I turn to leave.
“But what if…?” Lincoln starts to say as I let the door glide to a close behind me.
Once the x-rays are developed, I go back to the examining room.
Lincoln sits there on the table, looking small and frail.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Only everything.”
“Now, now,” I say. “That’s not the spirit of a fighter. This could be the Christmas miracle you need. Try to think positively.”
He hugs himself and looks down as I insert the x-rays on the illuminated screen.
I study them for a few moments.
“Hmmm,” I say.
“What?”
“Hmmm.”
“What?”
“Look here,” I say and point to the cartilage in his knee. “Sometimes MRIs can be deceiving, but this here,” I point again with the tip of my pen, “shows me there has been some healing.”
“So, what’s that mean?” he asks and jumps off the table.
He squints at the x-ray.
I find him adorable.
“It means,” I continue, “that I think I can work with you.”
“You can?” he asks.
He places his hands behind his head and cradles it.
“Yes,” I say. “It will be intensive physical therapy but, if you agree to do it, I think we can get you in shape for the next bout.”
“Are you serious?” he asks. He laughs and grabs my shoulders. “I could kiss you right now!”
“Please don’t,” I say.
He backs off.
“Sorry.”
“That’s fine.”
It’s not that I don’t want him to. It’s that that would be bad news for my job, of course.
“So when do we start?”
“Tomorrow, nine A.M. sharp.”
“I’ll be there,” he says and turns to leave.
He places his hand on the doorknob, then turns back around.
“Thank you for helping me,” he says.
His does look truly grateful – I’ll give him that much.
“You’re welcome.”
“I just want to thank you sincerely for helping me. If I were in your shoes, I’d tell me to go fuck myself.”
“That’s OK,” I say.
“No, really,” he says. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome,” I say. “My job is to heal and not to judge. I don’t take anything personally.”
He smiles.
“And neither should I,” he pronounces, and then leaves.
No, you shouldn’t, I think to myself.
But you are quite the piece of work that I’m looking forward to wrestling with myself.
Chapter 6
Lincoln
I meet Amanda in the gym of the physical therapy center. She’s just coming in and she looks gorgeous. She’s not wearing her scrubs but rather a t-shirt, tight shorts, sneakers, and a headband. My cock perks up as I stare at her gorgeous curves.
I know this is going to be a real workout.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi,” I say back.
I move forward to hug her but then she steps back.
“Sorry,” I say, “I just can’t help it.”
She says nothing and motions toward one of the leg machines.
“Hop on this,” she says.
I do so and place my legs up and into position.
She adjusts the weight.
“Now start off, slowly,” she says.
She throws a white towel around her neck and studies my legs as I pump back and forth.
“This is kids’ stuff,” I say.
“Not the point,” she says, not looking at me.
I continue the exercises and don’t say much. I don’t want to offend her or be an asshole. I really like this girl. So, I keep my fuckin’ mouth shut.
Besides, she’s working. I know it’s not quite the same thing, but I feel I’m watching her like you do when you see a service dog with its vest on that says, “Please don’t pet me. I’m a working dog.”
I don’t think that would go over with her too well, but it’s really a compliment.
I mean, she’s so professional and good and I’ve been a dick to her.
I exercise in silence while she studies me for a while. I’m working hard. I really want to impress her.
Finally, she puts her hand up.
“OK, stop.”
I do so.
“Whew!” I say.
I’m not really all that spent but the ole knee is feeling tight.
“Let’s take a break.”
“OK.”
She hands me some gross veggie drink that I cringe at.
“Drink it,” she says and pushes it in my direction again.
“Gross.”
She says nothing until, “Let’s sit outside.”
The day is cool and sunny, for mid-November. It’s all baby blue skies and fast-moving clouds and the breeze. With her next to me, I feel like I’m dreaming.
I take a sip of the gross squash and Brussel sprouts drink.
“That’s fuckin’ disgusting!” I say.
She says nothing.
I look at her and smile.
“Hey,” I say.
“What?”
She still ain’t lookin’ at me.
“How about coffee sometime, to make up for this disgusting drink? Or maybe even lunch? At a burger joint?”
She doesn’t look at me.
“You know I can’t.” She pushes back her long dark hair behind her left ear. “That would compromise a professional relationship.”
Damn it, I think to myself. I take another sip of the disgusting drink. I’m not used to being turned down. Usually I’m the one turning down the many women who flock to me. Amanda is a tough nut to crack, that’s for sure.
But that just means that when I finally do, she’ll taste so good to eat because she’ll have been worth the wait and the effort. I haven’t even been able to look at another woman since I met her.