Treadmill Read Online Free PDF Page B

Parrish laughed. “I have no documentation to prove I was even born. As far as the government, or anyone else knows, I don’t exist. ”
    “Is that good or bad?”
    “Both.” He stuck a thumb to his chest. “But I’m still here, brother,” Parrish said.
    “So you are,” Cooper said.
    But the next day he wasn’t.

4
4

    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