Too Personal Trainer

One

Marlow stood on the side of the road next to her car – she called it that, but it was too much of a piece of junk to even have the right to be classed as one. She watched people drive past her. One by one they flew by in their working cars, in the warmth, no doubt having a good old laugh at the woman stood on the side of the road.

Stupid car, Marlow grunted. Stupid piece of junk.

She walked away from her car and along the side of the road in hope to find someone to help her. It was past 10pm, it was dark, cold and the rain that poured from the black clouds above only seemed to get heavier. The race of her heart grew heavier, too, for she knew that walking the motorway at this time of night screamed nothing but danger. Marlow hated danger. She played safe, never took risks.

Risks. Her gut twisted in fear when her feet took her up a small narrow path; one hell of a risk. It seemed to go on forever. Nothing but a path surrounded by green fields made her eyes well up. She was lost. She was going to die in the middle of nowhere. Worst part, no one would know.

Marlow tried to shift the negative thoughts from her head as she walked for miles in her wet, soggy ugg boots; perfect shoes for driving in, but not for walking miles up some steep, muddy path. Well, she hoped it was mud and not some animals manure. She also hoped that the path she dragged herself along wasn't a road.

When Marlow reached the top of the path she saw a light. For a moment, she figured a car had knocked her flat on the floor and it was the light to heaven, but then a gust of wind hit her bare arms and she realised she was well and truly alive and the light was coming from a building. Her walk turned into a jog – a mistake, for she realised just how much rain water her ugg boots had collected – as she wanted nothing more to get some help and be back on the road towards her brother's house. As she got closer and she realised it was a pub. Warmth. Light. People!

The smell of beer and cigarettes hit Marlow like a slap in the face when she burst inside. And all eyes were on her as she made her way towards the bar. She felt like an intruder. A foreigner. As if the pub was a secret and her arrival had spilled and revealed it.

She reached the bar with a long exhale of breath. “Hi,” she said to the bar tender. “I need to use your phone. My car broke down a few miles back.”

He laughed a mocking laugh and handed a pint of beer to a man in a suit. “The lady wants to use the phone!” his loud announcement is followed by laughter. “Phone don't work, darlin'. We here in the middle of nowhere. Can I get ya' a beer?”

Marlow shook her head. This had to be a joke. “No, you don't understand. My car has broken down and I was meant to be at my Brother's an hour ago... I need...” her voice cracked and that was her sign to stop. She nodded, slowly, took a seat at the bar. “Sure. A beer sounds great.”

But it didn't, in fact. Marlow didn't even like beer. She couldn't stand beer.

She put her head down on the bar, eyes closed, and willed herself not to cry. Tears never helped. Ever. They only made things worse and made situations seem a whole lot more grim than they truly are. She was dripping wet, sat in a middle-of-nowhere pub, and she couldn't feel her toes. It could be worse, right? It could always be worse.

“Bad day?” a voice spoke. “How far back is your car?”

Marlow kept her head on the table, hoping he would leave her alone. “Miles.”

“If it helps, you look great.”

“Thanks.”

“No, really. Wet hair. Wet clothes. I can't keep my eyes off of you.”