As I turned down the hall to go to my room, I surprised myself by blurting out, “Why’d you go into the darkroom with him?”

I thought she smiled. “To give you time to look around the rest of the studio.”

Somehow that made me feel better, and I went to bed.

On Sunday we were both restless and didn’t know what to do. I disappeared for a couple of hours, saying I had to do laundry. Mostly I wanted to be by myself, so I went to the gym although it wasn’t one of my regular days.

I decided to make it a leg day. You can’t have too many leg days. I wanted to squat again. I was still a little sore from the other day, but soreness is a positive factor. A certain amount of pain can feel good. I loaded a hundred pounds on the bar, strapped on my belt and put on my gloves. I looked around for Rodney but didn’t see him. I wondered whether I should try it on my own. I examined myself in the mirror. Your body defines much of your social reality.

The weight rested on my shoulders, and I adjusted the bar across the back of my neck. Rigid and frowning, my face stared back at me from the mirror behind the squat rack. I exhaled deeply. There’s a tendency to hold your breath when you’re working with weights, as though you have to save that energy, have some reserve. I have to keep remembering to breathe. I glanced around the room looking for Rodney again, then stared into the mirror again, studying the arrangement of my body. During intense training you have to use your mind like a muscle. I remembered what I wanted, what I’ve always wanted since I was a kid: to be strong. I saw myself squatting the hundred pounds. Then I did it. I put the bar back on the rack after three sets.

I added another fifteen pounds and focused myself in the mirror again. I like to sweat and I was wet. I like to look in the mirror. My hands wrapped around the bar, and I wondered if I was supposed to pyramid or if I should go for more reps. I decided to go for the reps and did three sets of ten. I was shaky and panicky by the time I got the bar on the rack after the third set. Taking the towel off the bar, I wiped my face. I put another ten pounds on the bar as Rodney had done, closed my eyes for an instant and leaned my head on the bar like I was praying.

“Fear of pain is a serious weakness in a person,” I heard Rodney say.