Room-maid(56)

I wasn’t really in the mood. Or maybe it was the fact that I was spending so much time in my own head trying to uncover any possible subtext that I was tired of doing it and didn’t want to rehash the lies I kept telling myself and the truths Tyler kept forcing me to acknowledge.

When I arrived at Standford Fitness and Training, I asked the woman at the front desk to please get the manager.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked.

“Yes. You can get me the manager. That would be the most help.” I was being rude, which she let me know from her expression, but I wanted this to be over.

She came back with a guy so buff I could barely see his neck. He shook my hand with a grip so hard he might have actually bruised some bones. He introduced himself as Billy. I explained the situation, including my financial hardships, and told him that I really needed my membership to be canceled.

“Tell you what,” Billy said. “How about we sign you up for six more months at only half price. If you’re not happy then, we can reconsider.”

Anger bubbled up inside me and I clenched my teeth together before saying, “Considering I’ve already paid you two years’ worth of membership fees for a gym I haven’t stepped foot in since I initially signed up, under duress, I might add, by a boyfriend whose idea of a good time is spending four hours looking at himself in mirrors while he works out, I think you probably owe me quite a bit more than six months at half price. I’m not interested in any specials or deals. I’m not going to change my mind. Can we please cancel this?” I was past being polite; I wanted it done.

Billy must have recognized my determination, because he didn’t offer me any other deals and simply said, “I’ll get the paperwork.”

And I decided no matter the outcome here, I was going to stop by my bank either today or tomorrow and get a new debit card that the gym wouldn’t have access to.

It would be worth the hassle to know that this wouldn’t happen again.

Speaking of things that wouldn’t happen again, I heard my name being called.

It was Brad.

This was the problem with Houston. It was supposed to be a big city, but it so often felt like a small town where I was constantly running (or almost running) into people I did not want to see.

It looked like Brad had just finished his workout and showered, and was probably headed to his father’s offices. For his “job.”

Since I was already on a canceling kick, I decided to add Brad to my list.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Did you come to see me?”

It was the delight in his voice that threw me. Like he was truly happy that I’d finally made the effort to come to his gym. But this place was another reminder as to why I needed to end things; we were not made to be together.

Like, for example, Brad loathed television and spent all his time watching videos on social media.

“I’m here to cancel my gym membership.” I hoped he caught my double meaning there, that by ending one thing having to do with him I was also planning on ending the relationship, but I figured it was probably too subtle. “Because I never wanted to be a member here.”

“Sure.” He sounded disbelieving. “The same way our relationship is ‘over.’” He made air quotes and I had never wanted to punch somebody more.

“It is over. I don’t know how else to explain it to you so that you’ll understand.” I wanted to tell him that I liked someone else so much more, but that would be humiliating if I was somehow forced to admit that Tyler didn’t like me back.

He looked angry. “I told you I was waiting for you. That I could commit myself to you. What more do you want?”

“Love? Respect? Fidelity? I’ll never have those things with you.”

“Let’s go somewhere and talk about this,” he said. “Someplace private.”

I really didn’t want to be alone and/or private with him. “I can’t. I have to get this membership thing straightened out and then I need to get back to work.”

Anger flashed across his face before he said, “So skip work. Shouldn’t an eight-year relationship, shouldn’t I, be more important than your job?”

He wasn’t. “I can’t just skip the rest of my day. People rely on me to show up and actually do my job. I don’t work for my daddy.”

“Whose fault is that?” he asked. Before I could respond he said, “I suppose none of this really matters because you’ll quit once we get engaged.”

I was so dumbfounded that it was several seconds before I regained my ability to speak. He was ridiculous and I knew, then and there, with a hundred percent certainty, that I was never ever going to marry Brad. And I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. He really thought he could make me stop working? If I’d been angry before, it was nothing compared to the total rage that threatened to consume me. My whole life my parents had tried to control me: what subjects I could study, who I was allowed to date and marry, where I could go to school, what kind of job I could have. I was so tired of other people assuming that they got to tell me how to run my life. Brad and I were never getting engaged or married. Was he delusional? “This is over. Please get that through your skull.”

Before he could respond, we were interrupted by one of Brad’s best frat buddies, Chip. He was carrying a gym bag, which made me think they’d been working out together. Or trying to hit on women together, since Chip seemed to enjoy encouraging Brad to cheat. I’d never liked the guy and I suspected the feeling was totally mutual. “We need to go. Sorry, Madison. But we have plans. You know how it is.”