Dawn of Eve - MJ Howson (read full novel .txt) 📗

“Great job,” Jacob said. He stood up and took his phone out of his pocket. He flashed it toward Megan and said, “Messages.”

“Busy guy?” Megan asked. She took a few deep breaths in between chugging from her water bottle.

“Always.” Jacob frowned at the half dozen notifications this early in the morning. He began to swipe through them. “That was a good set. Last time you only did eight.”

“Really? I can never remember.”

“That’s my job.” Jacob shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Your job is to believe in yourself. You need to push yourself beyond your limits. Go outside what’s comfortable.”

“Were those messages from your girlfriend?”

“No.”

Megan smiled as she took a swig of water from her bottle. She asked, “Boyfriend?”

Jacob grinned, his scar twisting his upper lip. “My girlfriend’s still asleep.”

“Oh.”

Jacob continued to smile, ignoring the apparent disappointment Megan was trying to hide. Most clients inevitably asked Jacob if he was single. Pensive ones, like Megan, usually delayed the question until their session package ended. In Jacob’s experience, his gay clients were the bold ones, often asking in the first ten minutes of their initial session. Or, more often, before they even signed up.

Jacob waved his hand in a circle, indicating she needed to get back into position on the bench to begin her second set. She remained silent as she went through her routine. Jacob could see Megan was somewhat embarrassed by their brief exchange.

Megan completed her second set and handed the dumbbells back to Jacob. His phone began to buzz inside his pocket. It was continuous, indicating it was a phone call. Jacob never took calls in the middle of a client’s session. But he wondered why someone was calling him this early in the morning.

“Do you need to get that?” Megan asked.

“I can look when we’re done. You’ve got one set to go.”

After chugging back some water and wiping the sweat from her arms, Megan got back into position. She quickly and unenthusiastically pushed through eight reps before giving up and dropping the weights into Jacob’s hands. They exchanged pleasantries briefly while Jacob gushed about her progress and told her to consider signing up for another six sessions. Megan said she’d consider it. She collected her water bottle, towel, and phone.

“Don’t work too hard,” Megan said.

As she turned and walked away, Jacob said, “Megan, before you go–”

“Yes?” Megan spun around, smiling.

“Payment?”

“Oh.” Megan sighed, unlocked her phone, and used a cash app to send Jacob his payment. “Sorry.”

“Enjoy your day.”

“Thanks.”

Megan headed across the gym, her head hung low. She gave Jacob one last look and a small smile before disappearing into the locker room.

Jacob looked at the payment notification on his phone’s screen. He started to calculate where he stood with his income and expenses for the month. Jacob sighed, realizing he was still upside down. He began checking his notifications. The missed call was from Dawn, but she didn’t leave a voice message. He immediately called her back. As he waited for the call to connect, he spent a bit of time admiring his reflection in the nearby mirror and adjusting the fit of his tank top.

“Hey,” Dawn said.

“Are you okay?” Jacob asked. Someone walked by him and pointed at a sign banning cell phone use in the gym. Jacob dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “You’re never up this early.”

“Sorry. It’s . . . it’s those dreams. I . . . I can’t shake them.”

“Did you wake up screaming again?”

“Yes.”

Jacob waited for Dawn to continue. He debated bringing up last night’s discussion at the bar. Jacob knew she needed therapy. He closed his eyes as he tried to think of another way to make the suggestion without upsetting her.

“I . . . I think you’re right,” Dawn finally said. Her voice sounded so thin. “I need help.”

Jacob opened his eyes and smiled. He said, “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“Will you go with me?”

“To therapy?” Jacob picked at the scar through his lip as he studied himself in the mirror. “I think you need to go alone first. And then you can see what the doctor says. Okay?”

“Oh. Okay. Okay, Jacob. That . . . that makes sense.”

“Trust me, it’s the right thing to do.”

“I just want to get better. I . . . I miss being happy.”

“I think the therapy will help. And you might want to think about starting some new habits.”

“Habits?”

“If you want to make changes, you need to commit to doing new things. Different things.”

“Okay, Jacob. I’ll try. Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you.”

“I love you too. We’ll get through this, Dawn. I promise.”

Six

The High Line

Dawn spent the next two months doing her best to create healthy habits. Jacob helped her come up with a better diet and exercise plan. Initially, Dawn struggled with many of his recommendations. They finally agreed on several compromises. Friday through Sunday were Dawn’s cheat days for breakfast. She made it abundantly clear that she couldn’t give up carbs entirely.

The most significant change Dawn had made was seeing a therapist. Her doctor had requested weekly sessions, but she’d managed to see him only three times during the past seven weeks. In many ways, Dawn found her early morning walks along the High Line far more therapeutic than talking to her doctor for an hour. Soaring thirty feet above Manhattan’s intersecting roads, the mile-and-a-half long path snaked from Gansevoort Street to Hudson Yards. The High Line’s transformation from dilapidated train tracks to a public park always inspired Dawn. The walkway’s abundance of lush plants and artwork reminded her you were never too old to reinvent yourself. She had to think positive thoughts if she were to get past her miscarriage.

The rays of the August sun streamed across the sky as Dawn left her building to start her half-mile stroll to Hudson Yards. Her journey always started with a walk three blocks south to take the stairs up to the