Between Better and Worse

He coached her through some basic lifts. She could barely handle the empty bar, forty-five pounds. He told her to lift that until it hurt, every other day. Once it didn't hurt any more they'd put some weight on the bar. She was concerned about getting too buff, like lady bodybuilders. She had no idea how hard she'd have to work to get that strong.

He knew that women were supposed to do some different lifts from men but he wasn't sure what they were. He showed Paula some instructional videos that Christina had posted. He sighed involuntarily when he saw her beautiful face and spandex-clad body.

"That's your girlfriend, isn't it?" Paula asked.

"Ex-girlfriend."

"You should call her. Get back together with her."

"Don't worry about it."

"I feel bad that..."

"Don't worry about it," he repeated, and she knew that was final.

Paula lifted three times a week, then four, then five. He knew this because she never re-racked her weights. Kent thought back to that night they made love in the gym's private locker room. 'Maybe if I get some muscles you'll like me better,' she teased him then. She was getting muscles now, and he did like it. He liked sharing this activity with her, liked that she was interested in things he enjoyed. It fascinated him to see her body transform over time.

She wasn't so thrilled with her new look. Sometimes Kent would find her gazing at herself in the mirror with a glum look on her face. "The fat's what made me pretty. My face has lost its softness. My boobs shrunk. I have sharp edges everywhere. I look like a man now."

Kent assured her that in no way did she look like a man. But she leaned into the thought, dressing in what she thought was a mannish fashion. On another woman the look might have been masculine. But on Paula it only added to her femininity. The cargo pants accentuated her hips. The t-shirts put her still-impressive bosom on display and hugged her diminishing waistline. She kept her blond hair cut short, showing her delicate neck and throat and jawline.

The mirror didn't show her the confidence in her stance, the grace in her stride. She couldn't see the amazing interplay of muscle and tendon in her limbs when she stretched. She didn't see the joyful light in her face when they worked out together, or hiked or biked or skated. And the looks she got... not the leers that men always gave her, but the curious looks of admiration that she got from both men and women. Already beautiful, she was now remarkable.

He tried to explain this to her, one day when she was in a mood, and she asked him, "If you find me so alluring, why don't you make love to me?"

So he did. It was a long languorous afternoon of tenderness, not violently passionate like their lovemaking of the past. Kent didn't feel the need to impress or dominate her or even to make her come or cry out. He simply reveled in the sensations of being with her after being at arm's length for so long. With her changed body and attitude it was like being with her for the first time, but at the same time like reuniting with an old friend.

After that she moved into his bed. And while they renewed the heat and excitement of their earlier relationship there remained a sweet mildness that kept Kent right on the edge of wanting a little more.

*****

That winter Paula's brother Marcus called. It was about their father. He was in the hospital and didn't have long to live. Paula wasn't returning his calls and Marcus was hoping Kent could persuade her to visit him. Kent knew this was a lost cause so he made the trip himself. Marcus was a good guy and very grateful for the visit.

"He really wants to talk with you," he said. Why don't I go get something to eat so you can be alone."

Kent didn't know the old man well. Paula's relationship with him had been frosty as long as he knew her. But they met at family occasions over the years and Kent knew him as a vital, charismatic person. He was not expecting the pile of ashes he found in the semi-private room. He glanced around the divider, hoping this was someone else's dad. But no, it was him. It doesn't matter how well you eat or how hard you train, Kent reflected. This is where you end up, unless you're lucky enough to die young.

"Thank you... for coming... Kenny," The old man had a hose strapped to his nostrils and paused every couple of words to inhale from it.

"Paula would have come but, uh..." Kent wished he hadn't begun the lie and now he didn't know how to finish it.

"I know... she has uh... caused you... some uh... trouble... over the years. I uh... want to say... I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, sir."

"It is... my fault... Kenny. I did a... terrible thing."

Kent's collar felt tight all of a sudden and his breathing became labored. "What do you mean, sir?"

"When her... mother died... I was... so lonely. I did a... terrible thing."

Something red and angry awoke inside him and tried to crawl up through his throat. But the innocence that still ruled him clung to a scrap of hope that he misunderstood what the old man was saying. He tried to speak, but could only croak, "Wha-at?"

"She was... so much... like her... her mother. I am... so sorry."

Kent didn't reply, didn't move, didn't drop the friendly face that had become a mask. The red anger escaped his throat and filled his head, filled his ears with a throbbing heartbeat, filled his limbs with a twitchy, easy strength that could kill a man with the slightest trigger.

"Ask her... forgive me. Please... ask her."

Kent sat there unmoving, listening to the drumbeat in his ears. He explored the room with his eyes and breathed deeply, mastering himself despite all. He thought about his own parents, his solid American upbringing. Firm, fair, loving, he couldn't have asked for better. Why can't everyone have parents like that, he wondered. Would his father grow old and sick, like this? Would he visit him in a room like this and have to see him reduced to a pile of ashes?

When he had sufficiently distracted himself he smiled at the old man and nodded and rose to his feet. Without a word he turned and calmly stepped out. Only when he was out on the sidewalk did he give vent to his feelings and howled like a wounded animal.

*****

Kent took Paula to the company picnic. It was her first time meeting his new coworkers and needless to say she was a big hit. He had neglected to tell them of the change in their relationship and he felt some irritation watching them fall over each other for her attention. Jerry in particular tried to monopolize her time, kind of making a fool of himself.

Paula was unusually quiet on the drive home. When Kent pulled into the driveway and turned off the key she asked him, "Did you tell Jerry we were just friends?"

"That was a long time ago, you know, when we were only roommates."

Paula shuddered when he said this. Evidently she disagreed with his description of their relationship. "OK, and since then you never saw the need to set him straight?"

Kent weighed his next words. "Yeah, that was wrong of me. I should have said something. I guess it was never the right moment."

"How about now? Am I your girl now?"

The question irritated him for some reason. He opened the door and climbed down. He took a deep breath and prepared to say the stupidest thing ever. "You might be anyone's girl, any given day. You never made any bones about that."

He slammed the door shut so he wouldn't have to hear her response. His cool manner disguised the sickness and self-loathing that gripped him. At that very moment he realized how much he loved her, and how he ruined everything in an unguarded moment. Story of his life.

He heard the truck door open and shut, heard her footsteps hurrying up behind him. He was expecting her to hit him or at least yell at him. But she took his arm gently and turned him to face her. Her eyes were brimming with tears which broke his heart.

"Do you want me to go?"

"No, Paula. I want you to stay. I want you to stay with me forever. I don't want to share you. But if sharing you is the only way I can keep you then I guess that's what I'll have to do." He felt his own tears welling up. She tried to hug him but he pushed her back. "But just so you know, I'm gonna hate it. And I'm gonna hate you for making me do it."

She stood there, looking down. When she raised her eyes she was calm but so sad. "I'm not going to ask you to do that. Not now. And I'm sorry for doing it before. I should have apologized a long time ago for how I treated you. I guess it was never the right moment."

She took his hands and he let her. "It's hard to put in words what I was thinking. I didn't want to be tied down, not when we were so young. I thought you would to be free as well, to have fun, to have... experiences. I couldn't understand why you didn't. Now I understand."

"What do you understand?"

Her voice shook with emotion. "Love, I hope. To want something so much that nothing else matters. To need something so badly that it... it hurts."

He pulled her close and she collapsed against him, sobbing. "I'll go if you don't want me. But I love you, Kent. And if you could ever forgive me I promise to serve you. I never want to make you unhappy again."

Kent took a minute to rein in his emotions. Then he put his hand under her chin and lifted her tear-streaked face. "I do want you, Paula. I might even forgive you. And I'm gonna hold you to your promise. But let's take it inside."

*****

They got married in November at the county courthouse. Paula was striking in an off-the shoulder cornflower sheath. Kent wore his navy-blue suit, accessorized with a fresh shave and haircut. Kent's parents were there for him. Marcus and his wife were there for Paula. Jerry brought his current girlfriend, the slender, green-eyed Colleen.

After the ceremony they took their friends across the street to the city's best and only steakhouse. There they were toasted with champagne but Kent stuck to sweet iced tea. He had a long drive ahead of him, to New Mexico to meet her grandparents. And Paula? Well, she wasn't drinking either.

After their brunch, the little party started breaking up. There were a lot of hugs and tears and laughter. Kent arm-wrestled his father for the check and reluctantly let him win. Kent's mother took Paula aside and he pretended not to be interested in what was being said.

"Paula," his mother began. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it. You weren't the girl I wished for my boy."

"I know, Mama."

"But he loves you and he'll take care of you. Will you take care of him?"

"I will, Mama."

His mother reached out and stroked Paula's midsection, the barest of bulges starting to show under the tight blue lace. "And you take care of this baby, OK?"

"Yes, Mama," she replied, a fresh round of tears staining her cheeks. The two women looked like they'd be hugging and crying a while so he shook hands with his father and went out to the truck.

Paula finally emerged, looking as composed as ever. Kent held the door for her and helped her into the cab.

"You all right?" He asked her.

"I'm all right," she assured him and gave him a weary smile.

He fired up the motor and started out toward the highway. A new life awaited him, awaited them. Their stories were intertwined now. He had the highest of hopes for the future. But he knew not every story had a happy ending. He put that thought behind him. For as he steered them westward, as she slid over to him and leaned on his shoulder, as he put his arm around her and kissed her forehead, there was nowhere in the world he would rather be.