I gesture at myself. “I only have this. I left everything behind when I ran away.”
She frowns again. “We gotta get you shopping, then. But you’re close in size to me. I might have something that’ll fit. Come on.”
I hesitate. “I would not like to interrupt your workout.”
She waves. “Ah, I have a few minutes to rest between sets. Come on. Working out is way more fun with a friend, anyway.”
I follow her back to the hallway with the rooms, and she rummages in a drawer, comes up with a pair of shorts like she is wearing and another sports bra. “The bra may not fit since I’m, uh, alittlebigger in the chest than you are, but it’ll do the trick.” She looks at my feet. “I’ve even got a spare pair of sneakers you can wear till I can get you out shopping.” She tosses the clothing to me. “Change out, babe, let’s get lifting.”
I hesitate, but then quickly strip out of my clothing and put on the clean gear she’s loaned me. The shorts are very tight and stretchy, so they fit well, but the bra is indeed quite large on me, since she is more than a little larger in the chest than me—she was being polite when she used the phrase “a little.” It will work for the moment, however. The shoes also fit—we are very similar, except her thighs are quite thicker, her bottom is larger, and her breasts as well are larger. But we are close in height, with the same size foot. I am merely more slender where she is more muscular and simply more well-endowed in terms of feminine anatomy.
I braid my hair back quickly, and she gives me an elastic band for it.
Back in the gym, she shows me the movement, beginning with what she calls the clean, the portion of the sequence wherein she brings the bar from floor to chest. This, she makes me practice many, many times, and it causes me to pant and sweat. Then, she has me clean it to my shoulders, and from here, she teaches me to lift it overhead. All of this, with the bar alone, no weights on it. But even this quickly exhausts me.
Then, she shows me what she calls a deadlift—picking the weight up from the floor and putting it back down again. Deceptively simple. Then, she shows me push-ups. Oh my, those are very difficult indeed. I cannot do even one, but she makes me do one, and rest, and do one again, and rest, and do one, while she does five at a time. She makes them look easy, and I swiftly understand how much stronger she is than I am.
I remark on this as we sit side by side on a bench, and she waves a hand, dismissing my statement. “I used lifting as therapy. I went to therapy, too, but going to the gym literally saved my life, I think. I had a miscarriage, and my marriage was a disaster, and I was super, super depressed. Nothing helped. Not therapy, not even medication, not all the way. But going to the gym and channeling my anger and frustration and everything into this?” She points at the barbell. “I went several times a week, and I went hard. Hired a trainer, learned the moves, and went nuts. Lost a bunch of weight, and then actually gained a good bit of it back but in muscle. I actually weigh almost as much now as I did at my heaviest—my fattest, I mean. But now, it’s muscle.” She laughs. “My point is, I’ve been doing it awhile. You’re just starting. Don’t worry about it.”
I smile. “I think I should like to become more muscular, like you. You are very beautiful.”
She bumps me with her shoulder, a friendly gesture. “Well, babe, stick with me and I’ll get you there. Biggest thing is eating a lot, and a lot of protein.”
“I am a vegetarian. I have never eaten meat.”
“Never?”
I shake my head. “No. I have also never had alcohol. I choose to eat eggs, and I quite enjoy dairy.”
“Is it religious?” she asks.
I nod. “Oh yes. Also, simply, what I was allowed. It was chosen for me. But most who are Hindu are vegetarian. Not all, of course, but very many.”
“Are you, like, a religious person? Like active, and practicing?”
I shrug. “Not really. My parents are very devout, but as with many of the things which they chose for me and gave me no freedom to choose for myself, I did what I was told but kept my own thoughts to myself. Now, I remain vegetarian out of habit, I suppose.”
At that moment, I hear voices, and I see Rev and Kane together at the doorway—they’re both shirtless in very short drab green shorts, sweaty and still breathing hard.
“Ahh shit, couple’a sexy sweaty ladies,” Kane says, grinning at me. “What’ve you been up to, babe?”
I grin. “Myka has been teaching me to lift the weights,” I say. “She taught me clean, to press overhead, to deadlift, and to do push-ups. It is very difficult, and I am not very strong yet, however.”
Kane enters the gym, smiling me; his hair is tied up in a small tight bun at the top and back of his head. “Hey, strong is a journey. I didn’t get like this overnight.” He flexes his massive bicep, laughing wryly.
Myka smiles at Rev. “Hey, honey.” She looks at me, Kane, and then Rev again. “Our girl needs clothes. Can we go shopping?”
Rev and Kane exchange glances. “Sure,” Kane says. “I can take her.”
Myka shakes her head, swishing water in her mouth. “No offense, Kane, but you’re a dude. She needs a girl to shop with her.”
Kane shrugs. “Fine by me. Long as Rev comes with for moral support.”
Rev smirks. “No man left behind, right?”
Kane extends a fist, and they bump knuckles.
“I just need to rinse off,” Myka announces, “then we can go.” She looks at Rev again. “We need to stop by my apartment, I need more clothes here.”
