Hip Check

by Deirdre Martin

  “It is.”

  Nell skipped ahead to her bedroom, leaving Michelle and Esa to follow.

  “Are you in pain?” Michelle asked him lamely as he lifted his foot off the coffee table and moved slowly toward her, more to fill the awkward silence than anything else.

  “What do you think?”

  “Whoa. Remind me never to ask you how you’re doing again.” Michelle upped her pace a bit so she didn’t have to actually walk into the bedroom alongside him. Michelle just hoped Nell didn’t say anything about her and Esa going out. Talk about awkward. But if the issue came up, she—they’d—just have to deal with it.

  * * *

  “Michelle. Can I talk to you a minute?”

  Michelle slowed her pace as she and Esa left Nell’s bedroom. She’d said “Good night” to him, and was heading for her own room, more exhausted than she realized. She’d had a feeling this was going to happen.

  “What’s up?”

  “Can we maybe sit on the couch?”

  “So this is going to take awhile.”

  “Probably not, but I’ve got to keep off my ankle, remember?”

  “Right.” Feeling guilty, Michelle followed him as he walked with a hitch to the couch.

  They sat down in tandem. Michelle picked up her half-empty glass of soda and took a drink. She was suddenly thirsty, filled once again with sympathy for him that she didn’t want to have, as she looked at him sitting there, the shine in his ice blue eyes temporarily snuffed out. “You don’t have to apologize,” she said.

  Esa looked taken aback. “What?”

  “You want to apologize to me for your being such a jerk when I asked you how your ankle felt. And I’m telling you, I understand.”

  “Thank you,” Esa said humbly. He reached for the remote, turning off the TV. The silence was loud as a gong. “I feel like I have to apologize to you a lot. That I’m a jerk a lot.”

  “You are,” Michelle confirmed.

  “I’m sorry for that, too.”

  A small flicker of life returned to his eyes. It took Michelle a moment to read it; it was heartfelt sincerity.

  “Apology accepted,” she told him.

  Esa slicked back his hair with a sigh. “I know it’s going to be a cluster fuck, having me around the house for a week. I’ll try to keep out of the way as much as possible.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Michelle assured him, even though it was something she was worried about. It would be so weird with him here more than usual. Would she be obligated to talk to him? Would he want to know where she was going when she went out during the day?

  “Nell is probably going to love it,” she pointed out to him, trying to convince him as much as herself. “You’ll be here when she gets home from school, and you’ll be here for dinner every night. I’ll enjoy it, too,” she said, trying to cheer him up. “You can give me a break and help her with her homework.”

  “Only if you want her to fail,” said Esa, grimacing slightly as he leaned forward for some popcorn. “I was done with school by the time I was fifteen.”

  “That doesn’t matter. She’ll just be happy to have you here.”

  Esa regarded Michelle with curiosity. “Why did she want to know if I was going to be paralyzed?”

  “She freaked out when she saw you were hurt.”

  “Shit,” Esa replied, looking guilty.

  “Look, it makes sense. Luckily, Theresa was able to get the lowdown from Michael pretty fast. She wanted to see you right away.”

  “But she’s okay now?”

  “I think so,” Michelle said carefully. She and Esa put their hands into the bowl of popcorn at the same time, the tips of their fingers brushing. There was a tiny electric charge before each of them quickly withdrew. Employer and employee, right? No wonder it felt weird.

  “Do you think we—I—should look into therapy for her?”

  Michelle answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

  “But what do you think?” Esa’s gaze was steady, his voice surprisingly plaintive. “You know her better than I do.”

  “You should wait and see. She’s just starting to really trust me and share things. Having a stranger ask her questions might not be a good thing.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” Depression once again overtook his striking features. Michelle wasn’t sure what to do. Her instinct was to tell him how great it was that he came home tonight right after the game, but she didn’t want to sound like a cheerleader, or worse, like a teacher encouraging a student. Good for you, Esa! You’re starting to get it! I’m going to put a gold star next to your name!

  “I’m kind of beat,” Michelle said, a subtle (or maybe not so subtle) hint that she wanted to wrap things up. She couldn’t think of anything else they had to talk about.

  “Me, too. But if you don’t mind, I just need to ask your advice on one more thing.”

  “Sure.” She had to admit she liked him wanting her advice. It meant that he realized she was the day in, day out, central stabilizing presence in Nell’s life. Assuming that was what the advice was about. She couldn’t imagine it would be about anything else.

  “I know tomorrow is your day off. Do you have any suggestions for things I can do with Nell? I’m going to be pretty much housebound.”

  “Movies. She likes chess.”

  Esa scowled. “She plays chess?”

  “She’s been trying to teach me. I’m pretty hopeless.”

  “I think she might have to settle for checkers.”

  “She’ll probably want to go off on her own and read for a while. She likes Wii ‘Just Dance’ and bowling, though obviously you can’t participate in either.” Michelle paused. “She likes Barbies.”

  “All of that is helpful. Thanks.”

  Michelle looked at him, trying to ignore how attractive his vulnerability made him. She shouldn’t do it. She knew she shouldn’t do it. But she couldn’t help herself.

  “Look, I can change my schedule around if it makes things easier for you while you have to keep off your feet.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know that. But I feel sorry for you.”

  “I never thought I’d hear those words coming out of your mouth.”

  “Neither did I.”

  They laughed in unison. Michelle glanced away, wanting to move, but couldn’t. It was as if the charged hush buzzing through the living room was pinning her to the couch. Esa leaned in close and Michelle, against her better judgment, surrendered to the gentle skim of his lips over hers. This was wrong, and it was bad. But it was also wonderful, the way his mouth was pressing against hers a little more fully now, a little more insistently. Stop being stupid, she reprimanded herself as her heart beat fiercely in her chest. Do not go down this road.

  Much to her surprise, they both pulled away at the same time. “I know what you’re going to say: that wasn’t smart,” said Esa with a small, rueful smile.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Michelle agreed, her pulse still twittering. “But in this case, you’re not the only one to blame. I mean, I did respond,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “You did. Very nicely, I might add.”

  Blushing, Michelle covered her face with her hands. “Now you’re embarrassing me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Goddamn, why did he have to be so good-looking? It would be so much easier to say what now needed to be said if he weren’t quite so handsome, or such a good kisser. If he weren’t her boss. She reminded herself of all the things he was: arrogant, a womanizer, a man terrified of his own feelings and emotions.

  Michelle took her hands from her face. “Look.” She wanted to extricate herself from this as soon as possible. She wasn’t good at this, whatever “this” was, exactly, and she never had been. “I don’t have any problem putting this down to your current situation.”

  Esa knit his brows together, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re upset and I’m the only woman who’s here—”

>   “You value your attractiveness so little?” Esa cut in.

  The heat in Michelle’s cheeks deepened. “No, it’s just that you and I both know I’m not your type.”

  Esa shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  “What?”

  “You telling me how I feel.”

  “Look,” Michelle said again. She had a habit of always starting sentences with “Look” when she knew she had to reason with someone whose views or opinions were different from hers. “You and I both know that whatever the reason for that kiss, it’s irrelevant. We can’t play house, Esa. We’re just going to have to ignore the pink elephant in the room. Either that, or I’m going to have to—”

  “Don’t even say it.” He sounded so angry Michelle was taken aback. “I would never do that to Nell, and neither would you.”

  Shame forced Michelle’s eyes down again. “I know.”

  “All right.” Esa wiped the salt on his fingers off on the front of his jeans. “So we’re going to pretend this didn’t happen.”

  Michelle nodded.

  “I just wanted to make sure I’m clear on this.” He grabbed Nell’s soda and took a slug. “You don’t have to help me out tomorrow if it’s a hassle for you. Seriously.”

  “It’s not a hassle,” Michelle assured him. “I already told you: I feel sorry for you.”

  “Perhaps I should play the pity card more often with the ladies,” Esa said sardonically. “It seems to have its rewards.”

  Michelle opened her mouth, closed it, and quickly erased what she wanted to say to him which was: once an asshole, always an asshole.

  She stood. “I’m really tired.”

  “As am I.”

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Yes. Good night, Michelle.”

  “Good night, Esa.”

  She heard him flip the TV back on as she headed for her room. She knew she was going to lie awake all night, dissecting, replaying, second-guessing herself. She should have listened to her original instinct about working for him when she was thinking about taking the job. But always, always, it came back to Nell for her. And from here on out, that needed to be her sole focus.

  20

  “How’s it going, Esa?”

  Esa thought the answer was pretty self-evident as he sat down gingerly in his agent’s office. It was going badly. It was going like shit. It wasn’t going at all.

  Esa gestured at his left leg. “Bone bruise on my left ankle. I’m out for a week.”

  Russell seemed unfazed. “Minor injury. Happens to everyone.”

  “Yeah, I know that, Russ, but no athlete likes to be out, especially for a week. I’m going to miss three goddamn games.”

  “You have my sympathy.”

  Esa frowned. “Thanks.”

  Russell planted his palms on the desk in front of him, leaning forward in his chair. “I talked to Kidco management. Unsurprisingly, they have no interest in contract talks sooner rather than later. They want to see how the season goes.”

  “I figured.” Typical, Esa thought disgustedly. Team management always played it this way with players whose contracts were running out. Why had he thought they’d treat him any differently? “Good, not great.” He’d heard that was Kidco’s current assessment of him. They said they’d paid for “great.” There was every possibility that if “great” Esa didn’t make a triumphant return, he was going to find himself with a crappy contract offer, if any.

  Russell leaned back in his chair. “We do have another option.”

  “Yeah, I know: talk to other teams, create some competition.”

  “That’ll definitely put a fire under their asses,” Russell pointed out. “The thing is: are you willing to seriously entertain offers? I doubt it’ll come to that, but I need to know.”

  Esa frowned. “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”

  “Not unless you want to take the gamble of seeing what happens with Blades management.”

  “Nussia.” Right then, his ankle began to throb. Psychosomatic. Unbelievable. He rubbed his chin, the gristle there bristling against his fingers. He’d woken up late and hadn’t had a chance to shave.

  “Yeah, I’ll entertain other offers,” he told Russell miserably.

  “Okay. I’ll put some feelers out, but I don’t think you have to worry about that: they’ll all be champing at the bit to get you.”

  “Glad you think so.” Two years ago, Esa’s response would have been an unabashed, “No kidding.” Now he was doubting his market value.

  “C’mon, Esa. How long have I been in this goddamn business? No worries, okay?”

  “Right.” He wished his agent’s words chased off some of his gloom, but they didn’t. Perhaps he’d feel better about using this trump card if he wasn’t sitting here in a walking boot. And of course, there was Nell. What if he did have to accept an offer somewhere else, and they had to move? That meant uprooting her—again. Maybe Michelle would move with them, he mused. Keep on being Nell’s nanny. As if that was going to happen. Although you never knew; she was pretty dedicated to Nell.

  He wrapped things up with Russell, but rather than hail a cab right away, he sat down on one of the benches in the marble-pillared lobby. He knew he should go home and rest his leg. But it was Monday, and Michelle would probably be there, doing whatever nanny tasks she did during the day.

  He was really grateful to her for being willing to shift her schedule around to help him and his bum ankle out. It hadn’t been too weird when they’d hung out on Saturday, because Nell had been there to focus on. But he could imagine how awkward it was going to be for the next few days around the apartment with just the two of them there: there’d be some big-time avoidance going on.

  He thought about the kiss. It had felt inevitable somehow, the most natural thing in the world. Her statement that he’d only kissed her because he was upset and she happened to be there had shocked him. She was so confident of herself in every other area; how could she dismiss her own attractiveness?

  Granted, she was right that she wasn’t his “type,” but more and more, his type was starting to grate on him. He loved sleeping with gorgeous women, and being photographed with them rocked. But the conversation wasn’t exactly riveting. And once you stripped away the fucking and ego boost, there wasn’t much there. Michelle was smart and funny; he could actually talk with her. She was a good person, too. He had no idea if the women he dated were good people; conversation never got that deep. For all he knew, they went home and smacked their folks around or poked neighborhood dogs with sticks.

  He shifted his weight uncomfortably, his eyes following a young, red-haired woman in a business suit walking by. Good-looking women always turned his head. Always would, probably.

  Michelle was in that category now: good-looking.

  He hated to admit that he was starting to like her—as in, like her like her, as that douchebag Swede Ulfie would put it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually felt that way. Obviously he was shallow. Or maybe guarded was a more accurate term. Real relationships meant vulnerability, and if there was one thing in his life he despised, it was being vulnerable. It opened you up to all kinds of complications, which was the last thing he needed right now.

  Michelle was right: great as the kiss was, it couldn’t lead to anything, and there was no use pretending otherwise.

  He decided he’d go to Met Gar for a bit, ice his ankle in the whirlpool. See if he could get treatment from a trainer. The faster he healed, the better. Maybe he’d be able to make practice on Thursday. Not only that, but the more time out of the apartment, the better.

  21

  “What a nice surprise.”

  Michelle rolled her eyes at her father’s teasing, kissing him on his whiskery cheek as she entered his apartment. Once a week, usually on one of her weekend days off, she headed out to Queens to see her dad. Today, however, she’d checked if it was okay to visit him on a weekday after she’d gotten Nell off to school.
She wanted to be out of the apartment as much as possible while Esa was laid up. Thankfully, her dad was home. So here she was, Monday morning, complete with a bag of his favorite crullers from V & V.

  He rattled the wax paper bag Michelle handed to him. “My favorite, I hope.”

  “Have you ever known me to bring you any different?”

  “You know what? I haven’t. C’mon, follow me into the kitchen.”

  Same old words, same old routine, and she liked that. There was comfort in it, especially when her life had taken quite the unexpected turn on Friday night.

  “How’s it going?” her father asked, putting up the water for coffee.

  “Same old, same old.”

  Her dad glanced at her over his shoulder. “You look tired.”

  “Taking care of a kid is tiring!” Michelle said, even though her weariness had nothing to do with Nell and everything to do with sleeping like hell since the kiss. “You of all people should know that.”

  “You were no problem. Your brother on the other hand . . .”

  Michelle laughed. “He sleeping?”

  “No. Morning shift, thank God. You know what it’s like when someone is pulling doubles night after night: it’s like living with a vampire.”

  “I remember.”

  Her dad finished at the sink, giving a small series of coughs as he moved to the coffeemaker on the blue linoleum countertop opposite. That was Jamie’s latest fixation: their father’s cough. Michelle pointed out that he’d been coughing since they were kids. But Jamie insisted it had gotten worse, even though Michelle was there every week and it sounded the same to her.

  “How’s the kiddo doing?”

  Michelle broke into a big smile at her favorite topic. “She’s doing great.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “She’s thriving in school, she’s coming out of her shell more . . .”

  “When are you going to bring her over again? I could use a little girl to spoil.”

  “Let me see what my schedule is like in the next week, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “My, that sounds very official,” said Michelle’s father, moving to the fridge to pull out the can of coffee.