Bound

Ryke & Kate

Ryke

The thick rope cut into my waistline and I stopped, needing a break from the burn. I pressed my hands to my knees and sweat rolled from my hairline down my face, droplets splashing onto the concrete at my feet.

"Did I tell you to stop?" My trainer Dave's shrill whine was the only noise in the otherwise quiet woods.

I was panting so hard I didn't feel like talking, so I just shook my head, and more sweat flew.

"Get moving!"

I knew there was fire in my eyes when I glared at him. I tried not to be one of those assholes who hires a guy to train him and then bitches the entire time, but today I was dragging. Waving a hand at the wood pallet behind me, I stood and faced my graying, 40-something friend.

"That rock you put on it weighs about a hundred pounds! Dragging that shit uphill is hard." I scrubbed a hand down my face and it slid across my soaked skin.

"Everything we do is hard, Ryke." Dave folded his arms over his chest and gave me the monotone I hated. "Get your ass moving or I'll make you do it again."

I shook my head with disgust. "Yeah. I'd like to see you try it."

Dave's booming laugh pissed me off more than the monotone. "I'm a 44-year-old trainer, son. You're a 27-year-old world class professional athlete. You wanna stay there? Run that fucking pallet to the tree line."

He was right. Bitching took energy I didn't feel like wasting today. I pulled my t-shirt up and mopped my face off, then bent and continued. My legs burned with the effort, and I pushed myself hard to get past the line of trees so I could untie the rope and catch my breath.

Dave let me be while I drank from a water bottle and checked the messages on my phone. I blew out a breath when I saw a text from my team's front office about one of my teammates having to cancel a visit to a children's hospital tonight because of a family emergency. They wanted to know if I'd go in his place.

Tonight was the grief support meeting at the hospital. I didn't go every week anymore, but I was planning on going tonight. I was hoping the blonde from last week, Kate, would be back. I'd thought about her a few times and wanted to talk to her.

"Let's go!" Dave called, waving me over. Training outside was a nice break from the gym, but it was hotter than hell today. I texted the front office guy that I'd fill in at the hospital. I never said no to that stuff. Nothing put things in perspective like seeing those kids smiling and excited despite their serious illnesses. Just thinking about it made me feel like a real pussy for bitching about the workout.

I tossed my phone back to the ground and dumped the last of the cool water over my hair, ready to get back to work.

***

Kate

The butterflies were gone from my stomach as I stepped off the hospital elevator for my third grief support meeting. I'd gotten comfortable here. Last week I'd just listened, and hearing others say they felt crazy, angry and unable to move on had soothed my sadness like a salve. I wasn't the only one. Funny how I felt more kinship with this random mix of strangers than a lot of my longtime friends.

I pushed through the door and saw that a lot of people were already there. I was running late after a day of what I considered my full time job – job hunting. My black blazer and skirt -- my work seeking uniform – made me stand out in this jeans and sneakers crowd.

I'd worn the same outfit yesterday, so today I'd changed it up with shiny red heels and a lacy red camisole. The suit was dry clean only, which I couldn't afford, so I tried to sweat as little as possible in it. Considering it was almost July, that was a challenge.