by Brisa Starr
“I’ve been doing the exercises. I’ve been eating the diet. It’s all helping. So, what I’d like today is just more of that laser thing.”
She chuckles and mimics me, “‘Laser thing,’” using air quotes.
I give her my most dazzling smile, and she cracks up, delighted now. We both start laughing, and I damn near want to cry. I haven’t felt joy like this in a decade. My guilt and shame have simply vanished, for the moment anyway.
How can I leave this?
She interrupts my thought and says, “Well, OK, let’s go do the laser thing.” She giggles, her eyes full of twinkles now.
Good, we’re back on track.
We leave the therapy room and I follow her to the examination room with the laser. And it’s only now that I realize something that should have been obvious to me… another benefit of the laser therapy is that her hands will be touching me, and she’ll be close to me for a whole ten minutes.
With that in mind, I look up at her as I sit on the table, lying back into position, and I ask, “Is it possible to do the procedure twice as long, to make me heal even faster?” I’m mesmerized by her, and I want to soak up her bird-song energy like a dry paper towel laid over spilled milk. I want to be around her longer.
“Absolutely,” she says. “Let’s do twenty minutes today.” We both smile, and I’m hoping hers is because she wants to be with me longer, too. And that she’s not just being friendly.
She gently pushes up the left leg of my shorts, and I’m watching her. Uh oh, my cock starts to stir again. Oh, no you don’t. Down, boy. I turn my head to the side to look at a skeleton and muscle diagram on the wall, until my cock can regain its composure. I mean, my brain. Ha, same thing.
She gets the laser out, and we don our yellow glasses. She starts the therapy, and I keep my eyes closed. She probably thinks I’m relaxing, and she starts talking.
“You kn…” she starts.
My eyes fly open and I cut her off, remembering how I left her at the farmers’ market!
“Wait, hold on. I need to interrupt you.” I lean up on my elbows as she moves the laser to another spot on my groin. “I’m so sorry about leaving you at the market like that, and bailing when I promised you lunch.”
“Oh, that’s OK, Luke. I understand,” she says earnestly.
“No, you don’t, Ash. It was rude of me, but I had t…”
“No. Wait. It’s my turn to cut you off. I mean it, I understand.”
I wrinkle my brows, and she sees my confusion, so she says, “I saw Jeremy’s parents.”
Heaviness, the weight of a ton of bricks, hits me the second she says that. I close my eyes and lie back again. But then I notice that, just as quickly as the hit of pain came, the feeling starts to fade.
Why?
Because she understood.
She knew.
I didn’t even have to say anything. But how could she know? I look at her, and I see compassion and warmth and tenderness, like a heated blanket that’s soft and warm, wrapped around your shoulders after you’ve been freezing in the cold.
Because she’s my fucking angel, that’s why.
We say nothing for the next few minutes, or is it ten? I don’t know, but we spend the rest of the session in silence, occasionally stealing glances at each other. Maybe a bit of flirtation dancing in each other’s eyes, but leaving it at that. There’s also a comfort building between us and our breathing relaxes, in sync. Her hands continue their work with the laser, and she’s always so professional and careful not to touch my privates despite their only being half an inch away, covered by my pushed-up boxer briefs. Her touch is gentle and feminine, but not sexual. It’s the touch of a healer.
We finish the therapy, and I swing my legs off the table, disappointed that she won’t be standing close to me anymore today. But I know I must see her again. I want to spend time with her outside of the clinic.
“So, I owe you lunch. And I’m taking you tomorrow. I figure the clinic is closed on Saturday, so you’re mine tomorrow afternoon.” The words come out before I can auto-correct, and the combination of her flushed cheeks and startled eyes make me realize the effect my words have on her.
She swallows and says, “Luke, I can’t go on a date with you. You’re my patient.”
“Bullshit. My therapy is almost done, and if necessary, I’ll see one of the other therapists — if I must — though I don’t want that. But if it means you’d be more comfortable coming to lunch with me, then so be it.” I smile and then add, “Or, you can think of it this way. It’s not a date. I’m taking you out because we’re just friends.”
“Oh. Not a date?” She mutters uneasily, but ponders it. Disappointment colors her eyes, and she shrugs half-heartedly. “OK then.”
Crap. I was trying to be playful, only an excuse to ease her mind, but she took it literally, which means she thinks I put her in the friend zone.
Or worse, I just put myself in the friend zone.
I want to see the desire back in her eyes and the happiness in her smile.
Act fast, Luke. You can fix this.
I lean closer to her. “Ash. I have to see more of you.”
A soft gasp escapes her lips as her eyes glitter like jewels.
There, that did it.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon.” I turn to go, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll see myself out.”
“OK,” she says, breathy, and I leave.
9
Ash
I need coffee!
And valium!
I couldn’t sleep last night. I’m too excited about my lunch today with Luke. Who am I kidding? More like crazed nervousness. If he had any idea how obsessed I was with him — my entire life — he’d laugh me to Mars. And he would not have invited me to lunch. He’d think I was some peeping-tom lunatic.
Which I am.
I roll over and stretch my arms out and roll my shoulders, thinking more about Luke. It’s not my fault he’s so hot. And it’s not my fault he lives across the street from me, and my living room window is, like, right there.
I don’t even know why he wants to eat lunch with me. Is he interested in me? If he were, would he have asked me out to dinner instead? It doesn’t make any sense. I rub the back of my neck and then shake out my hands.
But I guess I’m going… Ha!… Wild horses couldn’t stop me from going. I giggle and put my hand over my heart, taking a deep breath.
I sit up in bed and kick off the covers. They land on Honey. She digs her way out from under them, and she sits on the end of my bed with a “How dare you?” expression on her furry face.
“You’re lucky I let you sleep with me,” I shoot back.
She starts licking her paws and grooming herself. She’s no longer pissed. I smile at her ability to shift from pissed to chill so fast.
Dad didn’t want a cat, but I talked him into letting me have her. She was so cute as a kitten, with her swirls of light and dark brown hair, pink triangle nose, and tiny pointed ears. Now he loves her, and she keeps him company all day when I’m not home, which makes me happy.
Back to thinking about Luke and lunch. Focus, Ash. What am I going to wear today? What do you wear when you go to lunch with your biggest crush ever, but you’re friends?
Casual? Sexy? Flirty?
Ugh. I have no idea.
And, I don’t want to stress about it right now. I’ll think about it when I take my walk with Dad. I always think better when I walk.
I jump out of bed and slip out of my nightgown. I throw on my running outfit, but I leave my earbuds on the nightstand because Dad and I will be talking. I head down to the kitchen, and, on my way, I knock on his bedroom door, hollering, “Time to get up, sleepy bones! We’re going for a walk!”
I love our Saturday walks. He doesn’t. But that’s too bad. He doesn’t like it when I make him do anything. But somebody has to look out for him, because if I don’t, nobody will.
I hear him cuss on the other side of the door. I smi
le.
I trot downstairs to the kitchen and open the canister of coffee. Crap! It’s empty. I really need coffee today. My brain needs it. Dad’s will definitely need it.
I open the creaky cupboards frantically, hoping I have an extra tin somewhere. “Dad!” I yell. “Is there more coffee? The can is empty!”
He calls down to me, “Check above the sink.”
I open the cupboard. And what do you know? He’s right. Phew. And he’s the one who remembered where it was. That’s a good sign!
I treat my dad today, and I fix up his coffee for him. I get the cream and stevia, just the way he likes it. Well, he’d prefer sugar, but I’m limiting his sugar consumption to reduce inflammation in his brain.
Stevia it is. Which isn’t that bad, except for the time I made those brownies. Those were awful. In that moment, I realized I’d taken things too far, and that balance is a good philosophy for life. Now I make brownies with honey. Not my cat! And we only have them every few weeks, as a treat. Though now that Sally has mastered a cheesecake recipe with xylitol as the sweetener, maybe I could experiment using that in brownies.
I tap my lip, thinking about it, when Dad walks in. He’s grumbling, but I’m pleased to see he’s dressed and ready for our walk.
“Can I at least have my cup of coffee first?” He sits down at the kitchen table.
“Of course, Dad,” I say as I carry his coffee to him. He yawns and adds, “Why do you make me go on these walks?”
“We’ve been through this. You know why!” I throw my hands up to make my point. “Movement is good for your body, and it’s good for your brain. Do you want your brain to turn to mush?”
He grimaces, and I continue, “That’s what I thought.”
We finish our coffees and step out onto the porch. The sun shines bright as a juicy lemon in the soft blue sky overhead, and I grin like a six-year-old on her birthday. The air is crisp and fresh in my nostrils, and I inhale in appreciation with easy breaths. Gosh, I love Prescott.
“OK, Dad! Set your fitness activity on your watch so it tracks this walk and you get credit for it.”
He mumbles as he holds up his left arm, with his watch in front of his face. He attempts to add the activity, but gets frustrated, because he doesn’t know what to do. He snorts in impatience.
This isn’t a dementia thing, it’s a cranky old fart thing, so I say, “You would know how to do this if you did it more often.”
“It’s just confusing crap I don’t need. Why can’t I just take a walk?”
“We need to track this stuff, Dad. It’s a sign of the times. Use it to motivate you instead of frustrate you.” I smile at him and grab his wrist to assist. I hold it in front of both of us to show him.
“All you do is tap the ‘active person’ icon and select ‘walking outdoors’ and it’ll start tracking your movements. But the other important thing is to remember to stop it when we get home! Even I forget that sometimes,” I say with a smile.
He laughs, “Yeah, that’ll be the day, when you forget something, Ash.”
“Okey-dokey, Dad, let’s go.” I peek over at Luke’s mom’s house, and all is quiet. My heart picks up its pace when I think about my upcoming lunch date.
With my crush, Luke! Oh my god!
Fifteen minutes later, my dad and I are enjoying the beautiful weather, each in our own world as we walk. I’m still trying to figure out what to wear for my lunch.
Then I wonder if my dad is bored. “You know, Dad, we could find some sports radio or podcasts, or maybe an audiobook you can listen to on your walks, to make them more enjoyable.”
“Yeah, that might be an idea, but I’d need you to set it up,” he fusses.
“I’d be happy to.” I smile, seeing the relief on his face, and I nudge his shoulder with mine. I add, “Let’s work on it this weekend.”
My dad’s a handsome fella. I love his sparkling blue eyes, and he’s lucky to still have a full head of thick hair. I assume I get my hazel eyes from my mom, though I don’t remember her. My heart sinks. I wonder, what’s her favorite color? Or if she likes corn on the cob. My mouth bends into a slight frown as I ponder these things, but I don’t let my mind linger there for long.
“So, Dad. I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but you need to walk more. I want you to walk outside at least five days a week, weather permitting. And I also want to get you some kind of exercise equipment for inside the house, so you can also do something extra every…”
“Aw, come on, Ash,” he interrupts me and pinches his lips together.
I ignore him. “Do you think you might like a stationary bike? Cuz, there’s this cool new one that uses artificial intelligence, and here’s the best part... it’s a super short workout! Like just a few minutes! Can you imagine? It’s a crazy, intense couple minutes though! I’ve been dreaming of getting one!”
“How can you get so excited about exercising?” He wrinkles his nose at me and squints his eyes.
Because I don’t want to end up like you, I think to myself. Although that’s harsh. But the reality is, I’m passionate about taking care of myself, because I want to live a long and healthy life. I don’t want to lose my mind someday, and I don’t want to be in pain, like I see so many seniors experiencing. They come into the clinic with a list of joint and mobility problems as long as my arm.
I love exercise. And when you love it, it doesn’t take discipline. You want to get up and move. You get uncomfortable when you go too long without doing something. But it’s also about the long-term benefits. I want to live to be over a hundred years old.
I answer my dad, “Because it makes me feel good. And it’d make you feel good, too, if you made it a habit.”
“You need to stop fussing over me so much,” he says and gives me his old fart look.
“I can’t help it, Dad. I want you to feel good and live for a long time.”
“You need your own life, Ash. You spend so much time taking care of me and doing things for me. When are you going to get a life of your own? When are you going to start dating again?”
I cringe. I know he means well, but I also wonder if he’d like me to get distracted with dating just so I’ll ease up on him.
“I don’t need to date, Dad. I’m not interested in anybody right now.” Although I have this amazing lunch date today, I think to myself, but Luke is leaving soon, so that doesn’t count.
“Just because that jerk...” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Dad, this is a beautiful morning, and I’m enjoying my time with you. Can we not talk about Lance?”
“Fine. But you really need to stop fussing over me so much.”
We round the corner onto our street and wave to our neighbor mowing his lawn.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Dad. I’ll stop fussing over you when you take better care of yourself, and I don’t have to worry about you.”
He looks at me and says nothing, but I can see the wheels are turning in his brain.
Once we get home from our two-mile walk, he complains and says he plans to sit in his chair all day.
“You better not,” I warn and point my finger at him.
“Oh!” he says, distracting me. “We need to stop our watches now that we’re home.”
Yes! My smile reaches ear to ear. He remembered something! And heck, I forgot!
“Good job remembering, Dad.” We turn off the activity tracking app on our watches. Just then, I hear both of our watches ding with our achievement of closing the exercise circle for the day. Woohoo! I throw my fist in the air.
Heading upstairs I call out, “OK Dad, I’m having lunch with Luke today, and I’ve got some things to do in town, so I’ll see you later.”
“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart. Have a great day,” he says and groans as he settles down into his recliner. Oh well, he’s earned it after our long walk.
I go to my bedroom and grab my phone to text Reese. My dad has a point. I could do more with my life than just sit home all the time
. In my defense, I like being home because I love to read. And with exercise, grocery shopping, cooking, and work, it’s not like my life is totally boring. I’m content.
Mostly.
I open the messaging app.
Me: Hey girl! What do you say about coming down next weekend for girls’ night on Whiskey Row?
Reese: Hi, Hot Pants! I was just thinking the same thing yesterday. I’m down! Let’s do it, and the sooner the better. How about Friday?
Me: Awesome. It’s a date.
Reese: By the way, I bumped into Lance yesterday.
Me: And I care because?
Reese: Well, I just thought you should know. He was asking a LOT of questions about you.
As if I care that Lance was asking questions about me. Well, OK… it is a tiny bit satisfying. He’s the one who left me, though.
Me: Well he hasn’t tried to contact me, so go figure.
Reese: Yeah, just thought you should know. You were engaged, after all.
Me: OK, next topic?
Reese: I get it. There will be no talk of Lance when I see you next weekend. ;)
Me: Thank you. OK, I’ll see you then. Love you.
Reese: I can’t wait! XOXO
I toss my phone on my bed, and it’s time to get ready for my date. I still haven’t figured out what to wear, but the shower takes so long to warm up, I still have time to think about it.
I decide casual. And because the weather is hot, I’ll stick to a pair of jean shorts and a casual, burgundy T-shirt. I don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard.
I take my time getting ready and carefully apply my makeup. Just a little, because it’s a daytime lunch date — possibly between… just friends? I’m not sure. I mean, that’s what he said, but then he sounded so intense about wanting to see me again. That sure sounded like romance!