The Waiting One Part II: Waiting for the End

All of This, I'm Hating

     Blending chatter and the squeaks of sneakers created a constant background of noise in the gym. People walked around confidently, glistening in sweat, satisfied with their fitness effort. Somewhere in the back weight room, metal was clicking viciously. It wasn't a happy sound, and it yielded no satisfaction. "My Ambitionz Az A Ridah," by Tupac, blasted in Zachary's earphones as he pumped the iron. The intense rap matched his intense state of mind.

     He harder he thought, the further he pushed himself. He was drenched in sweat, his cheeks were flushed, and his arms were brinking on fatigue. Just when he was almost done, more frustration bubbled to his surface. He'd see a flash of Serronie, another lift, he'd see a flash of the hospital, another lift; and then Jesse's face would pop up, and that was automatically five more lifts.

     Exercise was his coping outlet, and it also allowed him to release his anger and pain. The memories came back and so did his intensity. His body hurt, but the physical punishment offered a weird comfort. The physical pain was better than the emotional pain. The weights started slamming vigorously, and then he stopped. Zachary removed the pin from the weights and moved them down. He added more weight, he needed more distraction, and the reminiscences were creeping in again like a poisonous mist.

     Zachary’s life had been flipped upside down when his wife, Serronie, faced an unexpected pregnancy. He wasn't the father, but she thought he was, and he thought she was a cheater. It caused them to separate and resent the other. All along, his best friend Jesse was the father of the child. That was a surprise to both Serronie and Zachary. She never willingly had sex with Jesse, he simply took advantage of her.

     When she found out, she reacted so erratically that she miscarried the baby and almost died in the process. Zachary discovered the truth, and nearly beat Jesse to death with his bare hands. That was one of his better memories; exacting revenge on behalf of his hospitalized wife, and dead stepson. It was a small consolation prize though.

     His sweet Serronie. After the mess, she was down in a hole. She didn't even know how to begin managing. Her mother, father, and Zachary convinced her to go out of state into the care of her Aunt Drae. Aunt Drae was a Clinical Psychologist, with some background in family issues, and a specialty in depression. By the time she finally agreed to leave, Serronie was a mere 98 pounds, skin and bones. Dark circles were plastered around her eyes, her cheeks caved in, and she was all around unhealthy. Zachary hadn't seen her since.

     That's the last visual memory he had a Serronie. He hated himself for not being able to offer her something more, he felt like a weakling sending her away, but it was the best thing for her. Sometimes he really hated being so selfless for Serronie, but at times, his discomfort was necessary for her benefit. Or so he always liked to think.

     On the heels of his last rep, he glanced up at the analog clock on the wall. He'd been working out for five hours, and it was soon to be eleven o'clock at night. It sucked since he had work early the next morning.

     "Shit," he groaned as he released the weight bar and stood to his feet. He stole a glance in the mirror, and noticed how much he’d changed. He no longer had his “depression flab”, he melted it all away. Zachary was once again lean, ripped, and perfectly fit. The progress made him feel good only because he knew Serronie would be thrilled to see him looking sexy again. Yet and still, he had no idea when she’d be in functioning condition again. There was nothing but time for him to continue pushing perfection.  

     It's not like he was excited about running back to his empty apartment anyways. What was once his sanctuary was now his living tomb. Each time he walked through the front door, he somehow still wanted Serronie to magically be standing at the stove with her wild brown hair, dressed in one of his shirts, and cooking him dinner. Oh the fucking memories.

     He had to walk past the couch, which was the place he proposed to her. Through his living room window, was the church that they were married in front of, on a beautiful rainy night. Then he actually had to go sleep in the bed where he and Serronie made love for the very first time. Both of them believed it was her first time, neither one of them knew the truth.

      But, he trucked through another day and survived. He didn't swerve off the road, or take a mass of pills to end it all. That was a small victory in itself. Zachary was living on a few fibers or sanity and he feared them snapping. He needed Serronie; for, she was the only thing that could make him right. But he had to be patient, and wait for her to get herself right. Then soon enough, he'd get that call, and she'd be back in his arms again.