Page 28 of Mother Pucker

I take a breath, silently asking the Lord to give me strength. “Are you thinking about starting gymnastics?”

“Well, no! Are you out of your mind?” he bellows. “I’m eighty-six years old! Why would I?”

I’m so at a loss, I just stare at him for a moment, while he stares back at me like I’m the world’s biggest idiot.

“Right. Well, let me have a look at it and suggest a few exercises,” I say, trying to pacify him. “Is your hamstring feelingany better? Have you been doing the exercises we talked about last month?”

“It still feels like a bag of rocks is sitting on it, so no, it isn’t feeling better. And now I’m losing flexibility in my arm, having this damn pain when I twist it the way I showed you.”

Yes, the way only circus acrobats and zombies should twist their arms.

I go through some placatory checks on Mr. Howard before giving him new weekly exercises to do. Then I ask him to lay on the bench so I can examine his hamstring. I place one palm right above his raised knee, and the other on the back of his thigh, before pressing his knee toward his chest, bracing for what’s to come.

As expected, Mr. Howard passes gas.Loudly.

Dare I say, it’s louder than his normal voice, and like his voice, he doesn’t hear this, either.

I clear my throat, hoping not to show any discomfort on my face, and recall one of the many reasons I keep air freshener in my drawer. “How does that feel?”

“My heel?” he yells. “My heel is fine, chickadee. It’s my hamstring and my shoulder that are bothering me. Pay attention!”

“Right.” Continuing my exam, I stretch the back of his thigh this way and that, using the same technique as earlier, while ignoring the trumpet-like sounds that fill the space between us.

After Mr. Howard leaves–not before telling me about brand-new ailments that seem to have surfaced in the short time he was here–and I’ve sufficiently sprayed the room with environment-friendly air freshener, I sit at my desk with my head in my palms. I’m so engrossed in my thoughts, I barely hear the knock on my door.

A few seconds later, my best friends huddle into my office together.

“Oh, hon.” Liv gives me a sympathetic look, likely seeing the sheer exhaustion on my face. “Do we need an impromptu smutty book club night? I have your favorite organic wine and pumpkin seed Paleo bars. I’ll even pretend to like them when you ask me if I want a bite.”

I chuckle. “I can’t. I still have one more patient today . . . the most irritating and high-maintenance of them all.”

“Why do I get the feeling irritating is code for sexy or bangable?” Liv winks at me. “You know you can admit you like him, especially in front of us.”

I snort. “I like him about as much as I like MSG in my food.”

Liv rolls her eyes. “Look, you can keep denying it, but we see the way you smile when we mention him–”

“Or the way you pay a little more attention to hockey these days,” Delia adds.

“Or the way your aura’s been more orange lately. I mean, minus the fact that it’s more gray today, but that’s probably because you’re tired–”

“Iamtired,” I confirm. I’d already given everyone the rundown about the leak in my room this morning. “I haven’t slept.”

“Well, Cortney and Beckett got the leak fixed,” Delia chimes in. “They tried to hire some idiot plumber, but as soon as I asked him a simple question, he just bailed.”

“You didn’t ask him a simple question.” Dylan glares at her. “You asked him why he received his one and only three-star review on Yelp, and then you embarrassed him byreadingitaloudto him! Who does that?”

“He got that rating because he was late for a job! You know how I feel about tardiness,” Delia argues.

“He had a personal emergency!” Liv jumps in. “God forbid people have emergencies! Then, you insulted his tools.”

Delia waves her hand at our friends. “The guy was way too sensitive, in my opinion. If he was going to get that butt-hurt, then he really shouldn’t be in the service industry.”

Liv, Dylan, and I exchange outraged glances.

“Anyway, that’s not why we’re here,” Delia says, shifting the conversation. “We saw you moping around like a rain-soaked cat earlier, and we came here to give you a hug, so,” she spreads out her arms, “come on, bring it in.”

I stumble over to my best friends, letting them wrap me up in a cocoon of their arms. These women–my sisters–who showed up for me today, knew exactly how much I needed them. Instantly, I feel a hell of a lot better than I did just five minutes ago.

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