Chapter 17

Zeke shook his head. He needed to do something. Get his mind off her. The exercise room. He’d ride the bike for a while and maybe lift some weights. While he pumped the pedals, he remembered the motorcycle ride the day before with the pastor. How beautiful the mountains had been. He relived their synchronized connection on the road. It was good to be out riding with the pastor, like those rare moments with his dad, working on his Impala.

His legs burned as the conversation with the pastor replayed in his mind. He shook his head. It was childish announcing his theories to the pastor like he had it all figured out. It wasn’t one of his finer moments. He increased the number for a greater incline and stood up on the pedals to pump the bike harder.

It was a relief when Pastor V told him he didn’t have to open the envelope right away. Zeke could open it when he wanted. He inhaled deeper than necessary and blew out the air.

He would open the envelope when he was ready.

He would open the prayer room when he was ready.

Right now, he wasn’t ready.

He stopped the bike and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirt. He enjoyed the exercise, the burn in his thighs and calves. He walked over to the home gym and set the weight pin to a hundred and twenty pounds. He leaned the incline bench back to forty-five degrees and walked around to sit down behind the bench press bars. He grasped the handles and moved his fingers until he had a good firm grip. Isometrically, he pushed the bar away from his chest and then slowly resisted the weight as it came back.

“That’s one,” he said. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the bar out again and continued to count until he completed ten reps. He repeated the routine two more times Then he reset the weight pin to two hundred and thirty pounds. He raised the incline bench to ninety-five degrees and sat down. He lifted his feet, placed them on the platform, and began to push with his legs.

“One ... Two ... Three...” He counted until he completed three sets of ten reps each. He sat a moment, settling his breath. Then he stood and walked to the back of the machine. He changed the weight pin to one hundred and seventy-five pounds, his body weight, and returned to the seat to work his lats.

When finished, he allowed his arms to fall into his lap and he sat panting. The exhaustion soothed his nerves and cleared his mind. As his breath returned to normal, he spied the free weights. He wasn’t quite done yet.

He started with thirty-five-pound bicep curls. A flash of light shot through his optic nerve. The dumbbells dropped to the bench. They rolled out of his hands, hit the sponge mat, and rolled across the floor. He sat with his elbows pressing into his knees, his head in his hands. His heart hammered against his eardrums. Pain radiated from the top of his head down to his neck.

“Aneurism?” he mumbled. He squeezed his eyes closed as stars shot across the back of his eyelids. They spiraled into one small white dot in the center of the blackness. The dot grew larger and larger as if it were moving closer to him. In the center of the white sphere, shadows swirled into the shape of eyes, a nose, and a bearded mouth.