Treadmill (4 page)

When Parrish had been absent for a week, curiosity got the better of Cooper, and he peeked into locker number twenty searching for a clue, any clue, as to Parrish’s whereabouts. As Cooper expected, the locker was empty, and offered not the slightest hint that it had ever been used.

Parrish’s absence had destroyed Cooper’s smooth calibration. All orderliness was gone. Nothing was the same. Being alone in the sauna depressed him. Even the locker room seemed barren and empty, even though they had never exchanged a single word while they changed clothes. Because they would arrive so early, they had their choice of the lockers, and just like everything else they did at Bethesda, their choice became invariable; Cooper took locker number seven and Parrish locker number twenty at the other side of the room, where they could not see each other.

Parrish’s absence recalled Margo’s betrayal, the blow it had administered. But she had been Cooper’s wife. They had had a history together. On the other hand, he hardly knew Parrish, and what he had learned about him in those few brief conversations barely constituted a deep relationship. It was casual, fleeting.
Then why this massive sense of loss?
Parrish was more of an obsession now than when he had occupied the space next to Cooper for the past five months. Where had he gone?

****

“Parrish must be sick or something,” Cooper said to Blake after Parrish didn’t show up for two weeks. At first Cooper had assumed that might be the case, but now he wasn’t sure. Two weeks could constitute a serious illness, maybe even something life-threatening. It was just one of the scenarios that raced through Cooper’s mind.

“Maybe,” Blake replied without interest. He was busy adjusting one of the weight machines.

“He seemed fine last time he was here,” Cooper said, trying to appear only half-interested.

“He might have quit,” Blake said. “People come and go.”

“That’s true. Did he notify management?”

“Hell, most just quit. Get bored. Find another club. Happens all the time.”

“Maybe I should give him a buzz. See if he’s okay.”

“Your dime,” Blake said, securing a stack of weights. Cooper started to walk away.

He wanted to ask Blake for Parrish’s number, but didn’t quite know how to put it without revealing his anxiety. That was another thing that troubled Cooper, his reticence about showing concern, as though it would arouse suspicion that there was more to his feelings about Parrish than met the eye. Cooper had not found anyone named “Mike Parrish” or “Michael Parrish” in any of the telephone directories of the Washington Metropolitan area.

Cooper turned back to Blake. “Jeez, Blake. I think Parrish gave me his number, and I must have lost it.” He stood there waiting for Blake to respond, but he seemed too absorbed in his task to look up.

“Think you could give it to me?” Cooper persisted. “You must have it in your records.”

“I’ll look it up when I have a minute,” Blake said as he worked. Cooper decided not to press the issue.

Cooper was halfway through his time on the treadmill when he realized that the room had lost its feeling of comfort. Even the Doctor hadn’t shown up for days. Cooper was lethargic, disinterested. His heart wasn’t in it. He flicked the off switch. The treadmill slowed down, and he got off.

His lack of zeal must have caught the attention of the blonde woman with the ponytail. She came over to him just before he could reach the bench press. Up close she was pleasant-looking with a round face, unblemished skin, and large brown eyes in which he noted a look of intense curiosity. Her figure was full, but graceful.

“Odd not seeing that other man around,” she said.

“What man?” Cooper asked with a display of innocence. He knew she meant Parrish.

“That fellow who usually exercises around the same time as you do.”

“You mean Parrish?”

“Was that his name?”

“I think so,” Cooper said. He was being deliberately vague.

“He was a regular, just like you. Something feels…different,” she said, smiling. It was a full smile, a side of her he had never seen before. He took her for mid-thirties. For some reason, he got it into his head that her inquiry about Parrish’s whereabouts was more than just offhand.

Perhaps she is secretly interested in him
, Cooper thought.

“Maybe he’s sick,” Cooper said. By then, he had gone through a long list of possibilities. “Or he got bored, quit. Happens all the time.” He sounded just like Blake.

“Did you know him outside of the club?” she asked. From her persistence, he realized that she did have more than a casual interest in Parrish. He decided to appear accessible to her.

“Not really. We were both in advertising. He was freelance.” He cleared his throat. “I got laid off.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” For a brief second Cooper felt her eyes trying to meet his.

“No problem,” Cooper said. He wished she would end the conversation. He sat down on the seat of a bicep machine.

“You think he’ll be back?” she asked.

“Beats me.”

“Funny,” the woman said after a long pause. “You get used to people being around.”

“Do you?”

“I mean, working out is an individual thing. You’re concentrating, it’s intense. I suppose it’s somewhat subliminal. You know…his presence.”

“I guess that’s the way it goes,” Cooper said, reaching for the machine’s handles. He held on to them, but did not move.

“You think he’s okay?” she asked.

“I’m sure he is,” Cooper said.

“I’m Beth Davis,” the woman said, still smiling. “And you are…?”

“Jack Cooper.”

It was, he knew, a knee jerk reaction. He hadn’t wanted her to know his name. It felt like a violation in his static little world, which seemed to be collapsing in Parrish’s absence. Cooper began to use the bicep machine. Beth took the hint, and went over to the calf machine. She did not look in Cooper’s direction.

Of course Parrish
is okay
, he decided, not wishing to expend any more energy on the topic.
Why wouldn
’
t he be?

Later, when Cooper had taken his sauna and showered, he went back to the equipment room to see Blake and remind him that he was still seeking Parrish’s number. Blake was in the midst of a sales pitch to a potential customer.

“Be with you in a few minutes,” Blake said.

“I’ll be back after lunch,” Cooper said, still playing the game of indifference.

But Cooper, despite all his effort, remained far from indifferent. He was seized by an urgency that he was at a loss to explain to himself. He tried in a hundred ways to rationalize the absence of Parrish as meaningless to his life. He couldn’t. Parrish’s persona, his mysterious upbringing, his manifestation, had taken a strange hold on him. He could not get the idea of the stolen baby out of his head. It made him wonder how many others were out there, stolen babies, searching for their identity.

The woman at the lunch counter had earlier inquired about Parrish. Cooper had shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

“Beats me,” Cooper shrugged.

“I guess your buddy isn’t coming back.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, startled by the assertion.

“Exercise is addicting. He couldn’t go a whole week without a fix. Probably joined some other club.”

The logic in her remark was unsettling. Cooper suddenly had trouble eating his sandwich. He fidgeted. A game of squash had begun behind the plate glass window, but he could not summon up any interest.

Finally, Cooper couldn’t wait any longer. The door was open, and Blake had his long legs stretched at an angle across his desk. Looking up suddenly, he saw Cooper observing him, then moved one leg and kicked the door shut. The door slammed, an intrusive noise in that place with its barely audible music. Cooper looked around to see if anyone had noticed, slightly embarrassed.

There were only three people in the room, two women with iPods and Beth Something. He had already forgotten her last name. She was finished with her workout and was wiping perspiration off her face. For a moment their eyes met, and then she looked away, continuing to dab her face.

Hey
,
I’m a paying
customer
here
, Cooper said to himself. Rather than stand around aimlessly waiting for Blake, he opened the door to his office. Blake was on the phone. As Cooper stood in the doorway, he was conscious of being observed by Beth. He was annoyed and tried to dismiss it.
Let her watch
, he told himself.
Who cares?

“Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” Blake snapped.

“I need Parrish’s number,” Cooper insisted, showing Blake that he would not be intimidated.

“I’ll get to it after my phone call,” Blake said.

“I’d like it now, please.” Cooper paused briefly. “I’m getting ready to leave.”

Blake spoke into the phone. “Hold on a minute.”

With tight-lipped impatience, he put the phone on his desk and stood up. Cooper watched him rifle through a file cabinet drawer. He could peripherally see Beth staring. He eyed her through the glass partition, hoping that it would deter her. It didn’t.

Blake seemed to be taking longer than necessary. The drawer was only half-filled. As Cooper waited, he felt a strange sense of guilt. He wished he was elsewhere, but could not leave. After a moment, Blake shook his head.

“Can’t find the damned thing,” Blake said. His cobalt blue eyes glared at Cooper, as if they were challenging him.

“What do you mean, you can’t find it?” Cooper asked. The woman was watching and for some reason he did not want her to see him surrender. He felt his heart banging in his chest. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to remain relaxed.

“All this goddamned paperwork, I just can’t find it. I’m a trainer, not a secretary. It’s just not here.”

Blake seemed both frustrated and perplexed. But he gave no apologies.

“Maybe it’s just misfiled,” Cooper said, forcing himself to be reasonable.

“What do you want it for anyway? If he was your friend he would have given it to you.”

“I told you. I lost it.”

Cooper wondered if he was beginning to sound less than reasonable.

“Why not just look up his fucking number?”

“I did. He’s not there.”

“That’s not my fault.”

Blake shook his head and sighed, looking at Cooper as if he were an unruly adolescent. Beth continued to observe them while the others paid no attention, intent on their workouts.

“I’m on my break and I have someone waiting on the phone,” Blake said. “I can’t be bothered with this.” He started toward his desk.

Cooper cleared his throat. “I’m sure it’s there.”

Blake stopped. “You’re not calling me a liar, are you?” His tone had reached a level of belligerence.

“No. I’m only saying it might have been misplaced.”

“Frankly, Cooper, I don’t know what happened to it, and to tell you the truth, you’re beginning to piss me off.”

The confrontation was getting personal, out of hand. Again, Cooper glanced over at Beth. She had moved closer, almost goading him onward, as if something important was at stake here that demanded a strong response.

“Why all the hostility, Blake?”

“Fuck you.”

Blake turned his back on him.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to speak to your boss,” Cooper said. Blake turned again, his face twisted into a cruel grin.

“Ooh, I’m scared,” he said mockingly. “You know what? I got enough outside clients to cover myself without playing nursemaid to you pussies. Go ahead, get me fired.” Then he threw Cooper a wink. “Now that Parrish is gone, you think maybe you missed out on something good, is that it?”

His assertion stunned Cooper, who felt the blood rise to his face. From the corner of his eye he saw Beth take a step forward. He thought that he saw the woman nod her head in approval.

He didn’t quite know how to handle the situation.
Fight or fight
, his mind told him. How had things progressed to this? Further confrontation seemed pointless.

“The hell with it,” Cooper muttered as he backed out of the little office.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wall. His face was flushed. He felt bile in the back of his throat.

“Pussy,” Blake had called him. But Blake was right about one thing.

Why am I pursuing Parrish with such intensity?

Without looking in the woman’s direction, he headed out of the room. He felt her probing eyes on him as he left and he wondered what she had concluded from her observation of the incident.

Before leaving the club, Cooper stopped by the locker room and surveyed himself in the mirror. His cheeks were as bright red as a toy Santa, and the veins in his eyes confirmed his intensity and anger. How had this gotten so out of hand? What had he done to trigger Blake’s animosity? He bent over the sink and splashed his face with cold water, hoping it would calm him. It didn’t.

All he had asked for was Parrish’s phone number. A perfectly simply request. Why had Blake made a scene? Was Parrish’s file really misplaced? Blake had admitted his inefficiency when it came to paperwork. Perhaps Cooper should have taken him up on going through the files himself. But what would that prove? Only that he was obsessed with the idea of finding Parrish, which would have confirmed Blake’s blatant implication.

Nevertheless, Blake’s display of emotion seemed strange. Everything seemed strange, out of kilter, distorted. At a second glance in the mirror, he imagined that his expression displayed a sense of defeat. Blake had intimidated him and he surrendered. With this realization, the pain of his humiliation by Margo engulfed him again with pounding force. But for the first time since that event he did not feel toppled. Instead he sensed a tiny resurgence of protest.

Leaving the locker room, he went to the main office and spoke to the secretary. She was a middle-aged redhead with freckles and a toothy, ingratiating smile. Behind her was a door marked “Private” which Cooper knew was the manager’s office.

“Can I help you?” the secretary asked.

Maintaining a business-like demeanor, he explained that he was looking for the telephone number of a member, Mike Parrish.

“I have something of his I meant to return,” he said. “He hasn’t been around for awhile.”

“I’m not sure…” the woman began.

“I thought I had his number. I think it’s unlisted. Believe me, if it wasn’t important I wouldn’t bother you. I really need to return what he gave me.”

“Well, okay,” she said.

Cooper was sorry he had not gone to the secretary in the first place, thereby avoiding the scene with Blake. He told himself that his need to obtain the number represented something beyond his need to find Parrish, that it was an important test for himself.

He saw the secretary typing at the keyboard while she concentrated on the information on the screen.

“That’s funny,” she said without looking at Cooper. “You sure it’s ‘Parrish?’”

“Mike Parrish,” Cooper repeated.

The woman typed away at the keyboard.

“There must be some mistake,” she said. “He’s not on file.”

Not again
, he thought.

“He’s been a member for at least six months.”

The woman tried again. “You are absolutely sure it’s ‘Parrish?’” Cooper spelled out the letters. The secretary checked one last time. She shook her head.

“No ‘Mike Parrish.’ Sorry.”

“What about your financial records? The monthly fee. He had to pay his fee, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to get in.”

“I have no record of him, and records are the only thing I can go on.”

“Impossible,” Cooper muttered. “I was with him right here ten days ago.” He hesitated for a moment. “We worked out together for months. This is total bullshit. He was a member. I know he was a member.”

The woman flushed with anger as she studied his face. “Listen,” the woman said with attitude now, “I can only go by what’s in the computer. Don’t give me a hard time. If you got a problem, Mr. Salgo the manager will be back later in the day. Talk to him.”

“Damned right, I will.”

He had wanted to avoid another scene, but it was pointless to argue with the secretary, who depended entirely on the computer.

He thought about Parrish, the stolen child and his lost identity. The irony would probably amuse him, but Cooper was more mystified than amused.

“You should talk to Blake,” the woman said.

He had no desire to go through that again.

“Good idea,” he said, mostly to dispose of the suggestion. It occurred to him then that Parrish, who had lived life by his wits, might have made a side deal with someone, maybe with Blake himself, to circumvent the official system. That would explain Blake stonewalling Cooper.

He thanked the secretary and left the office. In the corridor he was confronted by Beth. Suddenly, he remembered her last name:
Davis
.

“I couldn’t help but watch that little caper earlier,” Beth said.

“Some people have bad days,” Cooper said. He wondered what she had overheard.

“I thought he was being a real shit,” she said. She had put on a skirt over her tights.

“Why was he making a federal case out of a simple request?”

So she had heard everything.

“It wasn’t that important,” Cooper said.

“I hate rude people,” she said. “I think it was important enough to ask. Hell, I’m as curious as you are.” She smiled, showing off deep dimples. She pointed with her chin to the secretary. “She give you his number?”

He shook his head. “He’s not on file.”

“You’re kidding.”

“He could have made a side deal,” Cooper suggested, although another idea also surfaced. “Or maybe it goes back to Blake’s lousy paperwork.”

“Sounds weird…,” she said. “Cup of coffee?” she asked, breaking the awkward moment of silence between them.

Cooper’s first instinct was to refuse. But their common ground seemed strangely intriguing, and he consented. His routine was out of whack anyway. They took one of the two Formica tables in the lunchroom and Cooper ordered two coffees.

“No sandwich?” the woman behind the counter inquired with a frown.

“Not today.”

He felt Beth Davis inspect his face. She was the kind of person who looked directly into one’s eyes, unwavering, exploring. He had always felt that type of scrutiny disconcerting, and he deliberately averted his eyes, looking everywhere but at her.

“I never even saw you talk to him,” she said.

He was surprised at her scrutiny and power of observation. As far as he could tell, Beth had only casually looked his way, always mostly concentrating on her exercises.

Cooper wondered if Beth, like Blake, had suspected any sexual motives to his inquiry. It was strange that such a thought should keep surfacing in his mind. Another irony, considering the neutrality of his desire. In pre-Margo days, he would have considered Beth Davis attractive, a bit sexy, even. But acknowledging his still lost libido, Cooper rarely thought about women now as anything more than the other gender. The psychological trigger to sexual fantasies was dormant. It no longer troubled him. Yet he was not completely without hope of rejuvenation, and would be encouraged by occasional spermatic effusions during sleep, which he discovered when he awoke. But, since it was beyond his control, a mere biological event, he forced both the memory and the anxiety it portended out of his mind.

The woman behind the counter delivered their coffee.

“Do you think he’s sick?” Beth asked. “Or maybe he’s been in some sort of an accident?”

“Maybe,” Cooper said, taking a little sip of his coffee. They both took their coffee black.

“Well, I just hope he’s okay,” she said. She also took a sip.

Her comment was reassuring. It was apparent that she too was burdened by the sudden change in their lives. She had been used to seeing Parrish—his presence must have provided a certain level of comfort and security.

“Parrish seems to have made quite an impression.”

“You mean his absence,” she corrected.

Cooper chuckled suddenly.

“Did I say something funny?”

“You got that right.”

“What?” Beth asked

“His absence of history.”

She frowned, puzzled. “Everybody has a history,” she said. “A job, a family.”

“He was a freelance artist in advertising.” Cooper said. “Supposedly things were slow at the moment. As for family…,” Cooper shook his head and smiled. “You won’t believe this.”

“Try me,” she pressed.

He launched into Parrish’s story. He told her about his kidnapping as a child, and about how he had no documentation establishing his identity.

“I’ll be damned,” Beth said. She had let her coffee get cold during his narrative. She took a sip, and made a face. “A person without a past. Untraceable.”

At that moment, a thought resurfaced. “He told me he was pissed off about the raise in fees.”

Beth narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“Then he hadn’t made a side deal.”

“Guess not. In fact it was the raise that got him talking. Up to then, he hadn’t said a word to me. Not that we ever got chummy.”

“Seems to me like he told you a great deal about himself,” Beth said, lifting the cup, remembering how cold it was, then putting it down again. “And you…did you tell him much about yourself?”

“You’re pretty nosy,” Cooper said. He had no desire to tell her anything about himself.

“I guess I am,” she said. “Natural curiosity, I guess. It’s the atmosphere. At first, you think everybody is concentrating on themselves, while in fact everyone is checking out everyone else at the gym. It’s perfectly natural. Admit it, Jack.” He was surprised to hear her call him by his first name.

“Okay. I admit it.” Truthfully, he had looked less than most, but Cooper didn’t want her to know that he was not exactly in working order.

“Parrish was quite a specimen,” she sighed. “Great ass.”

Is this the root of her curiosity? Had she been interested in Parrish? Or was it something more profound? Had Parrish become an overwhelming fantasy in her mind?

“Is that what this is all about?” Cooper asked cautiously. Beth blushed.

“No. He never looked my way,” she said humorously. “Anyway, I think maybe you’re reading too much into this.”

“But you miss him.”

“So do you,” she shot back defensively. He felt the full power of her accusation, as though she was inspecting him, his mind laid bare. He fell silent, sensing that there was more to come.

“Will you be offended if I speculate?” she asked.

“Are you going to ask me if I had a crush on him?”
Had she considered it too
? He decided he might as well deal with it head-on.

“It’s not a crime,” she said.

“The answer is ‘no,’” he said. “It was nothing like that.”

“Then why are you so invested in him?” Her eyes met his, steady and penetrating. He quickly looked away.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, tamping his emotions. “Does it matter?”

He did not wish to tell her about the way he had rigidly structured his life, that Parrish had become an integral part of that structure, that his absence had upset it.

Beth grew thoughtful. “Are you going to pursue this?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t call it a pursuit…I’m not sure. But if I do, it won’t be a big detective thing. I admit that the matter with the lost records has a strange feeling about it, but does that warrant a full court press? I doubt it.”

“I can help. I’m…I’m very tenacious. Actually, I’m a freelance researcher. I can help organize a search.” It was beyond mere curiosity now.

“You seem even more determined to find him than I am,” Cooper said.

“Not find,” she said. “Find out. There’s a difference.”

“The world won’t come to an end if I don’t find out,” he said. “It isn’t like the man was my brother.” He chuckled at the mention of “brother.”

“You’re going to let it drop?”

“I don’t intend to spend all my waking hours tracking him down,” Cooper said. “I have no intention of becoming a Missing Persons Bureau.” Beth’s disappointment was clear. “But if I do…you’ll be the first to know.” He sensed a touch of falseness to his tone. He didn’t want another confrontation. There had already been two. “Enough about Parrish,” Cooper said offering a thin smile, determined to change the subject. “What kind of research are you involved in?”

“Well, it’s sort of…I’m trying to establish that something did not happen as it was interpreted.”

“Sounds interesting,” Cooper said, not quite certain of her meaning. “Are you making any headway?”

“Frankly, no. It’s very frustrating.” She paused and turned away. “But as I told you, I am tenacious.”

“Yes,” Cooper said. “It seems that you are.” He didn’t really care to go any further.

“Are you interested in politics?” she asked.

“Not remotely. Used to be. Not anymore. Couldn’t care less who was President, who was Vice President. To me, they’re all irrelevant.”

“You don’t read the papers? Don’t watch the news?”

“You got that right.”

“Isn’t it hard to live in Washington without being interested? We live inside the beltway. It’s everywhere.”

“It’s not for me.”

“Too bad.”

Cooper had once been very interested in the political scene. Before breakfast, he would pad out barefoot to collect
The
Washington Post
and
The New York Times
in fair or foul weather. As for television, he would switch from news program to news program to get all the latest in politics. He would revel in knowing everything. Knew all the political players, loved political gossip. But like desire, this was now a part of his life that he considered extinct, removing himself so completely that he was beginning to feel irritated that Beth was attempting to draw him back into that other life. He prepared to leave.