Sweat beaded on his brow from the strain, just one more and then, just one more again. Failure. His shoulders slumped forward and his head dropped. He replaced the dumbbells on to the weight rack and paused a moment, while he recovered a little energy.
He stared down at the floor and then raised his chin enough to see the reflection in the mirror from under his eyebrows. He watched a trail of sweat run down his neck to join the pool that had already soaked into his shirt. He took a glance either side to see who was watching but the gym was relatively empty this night. Just a big guy benching a uselessly high weight and a younger girl taking selfies in the mirror with different faces. Instagrammer, he thought.
He brought his attention back to the image directly in front and was relatively happy with what he saw. It had been a long road to get to this point, a lot of work to overcome the weaknesses of genetics, the lottery that no one enters, yet still has winners and losers. He had beaten most of it and removed the softness that he was once associated. The receding hairline was one one thing exercise would not bring back.
A thought flashed across his mind of being one of those aging men wearing a toupee or getting hair plugs. Nope, as much as it annoyed him, he was not that insecure. Cropped short will be the way he will go, just like the army days. Of course, he didn't choose the army, it was compulsory, as was the cropped hair that inevitably came with it. If he had his choice, he would have spent the year studying instead.
School was where he excelled, maths was his pet subject since he was young and he followed it all the way into engineering. He thought that doing what he loved would not only bring an income for his young family, but fulfil him mentally also. He hadn't factored in what most people fail to also, he would likely have to work for a company and people that are unlikely to give him the kind of work he found interesting. Dreary, grey days behind a desk ensued while surrounded with other people disillusioned by their life choices.
His body had recovered enough and he stood up and looked into the mirror once more. Age was creeping in, he still had time, but he could see that it was well on the way. He hated the idea of aging, all of this work only to have it torn away by time and the frailty of humanness. Well, he would make the most of it at least.
He wasn't training for looks anymore, he had passed that stage of life. Now he had purpose beyond that. He had entered his first marathon only a year before but that was the kick that made him aim for an ironman. He had always been outdoorsy but this training was pushing him to the limits. What he figured was that once he was in condition, maintenance would be relatively easy so it wouldn't go to waste.
He hated wastage. Perhaps it was the practical engineer in him or perhaps he was just cheap but most likely it was the words of his father; 'never waste an opportunity'. It didn't matter which it was though, the result is the same which meant waste was not part of his process, no excess. Even the way he spoke was without anything extra. His wife had once asked him why he didn't tell her he loved her more. He had joked, 'I told you at the wedding, if something changes, I'll let you know'.
His son was the exception to the rule. Every good rule needs one he thought and this was his. When it came to his son, there was only excess. Of course, this wasn't about material things, this was about love and affection. Not a day passed when he didn't hold his son close and tell hi he loved him. His father had done the same to him. Family was everything.
And this is why what he did in the gym would never go to waste, the development of his body complemented that of his mind and he would use the two in tandem to teach and play with his son, until he could play no more. He didn't realise it himself, but after the birth of their child he changed, he became a better person. And his wife fell in love a little more.
He pushed on the door to the gym and it opened out to the drizzling rain. 'Autumn' he thought as he hunched his shoulders and ran over to his waiting bike. He hated riding in the rain but figured he must as the weather is unpredictable even in the summer and he wanted to be prepared. Just in case.
It wasn't a long ride anyway as their home was just outside of the little city in a quiet neighbourhood. He quite enjoyed the ride even in the rain as it gave him time to think. As mundane as his work was, it didn't give much time to really focus on his own thoughts. In the darkness he was free to think all he wanted but right now, the only thoughts were to his stomach.
Hunger was stealing his thinking time so he decided to spend some time thinking about food instead. Namely bread. If he had to choose one food for the rest of his life, it would be bread. It was killing him that as part of his training he had to cut down a little but it also allowed him to experiment with new recipes and test them on the family. Some were winners, some were not. Much like the genetic lottery he thought. Of course, even the failures didn't go to waste as with enough butter, any bread is edible. For him, bread was like sex, even bad bread is okay.
The roads were dark now and the little light there was got sucked into the landscape as if into a black hole. This time of the year was undeniably horrible. No leaves on the trees, no snow to light the ground. He watched as the LED lamp on his bike beamed in front and was bounced back by the reflective signs and as he passed, they were pulled hard back into the gloom. Besides the patch of light pushed in front revealing the road moving beneath, he felt he could have been on an exercise bike, peddling stationary in space.
He turned out of the city and onto the little road that led home. During peak times it was full but at this time of night and in this weather, it was deserted. It wasn't far now and he was pumping his legs hard now, a final of his fuel before he retired for the day. The energy would return tomorrow but the moment now was where he could gain. No waste, even at this time of night.
His mind had forgotten the hunger while his body poured the last traces of energy into the last kilometre ahead. his legs burned even though even though his speed was not high, he was done. A couple more hundred meters and he would be home anyway, he backed off and let the bike coast along the asphalt. He looked at his watch, the beating heart of the pulse read 192, 185, 170. With all the work he had put in, he recovered fast. No heart attack likely for me at least, he thought.
Lights lit the forest from behind and removed the feeling of riding in the void. Instead, the trees cast shadows that made them appear ghost like and spidery. He hugged the edge a little tighter and looked back over his shoulder. The high beams burned his eyes and he turned back. The lights of his street were in view now as the lights of the approaching car became very bright.
"I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to hit the guy." he quietly sobbed while looking at his hands.
His eyes were red and the smell of alcohol filled the room. The officer calmly made a note on some forms. He had seen this before in his career, several times in fact. Hit and runs were not uncommon in a place where people liked to drink but, this one was different.
He glanced out of his office window and watched as a colleague sat speaking with a woman. Her eyes were even redder than those of the man in front of him. A young boy was sitting quietly by her side, looking confused and lost, staring at his feet as they swung from the chair that was much too large for him.
He turned his attention back to the man and noticed that he had lifted his head and was watching him. There was something there, a brief flash of something in the eyes or the corner of the mouth and then gone as he averted his gaze again.
"So, you hit him and he went over the windscreen. You then stopped the car. The question I have is, why did you then reverse?"
The man didn't answer, he just kept staring at his hands, wringing them slightly. His mind however was not silent.
'Never waste an opportunity.'
Taraz
[ a Steemit original ]
This is the fifth in the Halloween series: Random acts of Violence.
*This is dedicated to @apsu who is a hard man to pin down, yet a good man with which to joke. Or perhaps I have lived in Finland too long and their strange sense of humour is starting to rub off on me.
This was a real good read and it made me really happy
to see me diewhen I could see myself in this. I made a connection with the @apsu of the story and he felt like that could be me. Maybe... hopefully not till the end at least.Damn those car drivers ruining my good rides and ending my life.
Thank you, you made me feel more alive when I could read about myself dying.
You are most welcome mate and I am glad you enjoyed it and I hope that it brings you a good feeling whenever you read about your death.
great work
I saw bread and couldn't immediately think of him! But does he really like bread that much?