Training in Love (4 page)

It’s
now my turn to be surprised and raise my eyebrows.

“I
have to put on a couple of kilos – of muscle of course,” he explains as though
I had asked him.

I
don’t move and stare at him. For no reason in the world would I want to get on
a scale in front of someone like that.

He
puts his hands on his hips. “Go on, get on it.”

“If
I get on that scale, I’ll be forced to kill you.”

Andrea
laughs, showing a long row of straight, brilliantly white teeth.

He
thinks it’s a joke. I don’t move. No-one knows how much I weigh, not even
Linda. Ok, now the obese dietitian from Tuesday knows, but still… the concept
remains.

He
stops laughing and crosses his arms over his chest. “Get on it Olivia. If we
don’t know where the starting point is, how do we decide where to arrive?”

“I
know where I’m starting from.”

“But
I don’t.”

I
think he’s becoming impatient. Good. We’ll never see each other again anyway.

“I’ll
weigh myself later,” he says as though this were an incentive. I couldn’t care
less how much he weighs and his goals! He’s practically perfect. What
objectives could he have? What are two kilos of muscle?

Suddenly,
as I observe him, I have an unexpected thought. Why am I so reluctant to weigh
myself or practice some sport in front of him? Why don’t I want him to see me
at my worst? For him to know my terrible numeric secret? As though, him not
knowing the precise number would make me look less fat in his eyes? As though,
not seeing me sweat, I would have the remote possibility to seem pretty to him?
What does it matter after all? This guy is so gorgeous that it isn’t even thinkable
that there would be some sort of romantic consequences. He’s so beautiful that
it’s almost as though he were a woman, he’s so out of reach. It’s almost as
though he were Linda. Why make such a big deal of it then? After all it’s just
the same. I tear my gaze abruptly away from his eyes and climb on the scale, in
silence.

He
stands still for a second - maybe because he’s a little taken aback by my
unexpected change of behavior – then he moves closer, staying slightly behind
me and leans over my left shoulder to see.

Eighty-three
and a half kilos.

I
sigh, quickly get off and distance myself from that infernal mechanism.

He
resets the scale without commenting on my weight and steps on, just as he said
he would. I cross my arms, uncomfortable. I’m not the least bit interested in
how much he weighs. Anyway I can’t seem to not lean in that… far in order to… see…

And
it really would have been better if I hadn’t looked.

Eighty-one.

I
jerk around towards him, my arms falling to my sides and say in a whisper, ”You
weigh less than me!”

He
looks at me for a moment, without saying anything, and I exclaim, almost
accusing him, “You’re a man, and you’re taller than me and have two hands like
shovels… How much taller are you, twenty centimeters? And you weigh less than
me!”

I
realize that I have something like tears in my voice and try to clear them away
before he notices. He looks at me a little sympathetically. “Olivia…”

“How
tall are you?” My voice trembles slightly, dammit.

“Olivia…”
He repeats without answering.

“How
tall?” And at the ‘all’ of tall, a sob almost escapes.

“A
meter and eighty eight.”

As
he confesses his height I look him in the eyes and feel my tears rising, damn
them. I tear away my gaze and look around - the trees, his car, my shoes, blinking
my eyes rapidly to make them go back where they came from, the damned things. I
feel a hand on my left shoulder but my head is turned to the right. His voice
is low and endearing when he speaks. “We’re here for this Olivia.”

And
with this phrase and this tone of voice, two tears, which I can in no way stop,
roll down my face. I try to dry the traitorous things without being noticed.

“We’re
here for this,” he repeats with conviction.

I
inhale again with my eyes closed, and when I think I can do it without further
humiliating myself, I turn towards him and move away a little in order to let
the hand he still has on my shoulder fall.

“You’ve
taken the most important step in the right direction – this should reassure
you. In a few months you’ll be a lot less than me and you’ll be thankful to
yourself for having decided to be here today, to have weighed yourself, even
though it was hard. And you’ll be glad to have undertaken this path with me,”
says Andrea with a voice that is deep and sure, looking me directly in the
eyes. He then lowers his gaze to the ground and when he looks up says, almost
sweetly, “If you’ll allow me to.”

It’s
in this instant that I realize, in an instinctive and deep-down way, that he is
the right person for me. I realize that he’s competent, that he’ll follow me
completely, that I can trust him and that I can lean on him when I need to.

4.

We’re
still standing in front of his trunk. He’s been looking at papers in total
silence for about ten minutes except for when he lifts his head for a
nanosecond to ask me how tall I am and to hold out my hands. I look around.
He’s already put the scale back in the trunk and I don’t know what else to do
while he does his things.

I’m
about to start counting the bits of cuticle around my nails when he says, more
to himself than to me, “Ok.”

He
puts the papers back together in a folder, lays it in the trunk on top of the
scale and closes the trunk. “Let’s go, we’ll walk for a half hour while I
explain everything I have in mind. Then you can decide, ok?”

“Ok,”
I answer quickly. I’ve already decided, but I’ll wait to tell him.

We
walk along the bike path.

“Well,
Olivia, as far as I can tell, you have a long body-type.”

I
laugh. He turns towards me without even smiling. “I’m serious. From the fingers
on your hand, it doesn’t look like you have big bones. Your fingers are long
and delicate, which leads me to believe that the rest of your bone structure is
like that.”

I
blush and say nothing.

“Starting
from this premise, and given your height, I think that your ideal weight ought
to be around fifty-seven and a half kilos.”

If
possible, I laugh even harder than before. If possible, he turns around with a
look even more serious than before.

“Hey,”
I try to defend myself, but with a smile still on my lips, “I didn’t weigh that
even in elementary school…”

“That
doesn’t mean anything,” he liquidates me. “Anyway, it’s true that at present
it’s a little difficult to know exactly what your ideal weight will be; we’ll
find out in time, moving ahead and seeing how you change. So, all told, I don’t
think we have to be too precise and can raise the final target a couple of
kilos, but I think we should aim for at least sixty.”

I
swallow and probably blanch too, because Andrea quickly adds, “It seems like a
lot to you, but look, it’s not an unrealistic number at all. Twenty-three
kilos… If we work well, in a year you’ll lose it.”

I
regard him without saying anything. I must have tipped towards the color of a
used ashtray, because he adds, “It could be less too. It could be that at
sixty-three you’ll already be ok, or you’ll already feel fine and want to stop
– that’s ok, but now let’s aim high and any rounding down we’ll do later. It
will be easier for you psychologically.”

I
breathe out and nod, finally accepting the huge job awaiting me. What was I
thinking, to resolve everything in a couple of weeks after a life-time of
absurd, chaotic and destructive eating?

“To
begin with, I’d like you to tell me about your level of physical fitness.”

I
remain silent.

“I
mean from a sports point of view.”

“Oh!”
I say reddening a little, “That’s easy. It’s absolute zero.”

“Ok.
Do you have a favorite sport or one you do better than others?”

I
think of the only sport I know how to do and shake my head firmly. He widens
his eyes, “None?”

I
shake my head. His eyes widen even more, maybe I’ve finally shocked him. “You
don’t know any? You’ve never done any?”

“No.”

He
looks straight ahead for a moment, then seems to recover. “Alright. To begin
with, I’ll prepare a running workout, it’s an aerobic exercise that everyone
knows how to do and is a real blessing for someone who wants to lose weight.”

I’m
shaken for a minute. I can’t manage to run even for five minutes in a row. “But
it has to start from zero-zero though!”

He
smiles. “Of course. Now we come to the other fundamental part of this. Your
diet.”

Oh
crap. Why didn’t I go when I said I would? “Ok.”

“For
the next three weeks, the only thing I’d like you to do is keep a diary of what
you eat – that is, write down everything you eat.”

I
look at him astonished. “That’s it?”

He
looks at his watch. “Let’s go back.”

We
haven’t met anyone on the track, not a soul. The person from the third car must
have gotten lost in the woods around here or gone off the track… Or maybe he’s
going all around the lake… Good grief, it makes me tired just to think about
it.

“Yes,”
he starts speaking again. “Just this. Eat normally, just write everything down,
but really everything you eat. In the meantime, make a list of the foods you
like, those you really hate and the ones you’re allergic to.”

“I’m
not allergic to any,” I reply quickly. I think my eyebrows are still raised and
my eyes out of their sockets. I expected everything but this. I expected that
he’d tell me to stick to salad from now on till the end of my days…

He
laughs softly. “You seem surprised...”

“I
am,” I tell him truthfully.

He
smiles. “See, we have a year ahead of us, if everything goes well and you apply
yourself. It’s not a lot, but it’s not two days either. We need to create a
diet that satisfies you if we want you to stick to it over time.”

I’m
liking this thing and smile involuntarily.

“Also,”
he continues,” we have to focus on thinking up a healthy diet. One you like and
which you can follow for the rest of your life. We have to understand what your
bad habits are and eliminate them because doing a diet for a few months and
then go back to eating like you did before is useless, you know? It’s for this
reason people lose weight and then gain it all back. Because they don’t change
their habits.”

I
nod, now decidedly more convinced. “Ok. Diary and list of loved and hated
foods,” I repeat.

We
walk without speaking, then he breaks the silence. “Let’s talk about my fee.”

Oh
God, maybe he’s too expensive… “Yes.”

Andrea
puts his hands in his pockets and looks at the ground in front of him. “How
often do you want us to see each other? How free are you?”

“I
work every morning from Monday to Friday and every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
afternoon.”

He
looks up. “So, if we want, we could see each other every Tuesday, Thursday and
Saturday afternoon?”

“Yes.”

He
nods and glances at me, then returns to looking at the ground before him. “So,
considering that you’re my absolute first client and I could consider this a
seminar – for myself obviously – I’d give you a ridiculous rate, like seven
euros an hour. For three hours a week that comes to around eighty euros a
month. Too much?”

I
had figured on around ninety to a hundred euros per month for the dietitian
with the white coat and the private office… I can do it. “No, that’s fine.”

“Listen,
this isn’t the normal rate for a personal trainer, you know! You mustn’t tell
anyone the price I’m giving you!” He says smiling. And frankly, with that smile
he could ask me for anything…

No!
Olivia, don’t fall into this trap! If you work with him you have to get it into
your head that you must not consider him that way. Never! You have to think of
him as though he were Linda. Linda. Your best friend.

I
observe him a second longer – so tall, so blond and so beautiful… It will be
really hard to think of Linda. Really hard.

And
then, you’re doing all this in part for Gianca.

Oh
right, Gianca. For a moment I deflate. Crap, Andrea must have been cursed a lot
of times in his life, because once a girl meets him, she’s ruined forever. Suddenly
all the others seem bland. But with Gianca I have some hope for the future,
with Andrea never in my life.

We
get to the beginning of the bike path, the starting point. He stands in front
of me. “So, it’s a deal?”

Geez,
yes! “It’s a deal.”

He
puts out his hand and I shake it.

It
will go ok, I feel it. For the first time in my life I’ll lose weight! Seriously!
I’ll be able to buy the clothes that I like!

Andrea
smiles at me. “You’re smiling,” he says, and I realize it’s true.

I
nod and answer sincerely, “Yes, I feel like it will go well. For the first time
in my life, I feel as though I can do it.”

His
smile widens even more, “That makes me really happy Olivia.”

“Call
me Olly.” If we really have a year ahead of us, I wouldn’t be able to stand
hearing my full name the entire time.

He
nods. We say goodbye and part, each going towards our own cars. But abruptly
Andrea turns and yells, “Olly, remember one thing!   In any case you cannot
fail. You’re my first client. If you failed it would be a huge jinx to my
future career!” And he bursts out laughing.

I
laugh too, I wave a hand goodbye and yell back, “Ok.”

Yes,
this time I won’t fail.

***

It’s
been two weeks since my first meeting with Andrea. We’ve seen each other
regularly in the agreed upon days and for now we have only walked, even if
every time we do a bit more. I like the way he does things gently. He doesn’t
scare me and he lets me build up confidence with my body and the movement a little
at a time. Sports have always put me in a difficult position. I’ve always felt
uncomfortable - inept - so I’ve done everything to do them as little as
possible.

We
also chat a lot during our outings, because for the moment the pace doesn’t
tire me. Today, for example, I discovered that he had, in fact, been in England
for two years after high school. He went there just like that - without a clear
plan. Once he was there, little by little, he slowly put together the pieces of
what he had always liked to do and he earned an international certificate to
work as a personal trainer. For a person’s wellbeing, though, sports alone are
not sufficient. You need to lead them towards a correct diet. So when he had
finished his course, he decided to return here to Italy and enroll at the
university to get a diploma as a dietitian. Now he’s towards the end. He’s
finished all the exams and just has to submit his thesis, after which he’ll be
able to officially start on his career. This was, is, his plan.

I
was right that first day. Andrea may be young, and I his first client, but he’s
competent.

Now
I’m headed to the twins’ house. It’s Saturday night and they do a home movie
couples night – Linda and Marco, Nic and somebody. They wanted to see a film
that I have, and that’s why, once again, I’m going to their house. They kindly
asked me to stay and see it, but frankly to be the fifth wheel… Thanks, but no.

When
I arrive the twins’ mother lets me in and points me towards the stairs going down
where there is the movie room. Yes, in this house there is also a movie room.

“Olivia!
Will you be staying to watch the movie too?” Mrs. Bonaventura asks me without
managing to hide the hope in her voice. The poor thing dreams of a utopian
scenario where her son Nic gets his act together with me. I’m not the one
inventing this. She told me that to my face one afternoon a couple of years
ago. I tried to discourage her as best I could, and since then she’s never
mentioned it again, but from the tone in her voice, from her looks, you can
tell she’s still hoping. Poor woman.

“No,
Mrs. Bonaventura. Tonight is a couples night, I just came to drop off the
movie,” I answer with a smile.

She
crosses her arms on her chest and makes a half grimace. “My God, Nic is so
rude. He’s the one who turned out worse.”

I
laugh. “But no, Nic is polite, don’t worry, he did actually ask me if I wanted
to stay, but frankly I wouldn’t feel comfortable…”

For
a second her eyes shine, but she glowers again. “If it weren’t for that brunette,
you’d feel comfortable…”

I
chuckle. “Mrs. Bonaventura, it’s fine, really. Anyway I had something to do
this evening, so I’ll just take the film down and run.”

I
don’t have anything at all to do, but Mrs. Bonaventura drops her shoulders and
recognizes defeat. “Alright, they’re all already down there.”

I
nod and head towards another room in this house I know very well. The movie
room is small, there’s an enormous plasma TV and soft cream colored sofas. When
I arrive the lights are already low and the four are chatting, completely
stretched out on the sofas. “Ahem!”

“Olly!”
Linda greets me, but  everyone turns around. I don’t know the brunette, I’ve never
seen her.

“Here’s
the movie guys,” I say placing the dvd on the small table next to an enormous
bowl of pop-corn. “How’s it going?”

“Are
you sure you don’t want to stay?” Marco asks me once again.

“No,
really…” I look at him with my head tilted trying to transmit a mental message
to not insist. “In fact I’m running off right now. Have a great evening!”

“Hey,
stop where you are!” Nic jumps up. “You don’t go out that door until you tell
me how it went with Andrea!”