The weight of pride

Anne pulled into the parking lot of the Royal Rushmore, Chris’ apartment complex. It wasn’t as impressive as she had imagined where Chris would live. For some reason, she had imagined he would live in a rough neighborhood with crime on every corner, not a duplex with a white picket fence and pink flamingos in the yard with nearly identical homes on either side with varying degrees of pink flamingo to garden gnomes.

What’s worse, she never imagined she would be out as Andy again. Chris had convinced her that it would be less of a hassle to not “pretend to be some girly-girl.” And just come as Andy. He wasn’t sure how he felt being Andy today, but maybe leaning into it today would be just the thing to get it out of his system. That must be why it was on her mind since the movies, he didn’t embrace it, just dipped a toe in for an hour or two. Not nearly enough to convince his mind he hated this.

Andy rang the doorbell situated in the center of a plastic frog’s stomach. After waiting a few minutes, an older woman opened the door. “Yes? Can I help you, young man?” Did he really look that much like a boy?

“I...I’m not sure. I was looking for Chris. I must’ve gone to the wrong address.”

“Oh, you’re one of Chris’s friends. He told me someone would be stopping by, you must be Andy.”

“I guess I must be.” He chuckled softly. “Does s-does he rent a room here?”

“Oh yes, he does. Come in, come in. Where are my manners? My name is Dorothy Traio. Would you like some tea?” Andy followed the elderly woman inside. His first step through the door felt like walking into his own grandmother’s house. The large open living room had a long curved couch sitting against two walls. A coffee table sat between the couch and the television leaving just enough of a path to walk into the kitchen/dining room. The glass doors on the far wall let in light as well as giving whoever was inside the perfect view of the small fenced-off yard and park beyond. “Chris does indeed rent a room here, but he also happens to be my grandson.” Grandson? Did she have dementia...or was there more to Chris than he let on? The woman looked to be about fifty, in fairly decent shape as though she still kept active even in her old age; she had shoulder-length blonde hair that looked like it was her natural hair or an extremely good quality wig. “

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Andy scolded himself, ‘lovely’ what guy says lovely? Dorothy didn't seem to notice as she walked into the kitchen to prepare the tea. In the silence, Andy could hear the shower running. Along the walls were various family photos, some from reunions and some from events and outings. It wasn’t until later photos from one or two years ago he found Chris with his grandmother and various friends, some obviously bois like him. Some looked like bodybuilders. Briefly, he wondered if he was sleeping with any of them like he obviously wanted to do with Andy.

Dorothy returned carrying a small cup of tea.”There we are dear, I hope you like oolong, it’s all I could find. I’ll have to go to the store later.”

“Thank you, this is lo-it’s all good.” Andy rolled his eyes, god, every time he tried to sound more like a guy he sounded like an idiot.

“That’s good.” Dorothy sat on the couch a foot from where Andy sat. They both quietly enjoyed their tea together for a minute unsure of what to say to each other.

“So...you’re Chris’ grandmother?”

“I guess I must be.” She smirked.

“And Chris...he...um...how long has he lived here?”

“About three years,” Chris said as he walked around the corner, his hair freshly cut and washed.

“Hey!” Andy jumped in surprise, he immediately felt guilty as he tried to probe his grandmother for information about how Chris became Chris, living with his grandmother. “Your grandmother and I were just having tea.”

“I can see that.” He smirked then kissed Dorothy on the cheek, “We’re heading out for a bit granma.”

“Okay, you two be safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Is there something you haven’t done?”

“Touche’ kid.” They both laughed and Chris took Andy by the arm, leading him outside.

“Uh, thank you for the tea. It was lovely to meet you. Nice, it was nice.” Ugh.

“Dude, shut up,” Chris said, closing the door behind them.

“I was trying to sound, ya know, more like a guy.”

“Well, you succeeded. You sounded like an idiot.” Chris climbed into a beat-up old truck and Andy followed.

“Where are we going?”

“Sounded like you were having a rough time this morning.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I thought we could go blow off some steam at the gym.”

“Why the gym?”

“Trust me on this okay?”

“Well, alright. But I’ve tried before and it didn’t help.”

“What did you do?”

“I ran on the treadmill, and that Stairmaster thing.”

“We don’t have those at my gym.”

“What do you have?”

“You’ll see.”

Soon, the two bois entered Chris’ gym. Inside was a temple of flesh and iron. Heavily muscled men lifted even heavier weights. Grunting with each strenuous effort before slamming the weights to the ground with thunderous booms. There wasn’t a treadmill, Stairmaster, or yoga ball in sight. Everything was dedicated to becoming the biggest monster in the room. Andy felt extremely feminine and tiny compared to the other guys.

“Welcome to Tartarus,” Chris smirked.

“Really?”

“Yeah really.” Chris approached a counter and swiped a keycard under a scanner, “Plus one.” He told the girl behind the counter.

“Ooh, fresh meat?”

“Back off Sarah. He’s not sure if he wants to sign up so I’m giving him a trial run.”

“Oh, that’s a fabulous idea.” Sarah was not what Andy expected to be the receptionist of a gym full of Dwayne Johnsons and Arnold Schwarzenegger. She stood, maybe, 5’5 with her blonde hair done in twin braids. She wore a pink tank top with the gym logo. Her thin arms may have had no fat to speak of but they held no muscle either. Not compared to these guys. “I think you’re gonna love it here. Chris is an amazing trainer.”

“You’re a trainer?” Andy tried not to sound shocked and failed.

“Yeah. About a year now. Come on.” On Chris’ word, he wore a t-shirt and track pants to help hide his feminine figure. Similar to what Chris wore himself, but instead of pants, he wore knee-length gym shorts. Andy had never noticed before how well defined Chris’ arms were, or his back. He felt a stirring down below as he stared at Chris' masculine frame. If Andy hadn’t held Chris’ faux penis in his own hand on their date himself he never would believe Chris was anything but a guy.

Andy watched as Chris picked up 10lbs weights, and load them onto a heavy metal bar. “Alright, come here.” Chris sat Andy on the bench underneath the bar and pushed him so he was laying down. “Watch your head. You wouldn’t believe how often guys hit their heads on the bar. Okay, good. We’re gonna start with a bench press. Really open up your chest.”

"Uh, Chris, see...the thing is….while I may have stared at a few jocks before I'm not exactly one of them. I don't know how to do this."

"That's okay. I won't let anything happen to you." For some reason his words made him feel better. He gripped the bar where Chris told him, took a few breaths to steady his mind, and heaved the bar with all his might.

Slowly the bar raised as it shook. God, how did guys make this look so easy? He managed to extend his arms all the way up, and carefully bring the bar down. "Ugh! Fuck!" Andy swore loudly. Chris stood over him ready to help him any moment he asked, even though he knew it would be easier to ask for help he didn’t want to look weak in front of Chris. He already looked like a frail little girl compared to him. He wanted to be stronger like he never wanted anything before. He fumed as he pushed the bar higher and higher until finally, it was all the way back up.

“That’s great. Now, seven more.”

“Shit.” With each rep, it became less shaky. Finally, it was over and he dropped the bar back into place. Andy lay on the bench, gasping for air when Chris helped him up.

“You did good.” He gave Andy a congratulatory fist-bump. “How do you feel now?”

“Tired. Hot. Sweaty. Ugh.”

Chris laughed, “Okay, but do you feel any better than you did an hour ago?”

Andy thought for a moment, he had to admit he did indeed feel better. “Actually, I do.” He smiled. “I feel dead but better.”

“Better than Zumba I bet.” Andy blushed and looked away embarrassed. “Come on, we’ve got more heavy things to lift.”

“I don’t know, twenty pounds nearly killed me.”

“That wasn’t twenty pounds.”

“What?”

“Yeah, everyone always forgets about the bar. The bar alone weighs 45lbs.” Andy’s mouth dropped, he had lifted...he had benched sixty-five pounds. For some reason, that thought filled him with pride. Chris smiled and helped Andy to his feet. “Come on. There’s a lot more fun to be had.”

An hour later, Andy dragged himself into the shower in the gym's locker room. Lifting his arms just to adjust the showerhead proved difficult under the soreness of his muscles, but...for some reason the pain made him smile. It was painful, yes, but it came from him accomplishing things he never thought he could before. He would definitely have to do this again...once he recovered.