As she clenched her teeth and lifted the weights, Jane looked at herself reproachfully in the mirror. Why was she doing this? Why didn’t she just put them down, go home, and sink into the tub that offered a perfect view of the ocean and the cliffs? After all, she had been eagerly waiting for the bathroom to be finished.
“Raise your arms a little higher, Jane, otherwise it won’t have any effect,” instructed the personal trainer, a man in his early thirties, gently.
“It’s already having an effect,” she muttered, “I’m sweaty and smelly.”
The young man laughed.
“I love your sense of humor! My mom has been so down lately,” he added. “I couldn’t possibly convince her to work out.”
“She’s right,” Jane groaned. “I suppose she’s dealing with menopause. It’s good she’s not torturing herself with unnecessary weights.”
“It’s not unnecessary, Jane. Just look at you, you’re in great shape!”
“And? How does that benefit me? So others can enjoy looking at me?”
“I imagine you haven’t given up on love yet…”
Everyone said the same thing: “You’re still so young to be alone!” So there’s a point after which it’s accepted that you don’t have a partner? But until then, you can’t live your life without being in some kind of relationship? She rolled her eyes.
The restaurant, thanks to its price range, was never crowded. Only ten tables were available for diners, and it didn’t even open during the day, with the earliest reservation possible at eight in the evening. Jane insisted on this place for every date. She needed to see how the candidates—sent her way by relatives and friends—behaved and ate in such an elegant setting.
The man kept lingering on his beard, twirling the medium-length strands around his finger, then smoothing his chin with his palm every few minutes.
Jane could imagine the dark, curly hairs falling onto the powder-pink, freshly renovated bathroom floor. The man was a fan of traditional values. To Jane, this meant she’d have to clean his thick hair from the tiles twice a day and who knows how many times from the tub.
This time, the trainer had prepared exercises for strengthening the glutes and thighs. Three big sets of lunges. The sweat running down her forehead merged with the droplets from her nose and continued together toward the corner of her mouth. Six months ago, she had slept with someone who constantly grabbed her butt. She couldn’t even remember his name anymore. Wasn’t her backside just fine as it was then?
“Come on, Jane, don’t stop now! I want to tell my mom about your perseverance again today! Don’t let me down!” the boyish-looking trainer yelled.
The sunburned man with yellow teeth grinned foolishly at the bite-sized appetizer in the corner of his plate.
“You don’t need a fork for this, but a toothpick,” he giggled annoyingly.
He meant it, too, as he pulled what appeared to be a used toothpick from his shirt pocket and stabbed the shrimp. Not long after, he explained that objects existed for people, not the other way around. Just so she knew. Jane had no doubt that this man, if he felt like it, would pee in the sink while brushing his teeth. In the same sink where someone might occasionally drop their contact lenses or toothbrush.
She didn’t answer the phone, letting it buzz away. The trainer was young, he’d find another woman his mother’s age to encourage toward firmer glutes and toned arms.
She stretched her foot out onto the edge of the tub and simply stared at the breathtaking view. She didn’t care that it was noon. Finally, for the first time in her life, she was doing what she wanted, not what others expected of her.