17
claire
I’m playing catch with Josh in the backyard. He’d prefer to throw the ball to Chris or Travis, but Chris is in Miami and Travis has a raging case of strep throat. All Josh has left are his mom and his sister and when Jordan refused he came looking for me. His timing isn’t the greatest because I’m right in the middle of cooking dinner, but he looks so hopeful that I can’t bring myself to say no. I turn down the temperature on the stove, deciding that the beef stew can simmer for a while longer. After shutting off the oven that had been preheating for the crescent rolls, Jordan’s favorite, I follow him outside.
I put on my glove and Josh winds up and throws.
“Good job, Mom,” he says when I catch it.
He smiles when I throw it back. We play for almost a half hour, but then I bend down to retrieve the ball that I missed and something pops in my back. I can barely straighten.
“Mom, what happened?” Josh asks, running over to me.
“Nothing,” I assure him. Trying not to grimace, I say, “I’m okay.”
It isn’t nothing. It feels like white-hot arrows of pain are shooting from my lower back to the top of my spine, pain that’s exacerbated by the slightest movement. “Let’s go inside,” I say. “It’s almost time for dinner.”
“Okay,” he says.
I take two Motrin and walk over to stir the beef stew. After preheating the oven I have to ask Josh to open it; I can’t bend down far enough to do it myself. “Thank you,” I say. “Stand back.” I slide the sheet pan of rolls inside, closing the door with my hip. When the timer goes off twelve minutes later I somehow manage to remove the rolls without dropping them.
Sitting hurts. Lying down hurts. The only thing that’s remotely bearable is to keep moving. Once I stop, it becomes even harder to get going again.
The pain is much worse the next morning and the three Motrin I washed down with my coffee haven’t put a dent in it. Julia calls to see if the kids and I want to meet her and her daughters at the park later this afternoon. “I don’t know,” I answer. “I did something to my back. I need a massage, but my regular guy is on vacation.” I’ve been going to Walt for years; he’s sixty-five, a retired marine, and he doesn’t try to manhandle me or press on anything too hard. I trust him implicitly.
“You should go to my guy. If you call him and tell him I referred you, he’ll get you right in.”
“Is he good?”
“He’s the best. I tip very well.” She gives me his number and I scrawl it on a scrap of paper. As soon as I hang up I call; Julia must have some pull because her massage therapist says he’ll shuffle things around and can fit me in at one o’clock. I call a babysitter to watch the kids while I’m gone.
The pain in my back has morphed into a dull, throbbing ache and the anticipation of relief prompts me to arrive early. It looks like a nice enough place, and the reception area is clean, though sparsely decorated. I thumb through a magazine and wait.
When he pops his head around the corner and calls my name, I’m relieved to discover that Julia’s massage therapist is a tall, athletically built man who looks as if he’s in his midtwenties. His handshake is firm, but not crushing, and once I’m on the table and he begins, I can tell he’s not going to be too rough. He asks me about my pain and focuses extra attention on the small of my back where it hurts the most. Gradually I relax, and I think I could actually fall asleep.
After a while he asks me to turn onto my back and I manage to flip over without dislodging the towels that cover the parts of me that are off-limits. He resumes massaging me, starting with my feet and working his way up. I start to doze, but then his fingers graze the inside of my thigh, which is weird because Walt never touches me there.
His hand moves a little higher.
Or there.
He slides his hand between my legs, cupping me, fluttering his fingers gently along my crotch, and I fly off the table, pain ripping through my back as I try to remain upright and keep everything covered.
Walt would never do that.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell.
He holds his hands up in front of him and takes a few steps backward. “I’m sorry. Julia referred you. I thought you knew.”
What, that you give happy endings? No, I didn’t know that.
“Look,” he says. “I’m really sorry, but I’m putting myself through grad school and I need this job. I would never have touched you if I thought you didn’t want me to.”
Seeing his panic-stricken expression calms me down; his explanation rings true, and I’m open-minded enough to chalk the experience up to a misunderstanding. A really big one.
“It’s okay. I won’t say anything.”
Relieved, his shoulders slump and he takes a deep breath. “I’d be happy to work on your back some more. You look like you’re in serious pain.”
He seems sincere, but I say, “No thanks. I’m going to get dressed now.” Before he leaves the room I add, “Hey. I was never here.”
He nods, comprehending. “Okay.”
We walk to the park later to meet Julia and her girls. She notes my slow rate of speed, and my shuffling gait. Her hands are wrapped around a plastic tumbler that contains a clear liquid I strongly suspect is white wine. “Didn’t you call my guy, Claire? I told you he’d fix you right up.” She smiles knowingly.
“I called a chiropractor instead. I don’t think this is a problem that can be solved with a massage.”
And certainly not with an orgasm.
It’s not a lie. As soon as I got home I called a chiropractor and I’ve got an appointment first thing in the morning.
“You look like you’re in agony,” she says.
“I’ll be fine.”
The kids scamper off, eager to play, Josh on the jungle gym and the three girls on the swings.
Julia leans in close, so I can hear her. “Make sure you call him sometime, Claire,” she whispers, and the fumes of chardonnay wafting from her mouth are so potent I’m surprised I don’t catch a buzz. “You’ll want to get on his rotation, especially now that Chris is gone all the time.”
“I’ll keep him in mind,” I say, but I’m flat-out lying because I’m not so desperate for the human touch that I’m willing to outsource it to a man employed by a massage franchise sandwiched between a dry cleaner and a video store in some strip mall across town.
Not yet, anyway.