Leah gets changed in the locker room, stuffing her things into a cubby and closing the padlock on the door. She runs over the code a few extra times to be sure she doesn’t forget it over the next hour.
Back in the gym, she starts her pre-class warm-ups. They do proper ones once the class has begun, but she likes to do her own too.
“You’ve been gone ha while,” the teacher says, walking up with a smile. She pronounces it “wayul,” and Leah grins a bit. I’m starting to like this accent. It’s quite cute.
“Visiting family.”
“Are dey far away?”
“Close, actually. I was surprised how close.”
“Most my family hare up in Trois-Rivières, hand a few are…” she gestures with an arm, “Way hout in nordern Halberta. Or, Alberta.”
“No don’t correct it, it’s cute.” Leah realises what she’s said too late, and reaches up a hand to cover her blush.
The teacher laughs a snorting laugh and shakes her head. “Hit’s fine, we tink de same ting of English people when dey speak French.”
“Oh?”
“Well I can’t say for you, you don’ hever speak it.”
“I’m trying to learn.”
“Good for you! Hit’s not easy to learn a new language has an adult.” A few other students arrive, and the teacher veers off to talk with them.
This is the first class of the day, and the wrestling mats smell like disinfectant instead of sweat. Leah pairs up with her usual partner, the only other anglophone near her weight category, and they start into the beginning exercises.
*
Class ends around one, and one of the students proposes they all go out to lunch. “There’s a new shake place not far away; I wanted to try it, we could turn it into a group thing…”
“Shakes? Like protein shakes?”
“C’est quoi un shake?”
“C’est comme un smoodie mais pour des fitness buffs.”
“I don’t believe in protein powder, I don’t think it works.”
“You don’t believe in protein?”
“I believe in protein, I just don’t believe it’s good for your body to get all its nutrients in powder format.”
“Alors c’est comme dans les vieux films? T’sais, tous les jeunes au bar avec le mec dans le p’tit chapeau blanc, un robinet pour chaque saveur?”
“I have a friend who’s been living off those ‘meal-in-a-bottle’ things for almost a year now, he’s doing okay.”
Leah lets the sound wash over her as she follows the group to the changing room and opens her cubby. The voices are soothing, the conversation casual and light, the room well-lit, the showers running in the background a pleasant white noise like a small waterfall in the woods, except with more naked women.
She snickers to herself and changes into her day clothes, packing her sweaty workout things into a bag to wash at home.
“You joining?”
Leah looks up at the nearby voice, and sees one of her classmates, head peeking around the lockers. “To the thing? Shakes?”
“Yeah, it’s just two of us for now, you wanna make an uneven third?”
Leah shrugs. “Is it expensive?”
“Don’t know, but we can ditch if it is.”
“Then…sure, sounds good.”
The head smiles and pulls back around the corner. Leah leaves with the other two and they walk out of the gym together. It’s a late summer day in the city, no wind, sun right above the streets.
Around the corner, the group pulls into a freshly painted building, with bright lights on the walls and ceilings, and jars labelled with foods and minerals on the far wall. Leah is distracted by the colours and designs, and falls a bit behind the group.
A black slate on one wall with colourful chalk writing has a list of drinks, with their ingredients marked underneath.
Kiwi…mango…vegan protein powder…cocoa powder…almond milk? Almond milk??
Leah hurries to catch up to the other two. “What’re you leaning towards?” one asks her. David, she thinks, but she doesn’t team up with him much as he outweighs her by at least eighty pounds.
“I can’t decide. I’ve never had a shake before.” Leah hesitates. “Is that weird to say, like saying you’ve never had pizza before?”
“Nah, shakes aren’t that popular. They’re a health-food thing, a fad.”
“They’re not a fad, they really work!” the other – Claire? Something like that – says. Claire looks tough enough to lift a full keg without breaking a sweat, so Leah trusts her judgement.
“I’m going with the chocolate one, I think,” David says, pointing to the menu. “Treat yo self, you know.”
Claire hums and reads through the sign. “I’m feeling the kale one, but I’m allergic to kiwis, so I can’t. You think they let you do off-menu stuff?”
“They make it fresh, they must be able.”
“I’ll do that, then. Leah?”
“I’m still deciding,” she says, and the other two take their places in line to order. Leah picks one at random and goes to join them.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“What’re you having?”
“The strawberry-aca…whatever.”
“Acai? They have acai? I’m changing my mind,” Claire says. “Does it have kiwi?”
Leah shrugs. “I just chose at random, I didn’t look.”
“You don’t care what’s in it?”
“I don’t feel this is going to be the most important choice I make all day, so why worry over it? I’ll be happy with anything, so long as I don’t have to make it myself.”
The other two laugh a bit at this. “Big mood,” David says.
The line moves quickly, and soon enough the group is leaving the store to sit on a bench outside. Leah takes a sip of her drink, and winces, adjusting to the flavour.
“Not good?” Claire asks.
“Just a little sour,” Leah answers.
Claire takes a sip of her own and winces as well. “I see what you mean, but it’s still good. I saw on the sign there’s lemon and extra vitamin C in it.”
“Citrus and vitamin C? At that point you’re over-saturating your system. You’re just gonna be peeing vitamins.”
“At least I know I won’t get sick today.”
“Pfft,” David takes a sip from his. “Oh, thick.”
“Good thick or bad thick?” Claire asks.
“No such thing as bad thick.”
“Word.” They high-five.
Leah watches in confusion. “Do you two know each other from outside the gym?”
Claire shakes her head, the straw still in her mouth. “Nah, we met at the wrestling class. I don’t know anyone else in the area, so I’m trying to make friends there.”
“Same here,” Leah says. Claire raises an eyebrow but does not stop drinking. “I mean, I didn’t know anyone, and I work nights, so a social life is hard. The gym is something to do during the day, and I meet cool people.”
David stirs his shake vigorously with the straw. “I came here for school, but I didn’t get accepted, so now I’m just working in fast food until something else comes along. My coworkers are nice, but they’re all either sixteen years old or sixty, and I don’t have anything in common with them.”
Claire finally separates from her straw long enough to talk. “I’m in uni, finishing up my master’s in biochem. There’s a really nice wildlife reserve not far from here, along the river, and I want to work there when I graduate.”
“How does wrestling fit in to that?” Leah asks, and Claire shrugs.
“I started in cegep and forgot pretty much everything I’d ever learned. I wanted to get back in shape.”
“Same; I took a class in high school and really liked it, but never had the money to pursue it. Now that I don’t have to pay tuition, I can indulge.” David turns to Leah, for her turn.
“I used to do gymnastics, but I decided that wasn’t for me, and wrestling looked fun. My dad used to do MMA, so I guess that played a part in my choosing it.”
“Oh cool, what style? My brother does some Brazilian jiu-jitsu,” Claire says.
“I think he said he preferred the Muay-Thai stuff, but I don’t remember exactly.”
“Oh shit, that one’s lethal,” David says, appreciatively. “Your dad sounds badass.”
“Nah, he’s a softie.”
“That’s what I try to be, as a man,” David says. “Strong but not threatening.”
“That’s a good goal,” Claire says kindly, then latches on to the straw again.
Leah’s heart is pounding from the rush. The lie came so naturally to her, and went over so smoothly. Why did I ever make shit up? It’s so much easier when you know the truth and can just tell people that, even when it’s not really real.
The group talks on, about little things – aches from bruises, stresses about money and school, complaints about clients at work. Claire finishes her shake first and tells a long story about her job at a daycare, the foibles of sick children who are too young to realise they’re sick. Leah successfully avoids mentioning her work, other than to say she’s a bar-back and doesn’t get tips.
“Nah, that makes sense, that you’re not getting tips,” Claire says. “You don’t have to really engage with the clients on the same level when you’re a bar-back. I used to go to this one place all the time, back in Montreal – like, twice a week at least. After a few months of that I found out that my best friend from high school worked as a bar-back there. I’d already learned the names of every bartender, their families, their backgrounds, their personalities, and a few months in I finally see the bar-back, just one time.”
“I feel any job that means you have to put up with customers’ dumb questions, you should get tips,” David says. “Like, working the grill in a fast food place? I’m fine not getting tips, because I don’t have to talk to dumbass clients who can’t understand that a cheeseburger without cheese is just a damn hamburger. But if I’m at the cash, then I want those people to pay atonement for what they put me through.”
Claire laughs openly at this, and Leah joins in easily. The shake is getting lukewarm, and she finishes it off, looking around for a garbage bin.
“We should do this more,” Leah says, and David nods. “Not like, every week, because that would get expensive, but, I dunno, every other week?”
“I don’t always take classes on Mondays, but whenever I see one or the other of you I’ll put it to a vote,” Claire says. “This is fun. And it’s great weather for it, too. I don’t get to spend much time outside.”
“I’m down,” David says, throwing his empty cup into a nearby bin and missing. He gets up with a sigh to go put it in properly. Claire laughs at him and takes her turn to try and throw her cup in the can; she gets it in after a flip-bounce on the rim. She gestures to Leah, giving her a warm-up rub on her shoulders. Leah throws the cup, watches it arc, and it lands perfectly vertical on the lid of the bin next to the garbage.
“Ayy!” Both Claire and David cheer, David reaching over to knock the cup into the bin. Leah isn’t certain of the rules of whatever game they’ve just played, but she thinks she might have just won.
*
Gloria and Hiroe corner her at work, the moment she arrives. They shower her with questions until she promises them the whole story of her reunion with her family. Samuel looks up from getting the bar ready, and even a couple of the French girls look over curiously.
Leah punches in and starts sharing the highlights – the cute dog, the barbecue, sitting with her dad and talking about fight classes, how her mother hovered over her and fussed about everything. She remembers in time not to mention Jeremy.
“Is it hard to call them mum and dad?” Hiroe asks, as she puts a protective coating over her face makeup – “setting powder” she’d called it.
Leah gets a little glum for a second. “A bit, yeah. It feels like…I don’t know, sort of like they haven’t done anything to deserve the name yet, and sort of like I’m taking a space in their family that I don’t deserve yet.”
Hiroe leans over and gives her a quick hug, patting her hair. “You’ve been through some tough shit, sweetie, coming over here with nothing and making something of yourself, not knowing the language, not knowing the people. Sometimes, when life gives you shit, you grab the nice things it gives you and you don’t feel guilty about it.” Hiroe leaves to go put on her shoes, dainty leather-strapped things that go up to her knees.
Gloria smiles at her across the bar. “No bad parts?”
Leah shrugs. “Some people were upset I didn’t speak French. Other than that, no. They were even okay with the whole girls thing.”
“Oh?” Gloria smiles. “Does that mean next time you visit you bring me along with you?”
Leah blushes. “Oh, uh, well…I’d have to warn them…I’d have to debrief you…” Visions of her two worlds colliding fill her head, and she forgets how to talk English.
Gloria laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m kidding. We’re not even properly dating yet.”
Leah continues to fold small towels and set them aside for the girls to use to clean the poles. She struggles to talk. Gloria seems to be waiting for something. “Should we be?”
Gloria shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”
“Um…”
Gloria pats the counter a few times. “It’s okay, I don’t want to pressure you. Just watch me shake my ass around on stage and think about it, okay?”
Leah snickers, then frowns. “Nah. The stuff on the stage doesn’t do it for me.”
“Oh?”
“It’s too…” Leah gestures abstractly, then makes an hourglass shape with her hands. “You know?”
“The lesbian is saying that pole dancing is too feminine?”
“Not too feminine, just…” Leah shrugs. “Too…” She makes the hand gesture again.
“What would you change about it to make it less…” Gloria copies the hand waves.
Leah shrugs. “I guess…more muscle-y? I’ve seen you do some really impressive moves, ones that take so much strength, but never during the busy hours.”
Gloria clicks her tongue. “Men don’t want strength, men want…” She waves her hands, and Leah giggles. “But I think I get what you mean, now. Anyway, it’s a good thing.”
“What is?”
Gloria gestures to the stage. “This is my job, not me. ‘Amber’ is a character, and she exists because men want her to exist. I’m glad you’re not as fond of her as you are of me.”
Leah is a little stunned by that sudden realisation, and Gloria has left to put her hair up in a bun before Leah has had time to recover and answer.