Bad Hair Day at The Center

I was breathless, and I didn’t know whether it was because of the pectoral fly machine or what had just happened. The day had started out uneventfully. I’ve always been a gym rat. I love working out. I’d gone for a run first, the clear blue sky still cold, and robins and blue jays out for the first time. I’d gotten a gym membership at The Center because I didn’t know if the weather in Ellwood City was like at home, where a cold March day could be either a snowy whiteout or shorts weather, it was so unpredictable. As it turned out, in Ellwood City, it was the latter. I didn’t need the membership. But I’d already spent the money, so I figured I might as well use it.

               I’d seen him several times before. He was on a three-day rotation, so every third day he was in the vicinity of the fly machine when I was finishing up my workout. Honestly, I never would have really noticed him if it hadn’t been for what happened. You might know the type. Driven. He arrived at the gym at the same time every day. He had a large ionic water bottle that he took from machine to machine. In fact, my first impression of him was that he seemed a bit self-centered. For example, he moved the pin on each machine to his weight and never moved it back. Bad gym etiquette. What if I had been working a circuit? I’d have had to remember where the pin was and move it back. That’s how you can tell a selfish person at the gym. He was one of them.

               Anyway, that day had been somewhat trying. I’d had Chem lab and my partner, Rufus, had screwed up our lab again. Rufus is a mess. I had only been paired with him because I was a late add-on to Chemistry and Rufus had no partner. He is always nervous. Why he decided to pursue a pre-med program is beyond me. Anyone with such shaky hands is bound to make a lousy doctor. Rufus branded me after our first class. Not metaphorically. It happened. I have a scar on my inner wrist because when Rufus had put glass tubing over the Bunsen burner to create a rounded bottom test tube for our lab project, he was staring and didn’t pay attention to the red hot poker of a test tube as it scorched my wrist. I screamed. The class had stared at me and Jennifer Homulka had been so surprised she dropped a beaker of chemicals on the floor, making the entire room smell like rotten eggs. The linoleum tile melted in that spot. Sheesh. I still felt bad enough for Rufus that I continued to be his lab partner. He just spaces out sometimes. Frequently.

               On the particular day of the gym incident, Rufus was being a space cadet, and had overfilled the trough with hydrochloric acid. It had run over the edge of the trough and began running down the counter, quickly eating through my favorite shirt and the top edge of my jeans. Dr. Steele, our professor, had come running over with an emergency canister of neutralizer and had sprayed with such vigor that I truly wondered whether she was simply spraying out her anger and frustration on me. There was neutralizer foam on my jeans and on my tee shirt, which was plastered to me, and when I looked over at Rufus, he was again wearing that deer-in-the headlights look on his face that makes me feel like choking him and giving him a sympathy hug at the same time.

 I’d gone directly from lab to the gym that day, and I was pressing more weight out of frustration than I ever had before. What do you do when your lab partner is a complete wreck, but there’s no one else left to choose from?

               That’s when I lost my breath. I was just getting up from my set when Driven winked at me. At first, I wasn’t sure. My breath quickened, but as I wandered over to refill my water bottle, he winked again. It was a serious wink. No smile. It was not playful. This was the wink of someone who didn’t mess around. This was the wink of a man who meant business. No flirtations, just a universal signal of desire.

               An electric shock went through my stomach and into my palms. I’ve gotten used to the gym, where all people seem to stare at each other more than in other environments, but this was something different. It was almost scandalous. I knew the sensation. On any other day, I will tell you how I would have reacted: I’d have ignored it. No, worse. I would have ignored it and simpered off to another machine in a remote corner of the gym. I’d rearrange my workout schedule so that I would avoid the uncomfortable situation of making eye contact. I’d have probably rearranged my entire schedule so that I would avoid seeing him entirely. This would be the safe thing, the responsible thing, the thing that I would expect myself to do. This would be my reaction on any given day.

               But something happened that day. For weeks, out of sympathy for poor Rufus, I’d been encouraging him to meet me at the gym. Maybe if Rufus had a little more body coordination, he’d not turn me into a walking example of Chem lab “don’ts” every week. Maybe he’d meet someone and become less spacey and pull it together. Maybe he’d relax a little. So, Rufus and I sometimes met, and it was catching Rufus’s eye that suddenly made me feel like his pathetic demeanor was rubbing off on me. There and then I decided no simpering. I wouldn’t be like Rufus. I was going to give it right back. I would turn a new page. Wink at me just because you think I’m a girl and I’ll be wowed by your directness? Think again.

               I walked back to the fly machine. I loaded on another ten pounds. I did my set and threw my head back and took a long slow drink of water from my bottle, letting a tiny rivulet of water run over my hot pink cheeks and my salty lips. I could feel eyes on me. I undid my ponytail and shook out my hair. A miniscule mist of sweat shook loose.

               The nerve! Really. Those men! We cater to them, I found myself thinking. They think that they can move the pin and just because we are women, it doesn’t matter if they don’t put it back. They think that they can interrupt our sets, plunk down their ionic water wherever there’s a perching space. They think that we would just melt at their silly little flirtations, that we have no power, that we would be mesmerized by them. They think that it doesn’t matter who is doing the winking, we should be grateful for any of their attentions.

               I recalled seeing Driven pull up to the gym on other days. He drove a T-bird, an old one. It figured. Probably compensating for what’s under the hood, if you know what I mean. Now that I thought about it, he was desperate for attention. No wonder he winked. He probably couldn’t communicate using the English language, the Cretin. Seriously, didn’t he see that I was only nineteen? I had a world of potential interests at my own college. I certainly wasn’t interested in Mr. I’m-so-great-I don’t-have-to-say-anything.

               At this point, I was positively righteous. Rufus was bug-eyed. It was enough. Enough to wake me up. If no one else was going to tell this guy how things were, I would. Wait. No. I had a better idea. I would beat him at his own game. I would surprise him so much he would see what it’s like to be made to feel like a piece of meat. I glanced back at him. He seemed pre-occupied. He was hunched over his machine and there was a woman with a clipboard who was huddling near him.

               She’ll never stand up for herself, I thought. She’ll just let him wink, never mind the age difference or how. . . rude it was for him to be so bold. Well, I thought to myself, then it’s going to be up to me to show the women how it’s done. He could continue to wear his tank shirt that violated gym rules, drive his car that said “look at me!” and treat some people as though he were God’s gift to the gym, but by God it wasn’t going to be me.

               I slowly walked back in his direction. My shoulders were back. I held my head high. I slowed down. When I was directly in front of him I stopped. It was as though time had stopped. I could feel the eyes of the other gym members upon us. Good, I thought to myself. Watch and learn. The moment was mine. Never again would anyone at the gym mistake me for someone to play. I leveled myself and looked him right in the eye. I saw it twitch. A sign of weakness. Hmmm, I thought. Not so sure of yourself when it really comes down to facing me, are you? Should I talk? No. I was going to give it right back to him, just as he had given it to me. Slowly I stared in his icy blue eyes. I paused for a conscious second. It would be important to get the timing right. Steadily, slowly, I closed my right eye and opened my mouth in the most provocative wink I could muster. Then, I turned around and slowly started in the direction of the dressing room.

               Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack. Awkward footfalls sounded on the gym matting behind me. I felt a hot hand on my shoulder. Mmmhmm, that’s right, I was thinking. Go ahead and be amazed. Surprised, aren’t you? How does it feel to be objectified? But it was Rufus.

               “What are you doing?” he squeaked.

               “I’m giving it right back to him,” I said, rather nonchalantly.

               Rufus made a noise that I had never heard before. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the gym door.

               “Rufus!” I said sharply.

               He was yanking me.

               We were outside, fresh air, sunshine, a beautiful day.

*            *            *            *

               “Well, honestly, how was I to know he had lost his contact lens? For God’s sake, that could have happened to anyone. Really, how many people would have been paying attention? It’s just a gym, and I’m sure most of them were focused on other things, right?”

               “Yeah, right.” Rufus replied. He did not sound convinced.

               “Should I change gyms?” My cheeks were starting to feel hot.

               “I don’t know.”

               “Oh, God,” I said. “I can’t believe I did that.”

               Rufus put a hand on mine.

               “But Rufus, you don’t know what it’s like to be me. No man ever says what he means, it’s like it was bound to happen sooner or later, they’re all so . . . assuming. Honestly, couldn’t someone ever just say what they mean and mean what they say?”

               “Hey.”

               “What?” 

Really, Rufus was starting to annoy me now.

               “Well. . . ."

               “Well, what?” I was almost screaming.

               “Well, I’ll just ask you then . . . . "

"Ask me what?" I was indeed screaming.

"Do you want to go to the spring formal with me?”

*            *            *            *

               And that was how we met. I suppose in some ways I have that wink to thank for becoming closer to Rufus. Who knows how it’ll turn out? Don’t get me wrong, Rufus can still be a total dork, but he’s a lovable dork, and isn’t that all that really matters? Besides, I can be a dork myself sometimes. There. I said it. Now, go on about your business. We all have a bad hair day every once in a while.