Lois Metzger - A Trick of the Light

Amber: “And no, you don’t know him; he doesn’t go to our school, either.”

An hour later Mike ends up in line at the checkout counter, while Amber stares at an actress on a magazine cover with the caption “How Skinny Is Too Skinny?”

Amber: “It’s not fair! These women are beautiful. What about obesity? That’s a huge problem! Why isn’t that on the magazine covers instead of the same stupid story every week?”

Mike wishes she would stop shouting. But you have to admire her passion. Too many people have no fire.

Amber (lowering her voice): “Angelina Jolie has a tattoo. Do you know what it says?”

Mike: “Uh, no.”

Ambers says something in Latin and Mike asks her to repeat it.

Amber: “ Quod me nutrit me destruit . ‘What nourishes me destroys me.’”

Mike: “What does that mean?”

Amber (distractedly): “I should get a tattoo. Right where my mom could see it.”

A woman ahead of them is asking the cashier where the 2-percent cottage cheese is. The cashier doesn’t know.

Amber: “Aisle four. Halfway down, opposite the frozen waffles. If you hit the frozen vegetables, you’ve gone too far.”

The cashier looks at Mike. He’s dying inside, wondering if the cashier thinks Amber is his girlfriend. Honestly, he shouldn’t worry so much about what other people think.

Outside, Amber scribbles something on a piece of paper.Hone>

Amber: “Here’s my number. If you have any questions about food or anything, you can call me.” She pulls at Mike’s arm. “Hey, let’s move. I don’t like the way that guy is staring at me.”

Mike: “What guy?”

Amber: “Don’t look!”

Mike sees a guy with a German shepherd.

Mike: “He’s just walking his dog.”

Amber: “You’re not a girl. You don’t know these things.” She leads Mike around the corner. “So, you know, call anytime, even if it’s the middle of the night.”

Mike: “Your boyfriend might get jealous.”

Amber: “Boyfriend? Oh, Eddie’s very mature, very understanding.”

Mike: “Yeah, well, I’d never call you in the middle of the night.”

AS MIKE LEAVES SCHOOL ONE DAY, HIS BASEBALL coach practically blocks his path.

Now, sports are great, generally, but baseball is far too sedentary. This is why baseball can no longer be part of Mike’s life, though Mike doesn’t seem ready to let go of it yet. Mike likes Coach Jim because he’s nice to all the players, unlike other baseball coaches, who treat everyone who isn’t a pitcher or a home-run hitter like a second-class citizen. Last spring Mike played right field, though he wanted to play center—more balls get hit out there. Mike likes the outfield because he doesn’t have to think much. He only has to catch and throw, catch and throw, in his own private piece of the world.

It’s not your world anymore. Move on.

Coach Jim: “Whoa, hold up, Mike!”

Mike (trying to get past him): “Coach.”

But it turns out you can’t get past Coach Jim. He’s a big guy with a bald shiny head, and he wears the same thing in hot weather or cold—sweatpants and a zipped-up hoodie.

Coach Jim: “Not so fast. Winter workouts start in December. Will I be seeing you?”

To Mike, December sounds about a million years away.

Coach Jim: “You’re getting in shape, right?”

Mike: “What? Do you think I’m fat?”

Coach Jim (quickly): “No!”

Much too quickly.

Coach Jim: “You look great, kid.”

Mike thinks, He’s never told me that before.

You can’t trust him.

Coach Jim: “I just don’t want you to get injured at the beginning of the season. Some kids don’t do anything all fall, then they do too much, too soon. I want you ready, you get me?”

He’s backpedaling.

Coach Jim: “Did you hear that Eric smashed his growth plate? One of our best pitchers, out for the season.”

Now he’s changing the subject.

Mike: “Well. I’m gonna start running.”

This just popped into Mike’s head—not my idea, but I couldn’t have come up with a better one myself.

Coach Jim: “Make sure you stretch before and after.” He gives Mike a strange look, like he’s thinking about something he’s not going to say out loud. Instead he says, “Don’t do too much.”

Mike loves running laps. He had no idea—it always looked dumb, just running around in circles. But he discovers it’s the closest thing to flying without leaving the ground. He runs every day after school now. He never thought much of Belle Heights Park—just a bunch of trees, brownish grass, and splintery benches—but now he sees how perfect it is. Each lap around is an exact half mile, so he knows how much he’s running. Some guys hang out in the park singing, playing guitar. They’re off-key, but so what? They’re full of energy. Mike breathes in the sharp air and fills his lungs. His head is so clear. Nothing bothers him—nothing. If he ever thinks about his dad and his adolescent girlfriend, or his mom in the tub, or Tamio, or Valerie, he shoves those images aside and leaves them on the pavement where he can run right past them. They’re the emotional equivalent of roadkill.

Mike smiles as he runs.

You can’t control those things. You can control this. Your body, your mind.

When Mike goes home, he looks in the mirror. The last time he spent this many hours in front of a mirror, it was to practice speech exercises. He was just a kid, alone at school, the little disc jockey. Now he doesn’t have to say a word. He only has to listen.

You can be strong. You can be fit. Strong body, strong mind.

Infinitely strong.

Mike can feel his legs tightening. His stomach seems firmer.

Run two extra laps tomorrow.

Mike’s stomach starts to growl.

It’s a good sound. It means you’re on your way.

He knows this. He can feel it.

At school he gets a compliment.

Ruby L: “Mike, you been working out?”

Mike: “Yeah.”

Ruby L: “It shows.”

Now Mike is grateful he doesn’t have any classes with Tamio. It makes it a lot easier to avoid him. And after school Tamio is busy with soccer. Mike has lunch with Amber every day. He doesn’t see it as a boy and girl eating together, though of course that’s exactly what it is. Mike has acknowledged that Amber tells him what he needs to know, though he could give her a little more credit. She is a friend, too.

Amber: “You’ve been storing up unhealthy levels of fat in your body—for years. You’ve got to burn through those reserves.”

It reminds Mike of something he heard in an art elective, what Michelangelo said about carving the statue of David—he simply removed all the marble that wasn’t David.

Against my better judgment, Mike tries to get Amber to watch a movie with him. He mentions some murderous skeletons in Jason and the Argonauts , one of Ray Harryhausen’s films.

Mike: “How do you kill skeletons when they’re already dead? You lure them off a cliff, that’s how.”

Amber: “Can we please stop talking about this? It’s really boring.”

She knows it’s a waste of time.

Amber: “Why don’t you just watch this stuff with Tamio?”

Mike: “Well, we’re not really friends anymore.”

Amber: “Oh? Why not?”

Mike (shrugs): “We’re different now, I guess.”

Amber: “I know what you mean. But that wouldn’t happen with me and Anna.” She sticks out her wrist. She has on a red bracelet. “See? Anna gave me this. It symbolizes our eternal friendship.”

Something else that’s wonderful about Amber. Her undying loyalty.