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 intense curiosity. Her figure was full, but graceful.
"Odd not seeing that other man around," she said.
"What man?" Cooper asked with a display of innocence. He knew she meant Parrish.
"That fellow who usually exercises around the same time as you do."
"You mean Parrish?"
"Was that his name?"
"I think so," Cooper said. He was being deliberately vague.
"He was a regular, just like you. Something feels… different," she said, smiling. It was a full smile, a side of her he had never seen before. He took her for mid-thirties. For some reason, he got it into his head that her inquiry about Parrish's whereabouts was more than just offhand.
Perhaps she is secretly interested in him, Cooper thought.
"Maybe he's sick," Cooper said. By then, he had gone through a long list of possibilities. "Or he got bored, quit. Happens all the time." He sounded just like Blake.
"Did you know him outside of the club?" she asked. From her persistence, he realized that she did have more than a casual interest in Parrish. He decided to appear accessible to her.
"Not really. We were both in advertising. He was freelance." He cleared his throat. "I got laid off."
"I'm sorry to hear that." For a brief second Cooper felt her eyes trying to meet his.
"No problem," Cooper said. He wished she would end the conversation. He sat down on the seat of a bicep machine.
"You think he'll be back?" she asked.
"Beats me."
"Funny," the woman said after a long pause. "You get used to people being around."
"Do you?"
"I mean, working out is an individual thing. You're concentrating, it's intense. I suppose it's somewhat subliminal. You know… his presence."
"I guess that's the way it goes," Cooper said, reaching for the machine's handles. He held on to them, but did not move.
"You think he's okay?" she asked.
"I'm sure he is," Cooper said.
"I'm Beth Davis," the woman said, still smiling. "And you are…?"
"Jack Cooper."
It was, he knew, a knee-jerk reaction. He hadn't wanted her to know his name. It felt like a violation in his static little world, which seemed to be collapsing in Parrish's absence. Cooper began to use the bicep machine. Beth took the hint, and went over to the calf machine. She did not look in Cooper's direction.
Of course Parrish is okay, he decided, not wishing to expend any more energy on the topic. Why wouldn't he be?
Later, when Cooper had taken his sauna and showered, he went back to the equipment room to see Blake and remind him that he was still seeking Parrish's number. Blake was in the midst of a sales pitch to a potential customer.
"Be with you in a few minutes," Blake said.
"I'll be back after lunch," Cooper said, still playing the game of indifference.
But Cooper, despite all his effort, remained far from indifferent. He was seized by an urgency that he was at a loss to explain to himself. He tried in a hundred ways to rationalize the absence of Parrish as meaningless to his life. He couldn't. Parrish's persona, his mysterious upbringing, his manifestation, had taken a strange hold on him. He could not get the idea of the stolen baby out of his head. It made him wonder how many others were out there, stolen babies, searching for their identity.
The woman at the lunch counter had earlier inquired about Parrish. Cooper had shrugged and raised his eyebrows.
"Beats me," Cooper shrugged.
"I guess your buddy isn't coming back."
"How do you know that?" he asked, startled by the assertion.
"Exercise is addicting. He couldn't go a whole week without a fix. Probably joined some other club."
The logic in her remark was unsettling. Cooper suddenly had trouble eating his sandwich. He fidgeted. A game of squash had begun behind the plate glass window, but he could not summon up any interest.
Finally, Cooper couldn't wait any longer. The door was open, and Blake had his long legs stretched at an angle across his desk. Looking up suddenly, he saw Cooper observing him, then moved one leg and kicked the door shut. The door slammed, an intrusive noise in that place with its barely audible music. Cooper looked around to see if anyone had noticed, slightly embarrassed.
There were only three people in the room, two women with iPods and Beth Something. He had already forgotten her last name. She was finished with her workout and was wiping perspiration off her face. For a moment their eyes met, and then she looked away, continuing to dab her face.
Hey, I'm a paying customer here, Cooper said to himself. Rather than stand around aimlessly waiting for Blake, he opened the door to his office. Blake was on the phone. As Cooper stood in the doorway, he was conscious of being observed by Beth. He was annoyed and tried to dismiss it. Let her watch, he told himself. Who cares?
"Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Blake snapped.
"I need Parrish's number," Cooper insisted, showing Blake that he would not be intimidated.
"I'll get to it after my phone call," Blake said.
"I'd like it now, please." Cooper paused briefly. "I'm getting ready to leave."
Blake spoke into the phone. "Hold on a minute."
With tight-lipped impatience, he put the phone on his desk and stood up. Cooper watched him rifle through a file cabinet drawer. He could peripherally see Beth staring. He eyed her through the glass partition, hoping that it would deter her. It didn't.
Blake seemed to be taking longer than necessary. The drawer was only half-filled. As Cooper waited, he felt a strange sense of guilt. He wished he was elsewhere, but could not leave. After a moment, Blake shook his head.
"Can't find the damned thing," Blake said. His cobalt blue eyes glared at Cooper, as if they were challenging him.
"What do you mean, you can't find it?" Cooper asked. The woman was watching and for some reason he did not want her to see him surrender. He felt his heart banging in his chest. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to remain relaxed.
"All this goddamned paperwork, I just can't find it. I'm a trainer, not a secretary. It's just not here."
Blake seemed both frustrated and perplexed. But he gave no apologies.
"Maybe it's just misfiled," Cooper said, forcing himself to be reasonable.
"What do you want it for anyway? If he was your friend he would have given it to you."
"I told you. I lost it."
Cooper wondered if he was beginning to sound less than reasonable.
"Why not just look up his fucking number?"
"I did. He's not there."
"That's not my fault."
Blake shook his head and sighed, looking at Cooper as if he were an unruly adolescent. Beth continued to observe them while the others paid no attention, intent on their workouts.
"I'm on my break and I have someone waiting on the phone," Blake said. "I can't be bothered with this." He started toward his desk.
Cooper cleared his throat. "I'm sure it's there."
Blake stopped. "You're not calling me a liar, are you?" His tone had reached a level of belligerence.
"No. I'm only saying it might have been misplaced."
"Frankly, Cooper, I don't know what happened to it, and to tell you the truth, you're beginning to piss me off."
The confrontation was getting personal, out of hand. Again, Cooper glanced over at Beth. She had moved closer, almost goading him onward, as if something important was at stake here that demanded a strong response.
"Why all the hostility, Blake?"
"Fuck you."
Blake turned his back on him.
"I'm afraid I'll have to speak to your boss," Cooper said. Blake turned again, his face twisted into a cruel grin.
"Ooh, I'm scared," he said mockingly. "You know what? I got enough outside clients to cover myself without playing nursemaid to you pussies. Go ahead, get me fired." Then he threw Cooper a wink. "Now that Parrish is gone, you think maybe you missed out on something good, is that it?"
His assertion stunned Cooper, who felt the blood rise to his face. From the corner of his eye he saw Beth take a step forward. He thought that he saw the woman nod her head in approval.
He didn't quite know how to handle the situation. Fight or fight, his mind told him. How had things progressed to this? Further confrontation seemed pointless.
"The hell with it," Cooper muttered as he backed out of the little office.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wall. His face was flushed. He felt bile in the back of his throat.
"Pussy," Blake had called him. But Blake was right about one thing.
Why am I pursuing Parrish with such intensity?
Without looking in the woman's direction, he headed out of the room. He felt her probing eyes on him as he left and he wondered what she had concluded from her observation of the incident.