Christmas Therapy

What could she do now? She never got bored. Stuck in her own house, she sighed. Relaxing on the couch, she ate another chocolate kiss.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she elevated her knee to the coffee table. Her eyes widened at the discomfort so she made room for her leg on the couch. She didn’t take her injury seriously at first, but perhaps therapy was best.

***

“I can't take this anymore.” Heather sat with her leg propped up with her leg on her couch. She sipped the last of her peppermint tea and placed the empty cup on the coffee table. Time away from work was torture but relaxing proved sufficient. She reclined with Tinsel at her feet, hearing the cars drive by on her street outside. Heather stared at the picture frames on her mantle.

For the last couple of weeks, her mother had cooked her meals. Sonia made sure she took her inflammatory medicine on the clock, sending reminder texts from work. Heather appreciated her family’s concern, but she couldn't help wanting to do things herself, but she complied.

After her latest checkup, Dr. Boyer shared that her progress was impeccable. She could start therapy. At her mother's insistence, an in-house therapist would be at Heather's door any minute.

She could go to the therapy facility downtown but her mother said, “out of the question.” Not wanting to argue, she consented, at least for the first few sessions. She could walk around some, but she used her crutches. A feeling of heaviness overwhelmed her.

When the doorbell rang, Tinsel barked. Heather rolled her eyes but hobbled to the door and peeked through the peephole. Behind the door stood a man. She blinked. Why was a man at her door? Opening it, she faced the new man in town.

Heather said, “Allen?”

His lips parted as he checked something on his phone. “H. Shaw. Heather Shaw. I should have put those two together.”

“You’re my physical therapist?” He couldn’t be. A woman named Yvette Lyons was her therapist. She received confirmation after signing up for an appointment.

“Yvette is on maternity leave,” Allen said.

“Wow, she had her twins!”

He bobbed his head. “If you want the facility to assign someone else, I can put in your request.”

Heather blew out her cheeks. “No, come in. I’m sorry.” She hobbled back to her couch and took a seat. Standing too long drained her energy. She missed her Pilates workouts.

Allen sat a duffel bag on the nearby loveseat. He then pulled out a tablet. “So… it was a grade two knee sprain. Medial ligament?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“You’ve been icing the knee and keeping it propped up.”

“Yes.” She sat back on her sofa and folded her arms.

He grew still, as if to better observe her. “I take it you don’t want to do this.”

“You’d be right.”

“I’m here to help you get back on your feet. You cooperate with me, the faster this will go,” Allen said.

An overall tingling crept down her backside. Still, she released a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. “I guess I have no choice.”

“Shall we start?” he asked.

“Why not? I have nothing better to do.” She straightened in her seat, just as Tinsel made his way over to Allen.

He reached out his hand. Tinsel sniffed his hand and then rubbed his head against it.

Heather did a double-take. “Tinsel's made a new friend. You have pets?”

Allen patted Tinsel’s head one final time and then stood upright. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t grow up with dogs but I always liked them. Shall we start now?”

“Go ahead.”

He took out a yoga mat. Then he extended his hands and helped her to her feet. Heather ignored his fresh manly scent, but it went through her entire body. She bit her bottom lip as Allen helped her to the floor. Flat on her back on the mat, she closed her eyes.