“You’ve continued going to spin classes,” Rebecca said, out ofnowhere.
Spencer stopped and gave a nod. “I have.”
“Good for you. Sherry’s tough.”
There were five spin instructors, and Spencer wondered if sheshould find it interesting that Rebecca knew which one she preferred. “She’sbrutal. Kicks my assevery time. Every. Time.”
Rebecca laughed. “Well, it’s doing you good. I can see it.” A beatwent by and Spencer watched, fascinated, as Rebecca’s face slid from casuallyfriendly to nearly mortified, seemingly by her own words. She held up a hand.“I’m sorry. That was…was that too personal?”
“Not to me,” Spencer said. “A girl can never hear that enough,really.” She punctuated that with a scoff. “It’s not like anybody else tellsme.” And then it was Spencer’s turn to grimace. “Now I’m getting too personal.”They stayed like that for several seconds: Rebecca seated at her desk, Spencerstanding, both of them looking slightly uncomfortable. So it was a bitsurprising that Spencer couldn’t seem to get her feet to move. “Do you not wantto go home either?” The question was out of her mouth before she even knew shewas going to ask it.
That seemed to give Rebecca a bit of a jolt, but a smile followed,and she held out an arm to indicate the chair next to her desk.
Spencer sat. “How did you become a fitness instructor? Did youalways want to be one?”
Rebecca seemed to honestly contemplate the question. “No, I wantedto be a physical therapist.”
Spencer tilted her head from side to side. “Similar field.”
“Yes, but…” Rebecca gazed off into space as if searching forwords. “I got in an accident when I was twenty. A bike accident.”
“Oh, no.”
“Yeah. I got hit by a car while I was riding. My own fault. Iwasn’t paying attention. I broke my femur and fractured my pelvis.”
Spencer sucked in air through her teeth. “Ow.”
“You have no idea. It was ironic that I needed physical therapy,given I was studying it. And let me tell you, that PT almost killed me.”
“Painful?”
“Left me in tears almost every day. It was awful.” Rebecca’sfeatures had softened, emotion clear on her face. Something Spencer hadn’t seenoften. She liked it. It made Rebecca seem more…human. “So I recovered andfinished my studies and got a job in PT.”
Spencer raised her eyebrows. “But?”
“But I hated causing that kind of pain to other people. I mean, Iknow it’s part of their recovery, that they need to push through in order toget better. But I think having been the one on that table or balancing on thoseparallel bars, I had a better sense than my colleagues of just how much painour patients might be in at any given time. And I just couldn’t do it.” Rebeccaswallowed, then cleared her throat, her eyes bright.
Spencer sensed she hadn’t quite finished and simply waited for herto continue.
“I had heard several doctors and fellow PTs say the same thingmore than once, though: that if this person or that person had been in bettershape—stronger, leaner, had more endurance, whatever—their recovery might bequicker or less painful or easier. And that stuck in my head for a good year ortwo before I decidedthatwas what I wanted.”
“To help people get stronger.”
“And thereby healthier, yes.”
“I like that.” Aware that she was very close to seeing Rebecca ina new light somehow, Spencer smiled softly.
“My turn,” Rebecca said, propping her chin in her hand and herelbow on the desk. Her blue eyes focused on Spencer, she asked, “Why don’t youwant to go home?”
“Oh, I want to go to my house, but I can’t. Tonight I’m supposedto go to Marti’s house, and…I just don’t want to.” Though startled that she’danswered so honestly, Spencer accepted it. Apparently, this was how she waswith Rebecca now. Well, at least for tonight.
“And Marti is your…?”
“My fiancée.”
“Right,” Rebecca said with a nod. “The one who signed you up forthis class.”
“Yes.”
