STOP! Before you read this, you should go back and read my previous post, which is the first half of this story. Otherwise, you’ll have questions.

He again surprised himself by being excited to find the treadmill beside hers vacant. Doing his best to neither stare nor walk too fast in an effort to impress her, he set the pace to a comfortable rate and studiously watched the football highlights on the TV closest to his machine.

“That was a terrible decision.”

He looked surreptitiously to his left, not sure how to respond. “Are you talking to me?”

She blushed. “I’m sorry. Didn’t realize I said that out loud.”

He smiled. “No worries. What was a terrible decision?”

She pointed at the TV. “That game. I can’t believe Coach Haden chose to punt on fourth and a foot.”

He felt his smile broaden, but he couldn’t help himself. Her voice was as mellifluous as birdsong, like she was singing to a tune only she could hear. And yet she was discussing the merits of going for it on fourth down. “Why’s that?”

She sighed. “We’re up three and moving the ball. Get it and you put the game away. Which they would have. I mean their running back, oh, I lost his name.”

“Hawkins.”

“HAWKINS!” Her whole face lit up. “How could I forget his name?”

He liked her passion, but he immediately hated himself for how much he liked it.

“He hadn’t been stopped for a loss the entire game. And we had the defense on its heels. He may have even broken one–who knows?”

He shrugged. “What if he did get stopped? They were at midfield. Plenty of time to get into field goal range at least.”

She waved dismissively. “Six minutes left. They score, there’s plenty of time to score again. As it is, they drive the entire length of the field, score a TD as the clock is running out, and win.”

He was finished with his warm-up. He was supposed to stop and go lift. He didn’t want to stop, which made him hate himself even more. He started to add time, but thought better of it and hit the stop button instead, hopping up and placing his feet on the plastic treads on either side of the slowly decelerating track. “You have me convinced.”

“I’m Orla.” She kept walking, but held onto the sidebar with one hand so she could turn and look over her shoulder. “Nice to talk with you.”

He started to tell her his name, but stopped, his eyes wide. “Orla? Your name is Orla?”

She jumped off the track and straddled it. “Yes. Is that the name of someone you know or something?”

He cleared his throat as he sprayed his treadmill with disinfectant from the nearby cleaning station. “No, it’s just that Orla used to be my favorite name. I’m a real Hibernophile.”

She turned and hit pause on the control panel of her machine. “It used to be?”

“Oh, yeah.” He wiped down his treadmill. ” It was, until, well, another name came along.”

Her eyes scrunched together. “Another name.” They slowly widened. “Oh. Are you…?”

“What? Oh, no. No! He studied his shoes. “Widowed.”

She flinched slightly. “I’m so sorry.”

He gave the standard nod. It was the same one he’d given in response to condolences since the funeral. He simply didn’t know what else to do. “Well, I’m off to lift.”

She nodded and jumped back onto her treadmill. “See you next time?”

He smiled, nodded, and waved. It was upper body day, so his arms and chest smarted nicely as he ambled toward the locker room. A quick glance told him she’d finished her walk and was gone. He gathered his soap, shampoo and towel and wandered to the shower, his mind lost in thought.

“She’s pretty.” Her voice rang in his head as clearly as if she were physically there.

“Not as pretty as you,” he said out loud, hoping no one had heard him.

“Well, that goes without saying.” There was a laugh in her voice. The laugh. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

“You should ask her out.”

He wet his hair and squirted shampoo into his hand. “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

“It’s time, love.”

He sighed as he rinsed his head. “I’ll think about it.”

He did as he promised. He thought about it the whole time he was showering. Finished, he turned off the water, dried, and returned to his locker with his towel wrapped around his waist. He applied deodorant and put on his underwear and then his pants. As he pulled them up, he heard it jingle in his pocket. After he snapped, zipped, and buckled, he instinctively reached into his right front pocket and retrieved it. He studied it, rubbed his thumb on the faded words. He knew what he had to do.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

He closed his eyes and pictured her in front of him. Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled sweetly as she held out her hand to him. “Absolutely.” He finished dressing, packed his bag, and stepped back out into the bright, cacophonous gym. He hesitated just before he got to the door. “You know I’ll always love you.”

“I know.”

He stopped at the service desk, where a perky little girl wearing sprayed-on black spandex and a bright red fitted tee emblazoned with the name of the gym across the chest smiled at him with dazzing white teeth. Her long, honey-colored ponytail bobbed as she spoke with enthusiasm. “Hi,” she said. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” He smiled back. “I need to cancel my membership.”