38.
There was something afoot with the boys, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. They were up to something. I had been married to Gordon and known him long enough to know the look of deviance when he was plotting something behind those stunning blue eyes of his.
That something involved the base commander.
Somehow it did, I could tell by the way Gordon behaved around the man.
After we had our BBQ.
Which the entire block took part in. There were enough grills in the street we could have landed airplanes.
Afterward Gordon informed me that he was going to go out for a run and then hit the gym. This was a red flag that something was afoot, something was the matter.
I did not doubt that he wasn't going to the gym.
However, my husband picked at a salad and had some water for dinner. While he usually consumes no less then two thousand calories a day while at home. He always had an appetite unless we were short on food, and there was enough to feed the Chinese Army at the BBQ.
Then, rarely did he work out at night. Nighttime was our time and he loved quality time. I loved quality time to be honest.
So when he took off out the garage door I knew he was plotting something. He always thought up stuff while working out. Or worked through stuff while working out.
So I gave him an hour while I did some paperwork in the hammock which would be my bed. I set up an air mattress beneath the hammock for him. Then I started a load of laundry.
When the second hour went by I started to read a book with Fabio on the cover and wondered how he was supposed to be good looking.
The third hour went by and I gave up reading the book, instead I skimmed through looking for love scenes and painted my toenails.
When it came on four hours I put on my flip-flops and drove down to the gym. Granted, I could have walked.
I also didn't have to eat a rack of ribs and two ears of corn. Exercise was ok, I just didn't want to eat my dinner all night long.
I parked in the pretty much empty parking lot and walked into the gym. It was in the same center as the commissary and the Burger King. Apparently no one else was at the gym, they were at home having quality time with their spouses. Or practicing their God given right not to go to the gym at nine o'clock at night.
Once in the spacious gym the smell of sweat and manliness hit my nose. The young lady behind the desk looked up at me. I looked around at all the equipment. None of which held my husband. So I walked over and peered over the desk at her, "Is my husband here?"
She cocked an eyebrow which had a hoop through it, "And he is…"
"Gor…Master Sergeant Gary Gordon." I really had to work on the rank. Not everyone knew him as Gordon. He had a rank and that was what most people knew him as.
She gave me a look.
A look I was used to. Envy. The you lucky bitch look. Then she pointed, "He's in the weight room."
She pointed to swing doors on the far wall.
So I strolled across the huge gym. Through the swing doors which were something out of a restaurant. I kinda liked them. They had character.
Into the weight room.
My husband had to be the only person in the gym. He was the only guy in the weight room. Oddly, he wasn't lifting weights. Oh no, he was beating the living hell out of a punching bag. He wasn't just hitting the poor bag. Nope. It looked like he was trying to beat the pulp out of it.
The sounds his gloved fists made when they made contact were loud, hard.
I knew how heavy and hard the bags were that huge from the ceiling. He was hitting and kicking it as if it were nothing, a pillow at best.
I always knew he was strong.
Much much physically stronger then me.
But watching him hit the bag. Hearing the sounds of him hitting the bag. Even watching his body move surely, expertly, with ease as he beat the bag.
It didn't scare me.
It made me stop dead in my tracks.
He had occasional outbursts which he kept in check, I had never seen him unrestrained. Or the totality of his strength, or even the anger he hid from me. The muscles that I had grown to love and worship in bed, or around the house for silly little chores; their true use occurred before me.
I turned.
Bothered for some reason, upset or something.
There was someone behind me. I hadn't heard or noticed the girl come in the room.
She scared me.
I shrieked and jumped a few steps back.
She gave me a weird look and chomped on her gum, "Lady. You're parked in a handicap spot. I'd move your car or supercop will come by and ticket you."
Supercop?
Oh yeah, supercop. He enforced all the traffic and parking laws and would ticket anyone. He was quite popular.
I looked back to Gordon, who was curiously looking at me in nothing but sweatpants and boxing gloves. All his muscle there and so obvious, no longer just a six-pack and nice arms that were fun to grope in bed. There was a purpose for him to be in such shape.
A purpose I had never even considered before, how naïve was I?