Unwrapping Holly

He pulled me inside and flipped on a set of overhead lights. The place was fairly large, as far as commercial spaces in Manhattan went. A grey cement floor stretched from wall to wall in a big, barren rectangle.

“Welcome to Donovan’s,” he announced, his voice echoing loudly.

“Donovan’s?”

“My gym,” he smiled. “Or rather, my future gym.”

My eyes lit up. Out of pure shock, I punched him in the chest.

“NO WAY!”

His smile went crooked, which was a little weird.

“Actually you’re right,” he admitted. “It’s not my gym. Not yet. Not for a long while still, although I’ve been saving like crazy.”

His expression was one of longing more than excitement now. I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on.

“So you’re eventually going to open your own gym here?” I asked. “They’re like… holding this place for you?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, definitely not.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

Donovan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, as if breathing the place in. Not that it smelled like anything but a garage to begin with, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“This could be my gym,” he said matter-of-factly. “Or my gym could be someplace else. Somewhere nearby though, I think. Somewhere in the Village.”

I cocked my head

and stared at him. “Once you have the money though, right?”

“Right.”

I was still confused. “So what are we—”

“Every month or two I call a real estate agent,” he explained, “to look at spaces. To get an idea of what’s out there. To see what my gym could look like, if I were anywhere near what I actually need to open one.”

“So you like to torture yourself,” I asked, hoping it didn’t come out wrong.

“Yes. Sort of.”

“Because if I were in your shoes, every time I did this it would be… well… sort of depressing.”

Donovan laughed and even his laugh echoed. His voice sounded deep and beautiful.

“Just the opposite,” he said. “Holly, take a look around. This is motivational. This is my future. My distant future, sure, but my future nonetheless.”

I stared around at the garage like a great empty canvas. Solid walls. High ceilings. Even the neighborhood was good. The place really would be perfect, as far as putting up a gym went.

“Believe you can,” Donovan said loudly, “and you’re halfway there.”

I chuckled at yet another one of his motivational quotes. “So you have half a gym?”

“I have half the money needed to start one,” he said. “Considering I go with all used equipment, I do all the interior construction myself, and I save every dime I make…”

I whistled low. “Not bad.”

“Maybe a couple of other sacrifices too,” he continued. “Not eating… Not sleeping…”