Page 29 of Fear of Falling

When I met him at our first appointment, I was a total dick to the guy. I didn’t want to be there and made sure he knew it. Asher still showed up every day and once I finally got my head out of my ass, I learned he’d been in the same positionI was in.

He wasn’t lying when he said he knew how it felt.

In the height of his soccer career, he blew out his knee. Before then, they’d called him a soccer prodigy. Then, just like that, his career–and dreams–were over. At twenty-three, he decided to become a physical therapist. Said he wanted to give back, like the people who helped him when he needed it. He moved back home and now at thirty-one he was a great physical therapist.

Over the past year he’s helped me to see that while my injury sucked, it wasn’t life ending. Aside from helping my knee he’s also helped me mentally. Showed me that worse things could have happened, and I should be happy that I still had a career waiting for me.

Knowing I couldn’t bullshit him, I leaned back on my hands, right leg stretched out in front of me, and sighed. “It aches a little. I ran ten miles yesterday.” Which probably wasn’t the smartest idea especially after yet another hard practice.

“Have you been doing the stretches I showed you?” he asked, grabbing my calf.

I relaxed my leg as he started bending and moving my knee. “I have. I make sure I stretch after every practice, before bed and when I wake up.”

“Good.” Asher rotated my knee, the movement making my wince slightly. “Have practices been intense?”

“You have no idea. Coach is riding our asses.” As a former athlete Asher knows exactly how intense practices can get. Plus, he knows, along with the rest of the world, how shitty we’ve been playing.

“How does this feel?” He bent my knee and turned it to the left, watching my face for the truth.

“That feels fine,” I answered. There was no pulling or pinching in my knee. The only thing I could feel was the stretch up my hamstrings which felt great.

“Good. This?” He did it again but turned it to the other side. When I said the same thing, he placed my leg back down on the bench. “You’ve done a good job letting the muscles around the tendon heal. Let’s get you on the bike.”

“I have a question for you.” I hopped on the exercise bike, slipping my feet into the foot straps. “Have you heard of pepper paste?” It’d been on my mind ever since Josie brought it up. I’d yet to try it and was still dubious.

“Pepper paste?” Asher raised an eyebrow as he set the bike timer to fifteen minutes.

“Yeah. Apparently, you use cayenne pepper and some sort of oil to make a paste,” I explained.

“Hm, sounds like a homeopathic thing. I do know cayenne pepper has anti-inflammatory properties. Why?”

“A neighbor of mine recommended it. She said it helped her with her ACL.”

“Your neighbor is a woman,” he said teasingly.

“That’s what you got from that?”

“Is she pretty?” Asher completely ignored me.

Josie’s face came to mind. I thought about her beautiful smile and the way her eyes twinkled when she teased me. Pretty was an understatement.

“Wow. She must be pretty, the way you just completely zoned out there,” Asher laughed, wrenching me out of my daydreaming. “Yes, she is,” I grumbled, annoyed that I could feel my cheeks warm.

“And?” he prodded.

“And what?”

“There’s more to the story, I can tell.”

“And they say women gossip,” I groaned as I peddled.

Asher didn’t say anything, crossing his arms and leaning back on another exercise bike waiting for me to talk. I knew the guy would just stand there silently and wait indefinitely until I said something. The man had an uncanny ability to remain silent and make people spill their guts. He honestly should have been a psychologist.

“Fine,” I finally caved. “Last Friday I got stuck in my apartment's elevator with a girl named Josie. We bonded over us both tearing our ACL’s.”

“You were stuck in an elevator all night?”

“Pretty much. Wasn’t that bad actually.” And it wasn’t. Not with Josie there with me.

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