Her touch is different, too. She keeps her contact minimal and moves her hands away as soon as each exercise is complete. I should be relieved, but instead, I’m irritated, and I hate every second of it.
“Bend your knee slowly,” she says. “Stop when you feel resistance.”
I bend my knee, and she guides the movement with one hand on my thigh and one on my calf. Her eyes are fixed on my leg.
“Good. Now extend.”
We repeat the movement a dozen times in silence. The only sounds are my breathing.
I reach my breaking point. Yeah, we agreed to be professional, but she doesn’t have to behave like I’ll fucking bite her. “You can look at me, you know.”
Her hands pause on my leg for just a second, then she resumes the exercise like I didn't say anything.
“I'm focused on your knee,” she says. “That's what I'm here for.”
The rest of the session passes in the same painful silence. She takes me through the full range of exercises without a single personal comment or unnecessary word. When we're done, she hands me my crutches and steps back.
“Same time tomorrow,” she says to the wall behind my head.
“Looking forward to it.”
The sarcasm is wasted. She's already turned away, gathering her things like she can't wait to escape.
Cold bitch. Fuming, I leave without saying goodbye.
Theo and Oliviashow up at seven o'clock sharp. Arlo has outdone himself with herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, and some kind of fancy grain salad that looks too pretty to eat. The food is laid out on my counter in containers with heating instructions, and the apartment smells like a restaurant.
“This is nice,” Olivia says as she walks in and surveys the spread. “Very domestic of you, Ethan.”
“Don't get used to it.”
I look behind them, expecting to see the baby carrier, but there's nothing. Just Theo with a bottle of wine and Olivia with her purse.
“Where's Maya?” I ask, disappointment coming over me.
I was there the night she was born. Pacing the waiting room like a caged animal while Olivia was in labor. I sat for nine hours, drowning in bad coffee until he finally came out and told me he had a daughter. I've never seen a man cry that hard.
They let me hold her the next day. She was so small and fragile that I was terrified I'd break her. But she wrapped her tiny fingers around my thumb and looked up at me with those big eyes, and since then, I've been wrapped around her finger.
Six months later, I still can't believe how much she changes every week. Last time I saw her, she was trying to grab her own feet. The time before that, she figured out how to blow raspberries. Every visit is something new.
“With my mom,” Olivia says. “We needed a grown-up night. Don't worry, you'll see her soon. She asks about her Uncle Ethan all the time.”
“She's six months old. She can't talk,” I point out.
“She asks with her eyes.”
Theo laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “How is the knee?”
“Getting there.”
We settle into the living room. Olivia curls up on one end of my couch, and Theo sprawls on the other, leaving me the armchair. Theo and I have been best friends since our rookie year, and when he married Olivia three years ago, she became family too.
They ask for details about the knee, and I keep it as brief as possible without mentioning Natalie by name.
“That's great, Ethan. That's really great.” Olivia’s enthusiasm makes me uncomfortable. I don't know how to accept encouragement without feeling like I don't deserve it.
“It's fine. Still a long way to go.”
