Old Faces
The gym was almost empty when I got there. One of the overhead lights was flickering near the far wall, and the air still held the mixed smell of rubber mats and cleaner. Mikey was near the free weights, rolling up a pair of resistance bands. He looked up when the door closed behind me.
“Almost done,” he said.
I nodded and leaned against the wall by the entrance. That was when I saw Shane.
He was older, of course—broader through the chest than I remembered, the basketball player’s frame still visible under a gray T-shirt. He finished a set of rows, set the bar down, and wiped his face with a towel. When he turned, he saw Mikey first. Then his eyes moved to me.
For a second nothing happened. Then he gave a short nod.
“Mikey,” he said. “Ryan.”
“Shane.” Mikey’s voice was easy, almost flat. “Didn’t know you still came here.”
“Now and then.” Shane glanced at me again, then back to Mikey. A small, genuine smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He looked genuinely glad to see him.
“You still wrestle?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Mikey said. “My kid’s into it, so I help coach. Try to keep up with him.”
Shane let out a short breath that was almost a laugh. “You were a beast back in the day. Ryan knows that—huh, Ryan?”
I gave an awkward smile and didn’t say anything.
Shane stepped in then, the way guys sometimes do—playful, testing, shoulders angled forward in a light clinch. It wasn’t serious. Just the leftover impulse of someone who used to compete and still felt it in his body.
Mikey took him up on it without hesitation. He dropped his level, shot in, and scooped Shane’s near knee up cleanly. Shane hopped once on the standing leg, off-balance, before Mikey released the hold and stepped back. He held the position just long enough to make the point, then let it go.
Shane laughed, shaking his head as he found his balance. “Okay, okay. Still got it. Don’t mess with Mikey—he’ll put you on your ass.”
He picked up his towel and bag. “Great to see you again. You too, Ryan.” He paused at the door. “I seen Henderson in here once. That old guy. Still looks pretty good.”
Then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him.
Mikey finished putting the bands away. We walked out into the parking lot without saying much at first. The evening air felt cooler after the gym.
After a minute I said, “He remembered.”
“Yeah.” Mikey unlocked the car. “They usually do.”
I waited until we were both inside. “You ever think about how often that used to happen? Just… out of nowhere.”
Mikey started the engine but didn’t put it in gear. “More than you know. Phil. A couple of the other guys from the weight room. Even one of the older guys who helped coach after practice. It wasn’t planned. Someone would say something, or just stand there a second too long, and it would happen.”
“And nobody made a big deal out of it,” I said.
“Not really. It was just what it was.” He looked through the windshield. “Now you’d probably get written up for half of it. You can’t just put your hands on people like that anymore.”
“Yeah. We probably got away with a lot.”
“We did.”
I nodded. “Feels like you could get away with more when we were kids. Spontaneous shit.”
“Yeah.” Mikey’s voice was quiet. “It was fun. Looking back, some of it was a little ridiculous. But it was easy then. Nobody thought twice.”
We sat there a moment longer before he finally put the car in reverse.
“Miss that part sometimes,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”
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