Carter
NOW THAT THE family is settled in my condo, for equal parts napping and snooping, I take a Lyft ride to Open Arms Community Center. I know nothing about this area of the city, but my driver, who says he’s familiar with the street, gets me there with five minutes to spare.
The community center’s brick walls are covered in peeling pastel-green paint, and the row homes beside and across from it are similarly painted in light colors. It’s like the Easter Bunny ate every candy in the world and vomited on the block.
There’s no reception desk, so I follow the people in workout clothes down a long hall and up a short flight of stairs that leads to a large room doubling as both a gymnasium and auditorium. Stacks of aluminum folding chairs are propped against the walls, and I spy a separate wheelchair-accessible entrance. By my estimation, approximately fifty people of all ages, sizes, shapes, colors, and ranges of mobility have shown up in the middle of a Saturday afternoon to take Tori’s class. That alone impresses me.
Skirting the clusters of people chatting before the class begins, I stroll in and claim a spot by the double doors at the back of the room.
Tori walks in, and it’s like the office boss is making the rounds unannounced. The chatter diminishes to a murmur, and people disperse to take their places around the room. A woman pushes a young man in a wheelchair to the center of the floor, and in that moment, I suspect I understand why Tori is driven to make this program a success. It brings people together in a way I’ve not seen in any of the gyms I’ve been to: young, old, differently abled—they’re all here.
A laugh on the left side of the room snags my attention. A handsome guy with dark hair, dark eyes, and brown skin is talking to Tori as she adjusts the knobs of the stereo system and positions her wireless headset. He maintains a respectful distance for a few seconds, but when she joins in his laughter, he seizes the opportunity to reach out and place his hand on her arm.
She moves away from him and claps her hands, signaling the start of the class. “Hi, everyone. Thanks for joining me. My name’s Tori Alvarez, and I’m going to make you sweat today. Do we have any newcomers?”
Several people raise their hands.
“Welcome,” she says. “Chat among yourselves while I come around and greet the newbies.”
Tori stops to talk to each of the individuals who raised their hands. When she gets to me, she tilts her head and scans my body. “Where are your workout clothes?”
“I’m resting today, remember? I’ll just be observing.”
“Right,” she says, drawing the word out as though she’s skeptical about my intentions. “You’re just going to stand here?”
I hold up my phone. “And check my email. Maybe make a few calls. The stuff I can’t do with my family around.”
“Right,” she says again. After casting a sideways glance my way, she spins around and strides to the head of the class. “For the new folks, I have three helpers. Assistants, come on up.”
An elderly gentleman and a middle-aged woman weave their way to the front of the room, and the young man in the wheelchair joins them as well.
“This class is all about doing what you can and knowing that’s enough. I don’t focus on fitness levels here. It’s all about moving your body and getting your heart rate up. I’ve worked with each of my assistants to modify the exercises to fit their comfort level. Follow whichever person—including me—who matches your personal comfort level, and bear in mind that you don’t have to stick with just one person for the duration of the class. Any questions?”
She claps her hands together and clicks the small remote in her hand. “All right, let’s go.” After she places the remote on the floor, she jumps up. “One more thing. From time to time, you might hear a Spanish word or two. Sigue asi. Vamanos. Muy bien. Just know it’s all encouragement, and I’m telling you to keep going, okay?”
Several people nod and smile. The positive energy reverberates through the room.
“Okay, vamanos,” she shouts.
Tori leads a medium-paced class that tests everyone’s coordination and stamina. Her assistants know exactly what move follows the current one, and many of her students switch between comfort levels with ease. The music is a mix of hip-hop, pop, and Latin sounds, and some of the members sing along to the more popular songs. They’re having fun.
Tori has a gift for motivating people. And judging by her wide smile and bright eyes, she’s embracing that gift to the fullest. I’d love to capture her happiness in this moment. When my phone vibrates in my hand, I’m reminded that I can. With a few clicks and a swipe, I open my phone’s video camera and begin recording the class. I’m sure Tori would love to see the class from this perspective.
Soon after, the group transitions into a five-minute cooldown, and then the class ends to another round of applause.
The guy who monopolized Tori’s time earlier seeks her out. She nods at whatever he’s telling her, but her face loses all the brightness that kept everyone going through the class.
Tori repositions her headset and asks for her students’ attention. “Bad news, folks. Open Arms has special events over the next three weeks, so we’re not going to be able to use the room.”
Their loud groans cut through the music still playing in the background.
“If I can come up with an alternate space,” she continues, “I’ll let Antonio know. If not, I’ll see you next month.”
I want Tori to know how impressed I am with the class, but Antonio is hovering around her like a miniature drone. Fuck it. I’m not above interrupting. I slide my phone into the back pocket of my shorts and sidle over to her and her friend. “Great class.”
So fucking original, Carter.
“Why, thank you, Carter. Maybe next time you can participate?”
“Maybe.”
The drone shoots his hand out. “I’m Antonio, Tori’s friend and the director of Open Arms.”
I give his hand a firm shake. “I’m Carter, also Tori’s friend. I’m an actor. Prime-time television.”
Antonio furrows his eyebrows. “Uh, right.”
Tori, meanwhile, shakes her head as she stares at the gym ceiling. “He’s also the kind of guy who refuses to do as he’s been asked.”
“Yes, well, not all of us come fully trained.”
She gives me a reluctant smile, just the edges of her mouth tipping up, but it’s enough for me.
“Can I talk to you a sec before I head out?” I ask.
“Sure. Excuse us, Antonio.”
He waves us off, and she pulls me into the hall.
“What part of ‘don’t call attention to yourself’ did you not understand?”
I shrug. “Most of it.”
She sighs.
“No one here cares about me. Do you think Antonio’s going to snap a picture of us and spin a tale about us being illicit lovers?”
Her cheeks bloom with color. “No, I guess not.”
“Okay, look. I’m going to head back to my place before my family ransacks my room. But before I go, I just wanted to tell you I think you’re doing an incredible thing here. This is your purpose. To motivate people.” I want her to understand what I’m saying is truly heartfelt, so I take her hand and squeeze it.
Her mouth falls open, just a touch, and her gaze darts to her hand on mine. “Thank you, Carter.”
Because I’m not above flirting, I give her the eyes. “You’re welcome.”
And whoa. Wait a minute. She shivers. This is exactly the kind of progress I’ve been hoping for. We’ve finally reached the point when it’s almost impossible for her to mask her physical attraction to me.
So now my mission is clear. It’s time to break her resolve.