Just Show And Tell

Chapter 25, Blog 2

By Chuck Wells As Told To Ray Hochgesang

chuckwells2008@gmail.com

 

I laughed. It was a nervous laugh. I’d never been interviewed by a former girlfriend. Sheila was the one who hadn’t changed. She looked better than ever.

“So I ran in one lousy meet. Big deal.”

“That’s not what I heard,” said Sheila, picking up her pen. “The Price kid says you’ve been training for months. She says you have Olympic aspirations. Is that true?”

“That Geri,” I said, shaking my head. “She likes to exaggerate.”

“She also says you have a personal trainer living in your house and some pretty solid 800 times. Is that true?”

“You know, you really should be talking to Ralphie,” I said, trying a diversionary tactic. “He’s the one who’s already qualified for the Trials.”

“I know,” said Sheila. “He’s coming in tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“But truth be known,” said Sheila, flashing those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. “I’d rather talk to you.”

… DANGER! RED ALERT! THIS IS NOT A DRILL …

“And why is that?” I asked awkwardly.

“There’s no real age restriction on tossing a hunk of metal,” she said. “Running, though, that’s different.”

I stretched my hands behind the back of my head, trying to appear unimpressed while my heart beat as if the bell lap had rung.

“People don’t forget how to run, do they? It’s kinda like breathing,” I said.

“Why, Chuck, you haven’t changed a bit,” said Sheila. “So c’mon, tell me. Tell me why C.H. Wells has a fixation on running 800s while most of his peers won’t run across the street.”

Sheila paused.

“That’s not asking much, is it?”

“In a word – yes.”

Sheila laughed. I started to sweat.

“Not sure,” I said. “Maybe early Alzheimer’s.”

“That’s not what I heard,” she said.

“You hear a lot.”

“It’s my job.”

“I see you’re good at it.”

“Tell you what,” Sheila said. “Would you feel better talking elsewhere? Say my place? For dinner?”

I glimpsed at her ring finger. It was naked.

“Why don’t you come over to my house? I’ll have Harry whip up something for us.”

“Ooooooh, that sounds like a date. And Harry, he’s your personal trainer? I can talk to him, too, right?”

… RED FLAG … RED FLAG …

“Sure, why not? About seven, then?”

“Sounds great,” Sheila said. “It’s so good to see you, Chuck.”

Floating out of The Times office, I thought I was having an out-of-body experience and wondered what Sheila really wanted. Check that. I knew what she wanted.

Copyright © 2012 by Chuck H. Wells/Ray Hochgesang

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