even go there.”

Mason paused for a second
, trying to read Chris’ feelings, “You’re...are you cool with that? I mean, like I said, you’re a really amazing dude, and maybe if things were different, something could happen. I really like you Chris, and that massage was pretty hot. I mean I actually got super hard, which was a first.”

“Look, you don’t need to explain yourself,” Chris said
, backing off. “If you want to cool it, we’ll cool it. We can still train and hang, and we don’t even need to hang really.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Mason asked, his face looking quizzical and confused.

“Yeah, I get it. Let’s just keep training. I’ve got a bunch of work to do, and I have to cut it kind of short today.”

Mason felt a little taken aback. This wasn’t what he expected; the terseness of Chris’ tone hit him like a slap in the face
, and he was starting to regret saying what he did. But Chris just hurled the medicine ball and resumed his training.  Was it just Mason’s imagination, or was he being extra aggressive? They continued training, not talking much between each of the repetitions or sets. All business, just like Mason said he wanted.

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CHAPTER 15

C
hris threw himself into his novel the rest of that day with gusto. He ate a healthy lunch of red beans and brown rice with a fresh mango, but he felt blocked whenever he sat down to work. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mason. So he turned on the TV, then the DVD player, trying to watch some movies for inspiration, but mostly to drown the thoughts in his head.  But nothing was working.  The truth was, he felt like crying. His nose stung and his eyes burned. This was so stupid to be upset about this, he told himself.

He’s a straight guy
, and Chris had only known him for a few days. He didn’t want to get involved with someone like that anyway:  too much confusion, as was already apparent. That was so Chris over a decade ago:  trying to figure out who he was. Thinking that straight guys could be converted like they were Coke loyalists trying out Pepsi. Now, Chris thought he should be way past that. If shoulds and woulds were raisins and nuts, he’d have a big bowl of granola, right?

             
About halfway through the day, Jessica stopped by with a pile of drafting she had edited, and a bunch of gossip that had nothing to do with anybody Chris knew. He was distracted the whole time, staring at the floor or out the window, thinking about Mason, about his little adorable daughter, about the awkward conversation they had earlier.

             
“Hello?” Jessica asked, “Earth to Christopher?”

             
“What?” Chris looked up. Had she been talking to him?

             
“You are so checked out. What the hell is going on with you?”

             
“Oh,” Chris mumbled, “I dunno. Nothing.”

             
“I know something’s up,” Jessica said.

             
“Yeah, it is. I mean, no. I mean, I can’t talk about it now. Or not yet, anyway.”

             
“You’re all kinds of fucked up right now.” Jessica exclaimed, and mock-slapped him in the face with one appliqué-nailed hand.

             
“I am, yes. But I promise I’m not thinking about Tim.”

             
“I know you ain’t thinking about Tim, because you ain’t got that sad I’m a worthless pile of shit face. Now you got this I’m-confused-as-fuck and don’t know my ass from a hole in the ground face.”

             
Chris looked at her in confusion.

             
“That’s the face,” she said, pointing at his nose, “right there. You gonna talk to me about it or what?”

             
“No. I can’t yet. Because it’s true. I don’t know my ass from a hole in the ground right now.”

             
Jessica clicked her tongue. “I can tell, babe, I can tell. But I'd bet money it has something to do with that Mason. Don’t fall in love with straight boys, toots.” she said, as she grabbed her purse and swung open the door.

             
“Easier said than done, bitch.” Chris said, with an unintentional amount of bitterness. She huffed in satisfaction and walked outside.

Later on, he kicked off his shoes and stripped down, turned off all the lights and lay in bed with the sea of distant traffic echoing and the grandfather clock in his room ticking away. The crickets chirped outside. He thought of Mason’s smile, and how it had hooked him into a whole new cycle of hope, fear, and rejection in just a little over seventy-eight hours.

It fucking hurt.

Why didn’t anyone good want to be with him? Why did only the douche
bags of the world end up in relationships with him? All of his exes, even the month-long-ones from Tim back to Allen, Michael, and Pablo before him were callous, narcissistic, and controlling. All the boys he had really wanted, who he had thought would be good for him, like Peter and Ben (back in his days at the University of Portland) always had a reason they couldn’t give themselves wholly to him.  What was wrong with him? Was he that uninteresting? Unappealing? Unattractive? Maybe all the things that Justin, Alec, and his ex were saying on Facebook were true.

He sunk into his bed, refusing to cry. He had enough of the pity party and felt numb as he allowed his eyes to un
-focus, staring into the snow of the television screen.

Bleep
.

He looked at his phone. He left his Facebook messenger on. Who was it now?

Tim.

Just what he needed.

Hey, you got some mail sent to me by mistake.

What is it?
Chris texted.

Looks like it could be important. Sorry. Boyfriend and I been so busy planning trip to Paris.

Such an asshole.
Chris thought,
kick me while I’m down, why don’t you?
He knew that was one place he always wanted to go with him and now he was rubbing it in.

La dee fucking da. Thanks for letting me know. If the mail was that important, you could just tell me who it’s addressed from not just ‘looks important.’ Chris wrote.

Shut up bitch. So. What have you been up to?

So now he wants to be friends? Chris thought.
He paused, wondering what he should write. Then it occurred to him.

Swamped with work. The novel’s coming along well; almost done and then with boyfriend over here almost every night I hardly get anything done. Chris wrote

Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you were going out with someone.  Tim wrote, Congrats.

Chris rolled his eyes, with a smile on his face, knowing Tim was having heart palpitations in real life. Any time Chris managed to succeed in spite of Tim’s efforts to control and contain him, it made him furious.

Thanks, in fact, I better go now. He’s trying to drag me back into bed. My ass is so sore. I can’t take another round. Have a great night. Chris responded.

Wait. You want me to drop off this mail at your condo? Then I can get a chance to meet your new fling. Tim wrote.

Fling?
Chris thought.
So typical of him to say something condescending.

Don’t bother. Just hold on to it or toss it in the trash. Ciao.

He logged off of his Facebook messenger before Tim could respond and it felt good doing it; until he broke out in a cold sweat, fearing he’d be caught in a lie again. Then it dawned on him with double the impact because of the lie: he was going to bed early, alone on a Friday night, once again.

What a fucked up night. Then, without missing a beat, the phone rang. He turned
his head to see who it was on the ID.